Chapter Nineteen
Adrian couldn’t hear her, not the splash of the water against the rocks, not the sound of her breathing, amplified in this space. His mind whipped through all the possible scenarios—she’d gotten stuck in a tunnel and drowned, she’d hit her head and drowned, she’d dropped from exhaustion and drowned.
All would be his fault. Smoller wouldn’t have killed her. He was fairly certain his former partner had a soft spot for her, so Adrian dragging her along on this escape hadn’t saved her—it had put her in danger.
He rolled so his feet were in the water, keeping his arm pinned to his side. It had stiffened up in the cold and the wet, but he could feel the blood flowing from it again, trickling down his arm.
How deep was the water here? He couldn’t swim in this tight space, not with one arm. But he could hold onto the wall and go after her. He should be able to find his way back if he needed to. He hoped he didn’t need to, not if she’d found a way out.
Linda crouched at the opening of the cavern, backlit. Mallory rose from the water and stumbled toward the girl, shedding her dive gear, numb with shock. Linda was alive! Mallory had seen her shot, watched for her body. After the swim that she and Adrian had made, she knew no one with a gunshot wound could have made it so far alone, not without a tank.
But just when she was about to fling her arms about Linda, her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw the gun in Linda’s hand, pointed at Mallory. She stopped abruptly. What was Linda thinking?
“Linda, it’s me!” Did the girl not recognize her? “I’m so glad you made it—I thought you were dead. God, how did you know where to find me?”
Confusion furrowed the girl’s face, shadowed by the swirling clouds overhead. Surely she didn’t expect such a reaction while she was holding a gun on Mallory. But Mallory couldn’t think of how else to react. She was no Lara Croft. Still, Linda lowered the gun just a fraction.
“We’ve been combing the area for you,” Linda said. “When you weren’t at the beach, we started looking at the sinkholes.”
So had they found Toney and Jacob? As much as she wanted to know, Mallory couldn’t alert the girl to the possibility they were around. Mallory pressed on as the wind kicked up around her, moving closer, keeping the girl off balance, keeping herself between Linda and the opening of the cave in case Adrian managed to follow her. He would freak if he saw the gun and do something foolish.
Or maybe he’d be as perplexed as she was.
“How could you make that swim after you’d been shot?” Mallory held her hands toward the girl as if prepared to examine her. Her wet hair slapped her face in the strong wind, but she dared not take her eyes from Linda and the gun to check the storm’s approach. She wished she’d taken more time to get to know the girl. She could use some inside information now to appeal to her. “How have you managed to get around? We need to get you to a doctor.”
Linda snapped her gun up, aiming at Mallory’s chest. “You idiot,” Linda growled. “I was never shot. It was a trick to get you to do what you were told. It didn’t work for long, I see.”
“You were working with Valentine? All this time?” Mallory knew there had to be a purpose behind the sabotage of Adrian’s mouthpieces, but she hadn’t suspected this. Adrian had been vulnerable for months—he couldn’t have had a clue. Valentine hadn’t taken any chances with Dr. Vigil betraying him. He’d inserted his own spy in Adrian’s camp, and Adrian, so unlikely to trust, had fallen for it. Of course, Valentine would know just what qualifications Adrian was looking for. “The day Adrian was bitten—had you been down? Did you put the amphora there?” She’d always wondered how the eel had found his new home so quickly.
Linda lifted a shoulder. “I merely moved it from one place to another. If you look at the amphora, it’s not even real. I set it out until I had what I needed, put a lid on it and placed it at the site.”
“Why?” Mallory had trouble even forming that word, so great was her shock.
“I had to get Adrian out of camp.”
“And if the eel had bitten someone else?”
“He still would have left the camp. Especially if he’d had to take you to the doctor.”
“What is so important about this site that you’d risk killing someone to help Smoller?”
“He needs the casket.”
Mallory shook her head. All this for a simple artifact. “Why? What does he plan to do with it?”
