The London Deception (16 page)

She’d used a good portion of the flight over connecting with Campbell via a phone chat and nearly nonstop email over the plane’s Wi-Fi. He’d filled her in on all the things he’d discovered when hacking into the computer forum Will had used. The most suspicious part was the presence of a lot of behind-the-scenes traffic from a London IP address that had been rerouted around the globe several times over.

Finn stepped off the last step of the plane and came to stand next to her. “You look upset.”

“I’m concerned whether Campbell and I made the right decision about not contacting Briggs yet.”

“Campbell hid the man’s back-end information from the site forum so he can’t be traced.”

“Yes, but is it enough?”

The confirmation that the forum site had seen higher-than-usual traffic and suspicious activity was concerning. But it was the fact the signal had been deliberately rerouted that had put Campbell in a geek-induced rant. When she finally got to the bottom of what he was talking about, he’d confirmed he was hiding the data from Briggs’s computer so his presence on the forums couldn’t be traced.

Finn laid a hand on her arm. “If the people behind this are using data to control the situation, there’s no one I’d trust more than your brother to handle things.”

There was no one she trusted more, either, but it was the faceless threat that she couldn’t get past. “They’re out there, Finn. And I hate that we still have no clue who they are.”

“We’ll find them. And if Campbell can trace the signature of that London IP address, we’ll have more to work with.”

She was still worrying about the decision to include Briggs a few hours later as she and Finn set off from the hotel. “I told you I could get us a car.”

“I don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“This is a cosmopolitan city. A car isn’t going to attract attention.”

“It will if someone’s watching out for us. Besides, we’ve got a lot more flexibility on foot.”

The early-morning sun that had greeted them when they’d arrived had given way to an even sunnier day, and the heat surrounded them as they traversed through Old Cairo. Rowan adjusted her large bag before Finn reached out and grabbed it. “I can carry that.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He grunted as he hefted the strap over his arm. “You carry rocks in here?”

“It’s my bag. I carry everything in there.” She tried to take it back but he sidestepped her reach. “You really don’t need to carry it.”

“Consider it my fall fashion statement.”

She shook her head but kept walking. Her grandfather’s worry the other night had been sweet, but she’d felt his sentiments were misguided. Now, with Finn’s heavy footfalls keeping pace with her own, she couldn’t deny how wonderful it was to have someone along for the journey.

A partner.

And when had she begun seeing him that way?

“I don’t know why I’d ever doubted you would know where you’re going.” Finn’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I don’t think you’ve missed a turn once.”

“I spent a lot of time here during college.”

“Was that the Hanging Church we passed a few blocks back?”

“Yep. I wish we had more time and I’d take you through it.”

“I’ve been through it once myself, but it’s been a long time.” He linked his hand with hers, entwining their fingers. “We should come back after this is all over. I’d love to see Egypt through your eyes. I thought I knew it, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve seen and done here.”

The tender words were spoken so casually, Rowan suspected he didn’t even know what he implied under his words.

To come back meant they’d be together after their work on the Valley of the Queens ended. It meant permanence and a relationship and time spent together that wasn’t framed by a project they both worked on.

To come back meant they were a couple, sharing their lives with each other.

“I’d like that.”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark shades but his broad shoulders—shown off to perfection by the black T-shirt he wore—relaxed ever so slightly. The motion was so insignificant she’d have missed it if she weren’t looking, but it spoke volumes.

Maybe he did know what he was saying after all.

“Is that it?” Finn pointed toward a hanging sign that proclaimed the word
books
in English and Arabic.

“That’s him.” She shook off the curious question of what might happen to them once they got home and focused on the task at hand. “Look. We can’t just blurt it out about Will. Briggs and I emailed earlier and I could tell he still doesn’t know.”

“We’re not blurting anything. But we do need to know what he knows. We also need to know if Will trusted the right person.”

“I know him, Finn. Briggs is not a bad guy.”

“Probably not, but do you want to risk it?”

“No.”

“Then we have to figure out what he knows first.”

They stepped into the store, the scent of old books heavy in the air. She took a deep breath, the comforting smell going a long way toward calming her nerves.

She hoped Finn was being overly cautious about Briggs, but also knew he was right. With a deep breath, she pasted on a smile and walked toward the counter at the back of the store.

Delighted surprise lit Briggs’s face as he caught sight of her the moment she and Finn emerged from the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

“Rowan!” He slipped from around the desk and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s been so long.”

The sweet archaeology student she remembered filled her mind’s eye as she hugged him back. “Too long.”

