CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Dr. Dietrich, surely you realize you are in a good deal of trouble. If you’ll simply tell us where Dr. Osgrove is, I am certain we can ease any accessory implications against you.”
Bud continued to sit in the chair by the French doors, his ice-blue eyes steady as he faced off against Corbin and two detectives from Scotland Yard. The detectives were well-groomed men, college-educated and polite, but Bud wouldn’t give them the time of day. They seemed to spend the majority of their time staring at each other, each man waiting for the other to blink. So far, no one had.
“As I told you when you arrived, Dr. Osgrove has gone out for the morning,” Bud said to the young detective with receding blond hair. He had introduced himself as Larry Wolfe. “Look, she left her suitcase here. You don’t think she would have taken off without her suitcase, do you?”
“It’s been over two hours,” the other detective, a handsome man by the name of Turner, was chewing on a toothpick. “Where has she been for two hours?”
Bud cocked an eyebrow. “You aren’t married, are you?”
Turner crossed his arms. “I am. But I keep my wife under a tight rein, Dr. Dietrich. She doesn’t go anywhere for two hours without me.”
Bud snorted. “Then you must have one hell of a leash, Turner. As for Rory Osgrove, consider the fact that the woman has spent over one year on the bleak sands of Israel. She’s like a kid in a candy store with all of these western shops. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s gone all day and has spent the better part of her savings by the time she returns.”
Standing in a casual position by the door, Corbin lit a cigarette. “Then why didn’t you go with her to prevent her from doing such a thing?” he tucked his lighter back into his pocket. “After all, the two of you are exceptionally close, aren’t you? Protecting her from the law and all that.”
Bud couldn’t very well lie in front of the detectives any more than he was already doing, especially when Corbin was stating already-establish facts. Staring at Corbin with his ice-cold gaze, he simply shrugged. “She’s a big girl, Corbin. She doesn’t need me to chaperone or protect her.”
Corbin met Bud’s gaze, feeling the same strength from the man that he had when they’d met on the tarmac at Heathrow. Like a cornered tiger. “But that’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? Certainly she’s told you where she’s hidden the body.”
Bud raised an eyebrow. “It’s not hidden anywhere. If you hadn’t knocked me out yesterday when you broke into Rory’s hotel room, maybe you would have had some answers. But you created so much panic with your strong-arm tactics that we had no choice but to get away from you,” he leaned on one arm, his eyes narrowing. “Now I’m curious; did you bring Scotland Yard in on your loose-cannon plans thinking I’d talk to them when all you had succeeded in doing was creating an even bigger mess?”
“And I’m curious, Dr. Dietrich,” Corbin countered with a puff of his cigarette. “Why did Dr. Osgrove want an ancient corpse so badly that she would risk her entire future to steal it?”
Bud seemed to dull somewhat. “I never said she stole it. Even if she had, I can only guess her motives.”
“And what would your guess be?”
Bud sighed heavily, looking to the garden beyond the French doors and remember Rory as she passed among the flowers two hours earlier. The expression on her face was one he would never forget. “She felt that it belonged to her,” he muttered, feeling stupid even as he said it.
“What’s that?” Corbin moved away from the wall, his ear cocked. “Did you say it belonged to her? What, exactly, belonged to her?”
Bud looked at him. “I told you. She feels the corpse belongs to her since she was the one who found it. And I should have never agreed to turn it over to you.”
Corbin cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” he said. “Then she feels the corpse belongs to her. Or, perhaps, could it be the contents of the corpse that is her actual source of interest?”
Bud’s brow furrowed deeply. “Contents? What in the hell does that mean?”
Corbin smiled thinly. Putting out his cigarette, he moved to light another. Certainly with the police present, he had nothing to lose by continuing his provocative line of thought. In fact, the presence of the law might provoke Dietrich into a confession. “I have a theory, Dr. Dietrich, and please correct me if I’m wrong. I’m willing to wager that the actual corpse of Sir Kieran Hage isn’t what interests Dr. Osgrove at all. But an ancient corpse could contain within its hollowed body cavity a collection of priceless artifacts a cunning archaeologist would be attempting to hide from the rightful owners.”
Bud rose from his chair, his face a mask of disbelief. “What in the hell are you suggesting?”