Linda lifted a casual shoulder, but her eyes were still sharply trained on Mallory. “His plans are his plans, but they’re important. Because they’re important to him, they’re important to me.”
“Why? Linda, you have to see what Valentine is.” Mallory wiped strands of wet hair from her chilled face. Lightning illuminated the sky and every molecule in Mallory urged her to get off this hill. She looked past Linda to the Land Cruiser parked crookedly on the uneven ground, one of theirs. “You have to help me get away.”
Linda lifted the gun toward Mallory’s throat. “I’m afraid I’m not going to do that. It’s taken a long time to gain my father’s approval. I’m not going to blow it now.”
“Your father.” Horrible realization washed through Mallory and she staggered, her bare foot sliding on the rock. “Valentine is your father.” She could see it now, in the shape of Linda’s eyes, her mouth. So she was Robert’s granddaughter. Questions tumbled through her mind at the revelation. But her first concern was her husband. “You set Adrian up.”
Linda lifted her eyebrows. “He made it very easy.”
“He trusted you,” Mallory said through her teeth.
“He shouldn’t have.” Linda looked past her to the clouds above. “Is he with you?”
Mallory shook her head, buying time, unsure of what to do. She needed to protect Adrian. The question was, how? He’d have a better chance on his own because Valentine and Linda would take advantage of his weakness. “I lost him in the cave. We couldn’t keep track of each other.”
Doubt clouded Linda’s face and Mallory watched her make her own decisions.
“You’re shivering, and the storm is almost on us,” the girl said at last. “We need to get you to the boat.” With one last look at the hole behind Mallory, Linda took Mallory’s arm. Before Mallory knew it, Linda had cuffed her hands behind her.
Mallory’s heart fractured. Adrian was in the cave alone, bleeding, with no tank, no light. She had to get out of the tunnel. She couldn’t leave him behind. Which choice would keep him alive?
Valentine might choose to punish her, to punish Adrian. She could be the price Adrian had to pay for taking Valetine’s place in his father’s life.
It was so wrong, so soon. She’d just found him again, just rediscovered her feelings for him, decided that he was what she wanted, that this is what she wanted, no matter what. They may have been able to work things out. They’d come so close. Why couldn’t they have more time?
With great difficulty, pain shooting from his upper arm all down his body, Adrian pulled himself out of the cavern as soon as the SUV drove off. Linda was Smoller’s daughter. Damn, he should have seen it before. And because he’d trusted her, Mallory’s life was in danger. Smoller had sent Linda to him, he had no doubt. But why?
Another thought struck him. Robert must have realized who Linda was. Had Linda killed him because he’d found out her true identity? If she had, Adrian may as well have pulled the trigger himself. If he couldn’t judge character any better than that…
But he needed to focus. He needed to get Mallory away from Smoller.
Barefoot, he crept down to the campsite, the rough ground tearing skin already sensitive from staying too long in the water. Everything was in slow motion because of the blood loss. Ridiculous plans swirled through his head, but at least he recognized them as ridiculous. Shit. He had to stop, think, make a plan. Mallory’s life depended on it.
He needed to find Jacob and Toney.
Valentine’s boat was tied to the dock at Adrian’s camp when Linda pulled the Jeep up to the beach. How had he managed if Adrian had disabled it? Mallory hoped nothing else had gone wrong with the plan.
Valentine stood on the deck, hands on his hips, wind billowing his shirt, the triumphant pirate. In front of him, on the deck, sat the caskets, all four of them, smaller than Mallory expected but identical to the drawings Adrian had made repeatedly three years ago. Real. Oh God. She fisted her hands against the desire to go to them, run her fingers over the intricate carvings covering them. But she couldn’t give in to the longing to explore them. She needed to concentrate on getting out of here safely, on getting to Adrian.
