Chapter 31: "Only if you get caught…"

Just over 6 months ago, 9 days after the fall

Juliet stooped to examine the scuffed and overlapping marks in the dust of the alley below Cal's window. The footprints may not be clear, but something heavy, or someone, had definitely been dragged part-way across the narrow space. Juliet had learnt a lot from Vincent over the past couple of years, not least how to track some one or recognise the signs of their passage, but no matter how hard she looked, she could see nothing useful. Perhaps if Vincent had been here things would be different, but even if she called the Professor now, Cal could be dead by the time Vincent got here.

Cal must have been unconscious when they dumped him out into the alley. Unconscious, but not dead, she hoped. There'd be no reason to remove the body if he was, besides: if they hadn't found the document yet, they'd want him alive. Cal knew Ibrahim better than anyone. If anyone could work out where Ibrahim had hidden his find, it would be Cal.

Juliet wondered what they'd do to him if he couldn't.

The sat phone rang. She straightened. Their daily briefing was overdue, and Professor Zond would be expecting to hear from both of them. How much should she tell him? There was nothing he could do from a distance and their dig in Jerusalem was important. Leaving it now might be something else Dorna were after by keeping Cal. They had enough flunkies to divide their forces, after all: one group here, trying to get Cal to help them find the Eratosthenes manuscript; another in Jerusalem, waiting for Professor Zond and the others to leave the dig there.

"Morning Professor," Juliet answered the ringing phone. She tried to force a smile into her voice. "Sorry we're late checking in."

"Everything okay there?" Solomon's voice crackled through the device. "Did you find Ibrahim?"

Juliet bit her cheek. Lying to the Professor was never a good move. Lying about something he was definitely going to find out about was even worse. She sighed.

"Juliet?" Solomon's voice seemed louder, harder than before.

"Dorna found him first," she admitted. "We don't think they've got the manuscript though."

"That's small comfort," sighed Solomon. "Ibrahim was a good man and a great archaeologist. I was hoping this find would bring him back to join the team again. He's, he was, one of few people in this world I still trust."

Juliet murmured her agreement. With any luck she might just be able to get out of this conversation without telling a direct lie to her boss, at least one that was more serious than making excuses for Cal's sore head.

"How's Cal taking it?" Professor Zond enquired.

The other shoe had dropped. Juliet felt her whole body sag under the weight of her reply. "Better than last time."

"That wouldn't be hard," muttered Solomon. "Is he there? Let me talk to him."

"He's not here right now," answered Juliet. Here it came. She swallowed and took a steadying breath. "He's following up a lead."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. The kind of silence, at least, that you got when one person covered the mic with their hand and relayed the conversation to someone else.

"Juliet?" Vincent's voice made Juliet's eyes widen. Lying to the Professor was one thing. Lying to Vincent was impossible. "Tell me what happened. Start from when and how you discovered Ibrahim was dead."

XXXX

Calvin's hearing came back first, but the world sounded like it was underwater. His vision came back next, blurred shapes swimming into focus as the cotton wool feeling in his ears cleared. Finally, with sight and sound returned, he let out a quiet sigh. Then the pain came back.

Wherever he was, he was bound hand and foot to something he couldn't see; possibly a chair or bench of some description. He searched his memory for clues of how he got wherever he was. Nothing. He remembered closing the door of his hotel room behind him. He remembered dragging the photo of Ibrahim and him out of his backpack and setting it up on the dresser. He remembered looking at his friend… then nothing. That was it. They must have been waiting for him. Made sense. Why follow him all round the city when they could just wait for him to get back, hopefully with the thing they had been unable to find. He hadn't found it either, though. Did they know that? Did it matter? Oh well: only one way to find out.

Calvin groaned and forced himself to sit up. The reaction was immediate.

"Doctor Banks, you are awake at last," purred a silken voice. It wasn't one Calvin recognised, but that meant little enough. The accent wasn't familiar either. "I was beginning to think I would have to send out for some coffee, or perhaps a bucket of cold water."

"I don't know where it is," Calvin rasped. His throat was dry. How long had he been out? There were no windows here that he could see. Was it morning yet?

"Ah, so glad that we understand each other," smiled the unknown voice. It felt like the kind of smile you used to find lying on sandbanks along the Nile. "As erudite as you are, I'm sure you realise I will not be simply taking your word for it. You will lead us to the Eratosthenes manuscript, Doctor Banks, whether now or later: this I guarantee you."

"You'll forgive me if I disagree," muttered Cal.

A bottle of water was deliberately opened before him, the seal cracking loudly in proof of its safety. The water was held to his lips by someone behind him.

"Drink," ordered the voice, finally stepping into view. "We can't have you getting dehydrated."

Calvin took in the man opposite him as he drank. Tall, black haired, excellently tailored suit, maybe somewhere in his forties or fifties, tanned skin, and a mixture of facial features that could have arisen in gene pools anywhere around the Mediterranean. Not that that told you much these days.