Corbin was wise enough to sense Bud’s hostility, moving to where the detectives were standing to put distance between them. “It’s only a theory, really. But it wouldn’t be difficult to smuggle artifacts in the capsule of an ancient corpse. The fact that Dr. Osgrove was adamant that no autopsy be performed only supports my theory. You two had planned to take the body to Oxford for further tests. Plenty of time to remove your ill-gotten stash before turning Sir Kieran over to his family.”
Bud’s jaw dropped; he couldn’t help it. “Christ,” he hissed. “You think that Rory stole the corpse is because we’re smuggling grave artifacts inside it? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Not really,” Corbin was cool. “After all, you Americans made the initial find. And even though you have turned over the contents of the grave, how do we know it’s everything? How do we know you didn’t withhold some things for display in your university museum? Or, worse yet, to sell on the black market to raise funds for your floundering archaeological department?”
“Floundering?” Bud was outraged. “The University of San Marcos has an excellent archaeological department!”
Corbin examined his nails, his cigarette. “Agreed. When I meant floundering, I meant financially. I’ve received information that the university is suffering from a few bad investments and that the archaeology department is in danger of losing funding. And with the closure of the Nahariya dig, future projects are in question. Selling a few valuable artifacts would certainly help the situation, wouldn’t it?”
Bud’s cheeks were mottled red as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I’m an archaeologist, Mr. Corbin, not a thief. What you’re suggesting is nothing short of slanderous and I refuse to dignify your theory with any sort of rebuttal.”
Detective Wolfe intervened before Bud and Corbin came to blows. “I’ve no interest in this smuggling theory at the moment, gentlemen. The fact remains that Dr. Osgrove is wanted for questioning for the break in at the morgue and the subsequent abduction of Sir Kieran Hage’s corpse. In fact, up until this point, nothing’s been proven against her. We’ve no eye-witness that saw her break in, and we certainly have yet to find anyone that saw her lugging an ancient corpse from the hospital. It’s purely circumstantial, but we still need to talk to her,” he looked at Bud. “Do you understand me, Dr. Dietrich? We just need to speak with your colleague at this point.”
Corbin frowned. “A nurse at the hospital saw her there around the time of the break in. How can you disregard that testimony?”
Wolfe sighed patiently. “Because the nurse said she saw the Dr. Osgrove with a man. A living man. If you recall, Corbin, we’re looking for an eight hundred year old corpse. Had the nurse told us that she saw Dr. Osgrove wheeling a loaded gurney, I might be more suspicious.”
Corbin sighed in exasperation. “We’ve all but got a confession, for Christ’s sake! Even Dietrich said she threatened to do it!”
“But he didn’t see her do it,” Wolfe cast a long glance at the lawyer before returning his attention to Bud. “Is Dr. Osgrove really coming back, Dr. Dietrich? Or are we wasting our time?”
Bud looked at Corbin. The detective was calm and logical but still, he had promised to buy Rory and Kieran enough to time reach safety. And two hours, in his opinion, was not enough time to reach safety from Corbin. No matter what the cops said, he knew the Hage family lawyer wouldn’t rest until he found her. And the shocking fact that he believed Rory to be a smuggler only fueled his determination to protect her.
Weakly, he gestured at the suitcase. “Her luggage is still here,” he said quietly. “I…”
The piercing ring of Corbin’s cell phone abruptly filled the air. The lawyer ripped it from his pocket, answering it harshly. But the moment the caller identified himself, Corbin’s eyes were glued to Bud like a cat watching a mouse. Bud returned the man’s gaze, wondering who was on the other end of the phone and knowing without a doubt it had something to do with Rory. By the time Corbin ended the call, Bud was ready to explode with apprehension.
“That was Dr. Osgrove’s uncle,” Corbin turned to the detectives. “She’s apparently at Heathrow. Her mother received a call about a half-hour ago requesting that money be wired to her there.”
Wolfe and Turner looked at Dietrich. “Where is she going, Dr. Dietrich?” Wolfe asked, perturbed with the evasiveness that had caused them to waste two precious hours. “If you know, you’d better tell us or so help me I’ll throw you in jail for conspiracy.”
Bud heard the threat, but at the moment his attention was focused on Corbin. “Becker!” he rasped. “He’s been helping you all along?”
Corbin put the cell phone in his pocket smugly. “Of course,” he replied with a faint smirk. “You really should have told him about his niece’s trouble yourself, Dietrich. He was quite surprised by the news of her crime spree and when I offered my services to aid the poor girl, he was more than willing to agree.”
Bud’s cheeks were mottling again. “You dirty bastard. He thinks you’re trying to help her when you really want to see her hang for this!”