Valentine had what he needed—now she had to discover why he wanted it. Mallory boarded the boat, her shoulders cramping, her legs shaking, everything shaking as she fought not to break down in front of her enemy. She adjusted her stance on the rolling deck as the boat rode the waves in advance of the storm, and faced Valentine with a confidence she did not feel.
“Where’s your husband?”
“Dead.” Her voice came out stronger than she expected. She didn’t realize till that moment that she believed it, and the breath squeezed out of her lungs.
Valentine scoffed. “Surely not. Adrian is too good to die underwater while you survive.”
She lifted her chin, tears sheening her eyes as the very real possibility sunk in. “Your men hurt him. He wasn’t able to conserve his air.”
Valentine glanced at Linda, his face mottling. “Did you see his body?”
Linda shook her head. “I didn’t have the gear to go look, and she didn’t have an air tank.”
“He cannot be dead. He cannot!” He spun, fury in every line of his body. If Mallory didn’t know better, she would think he was grieving.
Grieving for the man he wanted to ruin.
Mallory glared at Valentine, her throat burning. “Why not?”
“He was supposed to see this. He was supposed to see my success and choke on it, knowing he’d never match it. How can he see it if he’s dead!” Madness brightened his eyes as he wrapped his hand around her ponytail, snapping her head back. She held his gaze. Showing that kind of control would no doubt anger him more. She didn’t care. “I still need you here.”
He turned her toward the caskets and again the gorgeous artifacts pulled at her. How could she think this way, not knowing how Adrian fared alone in the cave?
“I need you to tell me what they say, what these symbols mean.”
“I can’t.” He tightened his hand in her hair and she winced, ducking a bit to relieve the pressure. “I mean, that’s not my specialty. I have no experience with Byzantine symbology.”
“I thought you and Adrian worked primarily in the Mediterranean.”
Her heart squeezed at the thought of Adrian. “We did, but with Greek and Phoenician ships. And growing up, it was Incan symbology. I’m not the person you need.”
He leaned close. “Do you really want me not to need you?”
She got the message, terror thrumming through her veins. If he didn’t need her, she might as well be dead. “I can—look, but unless you have a reference book or something, I don’t know how accurate I can be.” Though she did want to get a closer look.
“I have some books.”
She thought he sounded relieved, but it could have been her imagination. Even as he gave the order to the man standing behind him to get the reference books, Mallory moved toward them. Maybe if she concentrated on this, she wouldn’t worry so about Adrian, though God knew how she could help him. Maybe keeping Valentine distracted would be enough.
She crouched beside the first casket, well, the last one, the one he’d pulled up here, if the sediment still clinging to it was a clue. When had he recovered it? The others had been carefully cleaned, but this one was duller than the others, crusted with salt and sand. A wave striking the boat knocked her off balance and she caught herself with one hand against the surface of the casket. Warm, not what she’d expected, especially not out in this weather. She eased away, brushing her fingertips over the scalloped edges.
“I need more light,” she murmured, and Valentine snapped out an order to make it happen. She turned toward him. “What do you think the symbols will reveal?”
He squared his shoulders. “I don’t want to influence you by telling you what to work for. I want the truth.”
“As near as I can get it.” Her hand trembled as she reached over to the next case. “Could I—would it be possible to get something to eat? I haven’t had anything all day.” Neither had Adrian, and after the swim and the blood loss…he couldn’t hold out much longer.
“When Linda comes back.”
Okay, clearly he didn’t want to leave her alone. Perhaps he only had Linda and one man at his disposal. Where were the others? With rest and a plan, she could get away. How far she could get was another question. And if it would be too late for Adrian was the bigger one.
Aware Valentine was watching her closely, she gave her attention to the chests and drew upon her own fears to look grief stricken. Tears blurred her vision and she wiped her hand over her eyes. “They’re all different. Did you notice that?”
“I did.” He crouched beside her, more colleague than captor. He stroked his fingers lovingly across the same casket she was inspecting. “What does it mean?”
