The Relic (8 page)

“I disagree. If we go back to the Georgetown now, it’ll put us at a greater risk. We’ll be sitting ducks for whoever is after us. I say we stick to the jungle and find a native from a village to take us, or at least draw us a map. I’m pretty handy with a compass. You do know what a compass is, don’t you, Stone? It’s one of those circular magnetic things with an arrow pointing north.”

If the sarcasm was anything to go by, she certainly wasn’t dwelling on his stupid behavior a few minutes ago, and anyway, he didn’t really think she would fall for that tactic so he could get her out of the way and safe from these bastards who were after them. You have to admire her spunk, he thought as he grinned at her. Even if her barbs were a bit sharp sometimes.

“Well, do you? And why the hell are you smiling like a wide-mouthed frog at me for?”

His belly contracted painfully as he stifled the laugh that threatened to overtake him. They really needed to find this bloody relic and get the fuck out of here, but shit, she made him laugh like no other woman. “Just smiling at your rapier wit, Mags. I should remember to wear my flak jacket when I’m around you. You’re sharp.”

She screwed up her eyes, and made that cute little sigh that got his dick twitching. “Too much?”

“S’okay Mags, I can take anything you can dish out. I forgot how much fun it was.”

Her face cleared, those turquoise eyes sparkling. “What can I say? You bring out the best sarcasm in me, Stone. Okay, enough levity. Back to business.”

Down, boy!
He shifted on the log, placing his hands out in front so his elbows hid the tent in his shorts. This woman was going to be the death of him before they got back to civilization. She didn’t have to do anything. Her scent, her words, her facial expressions—the whole package got him hotter than the steam tent of a jungle they were in, and if he didn’t get a grip, he’d do something stupid. He reminded himself of all the reasons he’d broken it off with her two years ago. Not wanting to be tied down. Knowing how unfair it would be to expect her to put up with his frequent missions. Nope, she deserved better than a part-time man, and that’s all he would be.

“Stone? Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

Shit. Caught again. “Of course I have, Mags. You were saying we need a plan. You want to go back to the village and bribe someone.”

“Not exactly. What I said was, we head toward the village, but wait to catch one of the villagers by themselves. That way we won’t attract attention to ourselves again.”

“Not a bad idea. It could work.”

“Off course it will work,” she said, winking at him. “And I can take this hot and itchy costume off at last, thank God.”

“Okay, we should prepare first. We need some water and food. I’ll get the water bottles we salvaged from the jeep and fill them and you can go pick some more of that fruit.”

Magda grimaced. “Ack! I wish we’d eaten back at the village market. I am so over fruit, and so is my stomach,” she said, rubbing her hand across her belly as she walked toward the narrow track she’d found their last meal.

* * * *

It was late afternoon and after a couple of hours of waiting, and a couple of unsuccessful attempts before finally bribing a villager for information, they trudged up another seemingly endless track toward God knew where.

Magda stopped for a few seconds taking a swig from the now warm water bottle. She splashed a few drops on her face and let it dribble down her neck to the valley between her breasts. The air was so thick it felt like heated cotton wool wrapped around her body almost stifling her breathing in the moisture laden air, and the ensuing exhaustion took its toll.

“This heat sucks,” she whispered to herself.

“It’s not the heat, Mags, it’s the damned humidity. It wipes us out.”

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be so bloody humid if it wasn’t so fucking hot!”

“Always a pleasure to travel with such a good-humored companion.”

“Fuck off, Stone,” she hissed as she picked up the pace and turned the small bend in the track and stopped dead in her place. “Shit! What the heck is that?”

Before her eyes was a clearing that appeared to be paved with roughly hewn rock. In the center was the broken torso of a statue, the head and shoulders lying on its side on the ground. Dozens of the rock bricks had been dug out and thrown roughly around the area. It looked like some sort of explosive device had been let off, but from the color of the moist dirt, this was a recent event. If explosives had been used, they would have heard them for sure.