Corbin opened the door leading into the hall. “I simply want to see justice served, Dr. Dietrich. Now answer the detective’s question; where is she going?”
Bud clamped his mouth shut. “You’re so damn smart, you figure it out.”
Corbin’s smile faded. “I already have. And I would suspect that she’s going back to the scene of the crime. Am I correct?”
Bud didn’t reply. Wolfe and Turner, apparently unwilling to follow through on their threat of throwing Bud in jail, quit the room with Corbin close behind.
Bud listened to their footfalls fading down the hall, his entire body shaking with emotion as he picked up the phone and placed a call to the airlines. Not wanting to wait for the flight to Tel Aviv the next day, he booked himself on a flight to Istanbul that departed in six hours. From there, he would find his way to Nahariya.
Hanging up on the airlines, he immediately placed an overseas call. If he couldn’t make it in time to save Rory and Kieran from Corbin’s pursuit, then he would make sure David did.
*
Kieran’s first experience on an airplane was even worse than the underground. Plastered against his seat, he refused to move from the time the plane took off until the moment it set down. The man didn’t possess a cowardly bone in his body, but he was having a difficult time adjusting to something Rory took for granted.
The overhead reading light seemed to be the only gadget she could divert his attention with, but even then he hardly paid attention to it. When the plane landed in Rome for a short stopover and took off again, Rory gave up on the light and squeezed his hand the entire flight to Tel Aviv.
It had been an exhausting flight. Kieran was stiff as he disembarked the plane, looking back at the phallic-shaped monster as if scarcely believing he had survived the trip. But a journey that had taken months in his time had taken less than a day and he couldn’t decide if his amazement was stronger than his airsickness.
The miracle of modern travel aside, the real magic was yet to come. Rory was shaking with apprehension as she went through customs, passing easily. Directly behind her, Kieran handed the customs worker his passport, looking straight at the man as the information was reviewed. As Rory bit her lip and struggled not to collapse, the customs official hardly glanced at Kieran as he asked of his business in Israel. When Kieran repeated his well-rehearsed reply, that he was on his honeymoon, the man routinely stamped the passport and welcomed him to Tel Aviv.
And that was it. No blood, no sweat, little hassle. Kieran smiled at a shaken Rory, collecting his bag and kissing her hand as they moved through the terminal. Bouncing back from their chaotic flight experience, they emerged into the bright Israeli day and went in search of a taxi. But their search abruptly ended when a familiar voice called to Rory from the curb and she looked over, only to come face to face with the familiar features of David Peck.
“Dave!” she squealed with delight, racing toward him and throwing herself into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
Peck was grinning from ear to ear, unusual for the normally taciturn man. “Bud called,” he said, holding her back to get a good look at her. His smile faded. “He said you might be coming here and I called the airlines to see when the flights were arriving from England. Jesus Christ, Rory, what in the hell has been going on? Bud sounds like he’s ready to collapse.”
Rory knew Kieran was directly behind her, undoubtedly sizing David up. She smiled weakly at her colleague. “I don’t even know where to begin, Dave. But I think I’d better start by introducing you to Sir Kieran Hage.”
Pulling away from Peck, she grasped Kieran by the arm. Her eyes never left David’s face, expecting the same reaction from him that she had received from Bud. Disbelief. Skepticism. Of everything David was, his logical character to his surly tendencies, she was prepared to accept the brunt of it.
Which was why she was completely surprised when he did nothing she had expected. Eyes behind the thin wire rims wide with shock, David took a step back as if witnessing something from a Boris Karloff movie.
“My God!” he gasped. “It… it’s him!”
Rory was surprised by David’s reaction. Without a word of persuasion or assurance, the man knew Kieran on sight. The man he had raised from the grave. As the knight gazed down at David with his usual even expression, Rory reached out a hand to steady the startled archaeologist.
“Dave, it’s all right,” she said soothingly. The man looked like he was going to faint. “We can explain, really. He’s not a zombie.”
“But…” Dave was still pointing at him. “He’s alive!”
She let go of Kieran, patting David’s arm comfortingly. “Yes, Dave, he’s alive. But there’s a logical explanation for it. You’re not looking at a ghost.”
David was white. Kieran cocked an eyebrow and shook his head; he’d almost rather have Bud’s blatant disbelief than the naked fear of a coward.
