Ignoring the shouts calling for her to stop, she took a deep breath and dove into the water. She resurfaced, propelled herself into a freestyle stroke, and swam after the boat. Once she was within reach, she grabbed the rope trailing on the side and let it pull her along.
She glanced back up at the railing, but Soliman was nowhere to be seen—probably busy navigating the boat out of the cave. What didn’t he understand about the helicopters circling around? The boat wasn’t going to slip by them unnoticed.
Annoyance festered inside her. The professor was making everything worse.
Since she didn’t have spider-hands capable of climbing up the smooth side of a yacht, she looked to her right. The ladder hung down, just out of reach.
She released the rope and floated in the water as the length of the boat slipped past until she could grab the ladder. Holding on as tight as she could, she pulled herself up and threw a glance over her shoulder. The soldiers gathered on the dock grew smaller, merely watching, as if unsure what to do about the escaping vessel.
Gritting her teeth, she refocused on the ladder and reached for the next rung.
The yacht banged against the side of the cave and her feet slipped off the step. She hung on, her heart in her throat, as the other side of the cave neared, the wall of rocks racing toward her.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins, waking her up to the danger of being crushed against the other side of the cave. She found her footing and climbed the rest of the way up the ladder, the rock wall rushing nearer. She pulled herself over the railing, just as the boat banged against the wall, sending her tumbling across the deck.
Grimacing, she propped herself up on her elbows as they sailed through the opening and into the bright sunlight. The ship glided through the water toward the blue horizon.
Get that phone.
Leila turned her attention to the wheelhouse and crawled forward. Keeping herself low against the wall, she peered through the window.
Soliman stood at the helm, steering the boat with one hand. With the other, he held the phone above his head as if he were trying to get a signal.
Her blood turned to ice. Had he lost his mind? What if he accidentally dialed the number? She couldn’t take any chances; she had to stop him. Knock him out, push him overboard, something.
She scanned the wheelhouse. Where was that gun? She lifted her head higher, checking the table and seats in the wheelhouse, until she spotted the weapon on the floor. She crawled around the corner to the open door and peered around the frame.
Soliman was busy steering, his attention half on the water, half on the phone. She reached for the gun. The moment her fingers brushed the handle, Soliman whirled around.
“Get back!” he yelled. The phone laid in his palm, his finger poised to trigger the bomb with the press of one button.
She yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned.
Soliman leaped forward, a wild gleam blazed in his eyes, and scooped up the gun. “I knew you wouldn’t understand,” he spat, pointing the weapon at her.
She’d seen that look before. A vision of Soliman on a hospital bed ripping IVs from his arm flashed before her eyes, and the sudden burst of anger in his office when she told him a mountain had been blown to smithereens by Greek fire.
Soliman went on, his voice shaking, “I almost had him, back when we found Neferkheri’s tomb. With you and Xander both there, Al-Rashid knew it was Neferkheri we were after. And I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist, you see.”
“Wait,” Leila breathed, rising to her feet. Her stomach somersaulted. “Are you saying you used me and Xander as a lure? That… that you didn’t accept my application because I was a good student? But because you needed me there to get Faris’s attention?”
“I needed someone inside his villa. I needed someone to see if it was true, that he had a hoard of artifacts inside.” He smiled proudly. “And it worked.”
Leila’s mind whirled, her body swaying with the rocking of the boat. The effect was dizzying, but she forced herself to focus. Whatever he was up to, she had to get that phone. The professor held it tight in one hand, keeping the gun pointed at her with the other.
“But Faris was careful. He has always kept one step ahead of me. I thought I had him in prison for life after he tried the Egyptian Museum heist, but no. His lawyers were too good. When he got out three months ago, I knew I had to act quickly.” He shook the phone again.
Leila moved her lips, trying to speak. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Soliman had set all of this up. “You did it?”
Soliman closed his mouth and glared at her, breathing heavily through his nose.
She took that as a yes.
“All because of Faris? Getting revenge meant more to you than the people who died? My family was there! If you wanted Faris dead, just go and shoot him. Don’t bring innocents into this!”
“I don’t want him dead! I want him ruined! I want him to lose everything, and I want him to live to suffer through it!”
Leila’s hand shook as she lifted it to her head and raked her fingers across the top. As if that would help to make sense of all this. “It’s too late,” she said, her voice cracking. “It was all for nothing. He’s already dead.”
Uncertainty flickered across Soliman’s face. “Dead? You… you killed him?”
“He killed himself.”
“No,” Soliman whispered, his gaze looking past her. He lowered the gun slightly. “It’s ruined. Everything is ruined. All we needed was for him to make the call. He could deny it as much as he wanted, but they would have found the phone in his house.”
Leila dropped her hand. How could she have been so stupid to ever trust this man?
“Give it up,” she said firmly, her eyes on the gun. “Enough people have died already. The authorities already suspect you. Faris is dead, so you can’t blame it on him anymore. Just put the phone down. It’s over.”
Soliman’s eyes widened in disbelief, then his face reddened. “You’ve ruined everything,” he said through gritted teeth. He lifted the gun, and a deafening blast filled the wheelhouse.
It felt like someone punched her. She took a step back and stumbled into the chair, pressing one hand against her lower right rib cage. Warm wetness spread over her fingers.
Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t look down.
Weakness overcame her like an invisible weight pulling her limbs down, and she slumped back in the chair. She could only watch as Soliman returned his attention to the phone.
“These deaths are on his hands.” Soliman turned the screen back on.