Vincent caught up with her in seconds and placed his hand protectively on her shoulder. It felt good there, but she shrugged him off, moving forward to inspect the devastation they saw before them.

“It looks like we found our shrine,” said Vincent from behind her.

She didn’t bother turning back to him. “And the bad guys beat us to it.”

“Let’s check it out anyway, in case they missed something. At least we now know what Sultan Abdullah looks like.” Leaning over, he turned the stone head over. “Ugly mug, though.”

Magda laughed. “I am sure his many wives thought he was attractive enough.”

“I’m sure his coffers of gold and jewels were the attraction, and remember, in his time daughters were ordered to marry sultans for political gain. I’m sure they didn’t have much say in it at the time.”

Shuddering at the thought of being sold into marriage, Magda moved to the other side of the clearing, searching for something that might lead them to the relic. She scanned each rock one by one with no luck until a glint of sunlight drew her eyes to something on the ground in front of her. Bending over, she brushed the dirt away from a smooth piece of rock exposing a symbol. She stood, excited, wanting to tell Vince what she’d found, when a hand grabbed her body from behind and a wad of material covered over her mouth. She gagged as the filthy rag sent a sickeningly sweet smell through her nostrils.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Five

Vincent strained against the ropes that bound his wrists behind his back. Shifting his weight from one buttock to the other, he tried once more to ease the cramps in his upper arms as they pulled against his shoulders, sending sharp pains along his muscles.

He swore when he realized that no amount of shuffling around or fidgeting was going to help dislodge the ties from his hands or ease the pain. At least he could still feel pain. If his limbs started to go numb, he would be in real trouble. It would seriously hamper any escape effort if he had to take time for the circulation and nerve activity to return.

Pain was good. It meant he was still alive. He just had to keep telling himself that.

He looked around the large pit they’d been thrown in. Lighted torches from above shone a little light around the damp earth he lay on, but he realized it was probably more to give his captors a view of their prisoners, rather than for his and Mags benefit.

The wall he was leaning against was damp from water seeping through the rock before it dripped down to the muddy floor. The air was rancid with the evidence of past human habitation and Vincent shortened his breaths in an effort to slow the smell from reaching his nose, but it wasn’t helping.

A moan sounded from the right side of him and he turned toward Magda’s prone body where she had lain unconscious ever since they’d been captured.

“Are you okay, Mags?”

Magda rolled over and rubbed her forehead.

“Oh God. My head feels like someone whacked it with a concrete block,” she said with a shaky voice.

Relief filled Vince and provided a temporary panacea for his aching arms as his heart lightened. He’d been terrified the bastards had injured Magda seriously when they’d thrown her in beside him. He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing ever since he’d come to himself. Thank Christ she’d finally woken up.

He leaned forward and spoke softly, not wanting to draw the attention of whatever guards they may have posted up above them. “Maybe they did. Mine certainly feels like it.”

She opened her eyes and sat up too quickly, falling back to the damp earth immediately. He heard her utter a soft swear word and knew she must be in a lot of pain. It wasn’t like her to hold back. She looked over at him again, looking pointedly at his restraints.

“What the fuck happened, Stone?”

That was more like the Mags he knew and loved, he smiled to himself.

She tried moving again, and this time perched up on her elbows. “And how come you’re all tied up and I’m not?”

“I guess I gave them too much of a hard time by refusing to be knocked out.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “I always knew you had a hard head, Stone. Now we have proof.” Her expression grew serious again, concern filling those beautiful eyes. “Did they hurt you badly, Vince?”

“I won’t lie. I feel like crap, but I’ve been through worse.”

Magda got up on her knees and leaned over to Vincent, her hand gently touching his shoulder. “I’ll have a look at those ties and see if I can get them off.”

“Don’t bother, they’re plastic cord. You’ll need a knife to get them off and they seem to have confiscated mine. And darn it, it was my favorite knife too. My uncle gave me that knife!”