“Jesus Ch…” David swallowed, turning to look at Rory as she continued to pat his arm. “But told me to expect the two of you, but I had no idea he meant… well, hell, this is just crazy!”
Rory shook her head patiently. “No, it’s not. Dave, listen to me; Sir Kieran wasn’t dead when we found him. He was in a form of stasis brought on by an alchemist’s potion.”
“A potion?” David looked dazed. “Are you trying to tell me that some sort of elixir did… this?”
“It did,” Rory maintained her calm voice. “Remember when I told you the knight’s journal referred to the crown of thorns? Well, I was right. It really did. Sir Kieran was mortally wounded by assassins who wanted to get their hands on it and an alchemist put him to sleep in the hope of saving his life. Now that Sir Kieran is awake, he’s determined to finish what he started.”
“Started what?”
“The crown, Dave,” Rory repeated softly. “That’s why we’ve returned. He’s going to show us where he hid the crown.”
David simply shook his head, his entire expression awash with astonishment. “Bud said… he told me not to shut down the dig just yet. Christ, is this what he meant?”
Rory nodded. “Exactly. You see, I…oh, hell, we really don’t have time for this right now. Are you well enough to drive?”
David nodded weakly. The jeep was in the yellow zone next to the curb and Rory shoved him toward the vehicle, practically lifting him into the driver’s seat. But David only seemed capable of staring at Kieran and with a frustrated grunt, Rory pushed him into the passenger seat and took the wheel herself. Throwing it into gear, they left the airport.
The arid climate of Israel was as enticing as a warm caress as they headed out of the city. Nahariya was a solid two hours away as they traveled over lands Kieran had known well eight hundred years ago. But the knight was distracted from his view of the holy land by David’s continuous staring. Unsure if the man’s dazed expression was a challenge, Kieran stared back.
“Start explaining, Rory,” David sounded calmer once they were on the highway.
She took a deep breath and launched into her story. Every detail, every move they made. Well, almost every move. When she elaborated on the part where Bud was only just coming to believe in Kieran’s existance, David merely shook his head.
“How could he not believe?” he muttered, still gazing at the man in the back seat as if envisioning the Holy Grail. “I mean, look at him; we studied that body from head to toe and there’s no doubt in my mind that this is the man we excavated. And all that stuff about the alchemist… well, I’ve heard some pretty strange things in my time. Thought your story about the crown of thorns was the strangest until now.”
Rory grinned, glancing at him as the desert breeze whipped her hair about. “Dave, you were the last person I expected to come around so quickly. What about all your speeches about hard fact and evidence and myth-chasing?”
He shrugged, studying the scars on Kieran’s hands. “This is the hardest evidence of all, Rory. I can’t dispute a living, breathing man.”
Rory shook her head in disbelief; gladness, but disbelief all the same. “You never truly believed in my crown. But you believe in a walking corpse?”
“Your crown isn’t solid in my hands,” David said, meeting Kieran’s clear brown eyes. “Hell, if this isn’t the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kieran cocked an eyebrow. “Is that good?”
Rory and David laughed. “Listen to that accent!” David crowed as if it was the most marvelous thing in the world. “Christ, there are a million things I want to ask him and I don’t even know where to start.”
Kieran, seeing that David was accepting the situation as well as or better than Rory had initially, stretched his long legs out over the back seat. “Your colleague has spent the better part of the past several days wringing forth information. Certainly she knows more than I do by now.”
David hung over the seat, watching Kieran get comfortable in the tiny back seat. “I have no doubt about that,” he said, the awe in his voice evident. “To get first-hand knowledge from someone who lived and breathed during the time of the Lionheart… Christ, I just can’t believe this. It’s amazing!”
“That may be, my lord, but the logical circumstance has been explained to you.”
David grinned like a fool. “He called me ‘my lord’,” he snorted. “Well, hell, where to begin? How about your childhood?”
Rory’s brow furrowed. “Childhood?”
David nodded eagerly. “You know, how he lived, when he fostered, the process leading up to knighthood. And I had a friend once who did his entire doctoral thesis on the sporting events of Medieval Europe. He claimed they played baseball centuries before Abner Doubleday supposedly invented it. Now I can actually find out.”
Rory shook her head, looking at Kieran through the rear-view mirror. “I’m sorry about him. Now that the shock is wearing off, he’s only interested in your mind.”
Kieran shrugged, grinning. “I would rather answer his eager questions that experience more of Bud’s hostility.”
