Vault of the Oracle
Chapter 11: Honor Among Thieves

It was about two hours after the breakout when the battered van pulled up to its destination. Ben cocked his head. Ralph's 24-Hour Photo Mart. He was pretty sure Riley had no interest in photography in the best of times, let alone with half the DC law enforcement on their tail. Okay, what's going on?

As they clambered out of the van, Ben quickly steered himself next to the tech, and muttered the one thing he'd sworn never to ask. "Riley, what aren't you telling us?"

"Plenty," was the only response he got. Well, it had been worth a try.

A bright-eyed kid behind the counter greeted the quartet as they walked in. "Welcome to Ralph's, can I help you find something?"

Riley had his calmest expression plastered on, which Ben knew meant he was wound tight enough to snap at any moment. "Yeah. Does Trace still work here?"

The clerk's friendly demeanor dropped for an instant, then he was all smiles again. "He's working in the darkroom today. Is it important?"

"Emergency."

"Then I guess you know where to go."

This exchange left Patrick and Emily looking utterly lost, and had Ben remembering a conversation from over a year ago. About running from something. He had a good idea of what was going on now, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking. He was definitely not used to being the observer. Maybe this is why Abigail gets so annoyed when I keep my plans to myself.

But Abigail wasn't here...

Riley led them to a door at the back of the shop and rapped on it three times.

"Who's there?" came an immediate snarl from within.

"Take it easy, chief. It's Bill." Riley sounded tired, and didn't notice the look Ben gave him. Bill? Interesting. He'd thought that name had come out of nowhere.

"Bill who?" The edge had not gone off.

"Sparks. Do you want rank and serial number, too? Because I skipped my cereal this morning, the milk was pretty rank."

Patrick chuckled. Emily looked confused.

The door opened, revealing a face that was probably around thirty, wearing a shocked scowl. "Bill? The hell? Two years, you drop off the face of the planet, you don't leave any note that you're going, you don't even crack anyone's firewall? I figured the cops finally got you!"

"Not exactly," Riley muttered. "I've been a little preoccupied. Let's leave it at that."

If Trace found this unusual, he didn't show it. "Fair enough. So what're you after? I doubt you brought company just to drop in and say hi..." He trailed off as he looked over the four of them and got a good look at Ben's face. "Wait, man, that's not—"

"He's my friend."

Riley's tone could've frozen magma. Emily nearly jumped out of her skin, and even Patrick looked startled. Ben wasn't surprised, though. He'd seen Riley serious a few times before.

Trace just cocked his head. "Relax, kid. You know I'm not gonna snitch. Honor among thieves and all, right? But that is Ben Gates, isn't it?"

Riley shot Ben a look. He couldn't quite tell if it was your call or your funeral. Either way, there didn't seem to be much point in trying to lie about it. "Yeah, that's me."

"Awesome." Trace grinned, then turned back to Riley. "IDs, then?"

"And passports. How long will it take?"

A shrug. "I can rush 'em along. Three hours or so."

"Perfect."

"Names?"

Riley glanced at Ben and smirked. "Paul Brown, Mike Brown, and... uh..."

"Marge Schott!" Patrick volunteered, earning an elbow in the ribcage from his ex-wife.

"Let's try to be a little less obvious, shall we?" Ben suggested, though he seemed amused as well. "I think that Marge Brown should work just fine."

"Marge," Emily grumbled, but didn't argue further.

Trace nodded and gestured to the equipment in the back of the room. "This way, then. We'll get your pictures and get this show on the road."

--

Life as a hostage was incredibly boring.

Abigail supposed she should probably be grateful that boredom was even on her radar. Hostages usually didn't get to worry about things like every book in the manor being in Greek, or the fact that she couldn't go in to work. But really. All she had to do with her time was sit around and wonder how she was going to get out of this mess.

She'd finally asked, during one of Elias' many check-ins to ensure that she was alright (and see that she wasn't building an emergency radio with coat hangars, no doubt), for some paper and a couple of pencils, under the pretense that she liked to draw in her free time. That wasn't entirely inaccurate; doodling on napkins had gotten her through several dates with people she should have known better than to go out with.

Of course, buried under half a dozen innocent sketches, she'd started to draw out a layout of the manor. The guest wing was easy. The rest, she caught glimpses of while being escorted to and from dinner. For awhile she'd been flatly rejecting Selene's invitations to dine with her, but now Abigail had decided that the more she could be out of the guest wing, the better off she'd be.