She introduced Finn and Briggs and couldn’t quite hide her amusement at how the two men sized each other up. Although Briggs hadn’t been in the field in a long time, he hadn’t gone soft, either. Briggs’s impressive frame and dark good looks had clearly put Finn’s back up, and Finn’s movements were stiff and stilted.

A small wave of happiness broke through the tension that rode her body at the silly display of machismo. She’d been around her brothers long enough to recognize the signs, but it was funny to be the subject of that testosterone battle.

When Rowan settled a hand on Finn’s arm, Briggs relaxed. Whether it was her overt body language that she trusted the man she was with or something else, she didn’t know, but it was enough to change her old friend’s attitude. “I have some of the books and papers Will asked me to pull together for you.”

Finn’s arm muscles flexed under hers at the mention of Will’s name but she kept up the pleasant facade. “He said you had information that might help us on the dig.”

“Come on back. I’ve laid everything out in the reading room.”

The clutter of the main store gave way to a small, comfortable room full of overstuffed chairs and a few study tables. Just as Briggs promised, the table was full of several old books, a few maps and what looked like an oversize piece of papyrus preserved in glass.

“You’ve got an incredible collection.”

Finn’s comment seemed to be the last piece to defuse the tension, and Briggs’s features relaxed completely. “Some of it was my father’s and the rest I’ve acquired over the years. He was part of a British archaeology team stationed here for several years. He and my mum eventually moved back home to settle in Wales but Cairo got its hooks in me. Unlike our Rowan here, my love is in the recording of history, not the discovery of it.”

The truth of his words had her throat tightening and Rowan swallowed hard around the lump. She, Will and Briggs had been part of the same program in college, and while all three had started in excavation, convinced it was their great love, the men had both found other avenues to live their passion.

Finn picked up a book and flipped through it, his gaze never leaving the pages. When he did speak, his tone was casual. “Will mentioned you and he were communicating on a chat board, too.”

“It’s a bad habit of mine. A true waste of time.”

Rowan smiled. “It’s something you enjoy.”

“It still doesn’t mean it’s not a waste of time. But despite that, it’s a fun way to keep my finger on the pulse of what’s happening. The dig you’re going on is big news here.”

“There’s little still left to discover in the Valleys. Everyone loves a good Egyptian dig story.” Rowan ran her hands over the glass-enclosed papyrus. “It fascinates all of us.”

“Will seemed a bit concerned in his emails, especially around the curse nonsense, and I have a few ideas there.”

Her gaze locked with Finn’s over Briggs’s bent head as he shuffled through a few books, opening to pages he’d clearly tabbed in preparation for their visit. He flipped through several before landing on the piece he was searching for. “Here it is.”

Rowan scanned the passage Briggs had earmarked. “This says the curse is a deterrent, nothing more.”

“Exactly.” Briggs nodded. “Another technique Ramesses II used to keep his world ordered and controlled.”

“But scholars know this.” Finn took the book from her to read the passage. “Right here, it says as much and this book is clearly rather old. Why would a forum that modern day scholars use to communicate believe any of this?”

“Good question.” Briggs snagged a small laptop off the edge of the desk and moved the mouse. The screen came to life, the site they’d all focused on filling the screen. “This forum has been a source of community and conversation for well over a decade. But I got curious, so I went back through the archives.”

Although it pained her to think Briggs’s curiosity could put him in the same danger as Will, she also couldn’t hold back her own ready curiosity. “What’d you find?”

“Every time there’s been something suspicious in the last few years, the same sort of rumors surface. It’s always from a new poster who hasn’t been on before.”

Finn tapped the screen. “People must come on and off these things pretty regularly.”

“The community is small, Finn. You know that in your authentication work. It’s a highly competitive field and only the truly determined survive.” Briggs’s wry smile only reinforced his point. “Everyone knows everyone or knows of everyone.”

“And these people who keep coming off and on aren’t known.” Rowan thought about some of the posts she’d read over the years and had simply ignored, passing over the hobbyist to get to real information.

“And it’s an easy place to hide.” Briggs snagged a small notebook off the table. “Here’s what’s also interesting. There’s a strange similarity to the user names.”

“Knightsbridge 21. Kensington 42. Hampstead 84.” Finn read them off. “They’re all London neighborhoods.”

“And he just doubled the number, whether consciously or as a way to keep track of something.” Rowan let her gaze drift over the books, then to Finn.

He must have read the question in her eyes because his subtle nod encouraged her to continue.

“Briggs, there’s something I need to tell you.” She took his hand and pointed to the chairs. “Let’s sit.”

“What is it?”

“Will was murdered the other night in London.”

