“Whit?” I called.
“Here,” he said, walking around the pile of crates stacked one on top of the other. His hands were bound behind him, too, and there was a bruise forming on his right cheek. Blood oozed from his lip.
“You’re hurt,” I said.
He dropped on his knees in front of me. “You’ve been out for hours,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “How do you feel?”
“Dizzy. Thirsty. But I think I’m all right. What did they do to me?”
“That rag was soaked in chloroform,” he said, anger making his voice vibrate. “It was dripping. I was scared they’d given you too much.”
“I’m fine,” I said, inching forward so our knees could touch. “Do you have anything we can use in your pockets?”
“They took everything,” he said bleakly. “The gun. Even the button.”
I groaned. “Please tell me you have a knife hidden somewhere.”
Whit grimly shook his head. “They found the one in my boot.”
“Intrepid criminals,” I said. “Have you seen Elvira?”
Again he shook his head. “It’s the first thing I did after they placed us in here. I checked every part of this wretched tomb. No Elvira, or signs that she’d ever been in here.”
A hard lump settled in my stomach. “Dios, I hope she’s—” I broke off at the sound of footsteps approaching.
Four men appeared at the head of the tomb, still dressed in dark clothing and wearing black masks. The one in the middle looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him. He was tall and narrow hipped. The other three might have fought Whit at the docks, because they were both limping slightly.
“Get up,” the tall man said.
Shaking, I awkwardly got to my feet. Whit did the same, but the three men immediately gripped his arms, hauling him away from me.
Whit kicked and struggled, and was rewarded with a hard fist to the stomach. He doubled over, gasping. They rounded him, kicked his stomach, his ribs. His gasps of pain roared in my ears. One of them flashed a dagger and swiped at his arm bent over his face to protect his head. Blood gushed from the long, deep scratch.
“Stop,” I yelled. “Stop it!”
“In order to avoid any further confusion, I’d like to know your name,” the tall man said quietly. His voice sounded so familiar, the hair at the back of my neck rose. That night on Philae, it had been dark. His face had been hard to make out, but I remembered the blond hair shining like silver in the moonlight. And his low-pitched voice.
My throat was dry. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had anything to drink. “Inez Olivera.”
“I see,” he remarked, his tone polite. He might have been enquiring after my health. The hair on my arms stood on end. “So, it’s not Elvira Montenegro? The other one insists that’s her name, but she could be lying.”
I shook my head, feeling sick. Since arriving in Egypt, I’d given my cousin’s name on more than one occasion. Foolish, foolish mistake. “I’m the one you want. Please let Elvira go.”
“Where is your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
He raised his hand and smacked me across the face. The sound reverberated in the tomb. I tasted blood in my mouth.
Whit used his elbow to slam the face of the one holding him down. He jumped to his feet, eyes feral. “Touch her again and I will end your miserable life.”
“Do you think you’re in any position to be issuing threats?” the tall man asked mildly. He jerked his head in the direction of his companion—who had a gun aimed at the level of my heart.
Whit stilled, scowling. And once again, the three men clutched at Whit, yanking his arms behind him.
The tall man returned his attention to me. “I’ll ask again. Where is your mother?”
I licked my dry and cracked lips. “I don’t know.”
He hit me in the stomach and my breathe wheezed out of me. I bent forward, tears gathering in my eyes. Whit howled, struggling anew.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” the tall man said quietly. “If you don’t tell me where she is, I’ll seal the tomb. Think carefully before you answer. Where is your mother?”
I thought about lying. A dozen probable locations were on the tip of my tongue and I only had to choose one far, far away—
“If I find out you’ve lied to me,” he said in that same terrifying, quiet voice, “I’ll shoot your cousin. Your mother, Inez?”
I straightened, and wiped the blood from my mouth using the fabric covering my shoulder. “I don’t know.”
The man’s eyes shone in the candlelight. They were a warm brown, the color of well-worn leather.
“Suit yourself. But know this—your cousin will share your fate.”
“Let her go!” I yelled. “She doesn’t know anything, she’s only just arrived. Please.”
The tall man ignored me, while the other three released Whit. He slumped to the ground, his face battered and bruised. The sound of stone scraping against stone crashed around us, the room darkening inch by slow inch.
And then silence.
We were trapped.
Capítulo Treinta Y Cuatro
I sunk next to Whit, tugging at my bindings, but there was no give. He mumbled against the packed dirt floor, lying on his side, his long legs drawn close to his chest. Slowly he opened his eyes. They were bloodshot.
“How bad are you hurt?”
“Bad,” he wheezed.
“Can you sit up?”
“Not at the moment.”
I slumped next to his knees, resting my arm on top of his thigh. He grunted in response. “They’ve sealed the entrance.”
“I heard,” he muttered. “Can you come closer?”
“Why?”
“I need to know what they’ve done to you.”
Whit’s voice was lethal, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I leaned forward and he squinted up at me. His bloodshot gaze ran over every curve of my face, resting on my sore cheek. Rage radiated from him in widening ripples, charging the air around us.
He let out a foul curse.
The lone candle on one of the crates flickered ominously, casting moving shadows against the rock. If we could somehow cut free from the ropes, we might be able to find something useful to use inside one of the boxes or barrels. The walls seemed to press closer. A tight fist around my lungs. I knew we were in danger of losing light and air, but I didn’t know how much time that left us. The image of a dwindling hourglass scored itself in my mind. Every time I blinked, the level of sand lowered.
“Would one of my hat pins be useful to pierce through the rope?”
He shook his head and slowly sat up, groaning. “I don’t think so. What else do you have hidden in your hair?”
“Nothing else, I’m afraid.”
Whit glanced down at his shoes. “I wish they hadn’t found my blade.”
“What are we going to do, Whit?” I asked softly. “How will we get out of this?”
“I might be able to wiggle out of the rope,” he said. “I was awake when they tied the knot, and I kept my elbows apart when they secured it.”
“I don’t know what that means.”