Elias had apparently been instructed to not let her out of his sight, no matter what. That was complicating things. Not that she could've expected anything else, but given the fact that her captors were obviously inexperienced, she'd hoped. No such luck. All she could do was try to make the best of things.

Right now, that seemed to involve biding her time and being bored a lot. When Selene showed up at her door at three in the morning, looking the exact same shade of gray as the walls, it looked like things were finally about to change.

She was unusually terse. "We're leaving. Would you like to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Well. That was a change, alright. "You could elaborate a little."

Selene frowned and tossed a small box to her. Temporary hair dye? "Gates seems to have escaped from prison. I could wait for your law enforcement to recapture him, but given past history that seems unsafe. We're going to have to retrieve the next key to keep it away from him." She sighed. "You can go with red hair, or you can go tied up again. It's your decision."

"Based on whether I promise to behave or not."

"That isn't how I'd have phrased it, but yes."

Abigail heard another voice in the back of her mind. She won't be any trouble. Promise you won't be any trouble? "All right." What else would she say? Going somewhere—anywhere—would present her best chance of escape. She knew it. From Selene's searching look, she certainly knew it as well.

But the other woman nodded. "I had hoped for that. Get ready. We will leave before dawn."

"Right." Abigail retreated into her room, fingering the box. Flushing the dye down the toilet would probably be considered causing trouble. Too blatant. Then again, she'd never dyed her hair before. Open, rinse, repeat could be more complicated than it looked. And if it took her a couple of hours to get it right, what could anyone really do about it?

--

"Are you certain this is wise, madam?"

Selene jumped, though she managed not to yell out at the voice from behind her. How does he do that? Why does he do that? Elias was standing at attention just next to the entry to the guest wing, just as cool and composed as if he hadn't startled her half to death. As always. She cursed whatever predecessor had instructed him to be inconspicuous—he took it much too far.

As she recovered, he simply watched her, waiting for a response as if they had all the time in the world. Right, Response. He'd asked her a question, hadn't he?

Was she certain this was wise? Ha.

"Wise?" she repeated, more harshly than she'd intended. "None of this is wise! We're holding a historian from the other side of the world hostage, hoping to stop one of the slipperiest treasure hunters ever known, and you're asking if going to Thebes is wise?"

"That was my question, yes." If being yelled at had bothered him, he showed no sign.

"I'm certain of one thing," Selene sighed as she started for her own room. "I'm certain Ben Gates must not find the vault. What's wise is not as important as what works. So let's just hope this works, shall we?"

"As you wish, madam."

What she wished was that Elias would lighten up a bit and maybe offer some alternatives. Over the years, though, she'd learned that was a pointless request, so she merely shrugged. "I'm going to go pack. You ought to as well."

--

"Honor among thieves, huh?"

Riley hunched over in the driver's seat, as if he could physically deflect Patrick's question. Which, he knew, was pretty well pointless. "I never stole anything until I joined up with Ben," he retorted, sounding defensive even to himself. Lighten up already. His tone was calmer as he explained, "It's handy to have contacts like that when hacking is your primary occupation."

Quite true. And if anyone bothered to check, they'd find his van was indeed registered to a Bill Sparks of DC, who didn't seem to exist anywhere else.

He hoped Ben wouldn't ask where he'd dug up that name. Truthfully he wouldn't mind answering that one, the problem was, he didn't have a clue. It had just popped up. Contacts were important, when you were a hacker. False names were pretty helpful also.

Questions weren't helpful at all.

Patrick was definitely getting ready to ask him something else, but then Ben turned and hit him. Lightly. "Okay, that's enough of that. Let's work on where we go next."

Riley cast a grateful look over his shoulder, then went back to watching the road.

For all of them, the desire to move as quickly as possible was warring with the desire to not get caught, which would definitely foul things up. In the end, logic won out. Ben said it first. "We should lie low for the night. Get a flight tomorrow when things have calmed down a little bit. Not out of DC, though... they'll be watching too closely." Riley punched something into his GPS, looking for the nearest airport. "We can stay at a hotel tonight."

"Assuming you brought money," Patrick pointed out.

"Hmph." Riley slapped the glove compartment open and produced a wad of cash. "I've learned from the best. We're set. Other than the passport issue, anyway... totally not my fault, we've never done the whole fleeing the country thing before."

Most of the next hour was spent with Ben and Riley discussing the plan, Patrick pointing out logistical problems, and Emily staring out the window and likely wondering why she'd ever signed on for this. By that time, darkness was falling, and Ben finally decided they were far enough from the capital that it would be best to find a room for the night.

"The earlier we get started tomorrow, the better."