David cocked an eyebrow, glancing to Rory. “Bud was hostile? What in the hell… oh. I get it.”
Rory raised her own eyebrow, nodding faintly. “I’ll tell you about it later, but please, don’t ever ask him. Having the woman you love stolen by a corpse is not exactly something you want to shout to the world.”
David nodded solemnly, his normal demeanor returning as the jeep bumped over the highway. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he had accepted Kieran’s resurrection as easily as he had; but as he had always told Rory, hard evidence was the greatest persuader of all. And the fact that jealously wasn’t clouding his opinion was a contributor as well.
Gazing at the weary face in the back seat, he knew the features all too well. He had sketched them for documentation as well as taken up an entire roll of film. Sure… he knew the face. And he accepted it for what it was, impossible or not. He would have been fool not to.
“All right,” he said quietly, settling down for the long ride back to Nahariya and glad that Rory was driving. “So let’s start from the beginning. Like your birth. Where were you born and did your mother use a birthing stool or a bed?”
Rory groaned. The stunningly blunt character of Dr. David Peck had returned with a vengeance.
*
The site was exactly as she had left it. It was nearly night by the time the jeep rolled to a stop and Rory engaged the parking brake, smiling at the workers who were waving at her. David was already out of the car, having spent the past two hours in heavy conversation with Kieran and still lingering on some of the aspects of their dialogue.
Kieran bailed from the jeep with his usual agility, duffle bag on one hand as he looked over the landscape. The Syrian foreman greeted Rory amiably, glancing strangely at Kieran but refraining from comment. Rory immediately informed the foreman that they would be digging into the night and asked him to crank up the generator.
As the camp began to move with purpose thanks to the shouts of the foreman, Rory turned to Kieran; he was still standing by the jeep, his gem-clear eyes roving the gentle slope and distant city. Quietly, she moved up beside him and slipped her hand into his massive palm.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
He smiled at her, squeezing her hand. “I am not for certain,” he bass-toned voice was equally quiet. “The smell… it is the same as it was in my time.”
She leaned against his arm, the hazel eyes licking the familiar sights. “Then it smelled terrible. What else are you thinking?”
He didn’t reply for a moment, his eyes riveted to the scenery. “It feels odd to be here. Strange. A timeless quality to the land and people that has not changed in centuries.”
She glanced up at him, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
He continued to stare, trying to shrug off the peculiar sensation he was experiencing. After a moment, he squeezed her hand again and his smile returned. “Nor do I, sweetheart. Come; let us begin. If you’ll show me where you found me, I can gain my bearing and…”
She laughed softly, pulling him toward a wide, familiar tent. “In a minute. Let’s get settled and maybe change clothes. My tent is over here.”
He followed, struggling against the odd hollowness that seemed to fill his stomach, spreading to his limbs. “Libby, we’ve no time to waste. I would suspect Simon… or the man who calls himself Corbin has managed to wrest our destination from Bud. We must hurry.”
Rory pulled him into the tent, moving to light the old Coleman lantern. In spite of the sunlight, the tent was dim. “Bud didn’t know our destination, remember? Maybe he still thinks were in England. He knows you didn’t have a passport.”
“But he knows we were destined for Nahariya,” he set his duffle bag on the floor. “In fact, ’twould not astonish me if the man showed himself shortly.”
The lantern cast a soft glow and Rory scratched her scalp wearily, wanting to change out of her crumpled clothes and into her customary digging attire. Kieran watched her as she fumbled with the small traveling case beside her bed, his attention momentarily diverted by the amazing lantern as she rummaged through her clothes.
“He’ll be here,” she said finally, drawing forth khaki-colored jeans and a tee-shirt. “After he gives Corbin the slip, he’ll come and help us.”
Kieran heard the tone of her voice, knowing she did not believe what she was saying. Her fear that Bud had ended up in deep trouble distressed her, but she could not give up hope that he had somehow managed to slip free of Corbin’s clutches. Kieran gave up fooling with the lamp and gave her his full attention as she stripped off the stained white shirt.
“Bud is a wise man, Lib,” he said softly. “You must trust that he will come through unscathed.”
She cast him a long glance. “You and Bud haven’t exactly been the best of friends. And you still think he’s wise?”
He nodded. “I cannot say that if our roles were reverse, my reaction to him would have been different. And just because he is resistant to the event of miracles does not mean he is a fool,” his gem-clear eyes glittered in the weak light. “Moreover, he loves you, does he not? I cannot fault the man his choice of perfection.”
