King's Crusade (Seventeen) (16 page)

He was also one of a handful of people who had ever managed to elicit an emotional response from her.

With that in mind, she walked to the French doors and moved one of the curtains aside slightly. Golden light from the Ottoman mosque on the other side of the road spilled across the darkness outside. ‘What were you looking for when Reznak sacked you from his project in ancient Mesopotamia ten years ago?’ she asked.

Jackson grunted. ‘He told you about that, huh?’

‘Yes.’ She turned to stare at him.

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I always felt there was something off about Reznak and the organization that financed that dig,’ he said finally. ‘I can’t be more specific about what triggered my initial suspicions. Call it a gut instinct if you must,’ he added with a shrug. ‘I didn’t find much at the time. Reznak’s security people were pretty sharp. The only thing I came up with was that this organization had a major base somewhere in east Germany.’

Alexa kept her expression neutral. The Harvard professor had come unerringly close to the truth; the headquarters of the Crovir First Council was in Dresden. She replayed his words in her mind. ‘You didn’t find much
at the time
? Does that mean you’ve uncovered more since?’

Jackson did not reply immediately. Instead, he reached inside his duffel bag and took out a book. A black and white photograph fell out from between the pages and landed on the parquet floor. He picked it up and handed it to her.

She froze when she saw the picture.

The photograph had been taken on an archaeological site in ancient Numidia, or what was now modern Algeria, in North Africa. Two Caucasian men stood talking animatedly in the foreground next to a large excavated pit; from their expressions, they had probably been unaware that they were being photographed. Several dark-skinned laborers were visible in the trench behind them. A carefully laid collection of pottery sat on the dusty ground next to their feet.

The two white men wore Norfolk jackets over breeches and sturdy boots. One of the bridges of the city of Constantine rose against a cloudless sky behind them. The figure on the left was Reznak.

‘That dig took place in 1895,’ said Jackson. ‘I checked.’

Alexa’s gaze shifted from the picture. ‘Where did you get this?’ she asked stonily. She was certain Reznak did not know of the existence of the photograph. Immortals were notoriously camera shy in the presence of humans.

Jackson leaned against the wall next to the French doors. ‘I came across it five years ago, when I was going through some stuff one of my professors left to me in his will,’ he said. ‘Needless to say, I was stunned when I saw it. I tried to pass it off as a striking resemblance or one of life’s little coincidences, but I got curious after a while. All my efforts to solve the mystery of that photograph were in vain. I hit so many obstacles and dead ends, it felt as if a higher authority was at play behind the scenes and was determined to stop me at every turn.’ The corners of his mouth tilted in a wry smile. ‘The Dean of the Faculty even walked into my office one day and asked me to stop whatever private research project I had going on the side, or else he’d show me the door.’ His expression sobered. ‘I don’t think he was kidding. Strange thing was, I hadn’t told anybody what I was doing at the time.’

Alexa remained quiet. What Jackson had just described fitted the modus operandi of the Crovir operatives whose task it was to preserve the anonymity of the immortals.

‘After a while, I stopped that line of questioning: I didn’t want to lose my job. Instead, I decided to go and look in a place where no one could interfere with my research, because the facts would be indelibly carved in stone.’ He gazed at her unwaveringly. ‘I turned to the past.’

She felt her scalp prickle at his words.

‘Did you know that I majored in history at Princeton?’ he continued, unaware of the chilling effect his words had on her. ‘Funny thing, history. Some take it as an art, others consider it a science. I view it as both. What dawned on me at the time I was doing my dissertation were certain…irregularities that cropped up at various points in the historical timeline of the world. At that stage in my career, I wasn’t intrigued enough to pursue the matter further; anthropology was fast becoming my main interest. When I found that photograph, something told me to go take a closer look at the history books.’