“Not sure yet.” Regret punched the breath from her body. Adrian should be here. He believed in this. He deserved to see it. She wished she could look over and see the light in his silver-blue eyes, could see his hands moving over the finds with reverence. She never should have walked away from a man who felt so deeply.
Her throat burned as she moved to the next chest, the one that had been damaged when Valentine brought it up off the coast of Florida, and indeed a large chunk was missing. No telling what those symbols could have revealed.
And then she came to Adrian’s casket. She recognized it right away from his drawings. God, she wished she’d trusted him before, that she’d believed in him, that she’d helped him study the symbols, the legend.
Three years wasted and they might never get to make up for the lost time.
She pressed her hand to the carvings, letting the sharper edges bite into her palm.
“Does any of this mean anything to you?”
She shot Valentine a glare. “You’re the one who’s had three of the chests. Why don’t you know?”
He scowled, traced a carving of a ship as Linda returned with a clamp-on light, which she attached to the overhang. “I’ve had to keep them in a safe place. I didn’t have the luxury of studying them, not without drawing attention to what I had. What do I have, Mallory?”
With a shaking finger, Mallory traced a circle on the beveled edge of the chest, with four leaf-shaped indentions spreading out from a point in the center. “In Assyria, this symbol meant the four directions of the sun.” She glanced over. “What do you know about the meaning behind four chests? Why did they divide her? And why four?”
“They divided her ashes and set them to sea so her followers wouldn’t try to resurrect her.”
She sank back on her heels. “But Constantine was Christian. Surely he didn’t believe anyone but Christ had that power.”
He inclined his head in concession. “They’d seen Mavaris do some things even Christ hadn’t done. And seeing is believing. Which is why they killed her.”
“But why four? Seven and three are the numbers of Christianity. Typically the number four is pagan—earth, air, water and fire, which fits with the legend. But why would a priest choose that number instead of the holier numbers?”
“The legend as I heard is that they separated her heart, her head, her eyes and her reproductive organs. They believed that was the only way to keep her from coming back.”
Mallory turned her attention to the chest. These caskets hadn’t been carved by a Christian. They were full of pagan symbology, the chaos star, the uroborus—the snake eating itself—and symbols of earth, air, water and fire.
“I need verification from you that these are authentic, and I’ll need explanations of each of the symbols before I make my sale.”
She sat on her heels, folding her chilled hands in her lap. “And if I’m not inclined to help the man who killed my husband make his fortune?”
Valentine snorted. “His own paranoia killed him, just as it destroyed him in Tunisia. Once you do this for me, you’re free to return home.”
She stiffened in disbelief. “To tell everyone you killed Dr. Vigil and Adrian.”
He shook his head. “Your word against mine. You have no proof of the former, and if you did, you covered it up when you buried him. And Adrian’s death was a mere accident. I had nothing to do with it.”
She stood, every muscle in her body tight, ready to spring. “I’ll make it my life’s work to destroy you.”
He chuckled. “You’re more like your husband than I thought. Come. You need to get in some dry clothes, and I’ll have Linda bring you a sandwich.” He closed his hand around her arm, tighter than necessary, and guided her through the door of the boat, down the steps, through the cabin door before closing it securely between them.
She stood on the other side of the door, waiting for him to change his mind, to come in. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back, she allowed her muscles to relax. She shivered, cold, exhaustion and fear tumbling down on her like an avalanche. And as she started trembling, she started crying. How was Adrian faring, alone in the dark, hurt, worried that she hadn’t returned?
She couldn’t imagine her strong husband succumbing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d lost him.
As the boat rolled over the waves that bumped it against the dock, Mallory shivered on the carpeted floor of Valentine’s opulent oak paneled cabin, her back against the door to prevent Valentine from walking in. She’d resisted sitting, but she was so tired, so cold.
So heartbroken.