She flushed, removing her shoes and tossing them to the floor. “I don’t even know why he even bothers,” she said softly. “He’s done so much for me and all I’ve ever given him is heartache.”
He watched her as she pulled off her pants, clad only in her bra and panties. Certainly they had no time to waste, but the more he watched her beautiful body in the weak lamplight, the more his desire threatened to outweigh his reason.
“He is a grown man,” he said quietly, moving toward her. “And he has made his own choices. Whatever he has done for you has been of his own free will. Sometimes love itself is the greatest sacrifice of all.”
She fumbled with her tee-shirt, looking up at him and noticing he was nearly on top of her. “What does that mean?”
He smiled, a massive hand reaching out and embedding itself in her hair. “It means that you have done so much for me and all I have ever given you is heartache. Do you hate me overly?”
She tried to shake her head, unable to move when a second hand lost itself in her hair. “Of course not,” she breathed, feeling the heat of sensuality ignite. “I’d do anything for you.”
He pulled her against his chest as her tapered fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt. “As Bud would do anything for you. As I would do anything for you. The joy, my dearest Rory, is in the doing. In this time or in mine. Regrets are useless.”
She whimpered softly when his lips found her eager mouth, the fire of passion finding fuel. Tongues touched, tasted, and plundered as they lost themselves in a timeless desire; one loving kiss, one delicate touch, for every star in the bright Turkish sky.
*
David was waiting for them near the gravesite when Kieran and Rory arrived an hour later. Signature baseball cap on his receding brown head, he had difficulty looking Rory in the eye and she knew it was because he had heard their lovemaking. Fighting off a grin as David proceeded to explain the grave to Kieran, she let the smile break through when he finally met her gaze. Blushing profusely, David struggled not to appear too embarrassed.
Kieran, however, was tactfully oblvious to David’s chagrin and Rory’s seeming nonchalance. He listened carefully to Dr. Peck’s assessment of his grave, having great difficulty with the New York accent. If listening to Rory butcher the English language had been tough, deciphering David Peck was a nightmare. But he managed to catch the gist of the explanation, understanding that he had been buried in what was apparently the center of the temple. When David quieted, Kieran began to pace the gridded floor.
“In my time there was a good deal more to this structure,” he said, trying to gain his bearings. Turning to Rory and David, he gestured behind them. “There were columns here at one time, thick marble pillars that had been left over when the Muslims finished building their mosque. Hypocrites that they were, they believed the Greeks to be pagans but it did not prevent them from stealing the fine stone from their temples to build their own houses of worship.”
Rory was fixed on Kieran as he moved about the careful grids. “We’re facing west, Kieran. Were it not so dark, you could see the Mediterranean in the distance. Where was the mosque from here?”
He immediately turned and pointed down the hill. “Down there, where your camp is.”
He began to walk in that direction. On his heels, Rory and David followed like eager puppies, a palpable sense of excitement filling them. They were closer to the crown than they had been in fourteen months and their enthusiasm was a powerful motivator. Kieran’s long strides thundered down the hill, treading along the edge of the encampment. As Rory and David fell in behind him, David’s cell phone rang.
It was a SkyPhone, a very expensive cellular phone that was linked to satellite. If David was in the middle of the Arctic, he could still be reached. Whipping the phone from his pocket, he answered.
“Yeah?” a slight pause and then his face lit up. “Bud!”
Rory came to a halt, turning anxious eyes to David. “It’s Bud? How is he?”
Even Kieran stopped as David held up a quieting hand, listening to Bud speak. After a minute, he nodded. “Yeah, she’s came just like you suspected. No, I don’t know how she got Sir Kieran out of the country. And by the way, it was nice of you to tell me about Sir Kieran’s… yeah, but you could have tried. Not only that, but… all right, all right, hang on,” he handed the phone to Rory. “He wants to talk to you.”
Rory snatched the phone. “Bud? How are you? What’s happening?”
On the other end of the line, Bud sighed with relief. And exhaustion. And every other emotion he could possibly feel. “Rory, how in the hell did you get Kieran out of England?”
She glanced at the massive knight, outlined by the mercury vapor lamps. “We stole a passport. Worked like a charm,” she didn’t really want to elaborate further on her crime spree. “We’ve been here for a few hours. What’s going on with you? What happened with Corbin?”
