Faris chuckled and lowered himself into the swivel chair on the other side of the desk. “Of course I didn’t. I was released, quite legally, three months ago. Well-paid lawyers work wonders.”
She blinked. Released? Just like that? That couldn’t be right. “No one told me.”
“Perfect.” A smile crept over his face. “That’s the way I wanted it. And now I’m sure you’re wondering… why. What is this all about?” He leaned forward, folding both forearms on the desk. “First of all, I wanted to let you know that your mother and brother are alive. Aside from a few scrapes and being in shock, they’re doing fine. They’re in a safe location, and I’m seeing to it that they are well cared for as they recover.”
For a moment, Leila sat still. Her heart soared. They were alive. Her relief quickly dissolved into worry. Alive… but trapped with him.
Leila swallowed. Could she even believe him? He hadn’t shown her any evidence. “Why couldn’t she call me?”
“The museum is only a few blocks from my office,” he said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “The moment I heard what had happened, I went there myself. I found your mother and Sami in an… emotional state. I’m afraid Aisha won’t be able to make a phone call for a few days, at least.”
Leila mulled over his words for a moment. An emotional state? Probably in complete shock. Traumatized. He saw it and he took advantage of it. She frowned and bored her gaze into his. “I don’t believe you,” she said with a lift of her chin. “My mom wouldn’t have willingly gone with you.”
“You can think that if you want,” Faris snapped, “but I’ve known my wife for much longer than you have. You don’t have the faintest idea what she would do.”
Leila imagined herself clawing Faris’s eyes out. “Where is she?”
“She’s not in Cairo, or in Egypt, for that matter. In fact, that brings me to my next subject.”
“You scumbag,” Leila spat. “I was worried sick that they were dead. And her sister Nur has been tearing her hair out. Have you told her? Or are you going to drag her in here at gunpoint too?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” He sucked in a breath and swiveled slightly in his chair. “You see, I have to test you. How far can I push you? How far are you willing to go?”
“For what?”
He stopped swiveling and looked at her steadily, his black eyes reflecting the three circles of light from the overhead spots. “I think it’s time we cut a deal.”
CHAPTER 6
This couldn’t be good. Leila bit down on her lip. Somehow, any deal with Faris would work out mostly in his favor and not so much in hers. If at all.
“You want to see your mother, I assume?” Faris continued from his seat. “Be able to visit, spend time together, all those wonderful mother-daughter things you feel like you’ve missed out on all these years. Am I correct?”
Determined not to answer, Leila kept still, her gaze unwavering. She couldn’t allow him to enjoy taunting her like this—as much as it squeezed her heart, as much as he was right.
A smile flickered on his face. “I will bring her and my son back to Cairo and we can all live as one big, happy family. No hiding. No restrictions. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
The first thought that popped into her mind was, Yes, yes, it would—no. No, it wouldn’t. Not with him still in the picture. Was that what her mother would want? After everything Faris did to her, that was doubtful.
When Leila didn’t answer, Faris went on, “If you want any of that, I need you to do me a favor… or else you won’t ever see or speak to her again.”
Here it was. The catch.
“First, allow me to explain a few things.” He clicked his tongue and picked up Leila’s janbiya knife, slowly sliding it from its sheath. “I’ll start with Dr. Adel Soliman, the leader of the Medjay.”
The blood rushed out of her face, and a chill swept down her spine. That was not what she was expecting.
“He’s dragged you into his little secret band of rats, for whatever reason. I suppose it makes sense, you being your father’s daughter. You’re in it for old time’s sake, perhaps. So today, I scattered the artifacts my men collected from the museum to houses and buildings around Cairo. Then, I waited to see which one you’d go after.”
Leila glowered at him, still trying to take in steady breaths as she realized what was going on. Her face grew hot. He’d laid a trap for them, and they’d walked right into it. But slowly, everything was starting to make sense. Of course he would know about the Medjay. It would explain the high security she’d seen at his villa in the south—obviously, he wasn’t worried about the average thief.
He pushed the knife back into the sheath, set it down, and stood.
“Soliman probably hasn’t told you about a certain artifact.” He paced in front of the window shades. “In fact, I’m not supposed to know it exists, either. Nor does it matter how I found out. But Soliman has a medieval scroll, written by Lysias of Alexandria.”
Her veins froze. Yes, she knew about the scroll—or scrolls. The Medjay, Abdullah, had used the plural. And they were the last thing he had spoken of, right before his death. Soliman refused to explain their importance, and Faris was a step ahead of her. He knew the author. And that name was not one she’d ever wanted to hear again. Lysias had developed the powerful form of Greek fire that blew up an entire mountain and took Abdullah down with it.
Deciding it was best to keep quiet, she clamped her lips together. It was better if Faris had no idea how much or how little she knew. Her gaze flickered to her janbiya on the desk, and she quickly looked back at Faris.
He stopped next to the desk and picked up the gun again, turning it over slowly in his hands. “For hundreds of years, the Medjay have kept it hidden. Soliman is possibly the only person alive who knows of its existence… except for me, that is.” He chuckled.
“Aren’t you special?” Leila grumbled. Could she be fast enough to grab the knife? Faster than the gun in his hands? What would she do once she got a hold of it?
Keep calm. Don’t do anything stupid. So, she raised her voice, “And what am I supposed to do?”
Faris lifted his eyebrows. “You’re going to bring me the scroll, of course.”
Leila clenched her teeth. There had to be a way to get her mom back without becoming his minion. She glared up at him. “You haven’t even shown me proof Mom and Sami are still alive. I’m not doing anything until I’ve talked to her.”
“What did you not understand about what I said?” Faris set the gun on the desk. “You won’t see or speak to her until that scroll is in my hands.”
“You can’t do this,” Leila growled, curling her hands into fists. Her face grew hot, her increasing anger impossible to contain. She sprang to her feet and reached for the gun. Faris was faster. He grabbed her upper arm and turned her around, slamming her against the wall.
“You will find it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, pressing the barrel of the gun under her chin. “You have one week.”
A cold sweat coated her forehead as her vision blurred. Her arm burned where he gripped it with an iron fist. “I can’t—”
“Give me your word.”
