The Bone Chamber

37

When Griffin refused to hand over the map to Adami’s goon, instead giving it to Sydney to hold, she had a feeling it was just in case any fighting had to be done. Griffin would be free.
She slipped the parchment tube’s leather strap over her shoulder, allowing the tube to hang across her back, as Adami’s man ushered all through the door.
And all she could think was that Tex was alive.
But then the reality of the situation hit her as they walked down the long hallway to the elevator. What guarantee did they have that Adami would keep his end of the bargain? None, whatsoever, which meant she’d gone to all this trouble for nothing, a point brought home when Griffin caught up to her, his whisper harsh. “What the hell? Do you realize the danger if Adami gets his hands on that map? I sent you in there to destroy it.”
“He won’t get it. Besides, I couldn’t do it like that.” She glanced back over her shoulder, saw Silvio, his gun in his coat pocket, the barrel jutting slightly through the wool, close the room door, then follow them. “I couldn’t just let them kill Tex outright.”
“Adami’s not going to release Tex,” he whispered. “And now, thanks to you, we need damage control. We can’t let him have that damned map.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I—”
“You two shut the hell up,” Silvio called out. “Onto the elevator, and no more talking.” They rode the elevator to the ground floor and the lobby. Silvio motioned for everyone to exit the front door, as he held it open. Out front, she saw a black Mercedes. A taxi pulled in behind it, honking its horn, perhaps in hopes of getting the larger car to move forward. It didn’t budge, and the tinted rear window of the Mercedes rolled partway down.
Adami peered out at them, smiling. “Signore Griffin.”
Silvio moved to the car, standing beside it, keeping watch. Griffin dropped Sydney’s arm, started toward the Mercedes, just as Adami looked over at the priest and said, “Ah, Father Dumas. I suppose I should offer my thanks to you for keeping me so well-informed.”
Griffin paused, looked over at Dumas.
The priest shook his head. “A lie,” he said, when he finally found his tongue.
Griffin turned back to Adami. “You expect me to believe that Dumas works for you?” he asked, taking another step forward.
Adami gave a shrug. “Perhaps indirectly. He managed to keep the ambassador apprised, and the ambassador, in turn, kept me very well informed of most of ATLAS’s next moves. The death of his daughter, and his return to the States, unfortunately, left me on my own these past few days, or you wouldn’t have had the advantage you had in Tunisia.”
“You killed Alessandra?”
“If you hope I’ll confess to murder, you’re wrong. I believe the man who killed her, Niko, met an untimely death in some apartment in Washington,” he said, looking right at Sydney, before turning his attention back to Griffin. “But I suspect you may know more about that than I, seeing as how it was your FBI agent who killed him.”
“You’re saying the ambassador willingly gave you information on our operations?”
“He’s not the only one. You might want to ask him who he reports to.”
“I’ll certainly look into the matter,” Griffin said, trying to peer into the Mercedes.
“The map,” Adami said.
“That map belongs to the Vatican,” Dumas replied.
Adami narrowed his gaze, and a vein pulsed in his temple. “What is it the church is so fond of saying? An eye for an eye? This map will almost make up for the warehouse I lost along with the year’s worth of work, as well as the personnel within. You’re lucky I don’t lay claim to each life lost. But a deal’s a deal, and I am in a benevolent mood.”
Benevolent? Or counting on finding the lost plagues and rebuilding his bioweapons? What better source than something that hadn’t seen the light of day in two thousand years? Something that hadn’t been studied, something that might be deadlier because of its very isolation? And that was when Sydney realized the foolishness of her plan—and why Griffin had insisted on destroying that map.
The window rolled down the rest of the way, and Sydney saw Tex, still dressed in his tuxedo. Adami held a gun pointed at Tex’s gut, just low enough that most passersby wouldn’t see. Tex looked out the window at Griffin, cocked his head slightly. His face was bruised, dried blood crusted around his eyes and his mouth. His breathing was shallow, and he looked like hell.