"You mean I've gotta wake up in the morning two days in a row?"

"You'll manage."

--

Ben had decided it would be best to split up. So on one side of the road, Marge and Mike Brown were checking into a small, shabby motel. Returning to DC, where they'd met, to celebrate their 40th anniversary, and wasn't this just lovely? Oh, they'd heard of the big prison break, but weren't too concerned. The Brown family had only the utmost respect for United States law enforcement. Surely the escapees would be caught soon enough.

On the other side of the road, Paul Brown and Bill Sparks took a room in an equally small, equally shabby motel. They were in town for the weekend's Nationals game. A prison break? Well, DC was a big city, surely it happened all the time. The fugitives couldn't get far. They were in the nation's capital, after all.

--

Excitement, adrenaline, and tequila.

There had been no tequila involved at Cibola, but the other two had made up for it in abundance. Emily closed her eyes. For just a few days it had been like old times again, with no need for anyone to grow up and make sacrifices. Only the joy of discovery, the thrill of the hunt. She was hardly immune to such things.

That was why she'd so abruptly pulled back when she noticed what was happening.

To call their divorce messy wouldn't be doing it the least bit of justice. The idea of having to do it all over again once the adrenaline rush ended was too much. Never mind that circumstances were completely different this time. Emily knew just as well as any Gates how important it was to learn from history—assuming one wished to avoid repeating it.

Even so...

And now here they were, alone in a motel room. She was none too certain splitting up had been necessary; at least, not for evading arrest. It was necessary for Ben, certainly, and it had nothing to do with their current situation.

Emily knew that cutting Patrick off so suddenly had not been fair to their son. For that matter, most aspects of their relationship had never been fair to Ben. Leave it to him to decide that now, with half a doen law enforcement agencies breathing down their necks, was the perfect time to play matchmaker.

Benjamin never did have any concept of 'one thing at a time'.

Patrick was laying in the bed, pretending to be asleep and not fooling her a bit. He wants to avoid this as much as I do, I guess. She was content to cooperate with that. For the moment.

They were probably the most famous fugitives in the country, and on a treasure hunt besides. To even dream that she wouldn't fall into that trap of excitement again was unrealistic. At best. And if she were honest with herself, she almost hoped she would.

--

It was a little after six in the morning. Dawn was breaking, but that was really no excuse to be up at such an ungodly hour... but of course Ben couldn't sleep. He was too worried. Running from the law didn't really worry him; been there, done that, and should probably look into getting the T-shirt. Even having his parents along for the ride didn't seem too bad.

But...

Someone else was after the treasure. He knew that. It was the only logical reason for Abigail's disappearance being pinned on him—but even that didn't make sense. Why her? Why not him? The idea that they needed him, like Mitch had, briefly crossed his mind. But then they'd be using her as a hostage, which they weren't. She had just... disappeared.

And that was what really frightened him. All they needed was to make Abigail disappear. Her captors probably had no use for her beyond that, and that meant she likely wasn't a hostage at all.

She was likely in much, much worse shape.

Dammit! He drew in a long, calming breath. Find the treasure. It's your only chance. Her only chance. Find the treasure, find the other treasure hunters. What exactly he'd do when he found them was anyone's guess, but, one step at a time. He would work on that.

Lost in thought, he was taken completely by surprise when a weight dropped onto his back. "Ben, what're you doing out here? Do you ever sleep?" Riley's arms draped over his shoulders and locked across his chest. "I mean, I guess you could sleep in the van today, but you might not want to do that if I'm gonna be driving."

Ben frowned, only because he knew his friend couldn't see his expression. Riley was not a touchy-feely type of person by any stretch of the imagination. This was odd. "Couldn't sleep."

"Clearly."

"So what are you doing up? Since you're supposed to be driving tomorrow, and all."

"Sure, but I wasn't awake all night and pacing around the room at four in the morning like you were."

Ben considered asking how Riley knew that, then decided he didn't want to know. The kid left enough tech gear lying around to outfit a SWAT team, and that was when they weren't being chased by the cops. "I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Big surprise." Riley was quiet for a few moments, and then in a somewhat softer tone, "She's going to be alright, Ben."

Am I that obvious? Ben leaned his head back, meeting Riley's gaze. Johnny Raincloud telling him everything would work out. Yes, right. Very convincing. "Since when are you an optimist?"

Riley answered without hesitation. "Since you needed me to be."

Something about his statement hit home. Was it that easy? Of course it is. It always is. No matter how much trouble I've dragged him through. He didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just squeezed Riley's hand and turned his attention back to the sunrise.