REILLY’S HEART BLEW A GASKET as he saw Tess make her move.
It took over, overriding his brain, cutting off any attempt at thought and spurring his legs to just take off.
Which he did—fast, like a sprinter going for gold. Or steel, in this case. The hard, tempered steel of the automatic, ten yards to his right.
He’d seen the phone fly out of the bomber’s hand, seen Tess tumble to the ground with him. He didn’t have enough time to get to them and intervene. The Iranian would very quickly have the upper hand again. Reilly had to get to his gun, fast, and hope his aim would prove as true as it had been on his best ever day at the firing range. Or better. He’d get one shot, if that. It had to count.
His legs at full gallop, he flicked a quick glance sideways, but couldn’t see more than the tangle of both bodies. He flung his eyes back at the ground ahead, at the gun.
Five yards.
Three.
One.
He was there.
TESS FELT HER BRAIN RATTLE under the impact of the Iranian’s elbow, but she stayed on him, both hands clamped tight against his gun wrist like the jaws of a rabid wolf.
She had to keep the weapon at bay, just a second or two longer, knowing Reilly had to be on the move, hoping he’d soon be with her, but she only managed to keep the Iranian’s gun hand pinned to the ground for a couple of heartbeats before his left hand flew up to her face and shoved her head back. She fell backward, but didn’t let go, even as his gun hand rose off the ground and swung toward her.
Instead of recoiling backward, she surprised herself by doing the opposite. She lunged forward and pulled his hand closer to her before biting down into it as hard as she could. She heard the Iranian grunt-curse as her teeth sank into him, and she felt tendons and cartilage snapping under her bite. In the frenzy of the moment, she saw his fingers loosen around the weapon’s grip, and her bite went into overdrive. The Iranian shouted angrily and reared up, lifting her up with him as he flung his arm to shake her off. She twisted on herself, felt her neck bending out of shape, but stayed on him, her teeth still digging in—then the gun flew out of his grip.
He lashed out with his other hand again, his fingers digging into her cheeks, looking for her eyes. The pain was too intense—she had to let go. The release unleashed him, and he pushed her off with a hard shove to her chest. She scurried backward, out of his reach, her eyes darting left and right, searching for the gun.
As were his.
Both found it at the same time, a few feet behind him. She met his eyes for a nanosecond, the raw anger blazing out of them more terrifying than the gun itself.
Then he moved, diving for the gun.
REILLY SNATCHED THE GUN off the ground and swung his arms around and up, into position, in a two-fisted stance, ready to take the shot, his eyes taking an instant read of the situation.
The first thing that registered was that the Iranian and Tess were a few feet apart and she was clear of him, which was good. Less good was that the Iranian had the gun in his hand—and was aiming it right at him.
Reilly squeezed off a round and dove to his left just as a volley of bullets whizzed by, so close that he actually heard them cutting the air mere inches from his cheek. He rolled on the ground, heading toward the nearest cone house, pulling the trigger every time he was lying on his front, but he knew full well that he wasn’t likely to hit him like that, especially given that the Iranian was also low on the ground and made for a small target. He just had to keep him pinned down long enough to give Tess a chance to make a break for it.
Which, he now saw, she was doing.
THE BULLETS THUNDERED THROUGH TESS’S EARSand froze her in place—then she snapped back and got moving.
She saw Abdulkerim waving to her from behind a cone house and started for him before almost tripping over something: the Iranian’s rucksack. She scooped it up by the handle without slowing down and sprinted across to join the Byzantinist.
The man was buzzing with panic. “The phone, that’s the trigger to … ?” He couldn’t even say the word.
“Yes,” she fired back, flinching with each gunshot that echoed through the valley.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, still breathless. “He dropped it.”
“Come,” he told her. “Follow me.”
He led her through the maze of tightly packed cone houses.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“In there,” he said as he stopped by the doorway of a nondescript dwelling. He pointed inside it. “There’s an underground city. Under this village. It’s been shut down for years because of the rock slides, but some of it must still be accessible. You need to go down there quickly, you’ll be safe in there. There’s probably no phone signal, right?”
Tess nodded. He was right. “Okay, but—you’re coming with me, aren’t you? It’s safer for you too.”
“No, I—” He hesitated, his eyes twitching left and right. “I’ll go get help.”
“Listen to me,” she insisted, grabbing him by the shoulders, “you’ll be safer in there.”
He looked at her, his forehead bathed with sweat, then shook his head and said, “I can’t. I’ll get help. You need to go now. Here,” he said, digging into his pack and handing her his flashlight.
Tess took it from him—and just then, his eyes went wild and he pointed behind her.
“He’s coming,” he blurted.
Tess turned, her mind all jumbled with conflicting impulses—and saw the Iranian charging at her, saw him raise his gun, heard the shot, and felt Abdulkerim’s blood splatter across her cheek.
ZAHED KNEW HE HAD to get out of there.
Reilly was rolling his way to cover. Once he got there, the American would be able to get a clearer shot at him. Zahed realized he was too exposed where he was; he had to make a run while he still had the chance.
He’d glimpsed Tess scurrying away with his rucksack—the one with the codices and his handgun’s extra magazines in it. He’d brought his gun around to drop her, but the damned American’s relentless firing had forced him to duck for cover and given her a chance to slip away.
Now he had to do the same.
He stayed low and let his eyes make a quick scan of the ground around him, searching for the phone. He quickly found it—off in the opposite direction to the cone houses he needed to get to for cover, the ones where Tess had disappeared.
He decided to risk it.
He rolled over to it, firing a couple of shots as he did and reaching it in three spins. He grabbed it, then sucked in a couple of quick breaths to steel himself and spring to his feet. He hurtled to the nearest cone house, peppering Reilly with gunfire as he sprinted across the hard ground, knowing that each bullet counted now that he no longer had the extra ammo clips. Just as he dove into cover, one of the agent’s rounds bit into the rock inches from his head sending tufa shrapnel biting into his cheek, but he was otherwise untouched.
He rushed through the cone houses, on edge, eyes scanning the shifting shadows. Then he saw them, two houses ahead, Tess and the Byzantinist, by the dark doorway.
He had to get to Tess. He needed the books and the ammo clips, and she was all the leverage he needed as far as Reilly was concerned.
The Byzantinist was less crucial right now.
More of a liability, actually.