Bishop grinned and said, “Copy that.” Queen might not be able to heal, but she knew her limits, and how to survive. She did not want, or need, a protector.
She coughed from the foul air, removed her bandanna, and tied it around her mouth. “Where’s Knight?”
“Went after Ridley.”
That’s when the chamber ceiling, buried beneath hundreds of feet of jungle and the world’s largest pyramid, shook. Something massive had struck the surface above. Queen and Bishop charged up the stairs and into the tunnel, knowing that Ridley had most likely conjured something much stronger than golem skeletons. And whatever it was, Knight would be facing it alone.
FIFTY-FIVE
Wiltshire, England
“WELL, THIS IS unfortunate,” Alexander said as he exited the tiny spiraling tunnel and looked at the dead end.
“Unfortunate is an understatement,” King said.
Alexander squatted next to King, cramped in the small space. “I suppose it is.”
King leaned back against the exposed concrete wall, hiding it with his body. Time was short, but he wanted some answers. “Now that we have some time to kill, why don’t you answer a few questions.”
“I don’t think that—”
“Who were you talking to on the phone?”
“An associate.”
“A member of the Herculean Society?”
Alexander turned his palms up with a shrug. “They would not have my number otherwise. But this—”
“Who were you talking about? The two people, who are they?”
The combination of King’s questions and his constant interruptions were causing Alexander’s face to turn red with anger. He was pushing it, he knew, but answers flowed more easily from angry lips. “Why are you really here?”
But Alexander was either too smart or too experienced to fall for King’s bait. Just as he was about to shout something, he stopped, grinned, and leaned back. With a calm voice, he said, “I could ask the same question of you, King. The death of your sister made you a fighting man. And now a little girl, who you’ve taken as your own—which was never my intention, by the way—has replaced that missing relationship and you’re desperate to get her back. You’re doing this just as much for yourself as you are for the ‘greater good.’”
King felt his own anger rising. Alexander knew too much about him and had turned the conversation around. The problem was, King’s personal motivations didn’t conflict with the mission. He had no idea what Alexander’s endgame was, and it was clear he would get no closer to finding out.
“You would do well to remember that you are here because I allowed it.”
King was about to argue, but it was true. Alexander had led King to the Siletz Reservation and Fiona. And since being found beneath the Roman Forum, Alexander probably could have left King behind at any point. The question was, why? Why did Alexander, a man with extraordinary resources, intelligence, physical power, and a clandestine organization, allow King to tag along. So he asked, “Why?”
Alexander grinned. “I’ve always enjoyed a good game of chess.”
The implication of the statement was obvious. To Alexander, King was a pawn. We’ll see about that, King thought, but simply forced a grin. He’d pushed the subject enough. Trapped in a tiny cave with a man who could tear him apart started to make him feel like a frog in a blender. It was time to leave. He pointed to a trickle of water behind Alexander’s head. “With a steady supply of water, how long would you be able to regenerate your body?”
“Indefinitely,” Alexander answered. “Why?”
“If we’re stuck in here for a long time, or forever, I can eat you to stay alive for as long as it takes.”
Alexander sneered at the thought, looking at King like he was a madman. “You would—” Then he paused, seeing the slight smile on King’s face. “You’re joking? You— What do you know?”
King moved to the side, giving Alexander space to approach the concrete wall. “Put your ear against it.”
Alexander leaned down and placed his ear against the cold, rough wall. Being close to the wall he could see a subtle curve to its shape. And within, he heard something … water!
“It’s a drainage pipe,” King said. “Not built by Merlin, which means—”
“I have no qualms about destroying it,” Alexander finished. “Move aside.”
Alexander reached into his pocket and took out a small vial of black liquid. Before he drank it, King asked, “Would that work on me?”
“The adrenaline rush alone might be enough to destroy your heart,” Alexander said. “And if you survived that and managed to employ your newfound strength, it’s likely you would break most of the bones in your body, which get no added strength from this brew. It’s only my ability to heal that allows me to use it.”
Alexander poured a few drops of the liquid under his tongue. “You may envy my strength, but you shouldn’t. I don’t enjoy it. The pain is”—Alexander’s body shook as the adrenaline took hold—“excruciating.”
King stepped aside as Alexander’s eyes went wide, his pupils dilating. Leaning back on his hands and one leg, Alexander struck out with his right leg, smashing the concrete. He grunted in pain, paused, then struck again. His fourth strike resulted in a loud crack. On the fifth, his foot shot through the wall into the void beyond. With the hole begun, it wasn’t long before he had kicked away an opening big enough for them to fit through.
When he was done, he moved aside, his face twisted in pain. “The adrenaline is wearing off. I’ll just need a moment to heal.”
Being eager to leave the tight confines of what was almost their tomb, King nodded and slid through the hole. After his waist passed through, he fell and landed in a stream of water. The drainage pipe was large enough to crouch in and the air fresher than the tomb’s, though tinged with mold. A ring of sunlight from a vertical tunnel farther down the pipe provided enough refracted light to see by. “I see an exit,” he said.
But the joy of their impending escape was short-lived as he heard what sounded like a sporting event—loud shouts merging with the excited ebb and flow of a game. But there was no excitement in this cacophony of voices. Only terror. He suspected they were underneath the Stonehenge parking lot, which meant …
King turned toward the tomb from which he’d just escaped. “Alexander! The car park is under attack!”
Alexander quickly joined King in the tunnel and they rushed toward the circle of sunlight. When they reached it they found a metal rung ladder leading up to a drainage grate. King moved to the side.
“You go first,” he said. “In case it needs persuading.”
Alexander climbed the ladder and after two swift strikes pushed the grate aside with a scrape of metal on pavement. He poked his head outside and paused. After grunting with displeasure, he pulled himself out of the exit. King launched up the ladder and climbed topside.
His first breath of fresh air was welcome. His second was out of a nightmare.
FIFTY-SIX
El Mirador, Guatemala
THE CLOUDS OVERHEAD had thickened, blocking out more of the rising sun’s light. Combined with the thick jungle canopy, it was like a permanent twilight. Lightning occasionally lit the scene, allowing Knight a clearer view of his fleeing target. But his eyes were keen. Dim light or not, he could see Ridley ahead, weaving in and out of the tall, thin trees that filled the jungle. Ridley was a bigger man and a slower runner, but he also didn’t tire. Catching him would have to be done quickly, especially given the direction in which he was headed—straight back to the campsite where he would have plenty of hostages.