Briggs’s features clouded immediately and he cried freely as she told him about Will’s attack and what they believed.

Long minutes later, he wiped his eyes. “We must find the ones who did this. Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Panic swelled in her throat and turned the light breakfast she’d had at the hotel over in her stomach. “I can’t put you in this danger, too. I can’t lose another friend over this.”

“Will was my friend, too.”

“I know, but we can’t leave you unprotected, and Finn and I can’t stay in Cairo. We’re needed in Luxor tomorrow to begin the excavation.” She debated telling him about what Campbell had done to his computer account—knew Briggs deserved to know the truth—but also knew his grief was fresh and his ideas were more about avenging Will’s death than any real sense of malice. “I need to know you’re safe.”

“I’d like to arrange for security detail.” Finn’s tone was somber, but any traces of the machismo she’d seen earlier had vanished. In its place was the man she’d come to care for more than she ever could have imagined. “I’ve already secured a firm that I trust, and I can have them here within the hour on your okay.”

“I don’t understand.” Briggs shook his head. “It’s a website, nothing more. It can’t be dangerous.”

Rowan reached for his hand, wrapping it in her own. “That’s what we thought. What Will thought.”

A range of emotions flitted across her friend’s face, but that same determination to find who was responsible wouldn’t leave. “We still must find who did this.”

“And we will.” The lethal tone of Finn’s voice laced his words. “We will find who did this.”

The store’s electronic alarm dinged when the front door opened, and Briggs nodded. “Let me go greet this customer and then we’ll determine next steps.”

The bell rang again, the innocuous sound punctuating Briggs’s comments. It was only when he neared the doorway of the reading room that Finn leaped into action.

“Briggs, no!” Finn tackled him to the ground before the man cleared the door frame.

Rowan watched in horror as a wave of fire blew through the outer room, followed by the devastating, earsplitting ring of an explosion.

Chapter 15

F
inn rolled off Briggs, desperate to find Rowan. The walls shook around them and the fire’s flames were already consuming the bookshelves outside the door frame with shocking speed.

“Rowan!”

“I’m here!” She got to her feet on the other side of the reading room, where she’d been thrown by the force of the blast. Her movements were shaky, but she was in one piece and he offered up a quick prayer of thanks.

Briggs lifted his head, rising horror filling his face. “What is this?”

“We need to get out of here. Now.”

Finn’s harsh tone was clearly what the man needed to focus and he was on his feet, despite several glances toward the outer portion of his store.

“Back door, Briggs! Come on.”

They both waved Rowan toward the door in front of them, but she raced back to the table where they’d set everything up.

“Rowan! Come on!” Finn knew the old building had little structural integrity to begin with, but the fact it was filled with ready kindling ensured it would go quickly.

“I’m coming.” She snagged her oversize bag and Briggs’s computer before running back to grab the glass-enclosed papyrus and the book they’d left open next to it.

“Rowan!” Finn grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of his body, and they both followed Briggs out the back of the store. A small alley consumed them and it was Briggs who led them through the narrow space.

“Why the hell did you go back?” Finn muttered the words as they wove through the restrictive alley, veering around potholes and various other things he had no interest stepping in.

She kept a brisk pace but was busy trying to stuff the computer and book into her bag all while juggling the glass.

With a groan, he reached out for the bag and dragged it open. “Here, give me the computer.”

She did as he asked, then followed with the glass when he had the computer settled in the seemingly bottomless bag. There was no room for the book, so he held it. The urge to ditch it was strong, but she hadn’t been entirely wrong to grab it.

“That’s an ancient papyrus. I couldn’t leave it behind.”

“It’s not worth getting killed.” He dragged the bag back onto his arm.

“I wasn’t killed.” She shot him a cheeky smile. “And I have the papyrus.”

He shook his head. Damn, but how did she do this to him? Even in the midst of her own personal danger, she was focused on other things. “Crazy woman.”

Briggs came to a halt at the edge of the alleyway. “Wait for a moment.”

“What is it?” Rowan leaned forward to look around the man’s shoulder but Finn snagged her arm and pulled her back.

“I heard footsteps.”

They both waited, holding their breath as they listened to the quiet air that swirled around them. Finn pressed against Rowan’s arm, dragging her a few steps farther back into the alley.

When did Briggs suddenly realize they were being followed? And shouldn’t he be more shell-shocked over his store instead of leading them down the alley?

“Rowan.” Finn whispered her name and she turned, her gaze preternaturally sharp.

She gave him the briefest nod as she took another small step back.