But he was alive, Sydney thought.
Griffin returned his attention to Adami, took another step forward, his hand held to his side, and Sydney wondered if he was going to pull an empty gun trying to bluff Tex out of that car alive. Griffin and Sydney had no ammunition. Dumas carried no weapons. She was sure Adami wouldn’t hesitate to kill Tex right there, was probably going to do it anyway. That was precisely what Griffin had thought, and she watched as he turned, leaning as though he was merely looking into the car. His strategic placement told her he was going for Adami’s guard, Silvio.
She looked at Tex, saw he was also watching Griffin, then saw him close his eyes, a look of utter defeat overtaking his features. He expected the worst. When he opened his eyes again, he looked right at Sydney. Shook his head. Glanced at Griffin, then back at her in warning. No, he mouthed silently.
Sydney’s pulse pounded with each passing second. She wasn’t sure what Griffin was planning. To dive past the goon and through the window, grab the gun? Surely he wasn’t foolish enough to think that Adami was the only man armed in there? The driver was surely armed, as was the man Adami had sent to fetch them. Griffin would be dead before he ever had a chance to pull Tex out. Worse yet, the moment they handed the map over, Tex was dead. He clearly knew it, was warning them off.
Once again why Griffin had wanted her to destroy the map.
She needed to stop him. But Griffin edged closer. Before she could get his attention, a young couple, laughing as they walked arm-in-arm, crossed in front of Sydney, blocking her view, and she had to step aside as the man leaned forward to toss a smoldering cigarette into the ashtray on top of the garbage bin near the door. She felt helpless. As out of control as the smoke that swirled up, and drifted away.
Adami said, “Time is up…” He raised the gun to Tex’s head.
She had to do something, or Griffin was going to lose Tex, and maybe his own life.
“Here it is,” Sydney shouted.
“No!” Griffin said.
She slid the strap from her shoulder, opened the tube, and slid the parchment out, unrolling it slightly, revealing the lower left corner with the fleur-de-lis and Templar cross, and the very edge of the labyrinth, before she let the map roll shut. But she didn’t move forward, just stood there by the door.
“Hand it over,” Adami said.
“First,” she said, “you hand over Tex.”
“You’re in no position to argue.”
“But I am,” she replied. “I’ll bet two-hundred-year-old paper would burn pretty damned quick if lit.” She held it over the ashtray, allowing the smoke from the cigarette to drift right up to the paper. Francesca cried out. When Adami’s goon started forward, Sydney lowered the parchment toward the cigarette. “I wouldn’t try it,” Sydney said.
“Stop!” Adami ordered. Silvio stilled, and Adami dropped the gun slightly, as though weighing Sydney’s resolve against his. “As I said, the map for your friend.”
Sydney said, “Have your man open the door.”
“Agreed. Silvio, the door.” Silvio walked around to the far side of the car and opened the passenger door. “Now your turn,” Adami said.
She didn’t remove the parchment. Instead, she picked up the cigarette, and held it closer to the paper. “Tex first.”
Adami motioned for Tex to slide out. His hands were tied behind him, and he moved stiffly. “Hand me the map, and I will allow Griffin to assist him from the car.”
“Get your man away,” Sydney ordered.
“Silvio,” Adami said. “In the car.”
Silvio walked back around and opened the front door, got in. Just before he closed the door, she saw the driver, his gun pointed toward the passenger compartment. “Tell your driver, and anyone else with a gun, that if I so much as hear a click, this thing is going up in smoke.”
“Lower your weapons,” Adami called out.
Sydney looked at Griffin. He ignored her, walked to the other side of the car. As he pulled Tex out, she dropped the rolled parchment into the tube, leaned forward, handed it to Adami. Tex was in Griffin’s arms, and he dragged him back, away from the car. Sydney let go of the leather strap, tossed the cigarette into the gutter as Adami rolled up the window. “Go!” he said to the driver.
The Mercedes took off.
Griffin looked at Sydney, defeat and anger written across his face.