Only common sense had her dragging the Egyptian cotton comforter from Valentine’s bed, wrapping herself in it after she stripped off her wetsuit. She wasn’t able to find anything warm in Valentine’s closet, and being naked but for the comforter left her vulnerable, but she had to warm up.
She felt selfish about being warm when Adrian was alone, hurt, cold.
No. That was not what she was going to do. She knew this boat because she’d stayed on it before. She knew where Valentine kept the gear. She could refill two tanks without being seen. As rain beat down on the deck outside, she flung the comforter aside, cringing at the cool air hitting her naked skin, and pulled her wetsuit on. The neoprene chilled her skin and she shivered to fight her body’s reaction.
She had to escape. Once she was in the water, she could get to the cave, to Adrian. First, she needed to get to the tanks.
She looked for something to jam against the door, but the heavy furnishings, even the Tiffany-style lamp, were bolted down. Growing more and more desperate, and so cold and hungry she could barely think, she scrounged for anything to brace between the door and the bed, to slow anyone who might come in as she crept out the window.
A scratching at the window caught her attention and she snapped her head up. A ghostly image glimmered through the wet glass.
Adrian.
He was dead.
She shook off the thought that she was seeing his ghost and hurried to the window, relief making her muscles weak, clumsy. Adrian was there, flat on his stomach on the deck, in the flesh. With stiff fingers, she fumbled the window open, reached through to touch his pale skin, desperate for the feel of him, rough and real, desperate to reassure herself he was whole.
“Come on, we’re going.” His voice was rough over the sound of the rain as he held a cold hand to her.
“How?” She took her eyes from him for a moment and sought a foothold to boost herself through the window.
He dangled a set of keys in front of her. “Land Cruiser. Might be tricky in this rain, and we might get stuck, but beats the hell out of being here.” He closed his hands around her arms and pulled, his expression determined.
She hesitated. She needed to tell him. He might not forgive her if he found out later that the treasure had been within reach and she’d known all along. “Adrian, he has the last casket. All of them are here.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched and he blinked the rain from his eyes as he looked past her to the door. He must have been thinking about going after the damned thing.
But Adrian turned his attention to her, tightened his grip on her arm to help pull her free. “We’ll come back for it.”
She knew what that cost him, that choice. He’d go after Valentine on his own if she wasn’t here, no matter how hurt he was. But now was not the time to question his motive.
Both of them were so weak, so tired, and with Adrian in pain, what should have been a simple exercise of climbing through the window took too long, required more energy than they had to give. Desperation showed in the lines around Adrian’s eyes, compelling her to shove harder against the nightstand. She pushed herself out the window into the open air and found herself wrapped in Adrian’s arms as he knelt on the deck under the driving rain. A shudder ran through him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling her to her feet.
“Gotcha,” he murmured.
She looked up at his strained smile, and past him, saw movement. Immediately she stiffened, but she realized the danger too late.
“Well, well. I knew the ocean wouldn’t take the great Adrian Reeves.”
Adrian released Mallory and shoved her against the cabin wall, putting himself between Valentine and her. He was in no shape to fight, and she scrambled in front of him, ready to defend both of them.
Valentine and Linda—she could imagine Adrian’s shock matched her own at seeing Linda alive and aiming a gun—stood before them, and one of the hired muscle stood on the pilothouse, aiming a third weapon at them.
Considering Valentine had seemed upset when she’d told him Adrian was dead, he sure seemed to wish him dead now.
“What do you want with us? You’re done with the site. You have what you came for. Let us go.” Adrian’s voice was weary, and he swayed where he stood, beyond the movement of the ocean. He needed rest, food and a trip to the hospital. He had reached the end of his endurance, and she didn’t know how to help him.
“There’s something you must see.” Valentine reached forward and grasped Adrian’s arm.
Mallory turned in time to see Adrian’s eyes roll back in his head before he went limp and tumbled over the rail into the water.