The Sacred Vault

‘They may suspect,’ said Khoil, dismissing Zec without a further word. A crew member closed the hatch. ‘But they will find no proof. Not until it is too late to matter.’

‘So why do you need Eddie? If you want the Codex, why not just make me get it for you?’

‘It would be too easy for you to raise the alarm. Besides, with you as our hostage, Mr Chase will be more malleable than you would be in the reverse position.’

‘You think you know us?’ she sneered.

‘Qexia knows you. All information about you and your husband has been collated and analysed. Mr Chase is more predictable than you, hence more controllable. His concern for your safety will ensure his compliance with our demands.’

‘He’s controllable, huh? I’ll tell him that when he calls - I’m sure it’ll give him a laugh.’

‘Bite your tongue,’ Vanita snapped, her dangling earrings swinging. ‘Pramesh, take us home. I have had enough of this country.’

‘As you wish, my beloved.’ Khoil turned and entered the cockpit. Nina expected him to issue orders, but was surprised to see him sit in the pilot’s seat and don a set of headphones.

‘Back there,’ ordered Vanita, jerking a dismissive thumb towards the rear of the cabin. The two men holding Nina pulled her with them. ‘Chapal, the drug.’

‘Drug? ’ Nina cried, seeing the man in the turtleneck raise a gun-shaped device - a jet injector, used to administer drugs without a hypodermic needle. She struggled and kicked, but her captors had too firm a grip.

‘I would advise that you take the drug, Dr Wilde,’ Khoil called from the cockpit. ‘Otherwise Mr Tandon will be forced to use his martial arts skills to render you unconscious. I understand it is excruciatingly painful.’

The man in black gave Nina a broad, menacing smile. ‘There are a hundred and eight marma pressure points on the body. Twelve are instantly fatal when hit by a varma ati master.’

‘Let me guess,’ said Nina unhappily. ‘You’re a master.’

‘Oh, yes. But the deadly points are very close to ones that cause unconsciousness or paralysis. If you struggle, even I could hit the wrong one.’ The smile broadened. ‘Would you prefer the drug?’

She clenched her jaw, reluctantly accepting defeat. For now. ‘Just . . . get it over with.’

Tandon pressed the injector’s nozzle to her neck and squeezed the trigger. There was a sharp hiss of gas, and she jerked in pain as the drug was blasted through the pores of her skin. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen . . . then her legs turned to rubber. The two men hauled her to a seat. The engines’ whine rose to a shrill roar as the plane prepared to take off.

‘You guys are gonna be . . . so screwed . . . when my husband catches you,’ Nina managed to say before her surroundings swirled away into a dark void.

His bruised muscles now tense and stiffened by the long flight, Eddie took a cab back into Manhattan. He tried to phone Nina, but was diverted to voicemail at the apartment, in her office and on her cell phone. Slightly annoyed, he called Lola.

‘Afternoon, Eddie,’ came the reply. ‘How was France? Did you see the Festival of Lights? I’ve heard it’s beautiful.’

‘It was . . . bright,’ he settled upon. Nina obviously hadn’t updated her on the previous night’s events. ‘Listen, do you know where Nina is? I can’t get hold of her.’

‘I’m not sure - I haven’t seen her today. She must be in another UN committee meeting.’

‘Stuck in a plane or stuck in a meeting? Not sure which is worse.’

‘At least on a plane you can watch a movie. Anyway, I’ll tell her you called when I see her.’

‘Okay. Thanks, Lola.’

Finally reaching home, he lugged his bag to the apartment. ‘Nina, you in?’ he called as he opened the door. No answer. He dumped his luggage and headed to the kitchen for coffee.

A man was sitting in one of the lounge chairs, pointing an automatic at him. ‘Don’t move, Mr Chase.’

Eddie assessed him in a flash. Eastern European accent, probably Bosnian; big, well muscled, a face that had seen a lot of action. Definitely ex-military.

One of Fernandez’s men? Here for revenge?

Even though his travel-induced lethargy had been instantly blown away by a surge of adrenalin, he feigned tiredness. ‘Who’re you - and where’s Nina?’

‘Safe, for now. My employers want you to get something for them. Do it, and she will be released.’

‘Your employers? The Khoils, at a guess.’

That surprised the man, but he quickly recovered, indicating a cell phone on a table. ‘Yes. They want to talk to you. The number is already entered.’

Keeping a wary eye on the gun as it tracked him, Eddie picked up the phone and pushed the call button. The screen lit up, giving him a glimpse of the number before it was replaced by an animated ‘Dialling . . .’ icon: from the unusual prefix code, 882, he realised he was being connected to a satellite phone.

A click, the ghostly echo of the signal being bounced off an orbiting relay . . . then a calm voice. ‘Hello.’

‘All right, Khoil, you fuckwit,’ said Eddie, recognising Pramesh Khoil’s flat, precise tones. ‘What d’you want?’

A brief pause, the time-lag of the satellite transmission. ‘There is no need for rudeness, Mr Chase.’

‘I can do violence instead.’

‘Your macho posturing is exactly what I predicted. I am not intimidated. Now listen carefully. As Mr Zec has informed you, we have taken your wife hostage.’

‘Zec?’ Eddie glanced at the man in the chair, the unusual name echoing faintly in the recesses of his memory.

‘We want you to obtain the Talonor Codex and deliver it to Mr Zec. If you do this, your wife will be released. If you do not, she will be killed. Today is Tuesday; you have until the end of Thursday.’

There was a background noise that was all too familiar after the last several hours: jet engines. Khoil was on a plane, which probably meant Nina was too . . . ‘You’ve fucked up, you know.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I can’t get the Codex for you. Nobody can, except Nina. You need her handprint to open the vault. And since I’m guessing you’re flying her away from the vault, well . . .’

‘I am aware of the vault’s handprint scanner. Your wife’s hand will be provided to you.’

Cold clutched at Eddie’s heart. ‘If you’ve fucking cut off her hand I promise you I will hunt you down, and cut off your fucking hand, and use it to pull your fucking heart out through your arsehole!’

‘Fantastical threats are not necessary - you misunderstand me. Your wife’s handprint will be provided.’

‘It will, will it? Let me talk to Nina.’

Khoil spoke to someone in Hindi. There was a faint hiss, followed by a nauseated groan.

Eddie knew who had made it, and felt a rush of relief. ‘Nina!’

‘Ohh . . . Eddie?’ she said, groggy and confused. ‘What’s . . . oh, shit. Eddie, these assholes have kidnapped me - they drugged me!’

‘You’re gonna be okay. I’ll take care of it.’

‘Eddie, they want you to steal the Codex for them. You can’t let them get it.’

‘If it’s how I get you back, then yeah, I can.’

‘No, absolutely not! I don’t know why they want it, but it’s got to be for something bigger than just its monetary value. It’s—’

‘Shut that red-haired witch up!’ said a woman’s shrill voice. Vanita Khoil. The sound of a scuffle came over the phone.

‘Nina!’ Eddie shouted. ‘Khoil, put her back on!’

There was another hiss. ‘Son of a bit . . .’ said Nina, her cry tailing away to nothing.

‘She is not hurt, only unconscious,’ Khoil said, retrieving the phone. ‘If you obtain the Codex for us, you will