The man who had taped him to the chair was short, stocky, with a face that looked like it had been in more than a few bar fights. Nick could smell his breath, loaded with garlic and something unpleasant. He spoke with the sound of the street.
"He don't look so tough," he said.
"You're not getting paid to think about how he looks." The voice was cultured and came from behind him. Nick had heard it somewhere. Then he remembered. Anderson, the attaché at the Embassy.
As if reading his mind, Anderson stepped in front of him, letting himself be seen. It meant they were going to kill him. Nick's adrenaline kicked in.
"You're thinking your friends will find you in time," Anderson said. "That isn't going to happen."
"What do you want?"
"Come on, Carter, you know what I want. Where is the Ark?"
"I don't know where it is. If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I?"
Anderson squatted down in front of him and looked Nick in the eyes. "Let me tell you what's going to happen. You're going to tell me what you know. We can do it the easy way or the hard way."
"You don't have a better line than that?"
"This is Willy," Anderson said. He gestured at the other man. "Willy likes to hurt people. Right, Willy?"
"Yes, Mister Anderson."
"The first thing he'll do is break your fingers."
"Fuck you, Anderson."
"Now who needs a better line?"
They hadn't bound his legs. Nick ducked his head and launched himself at Anderson, still squatting in front of him. The back of the chair caught him over the nose. It was a satisfying sound. Anderson went down like a stone. Nick rolled over him and slammed into Willy's legs. The man fell down, flailing. Nick tried to get up, but Willy was quicker. Nick saw the shoe coming at him but couldn't get out of the way in time. Everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Selena knew something was wrong when Nick wasn't back in a few minutes. She called Ronnie and Lamont. Now the three of them stood at the end of the hall by the ice machine.
"They can't have taken him far," Ronnie said. "How long's it been? Ten, fifteen minutes?"
"That's time enough." Lamont paced back and forth. "Look, I was down in the lobby. If they'd gone out the front, I would have seen them."
"Plenty of other ways. Back entrance, the laundry, through the kitchen."
"That would cause a stir," Selena said. "You know he wouldn't go without finding a way to stop them."
"If they had a gun in his ribs…" Ronnie said. "No, he'd find a way around that."
"They had to knock him cold," Lamont said. "If he'd been conscious there'd be signs of a fight."
"Hard to go unnoticed if you're dragging someone through the kitchen," Ronnie said.
"Maybe he's still in the hotel," Selena said.
"If he is, they couldn't take a chance on being seen in the elevator." Lamont stopped pacing. "Either the stairs or he's still on this floor."
"It would have to be a room close to the ice machine," Selena said. "Same reason. They wouldn't risk dragging him down a long hall like this. Someone might see it."
"If they've got him out in the city we won't find him," Ronnie said. "'Our only shot is if he's still here."
He looked at the long row of doors. "Selena, take the right. Lamont, you take the left, I'll go down the middle. Look for marks, anything. If they dragged him it might show up on the rug."
They began working their way quietly down the corridor. Ten doors down on the right, Selena held up her hand. She gestured at the floor. There was a soft indentation, barely visible, where something had been dragged across the threshold. She knelt down. There was tiny drop of blood on the carpet. She took out her gun and placed her ear against the door. Ronnie and Lamont came over, pistols in hand. There was a murmur of voices inside.
"That son of a bitch."
"You all right, Mister Anderson?"
"No, I'm not all right."
"What do you want to do?"
"We're wasting time. Wake him up and hurt him. He'll talk."
Selena stood and whispered in Ronnie's ear. "In there. At least two."
Ronnie nodded. He stepped back and wound himself around like a discus thrower and slammed his foot into the door. The frame splintered. He kicked again and the door flew open.
Selena took in the scene. Nick was unconscious, slumped over and bound to a chair with silver tape. A stocky man had a gun in his hand. A second, taller man stood near, reaching under his jacket.
Lamont fired first, past Selena's ear, the noise of the shot deafening. She felt the heat as the gun fired. She fired at the tall man, twice. He had a pistol in his hand and was bringing it up as she pulled the trigger. The bullets struck him in the chest and drove him back across the bed.
The stocky one got off a shot. Lamont grunted. Ronnie fired, three quick shots. The man staggered back against the wall and fell to the floor.
The room stank of gunpowder and sweat and blood. The tall man lay on the bed, leaking blood. He wasn't moving. His eyes were open. The man Ronnie had shot was crumpled against the wall, dead. Selena went over to Nick.
Lamont slid down in the doorway. He coughed and blood came out of his mouth. He clasped his hand across a bloody hole in his chest. Air whistled between his fingers, an unpleasant, sucking sound.
Ronnie knelt beside him. "Hold on, Lamont. Hold on."
Shit! Selena thought. She pulled out her phone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Elizabeth couldn't remember being this angry. Lamont was in critical condition. Nick had a bad concussion. The Jordanians were in an uproar. It didn't help that one of the bad guys was accredited to the US Embassy and worked for Langley. It had the makings of a full blown diplomatic incident.
Earlier, she'd briefed the President. Rice had been calm, but incidents like this jeopardized the existence of the Project. Jordan was technically an ally in the Middle East, and there were few enough of those. He'd agreed to put pressure on the Jordanians to get her team airlifted to Ramstein AFB in Germany, where there was American medical care. She was on thin ice with the White House and she knew it.
All because of an artifact that might not even exist and an arrogant bunch of privileged narcissists who had never made it past their adolescent fantasies of power and imperial glory. A secret society, for God's sake. Maybe they had a big tree house somewhere, too. Sometimes she wondered how America had managed to get as far as it had, with people like them running things. It bothered her, a lot. She believed in her country, but these men were a cancer eating away at the foundation of everything she believed in.
Still, she had a job to do. Americans needed protection from the forces that wanted to destroy their way of life. If Cask and Swords was any indication, they needed protection from some of their own leaders.
Stephanie came into Elizabeth's office.
"The President came through," she said. "I just spoke with Selena. The Jordanians have declared everyone Persona Non Grata. They've been escorted to a Jordanian Air base. A C-130 is picking them up as we speak."
"'How is Lamont?"
"Not good. He took one through a lung."
"Steph, whatever else happens, I'm going to take these bastards down."
"I don't think you'll get any argument from the others."
"This banker. Harrison. He seems to be a key figure in Cask and Swords. I want full surveillance on him."
"What about the legalities?"
"Put a smoke screen around it. Use the National Security ploy and that judge in Alexandria. Do it by the book, but get it in place."
"And if we can't do it by the book?"