speedboat circled back. Laughter echoed over the water.
Jessie kicked faster. Suddenly he popped up, finding sand under his toes. He ran, fell, shoved, and dove toward shore. Then his legs were high-stepping through the lapping water. He pounded across the beach toward the dense jungle.
Go, Jessie…
The speedboat raced by. Shots were fired. Sand exploded, leaves shredded. Then Jessie dashed the last steps and vanished headlong into the forest, arms still tied behind his back.
More cheers, some disappointed groans.
Money changed hands.
But most were still chuckling, as if at some private joke.
Monk nudged his neighbor.
As the band of pirates here was a mix of locals and foreign mercenaries, Monk had learned that pigeon Malay passed okay. Not everyone was as fluent as the native pirates.
The gentleman at his side was missing several teeth, but was happy to show how many he had left by grinning broadly. He pointed toward shore, but he aimed higher up. A few wisps of smoke could be seen near the ridgeline. Some camp was up there.
Same to you, bud.
The pirate must have noted his confusion and only smiled wider, showing his decaying wisdom teeth. He tried again.
Monk’s eyes widened. That was one Malay word Monk could translate himself. He stared back toward the empty beach, then up toward the trails of smoke. It seemed the pirates shared the island with a local tribe of cannibals. And like any good guests returning home, the pirates had thrown their caretakers a bone.
Literally.
The pirate at his side continued to babble and pointed toward the water. Monk only caught a few phrases, a word here and there.
“…lucky…at night…bad…” The man pantomimed with his hand, a claw rising up and grabbing something and dragging it down.
The last was a Malay curse word.
Monk had heard it enough times, but he was fairly certain the man was using its direct translation.
Demon.
Monk frowned and straightened, leaning over a bit to stare at the water.
He remembered Jessie’s old wives’ tale. Rangda was the name of the Balinese witch queen, whose demons were supposed to haunt these waters.
“At night…” the man mumbled in Malay, and pointed to the water.
Monk sighed. Just great. He stared with concern toward the forest, toward where Jessie had vanished.
Demons and cannibals.
What’s next? Club Med?
9
Hagia Sophia
With the sun blazing across the rooftop restaurant, Gray listened to the threat. It sapped all warmth out of the morning.
“If you don’t follow my directions precisely, I’ll kill your parents.”
Gray strangled Vigor’s cell phone within his grip. “If anything happens to them…”
“Something will. I promise that. I’ll send you pieces. In the mail. Over months.”
Gray heard the simple certainty in the man’s words. He turned his back on the others, needing to concentrate, to think.
“If you attempt to contact Sigma,” Nasser continued in a dispassionate voice, “I will know. You will be punished. With the blood of your mother.”
Gray’s throat had tightened to a strangled knot. “You bastard…I want to know they’re alive… unharmed.”
Nasser didn’t even respond. Gray heard a shuffle of the phone, muffled voices, then his mother came on the line. “Gray?” she gasped out. “I’m sorry. Your father. I needed his pills.” Her words ended in a sob.
Gray’s whole body trembled, teetering between fury and grief. “Doesn’t matter. Are you okay? Is Dad?”
“We’re…yes…Gray—”
The phone was snatched from her, and Nasser came back on the line. “I will be leaving them in the care of my colleague Annishen. I believe you met her at the safe house in D.C.”
Gray pictured the Eurasian woman with the dyed crew cut and tattoos.
Asian Anni.
Nasser continued, “I will be joining you in Turkey. At nineteen hundred hours. You will not move from where you are.”
Gray checked his watch. A little over nine hours.
“I have men closing on your position in the Sultanahmet as we speak. Do not try to be clever. We’ve been tracking Monsignor Verona’s phone since he left Italy.”
Vigor’s sudden departure from the Vatican must have triggered a red flag. Gray wanted to be angry at the monsignor for being so careless, but he knew Vigor did not operate at the same level of paranoia as he did. Few people did. And at the moment, Gray had no room for recriminations, too consumed by his own guilt.
He had left his parents alone.
“I would like to speak with Seichan now,” Nasser said.
Gray waved Seichan over. She went to take the phone, but Gray kept hold of it. He motioned for her to come close so he could listen in on their conversation.
With heads together, ear to ear, Seichan spoke into the phone. “Amen,” she said, using Nasser’s first name, “what do you want?”
“You bitch…for this betrayal, I’ll make you suffer in ways—”
“Yes, and you’ll beat my dog and kick my cat. I get it, sweetheart.” Seichan sighed, her breath tickling Gray’s neck. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to say our good-byes here. I’ll be long gone by the time you arrive.”
Gray tensed and turned slightly to glance at her. She held up a silencing palm and shook her head. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“My men already have you surrounded,” Nasser warned. “You try to leave, and they’ll put a bullet between your cold eyes.”
“Whatever. As soon as this little conversation is over, I’m heading out of this damn
She continued on the phone, “We weren’t making any progress here at Hagia Sophia anyway. Too many damned murals. It’s all yours, baby. You’ll never see me again.”
Gray frowned. She was plainly lying. But why?
Nasser paused, then spoke, fury thawing his icy manner. “You’ll not make it ten steps! I’ve got all the exits to Hagia Sophia covered.”
Seichan rolled her eyes at Gray, indicating her ploy.
“I’m sure you do, Amen,” Seichan finished. “Ciao, baby. Kiss, kiss.”