Jackson’s face became inscrutable.
‘It took me a while to figure it out. When I did, I was so dumbstruck by my findings, I went and drank myself into a stupor for two days. You see,’ he said, staring at her with such an intense look his eyes turned cobalt blue again, ‘what I discovered were patterns. They were faint and carefully hidden within the plethora of records and archives, but nevertheless there. To put it simply, it seemed to me that at every major turning point in human history, events occurred that were never completely or satisfactorily explained. What really happened to the last king of the Assyrians? How did Alexander the Great die? How could the son of a Mongol chief become the ruler of one of the largest empires in the world? These inconsistencies were strangely repetitive and seemed to coincide with the rise and fall of great leaders. It was as if an external force was determined to shape the very course of human civilization.’ He inhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his hair again. ‘The conclusion I reached was this: I believe there is another race of intelligent beings that walks the Earth besides humans. I think they’ve been around for millennia.’ A grimace crossed his face. ‘And I suspect they are incredibly powerful.’

Alexa was not aware she had been holding her own breath until she released it in a soundless rush of air. She wondered whether Reznak had any idea how close Jackson had been to uncovering the existence of the immortals. The answer was quite likely that he did not; her godfather would never have approached the Harvard professor for this mission otherwise.

‘You believe Reznak belongs to this…race of beings?’ she asked, her tone calm despite her racing heart.

‘Yes,’ said Jackson.

‘What about me? Do you think I’m one of them as well?’

His eyes widened slightly. He cocked his head to the side and studied her for a moment. Alexa could practically hear the wheels spinning in his mind and felt curiously exposed under his scrutiny.

He nodded. ‘Yes. Possibly.’

She turned and looked at the brightly lit mosque across the street, her fingers clenching unconsciously at her sides. ‘After what you’ve just told me, I should technically be putting a bullet through your brain,’ she said. She felt Jackson go rigid at her side. Her gaze shifted to his wary face. ‘However, Reznak gave me a choice in this matter. You are more useful to me alive than dead, so I will tell you what you want to know. But realize this now: you will have to keep what I’m about to say a secret for the rest of your life.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘It won’t be an easy task. The few humans who know of our existence are kept under close surveillance by our operatives.’

Jackson was quiet for some time. ‘Okay,’ he eventually assented with a nod.

‘You’d better sit down,’ said Alexa.

She spent the next hour telling him about the two immortal races. She described the long and bloody war between the Crovirs and the Bastians and how the emergence of the Red Death, the plague that killed more than half of the immortals on Earth in the fourteenth century, finally compelled the two races to reach a truce that proved to be vital to their survival. She related each race’s ability to survive up to sixteen deaths, how crows came for most of them at the end of their final life, and acknowledged their influence on the course of human history, cultures, and religions for over two millennia. She finally narrated Reznak’s findings in the caves in Egypt and how the latter suspected that the artifacts they were after were quite likely the tombs of the original Crovir and Bastian.

She left out the part about the carving of the trishula in the second cave and the embalmed hearts.

A hush fell over the room when she stopped talking. Alexa watched Jackson carefully.

The Harvard professor stared blindly at the floor for what seemed like minutes before slowly raising his head and looking at her. Unease clouded his eyes. ‘Have you died?’ he asked quietly.

She kept her face blank. ‘No.’

‘And Reznak?’ said Jackson.

‘I believe he has perished ten times before.’

His gaze was unwavering. ‘How does it feel?’

‘From what I’ve been told, it’s like going to sleep and waking up again.’ She wondered if he had been hoping for a more spiritual experience. Belatedly, she recalled what Sadik had said about Jackson; he was also a professor of philosophy and religious studies.

‘Huh. So, none of that “white light” stuff then?’ he continued, confirming her suspicions.

‘No.’

Jackson studied her quizzically. ‘Is that why you’re so strong? Because you’re an immortal?’

She did not reply immediately. ‘I am…unusual among the immortals,’ she said finally.

‘Oh.’ He mulled over her words. ‘What else can you people do? I mean, do you have other supernatural abilities?’

Alexa blinked rapidly to hide her confusion. She had assumed Jackson would be nervous and frightened after what she had told him. Although he had seemed troubled mere seconds ago, she could no longer perceive any apprehension in his eyes. Instead, the Harvard professor looked eager to learn more.

His reaction left her feeling strangely off balance.

‘We’re stronger and faster than humans,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘And we heal more quickly.’

‘How quickly?’ said Jackson doggedly.

She removed her jacket and showed him her arm. The scar from the bullet wound she had suffered in Port Said had almost disappeared.