But it was when Briggs turned, a sad smile on his face, that they both knew he wasn’t their friend. “I’m sorry, Rowan. Really, I am. It was just a job, you know.”

Finn didn’t wait for the man to confess his sins, but instead swung out with the heavy book in his hands, the thick weight connecting dead center of Briggs’s face. A huge howl went up as Briggs dropped to the ground, but Finn’s only thought was to get them as far away as possible.

He grabbed Rowan’s hand and dragged her along with him as they raced back the same way they came.

“There was a store door open.” She pointed down the alley in the direction of a line of trash cans.

“Where?”

Footfalls echoed behind them, and the heavy shot of a gun firing had them both instinctively ducking as they moved.

“The next door, Finn!”

He caught sight of a screen door with open access to the space inside and rushed them toward it, dragging her in front of him as another bullet echoed down the alley.

They barreled through the door, Rowan screaming the entire time for the people in the store to stay back in a mixture of English and Arabic, over and over, as they ran pell-mell through racks of clothing, shelves laden with canned goods and several revolving racks that held bags of chips.

Rowan grabbed at the cans as she ran, tossing them onto the floor as a deterrent, and he shoved at the racks, their tottering crash behind them giving him hope they might have slowed their pursuers down.

They burst through the front of the store onto the street. The narrow lane seemed far more menacing than when they’d walked up the street not even an hour before, and Finn kept moving despite having no idea where he was going.

“The church. Come on!” Rowan pointed toward the twin towers of the Coptic church in the distance as she kept pace beside him.

“We’ll be stuck there.”

“Not if we find the right place to hide.”

A loud shout echoed behind them and Finn wasn’t about to argue; he just followed her as they wove in a zigzagging pattern down the street, avoiding the occasional car or group of pedestrians, the honking or screaming of either echoing in their wake.

They raced up the front steps, bumping past throngs of tourists as they went. Hanging on to each other would slow them down, so he kept Rowan in his sights but let her run as fast as she could. Once they cleared the entrance, the interior of the church spread out in front of them.

He followed her as she moved quickly to the edge of the gathering space, searching for any small alcove they could hide in. The loud shout of a guard went up, and Finn hesitated the briefest moment to turn and gaze toward the front door.

One of their pursuers stood at the door, arguing with the guard in a mix of Arabic and English, and Finn caught enough to know the man was passing himself off as police.

“Wanker,” Rowan muttered as he followed her into a small alcove. “Thinks he can pretend to be undercover.”

“It may work. And his second friend appears to have taken a different direction.”

Rowan pointed to a long row of candles atop an oversize table. “Under there. The tablecloth will hide us and we can figure out next steps.”

It wasn’t an ideal hiding place, since it meant they were still trapped inside the church, but it would give them the time they needed to regroup. He followed her small frame under the cloth, grateful she’d selected an empty alcove away from the prying eyes of the tourists taking in the church as he attempted to fold his large body into the small space.

He didn’t miss her broad smile when he struggled to drag his feet fully under the cloth covering. “I don’t think this was quite what you had in mind when you said you wanted to take me through the church.”

“Probably not.” She leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “But we’ll make do.”

They sat in tense silence for a few minutes, waiting for discovery. When the immediate threat passed, he pointed toward her bag, his voice a low whisper. “Do you have anything in this bottomless monstrosity we can use as a weapon if it comes to that?”

“You mean aside from its lethal heft?”

“Tell me about it.” He made a show of rubbing his shoulder. “I carried it.”

“I carry it every day.”

“Glutton for punishment.”

The teasing seemed out of place for the situation they found themselves in, yet Finn couldn’t deny it felt good to sit still and catch their breath.

Rowan dug through her purse, intent on her goal, but he still didn’t miss the notes of pain layered underneath her soft-spoken words. “I can’t believe Briggs sold us out.”

“Maybe we’ll find out why on his computer.”

“He’s still out there.”

“Unless they don’t need him any longer.”

Her head snapped up. “You think they’re going to kill him?”

“It depends on how useful they think he is. How entrenched he is in their organization. A lot of things.”

“And here it is again. Another personal connection.”

“Look, Rowan. Briggs made his choice.”

She waved a hand. “I know that and unfortunately I also understand he’s the one responsible for that. It doesn’t change the fact I’ve known him a long time, and whatever his eventual outcome, it hurts to think about it.”

They sat in silence awhile longer, her quiet digging through her purse the only sound in their small hiding space until she stopped abruptly.

The distant sound of footsteps grew louder and he dropped a hand over hers as they waited. Noise floated around them, then quieted when several people stopped and stood inches away from them, lighting prayer candles.