"Who do you work for?" Cal rasped, searching the lean figure for clues. How high up the chain was this guy?

"Whom," corrected his captor, straightening his cuffs. "And please, Doctor Banks, do not play the ingenuous genius with me. You have already shown me you know why you are here, do not presume to convince me you do not know the organisation that now controls your liberty."

"Dorna," growled Cal, meeting the man's steady gaze. There was no flicker of emotion there: no sign of surprise or amusement. "Last I checked, their thugs weren't quite so well dressed, though. Who are you? Their lawyer?"

"You can call me Righetti," replied the unruffled voice, "and while law is one of the degrees I possess, it is not my primary function within the organisation. No, like you, Doctor Banks, and like the estimable Eratosthenes, I am something of a polymath. Indeed our intelligence is not the only thing you and I have in common."

"You are nothing like me!" Cal hissed.

Righetti's elegant mouth curled into a smile. "Is that so?" He stepped forward and reached out a hand to the bound man. Cal's scream echoed around the room. "Perhaps you are right, Doctor Banks," he mused, wiping blood off his exquisitely manicured hands. "I can, it appears, endure far more pain in silence than you, for instance. I can also, quite happily, inflict more pain than you, Doctor Banks; especially in your current position."

Between laboured breaths, Calvin dragged his eyes up to meet Righetti's. "Inflict away," he gasped. "I can't tell you what I don't know. Even if I did know, I still wouldn't tell you."

"Ah, the noble knight errant. How clichéd! How predictable!" Righetti laughed. "Perhaps you can predict my response?"

A cold dread settled on Calvin. He hadn't seen any sign of Juliet. That had led him to hope she had escaped Dorna's attentions. Was she here too? Hidden in some separate room, waiting to be brought out as leverage? A sudden movement of Righetti's hand to his pocket drew Cal's mind back to the man before him. Righetti was fiddling with a mobile phone. It, like everything else about the man, looked expensive.

Righetti turned the display to face Calvin. On it there was a photograph, small but clear. It showed Juliet, stooping down to examine the dust in an alleyway.

"Do not fear, Doctor Banks," purred Righetti. "The delightful Ms Droil is quite safe… for now. We have our eyes upon her, however, and it would be but a moment's work to ensure her introduction to this charming little gathering."

"If you hurt her…"

"You'll what?" Righetti laughed. "Doctor Banks, you cannot even defend yourself. If you wish to ensure your colleague's safety, I suggest you begin considering where your friend may have hidden his little manuscript."

XXXX

"How long has she been gone?" Solomon demanded, ignoring the fact that his son had been either unable or unwilling to stop Calvin following him up to the top floor.

"Since lunch, just as we planned," murmured Calvin, wide eyes flitting from artefact to artefact. "Hey, Professor, what is all this?"

"Something we'd planned to introduce you and Juliet to when she got back," supplied Vincent, placing a steady hand on Cal's shoulder and pivoting round to the lift. "Something that is of less import right now than Juliet herself, and for that we need my computers. Come: my office. You can tell me more on the way."

By the time they reached Vincent's office, Cal had recited the latest version of the plan as he and Juliet had discussed it: the eateries she would try and in what order. He listed names and streets in route order like a priest reciting his creed. All the while Vincent sat at his keyboard and typed, lines of code flickering across the screen at a rate few of the others could keep up with. Maggie, watching in silence from the back of the group, raised an eyebrow. Nikko, sidling forward to look down over Vincent's shoulder, raised both.

"Dude!" Nikko murmured in appreciation. "Are you tracing Juliet's cellphone?"

"Isn't that…" Solomon began, but Maggie cut in.

"Illegal? Only slightly," she shrugged, smiling. "And only if you get caught."

"Besides," added Vincent, without looking away from the task in hand, "I am not tracking Juliet's cellphone. I am tracking her keychain."

Nikko and Calvin exchanged frowns behind Vincent's back.

"You all have the same keychain attached to your keys for this building," explained Vincent. "There is a transmitter in each one. They were designed so that, should any set of keys be mislaid, or even misappropriated, they could be speedily located. Happily, the same can also be said of any bearer of the keychain should they themselves be, well, misappropriated."

A map of the city blinked up onto the screen, a blue dot flashing to the right of Manhattan. A series of pins popped up one after the other as Vincent entered the names of the cafés and restaurants Calvin had listed. None were anywhere near the blue dot.

"That's Greenpoint," muttered Solomon, half to himself. "And there were no other places on that list, Cal?"

Calvin shook his head. "None. There's no reason she'd be in Greenpoint right now. Well," he corrected himself, "no good reason!"

"So let's go get her," exclaimed Nikko, turning on his heel only to be stopped by his father's hand on his shoulder. "What? There's no way Juliet's there by choice: she said she would text if she wasn't coming back this afternoon and she hasn't!"

"That doesn't mean we go running off without any idea what we're running into," growled Solomon. "I know you want to get Juliet back safe: we all do. So let's look before we leap."