She arrived at the door, tried the handle, and carefully pushed it open. Another hallway, but instead of the grimy stone walls, this one had clean, white walls. Overhead, a dotted line of fluorescent lights lit the way down another row of metal doors. She stepped up to the first door and opened it. A white beam streamed into the room from behind her. In the middle of the light stood a shelf filled with boxes, statues, and pottery. Her mouth dropped.
Unbelievable.
She found a light switch at the side of the door. Without even trying to talk herself out of it, she flipped it on and walked inside. Greek, Egyptian, and Roman artifacts surrounded her. The room went on and on, full of towering shelving units packed with artifacts. It was an entire warehouse.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she walked down the row. Faris was going to return each and every one of these. Anger boiled inside of her as she ventured deeper into the warehouse. Actually, she would personally see to it that every single artifact was returned because she was going to kill the man before he got the chance.
Somewhere beyond the shelves, a door slammed. She froze, her breath caught in her throat as the sound of hurried footsteps met her ears.
Curses.
She spun, her gaze darting around, searching for a hiding place. An empty spot in the shelving unit caught her eye. That might work at first glance, but it wouldn’t help for long. Just as she crouched to squeeze herself between the boxes, a man’s voice shouted behind her.
“Stamata í tha pyrovolíso!”
CHAPTER 33
Leila was definitely going to get shot. More hurried footsteps clattered in the hall. She whipped her head left and right as guards in black uniforms holding automatic rifles appeared at each end of the row. Keeping her breaths slow and steady, she watched as the guards closed in on her.
Get out of there, Xander’s voice urged. It could be your last chance.
But there was nowhere to go… Except up.
Go!
She reached up and grabbed the shelf above her, then started to climb. With her gaze fixed on the top, she scaled the shelf quickly as more shouts echoed below her. She reached the top and balanced on the wobbling shelf, planting her feet with her arms outstretched. Once the unit stopped shaking, she ran.
The men below her yelled, following along at the bottom as she ran, but kept their guns down as if hesitant to take aim. She neared the end of the shelf and her heart buzzed with adrenaline. She’d have to jump over the aisle to the next unit.
The problem: There was no way the shelves would hold. They’d crash down, taking the artifacts with them. Her gaze darted up to the exposed pipes and cables covering the ceiling.
With nowhere else to go, she stretched her arms up and jumped. Her fingers wrapped around a narrow pipe, and she hung, her feet dangling ten feet over the guards’ heads.
Grinding her jaw, she reached out for a pipe a few feet ahead, her arms and palms burning as she gripped it with one, then both hands. This definitely wasn’t the fastest or most effective method of escape.
Sucking in her breath, she looked ahead. A round grate in the wall caught her eye. Maybe, just maybe, she could reach it and slip inside. Brow furrowed, she reached for the next pipe, then the next. Her momentum picked up speed. This is what all those months of training had been for. The grate was getting closer, almost within reach.
She wrapped her fingers around a cable and let go of the pipe in her other hand. Then the cable’s fixings snapped. Her heart flew into her throat as she fell, the cable still gripped in her hands. It tugged, and she swung forward, straight for the guards.
The men scattered, but one of them wasn’t fast enough. Leila slammed into him, and they toppled to the floor in a heap.
Leila kicked and thrashed until she untangled herself from the man and scrambled to her feet. She burst into a sprint, hot adrenaline pumping through her veins as the guards gave chase. She took a sudden right to run down another row lined with shelves. At the sight of a guard in the middle of the aisle, just feet in front of her, she skidded to a halt. The man was ready for her. His elbow flew at her face, striking her nose.
Pain burst through her skull and the next thing she knew, she was staring at the cold concrete floor, her throbbing nose pressed against it. Groaning, Leila rolled onto her back. She did not need that right after a concussion.
She opened her eyes to find guns pointed at her from all sides.
Great, just great. Her gaze met the eyes of one guard. He narrowed his eyes and flicked the barrel of his gun up, then barked something in Greek.
“What?” she croaked.
A look of annoyance flickered over his face as he shifted his hold on his gun. “Hands on head,” he growled slowly.
Leila did as he asked, not seeing any point in resisting. Maybe if it had just been one guard, she’d attempt an escape but now she was in over her head. Once her hands were up, the guards rushed forward, turned her onto her stomach, then pulled her arms behind her back. The bite of a nylon cord stung her wrists and they searched her up and down.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Way to go, Leila.
A part of her hated herself for giving up so easily but fighting them probably wouldn’t have helped her predicament.
One of the guards took her flashlight, her knife, and her bag, taking a moment to search through it. Then, the five of them led her out of the warehouse, discussing something among themselves in Greek.
She wished she could understand, but it sounded nothing like English or Arabic. Aside from that one semester of Greek she took years ago, and a few borrowed words used in English, she had no way of knowing what they were saying. They spoke way too fast to make it possible to follow, anyway. Hopefully they weren’t plotting to toss her off a cliff. The top of the island was so high up, hitting the rocks surrounding the island would be an instant death, although probably painless.
The guards led her through a door, then down a set of stairs. At least it didn’t look like they were going to give her flying lessons yet. The group emerged into another hallway, which looked like the one she had been in a few minutes earlier. But then again, the hallways all looked the same so far. They stopped in front of one of the metal doors, and one guard stepped up to it, unlocked it, then pulled it open.
The two guards holding her arms walked her inside the dark room. Leila wrinkled her nose against the reek of mildew and dampness. With the light streaming in from the doorway, she could make out a stack of wooden crates in one corner. A guard shoved her to the floor, cut the cord around her wrists, then walked back out.
Leila turned around on the floor and watched as the door slammed shut. With a click, the lock turned, leaving her to sit in the pitch blackness.
She sat still for a moment and released a sigh.
Now what?
Was she a miserable failure, or was she going to work with this? Keep exploring, keep looking for options. She stood and stumbled her way to the wall. Using her palm, she felt along the cool, rough surface, until she found a switch. She flipped it and a naked light bulb flickered overhead.
She was surrounded by four rough, gray stone walls. The stack of wooden boxes stood along the back wall, one lonely crate offering her a place to sit. First, she looked inside the boxes, only to find scattered bits of sawdust. Then, she turned a crate onto its side, examining the corners. It had been nailed together. It took a bit of force, but she pulled the box apart and tapped a nail out against the floor. With the small metal stick in her hand, she knelt by the door and stuck the nail into the keyhole.
She fumbled around with the lock for several minutes. Nothing. She threw the nail into a corner, and it landed with a chink. Leaning against the door, she slid down and tipped her head toward the ceiling. That’s when she noticed her hands were shaking. Taking in a deep breath, she thought about her next steps.
