For a moment, he contemplated the symbol for the police station on the city map. He hadn’t had any luck with his innocent enquiry there. His gaze darted to the square-shaped mark, indicating the location of the ancient monastery. The perfect hideout.
He folded up the map and followed the signs. The more he walked, the more his arm ached. He wouldn’t take the painkillers. Not yet. The more painful it was, the more it drove him to finish what he came here to do.
The parking lot was empty, all tourists had gone. The gates had been shut, now carefully watched by security.
Two large boulders on the far side of the parking lot provided a good place to observe the comings and goings of the monastery while keeping him hidden. He dropped his backpack on the ground and crouched in his new hiding place, ready to wait all night if he had to. Leila couldn’t stay in there forever. If she was inside, she’d have to come out eventually. And when she did, it would be time to begin his games.
• • •
Occasionally the tap of footsteps or the creak of a door drifted down the stairs. The church bells chimed faintly every half-hour. Otherwise, the only sound in the library was the scratching of Leila’s pen. Stacks of books rose around her, notes scattered on the floor. On the table in front of her lay a blocky cell phone with a green screen and black text.
Leila had tried getting a hold of Xander, but so far, her calls kept going straight to voicemail. It was a bit ridiculous, but she was set on him being the first one she contacted. Now disappointment prickled in her chest. She’d been so certain she’d have gotten a hold of him by now. So she concentrated on her task, only taking one break in the last two hours. Father Marcus had insisted on coffee and, to her relief, it had also included a small meal of bread and fruit.
She leaned back in her chair and glanced over the disarray before her, tapping her pen to her chin. She hadn’t done a half-bad job, translating the hieroglyphics from memory in Amina’s tent. It had just needed a few corrections, an interpretation of the rest of the symbols, and comprehensible sentences. The Greek translation came along more slowly but after an hour and some help from Father Marcus, she had a perfectly coherent text.
The monk entered the library behind her, holding a large sheet of paper. He slid a few books out of the way and spread the sheet on the table.
“Here is the best topographical map of the mountain range I could find down here.” He made a grating sniff to clear his nasal passages. “It doesn’t show the roads or paths, but we can at least mark the location.”
Leila set down her pen and joined him. With her notes in her hand, she examined the squiggly contour lines on the crinkled paper. After a quick check of the side markings for latitude and longitude, she pointed to one of the peaks. “That one.”
Father Marcus tugged at his beard for a moment, then nodded. He took out a pen from the depths of his robes and drew a bold “X” in red ink.
“There it is,” he said with awe in his voice. He lifted the map from the table and held it before his face. “At last. We’ve got it.”
Leila’s eyebrows twitched as she watched him stare at the map with wide eyes. Why was he acting like they’d found the Holy Grail? But then the treasure, the Medjay warning… Her stomach did a flip. She hoped she hadn’t just made a huge mistake.
He gave his head a little shake. “That would be a ten-mile hike from here,” he explained, sounding back to normal. “The terrain is difficult to navigate, as you should know. In this weather, it would be easy to slip, which could be deadly. But that would be the least of your concerns. The weather is not the only danger.”
Did he actually think she wanted to go to the tomb? She was about to reassure him she wasn’t planning on it, but stopped. That last comment.
She knitted her forehead together. “What other danger?”
Father Marcus watched her steadily, his expression solemn. “You read the letter.”
She glanced down at the journal pages, half-hidden beneath her other notes on the table. He couldn’t be serious. Amina had said her grandmother hid the letter out of fear, but Amina herself had seen nothing to worry about.
“You mean the Medjay warning?” A smile tugged at her cracked lips, which stung as they stretched. “That was written eighty years ago. Why? Do you think it’s real?”
“It’s not something to take lightly.”
Confusion fluttered in her chest. Her smile faded. “Are you saying these guys exist?”
This time Father Marcus looked away and busied himself with folding up the map. “I have never met one.”
“But you think they could be out there?”
He slipped the map under his arm. “I, personally, would not risk it.”
Why wouldn’t he directly answer the question? He believed it and didn’t want to admit it, or was there something else? Not that it mattered to her at this point.
“I wasn’t planning on going,” she said, then decided it was time for a change of subject. She was done with this Medjay treasure hunt. It was time to find Xander. She let out a soft sigh. “I need to go home.”
“Indeed. From the sound of it, you’ve been through quite an ordeal. Yes, yes, you must be eager to go home. Why don’t you try calling again? If no one answers, do let me know. We can help make arrangements to get you back as quickly as possible.” He turned and shuffled off with the map, his steps a bit faster than usual.
She watched him retreat into his office. What was that all about? A nagging voice told her to go after him and take the map, but Xander was more important. She picked up the phone, her heart pounding frantically as she dialed Xander’s number again. Her fingers shook so much she had to type it twice. Once successful, she hit call.
Please pick up. Nothing. Straight to voicemail. And that was that. She would have to try someone else. She rubbed her forehead, trying to remember Emma’s number. Either it ended with a four-eight or an eight-four. She hit the buttons again, not caring if she was dialing the right ones. If this number didn’t work, she’d try the other combination. The phone rang. She held her breath until it clicked.
“Buonasera.”
“Emma?”
Silence followed.
“Emma, please, it’s me.”
“Mamma mia. Xander! Get over here. You won’t believe this.”
Emma was talking, no, screaming at Xander. Leila’s heart soared and her vision blurred. A chorus of confusion crackled on the phone until finally, loud and clear, rumbled that deep, soothing voice.
“Leila?”
She thought her heart was going to burst at the sound. He was really there. He had gone silent, waiting for a response, but she could still hear his crackly breaths.
“Xander?”
The silence dragged on for a moment, long enough for her to suspect he’d already hung up.