‘How long does it take to recover from a death?’ he murmured, his gazed fixed on her skin.

Alexa shrugged. ‘It depends on how powerful the immortal is. It may be minutes for some, an hour for others.’

He looked up. ‘And your fighting skills?’

‘We practice a lot,’ she said. ‘After all, we have hundreds of years in which to perfect them.’ She did not see the need to tell him that she had mastered all the combat arts before she reached immortal adulthood.

Jackson digested this for a while longer. ‘All right,’ he said finally. A guilty grimace flittered across his face. ‘I guess I should come clean as well.’

Suspicion blossomed at the back of her mind. ‘What do you mean by that, exactly?’ she said coldly.

He removed a grubby piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘I grabbed this off the table in the back room of the beer hall.’ A wry smile darted across his lips. ‘I might have had time to get my hands on more if I hadn’t needed to go after a certain somebody.’

Alexa’s fingers twitched. She was starting to feel the urge to shoot him again.

She took the sheet from his hand and studied the clusters of paired numbers and equations that covered the first few lines. ‘Are these Cartesian coordinates?’

‘Yes,’ said Jackson.

She glanced at him. ‘What do they mean?’

He shrugged. ‘My best guess? They’re position vectors indicating distance and direction.’ He sighed. ‘Unfortunately, they mean nothing without a point of origin.’

‘Could this be a map to the location of the tombs?’ she asked sharply.

‘Possibly,’ he replied.

The satellite phone rang in the silence that followed. Alexa looked at the number and answered the call.

‘Have you told him?’ said Reznak without preamble.

Her gaze shifted to Jackson. ‘I have.’

‘You can guarantee his silence?’ said Reznak after a pause.

‘Yes.’ She decided not to tell her godfather how close Jackson had been to the truth in the first place.

‘Good,’ said Reznak. He sounded relieved. ‘There’s someone in Rome who has intelligence on our secret sect. I’m sending Fawkes and Carrington to collect you.’

Alexa went still. ‘Is Dragov in Italy?’

‘Not that I’m aware,’ said Reznak. ‘He seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth.’

‘And this other person?’ she said.

‘He’s an old friend,’ said Reznak. ‘Be kind to him.’

Surprise flashed through her. Reznak’s contact in Rome must be a very close acquaintance indeed. She wondered why she had never heard of him before.

‘Fawkes will give you further details when you see him,’ her godfather continued. ‘Oh, and Alexa?’

‘Yes?’

‘The monk is on our side. Don’t kill him.’ Reznak ended the call.

Alexa stared at the phone.

‘We’re going to Italy?’ asked Jackson, interrupting her thoughts.

‘Yes,’ she replied, still puzzling over her godfather’s last statement. ‘Reznak found somebody in Rome who has information on the sect.’

‘What’s wrong?’

She looked up and detected concern in his eyes. ‘Nothing,’ she stated in a firm voice. She glanced at the bed. ‘I’ll take the couch.’

Concern was replaced by incredulity. Jackson scowled. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

In the end, they shared the bed. Instead of the unsettled night she had anticipated, Alexa’s eyes closed the minute her head hit the pillow. She was lulled into a deep and restful sleep by the sound of Jackson’s breathing and the heat of his body close to hers.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he Gulfstream jet stood parked
outside a private hangar at Ataturk airport the next morning. Alexa stopped the Taurus close to the aircraft and walked toward the two men waiting by the steps.

Jackson studied the silent figures as he followed in her wake. ‘Are they immortals as well?’ he said quietly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. ‘Yes.’ She greeted the two men briskly and climbed the stairs to the cabin.

‘I see you’re still in one piece,’ said the man called Carrington. He grinned at Jackson wryly, the scar on his cheek pale in the sunlight. ‘I didn’t think you’d last a day with her.’

Jackson stopped at the foot of the steps. ‘She does take some getting use to,’ he admitted with a faint smile. He felt Alexa’s gaze on his face and turned to find her frowning down at him.

‘Let’s go,’ she said.

The flight to Rome took just under two hours. Jackson spent most of it furtively appraising the immortals while he pretended to study the photographs from the excavation of the caves in Egypt. He did not have to look at them again; the images were engraved in his mind.