Through it all, they remained in place, their hands locked tight.

The moment the footsteps from the other side of the curtain faded from their hearing, Rowan whipped out a small, cloth-wrapped package. “What about my lock picks?”

“Aren’t they a little small?”

“We can stuff them between our fingers. A swipe like that wouldn’t feel all that great. And—” she whipped a second packet out of her bag “—I carry two sets.”

The moment struck him as so silly and strange, yet he couldn’t have held back if he’d tried. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Nah, I’m just resource—”

He didn’t let her finish her statement. Instead, he leaned forward and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close, the soft, short wisps of her hair tickling his fingers. “Amazing.”

He pressed his lips to hers, the taste of her the sweetest rush on his tongue. The reverent environment wasn’t lost on him; instead, it lent an air of importance to the simple act of giving comfort and sharing their feelings for each other.

Her hands trailed over his face, tracing his jaw, before she lifted her head. “We should probably go.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s an entrance on the opposite side of where we came in. If we leave separately, we should be able to get back outside.” She pressed her lips to his once more. “And this time I promise we can call a taxi.”

“I’ll go first. Stay here and when it’s clear I’ll let out a sharp whistle.”

“Here. Take these.” She shoved one of the pick sets into his hand. “Hold them like I said.”

She helped him lodge the sharp tools between his fingers, even as the thought of using them wasn’t high on his list of activities for the day. “Now you.”

Rowan followed suit, positioning the picks in her dominant hand.

He listened for any noise, then lifted the curtain on the back side of the table for a look at the room. Sunlight still streamed in through the windows, dust motes curling in the beams, but the alcove was empty. He slid out, about as gracefully as when he slid in, and winced when the picks scraped against the floor. A muffled “shhh” echoed from under the table and he couldn’t hold back a smile at the bossy rejoinder.

The majority of people were in the interior of the church, and his quick scan of the area didn’t turn up anything unusual. He let out a short, sharp whistle and waited, his back pressed to the wall.

Within moments, Rowan sauntered out of the small alcove. She’d positioned her hand around the edge of her heavy bag so the picks weren’t visible.

At the evidence he wasn’t comparably covered, he tossed a pointed glance to his exposed hand. She placed her empty hand over the picks and he hoped it would be enough to get them out of the church unnoticed. “Let’s go.”

“Walk slower.”

“We need to get out of here.”

She dropped his hand and snagged the back of his T-shirt, effectively slowing his movement. “There’s a guard across the way and he’s looking at us. Slow down.”

Finn appreciated her quick read of the situation and slowed, waiting until she’d once again wrapped her left hand around his pick-filled right. “Are they hidden?”

“Yep. Now stroll.”

The seconds crawled and the distance to the front of the church and the other exit Rowan had identified seemed endless, but he kept his pace moderate. They’d come this far; it would all be for naught if they ended up in a police station under interrogation.

When they finally saw daylight, Finn exhaled on a heavy breath. The area was still crowded with people, but the cloying sense of confinement that came with being trapped inside began to fade. “That was close.”

“Or maybe not.”

The heavy press of a gun hit the center of his back and Finn stopped moving. “What do you want?”

“You really don’t know?” The man kept his voice at a low register so as not to be overheard but his accent was British.

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Maybe I can do something about that.”

Rowan squeezed his hand once before she moved, her actions as graceful as a cat’s. The hand shielding his lifted and shoved him off balance at the same time she swung her other hand, wrapped tight around the picks. Finn briefly registered the man attempting to capture them—medium build, sandy hair, goatee—before he lost his footing and stumbled, just as Rowan had obviously intended.

Her hand continued its deadly arc and connected with the side of the man’s face. He let out a howl of pain as he reached for his cheek, the action reflexive enough for Rowan to knock into him with the bag, dislodging the gun.

The heavy piece clattered to the ground but Rowan ignored it and was already grabbing Finn’s hand as they ran for the street. They both shouted and waved their hands for a cab hovering down the street. Finn pushed her on ahead of him, shielding her from the lumbering, screaming man who chased after them.

She flung the door open and scrambled in, turning toward him the moment she had a seat. “Finn! Come on.”

The open door beckoned and he dived in, unable to fold his large form into the small space as quickly as she did. The thug chasing them leaped toward his feet and snagged his shoe but didn’t get a firm grip. Rowan was already barking out orders at the cab driver. “Drive. Now. Go!”

Whether the driver spoke English or not didn’t seem to matter, especially when Rowan began tossing money onto the front seat. Finn struggled to right himself and nearly fell back out the car door as the driver took a sharp curve.