Bud was calling from the ancient Turkish city of Tarsus. The bus from Istanbul had stopped there for refueling and he could hardly stand the thought that he wouldn’t be in Nahariya for another four hours. And it was very, very important that Rory understand what was happening.
“Rory, listen to me,” he said quickly, quietly. “Corbin is on his way to Nahariya. Hell, he’s probably there by now. I tried to hold him off, but Becker called and tipped him off.”
Beneath the silver moonlight, Rory went pale. “Becker? He’s in on this?”
“I don’t think he knows exactly what’s happening,” Bud said gently. “He thinks Corbin is trying to help you. When you called your mother yesterday to ask for money, Becker relayed the information that you were at Heathrow. He thinks you’re running from the law, which you are. But what Corbin thinks is even worse.”
Rory swallowed hard, feeling the familiar tightening of anxiety grab her. “What’s that?”
Bud paused a moment. “He thinks you stole Sir Kieran’s body because you were smuggling artifacts inside the corpse. The police aren’t buying it as far as I can tell, but Corbin is convinced you’re hiding something.”
Rory closed her eyes to the horrifying new dimension of the situation. “And he’s coming here to find out?”
“He’s coming to get you.”
Her nostrils flared with emotion. “No!” she almost shouted. “We’re within striking distance of the crown and I refuse to… oh, Bud, what are we going to do? If Corbin gets here before…”
“I’m about four hours away, maybe more,” Bud said, feeling her panic through the phone. “But I’ll be there, honey, I swear it.”
Rory was genuinely surprised. “You’re… coming?” she said in awe. “You’re already here? But, Bud, I thought you were still in England. You said you were finished with this!”
Bud drew in a deep breath. How many times had he resisted her pleas, denied her requests, only to give in? Christ, he was such a weakling. A weakling for the woman he would always love. “I never could stay away from you no matter what,” he muttered, feeling like an idiot. “Give the phone to Dave so I can tell him what’s happening. Until I can get there, he’s the line of defense between you and Corbin.”
A faint smile creased her lips, feeling the warmth and devotion from Bud as she always had. “Thanks, Bud,” she murmured. “You’re really not such a bad guy, after all.”
After the phone call that would cost him a small fortune was complete, David put the phone back into his pocket as Rory and Kieran conversed quietly. No doubt pondering the current situation from the expression on Kieran’s face.
“So this Corbin guy,” David began, displeased with the idea of the man in pursuit of Rory. Kieran, too. “Bud says he’s a mean bastard. A lawyer, huh?”
Rory nodded, her expression tense. “A shark, Dave. Unscrupulous as they come.”
Next to her, Kieran sighed heavily, his square jaw ticking. “Simon was never particularly unscrupulous until Henry’s men convinced him that utter victory over Saladin was the only honorable ending,” he murmured, looking to Rory and David. “’Tis not only the reincarnation of Simon that follows me, but his very soul. Whereas God is working on our side, my lady, I am afraid that Lucifer is working for Simon. He is coming and he will not stop until he has me.”
“Simon?” David repeated, remembering what Kieran had told him on the ride from Tel Aviv. “The guy who tried to kill you?”
Rory ignored David’s question, staring at Kieran as tears stung her eyes. “He’s not going to get you,” she said firmly. “We’ll find the crown and return to England and face up to whatever consequences there are. David and Bud will help us, Kieran. You must believe that.”
“I do,” he said, reaching out to touch her beloved face. “But I feel strangely now, as I have since our arrival. A sensation of forboding and emptyness that I can scarcely comprehend. And my wound… it pains me oddly.”
Rory frowned, untucking his shirt from his pants and gasping when she gazed upon the swollen, throbbing scar. Bewildered and frightened, she met Kieran’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?” she hissed, fighting off the tears. “Why is it acting up?”
He shook his head, retucking his shirt because the sight of his injury upset her so. “I do not know,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “But I feel… I feel as I did the night Simon came for me at the inn. A powerful sensation of evil pursuing me, closing in on me no matter where I go. And my wound… mayhap it is reminding me that my task is not over yet. I must complete it before Simon finds me. Again.”
Clouds were gathering over head, the wind picking up. Her chest constricted with fear, Rory struggled to overcome the foreboding she too was feeling. The evil that Kieran had described.
With Rory in his grasp, Kieran didn’t waste any time in continuing his task; pacing off the perimeter of the Muslim mosque, he struggled to maintain a clear focus as to what he must do. The sense of urgency was greater now than ever before.
Simon was closing in.