'Run!'

The slapping of her sandals against the cobbles was the only sound she could hear. She could feel Henry's hand at her back, helping push her through the crowds. People were doing their best to dodge them; one merchant spilled a basket of dark figs into the street. She hardly had time to admire them before she slipped on a skin, diving head long into a mountain of dried lentils.

That's when she heard the crack of a gun.

And the world came swirling back, nearly too fast. The people she'd been pushing her way through suddenly started to haphazardly dart from the street. Then someone was hauling her up, shaking the lentils out of her hair.

She'd managed to hold off the Russian thugs with the massive shotgun, but only for so long. Henry had then pushed her out the door and into the busy Jerusalem streets.

She expected it to be Henry, but when she turned around she saw it was the Israeli merchant, shouting at her in Hebrew. Though she couldn't understand him, looking down she saw that her knee was bloody. She wanted to reach down to pat the blood away, but she was clutching something in her hand. Unraveling her fingers she saw that it was the pendant. She'd been holding the trinket so hard it had punctured the skin of her palm. It was a thin, beautifully made triangle, with a tiny square in the middle.

So like the one she'd seen in the damp, humid lecture hall in Marshall college all those weeks ago.

The Israeli merchant was still yelling shrilly, and Molly wanted to reassure him. 'I-' she began, but then saw Henry barreling toward her, silver pistol brandished as he fired another shot into the air. There were more screams. Looking slightly passed him she saw that Isay was not far behind. The adrenaline rushed through her body, dulling out the sounds of the market once more.

She sprinted off down a small side street; so narrow she could feel the sides of her skirt catching on the rough stone. She jumped out into the middle of another busy thoroughfare, not minding the blaring of horns as she made it across the street and down another alleyway.

Skidding around a corner, she slammed into the side of a red brick building. She gasped in pain, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out. She'd hurt herself, limping onward, trying to keep a quick pace.

Molly dared look over her shoulder. She could see the shadows of two people racing around the corner. Sucking in a deep breath, she pitched herself toward an open door, slamming it shut behind her.

There was an old, grizzled woman seated at a plain wooden table. She was eating a piece of fruit, and hardly seemed concerned with the young woman who'd just come charging through the front door.

'Where is she?'

The accent was thick and Russian. There was no mistaking it for anyone other than Isay.

'I told you, I don't know!'

Henry. Molly fell to the floor, crawling under the dining room table. She was not religious, but began praying fervently anyway. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease she ran the thought over and over in her head, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her mouth with her hand to quiet the sobs. She could see the threshold through the lace of the tablecloth. Long shadows stretched under the crack beneath the door.

'You are lying.' Isay's tone was low and dangerous. Molly felt her heart pounding in her ears, matching the throbbing she felt in her hip and arm. They were already beginning to bruise.

She could hear his heavy footfalls as he surveyed the area around the house. The air was dense and hot. The old woman smacked her lips loudly as she ate the peach.

'Can I help you?'

There was another accented voice, but this time it was a woman.

'We are looking for girl. About your height. Blonde. Have you seen her?' Isay asked in his calm, Russian drawl.

'No,' was the swift reply.

Isay grunted, and to Molly's eternal relief, she heard his lumber as he made his way down the street. Henry was in tow with him.

Waiting a few more minutes she sighed audibly when she was sure they were gone. Rolling onto her hands and knees she began crawling out from under the dining table, nearly smacking her head in the process.

Shakily, Molly stood, brushing off the debris from her skirt and straightening her white blouse. The old woman was still chewing loudly on her piece of fruit, paying her no mind.

'Ahem.'

Molly's neck snapped up to regard an older, middle-aged woman staring at her very pointedly, hands placed firmly on her generous hips. She cocked a greying eyebrow at her.

Molly attempted her best smile. 'May I please use your telephone?'

The barrel of the gun pressed into Mutt's back. His whole body ached something terrible after running through the marketplace. The sun had already fallen behind the sprawl of Jerusalem, a pink bruise against the night sky. Isay was leading him due west, toward the ocean.

The one saving grace of the intense, awful day was that Molly had escaped. To where, he had no idea, but there was a strong feeling in his gut that told him she was alive, and well, and coming to find him. That was the only option. He didn't think the Russians would kill him. He was too valuable. He knew about the necklace, afterall. He knew about the meaning… and he thought he knew how to crack the code.

'Where are you taking me?' Mutt asked, keeping his tone light, jovial almost.

As they inched closer to the water he saw a plethora of ships in the bay. Isay's Russian intelligence must have gotten something right.

'Where do you think?' he spat back, testing him.

Oh this is going to be fun, Mutt thought to himself. But he managed a smile. His tough little sec-assistant was rallying the troops.

'Hurry,' he whispered. To no one in particular.

'Do you have any idea where they're taking him?'

'Nepal' Molly replied hastily. Standing and smiling in the kitchen of the older woman who's name turned out to be Irene was the last bit of respite she feared she'd have in a long time. As soon as she phoned them, the Joneses were on their way to pick her up. Marion had packed her suitcase for her.

'Nepal!' Marion nearly shouted.

Dr. Jones' driving was erratic as they raced through the narrow streets to the pier.

'One of his colleagues, Dr. Palmetter was working there earlier this year and found a clue to the Bishop's Spear.'

'Well they got to her fast enough,' Dr. Jones muttered as he blared the car horn.

'What do you mean?' Molly asked, her throat going dry.

'She was found dead in her hotel room nearly a month ago,' Marion replied.

'Oh boy,' Molly muttered, rubbing her temples with her index fingers. She'd cleaned herself up and borrowed a dress from Irene that was much too loose. Her arm and hip ached, but there seemed to be no lasting damage. She wouldn't know anyhow. There would be no time to see a doctor until she got out of this debacle. Which she feared would not be any time soon.

'Oh boy is right Miss Moore. But I'm banking they won't do anything to hurt the kid, especially because they need us to go to them,' Dr. Jones mused. Molly noted that he sounded a lot less like an academic and a lot more like a frightened father.

'Show me the necklace again dear,' Marion requested. They were coming up on the docks now. Molly wondered how they would ever begin to catch up to Henry.

She took the golden chain off her neck and handed it to Marion. Pursing her lips, she held the piece in her hand delicately, the gold reflecting off the windows of the car.

'It certainly is beautiful.'

'Yup. It also might be the only chance we have at getting our son back,' Dr. Jones said, his voice prickling.

Marion chucked. 'If I had a dollar for every time you said that...'