A loud snort was her response as she shuffled behind him tugging on his hands to get a closer look.

Vincent winced at the sudden movement. “Hey, careful, Mags. My arms are attached to those hands.”

She dropped his hands quickly, and they pulled even further on his shoulder sockets as they bounced onto his back, the pain reverberating through his triceps. He swore loudly as he braced his arms to prevent himself from falling backwards.

Magda immediately ran her hands over his upper arms, rubbing them gently. “Sorry, Stone. I didn’t think that through.”

Her hands were warm against his cool muscles and he felt twitches in more than just his arms. If she didn’t stop, he would have pain in another part of his anatomy, and he felt like a dickhead for even thinking about it at a time like this.

“S’okay, Mags,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can deal with it. How about you have a look around and see if there’s a way out of this hole?”

She dropped her hands and started to stand. “I suppose that’s a good idea,” she said as she turned her head and scanned the pit that was their prison.

A loud crash sounded above them. Magda moved away from the wall and looked up. “Shit! What was that?”

Before they had a chance to even speculate, a wooden ladder was lowered into the pit and two men climbed down. Both of them walked over to Vincent and dragged him to his feet, pulling on his already painful arms.

“Fuck. Watch it, guys. I want to keep my shoulder sockets if you don’t mind.”

One of the men grunted and pushed Vincent toward the ladder, cutting the ties behind his back with a sharp knife.

Magda started toward them but was held back by the second man and shoved back to the ground.

“Wait a minute…” Vincent swung around to see what was happening to Magda. “Don’t hurt her!”

The man behind him grunted again, and placed his hand on Vincent’s back, shoving him up the first rung of the ladder.

He doesn’t look that strong
. He decided he’d better keep going up the ladder, if only to ensure that Magda was safe for the moment. “Don’t worry, Mags, I’ll be fine. Wait for me.”

“Wait for you? What else can I do, stuck here in this rat hole…”

“Silence!”

Vincent looked up, trying to find the source of the voice. Before he had a chance to speak, two more men arrived and hauled him off the ladder and threw him on the ground above the pit.

Vincent grunted as a sharp pain shot down hip, knowing he was going to be black and blue by the time this ordeal was over.

If he got out of here alive, that is.

“Pick him up and bring him to my tent,” said a cultured voice with a clipped English accent.

Vincent tried to get a look at his surroundings as he was dragged behind the retreating back of the man who appeared to be the leader of this get up, but his eyes felt so gritty with a combination of dirt and sweat, all he got was blurry impressions of jungle.

No surprise there.

The tent was large with what appeared to be two rooms. The front area where he was brought contained a table and a couple of chairs and not much else. The leader sat on one of the chairs, leaning forward on his elbows while waiting for Vincent to be tied to another chair facing him. Vincent’s arms protested being drawn behind him again, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it, and no way was he going to show these bastards that it was getting to him.

The man opposite him stood as the men moved away from Vince. He was not a large man, but something about him told Vince he didn’t want to mess with him. His white blond hair was stark against his tanned skin and the lines around his pale, almost colorless blue eyes were the only feature that gave an indication that he was not a young man.

“So, Mr. Stone, I trust you are enjoying your accommodations?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

A heavy whack across the back of his head had him seeing stars, and if not for the restraints on the chair, he would have fallen to the floor.

“What the…?”

The man smiled, his eyes cruel, as he came forward.

“My men take exception to insolence. You will learn to answer my questions. Now tell me, how do you like your accommodations?”

Vincent shook his head, trying to clear the buzz that had started up in his ears. “Just fine and dandy. So who are you?”

The man laughed, his enjoyment evident as he abruptly stopped in front of Vince and slapped him across the face. “You have spirit. I like that, but you must learn to respect me or things could become very bad for you, Mr. Stone.”

He moved back and sat behind the table once more, pouring himself a glass of what looked like water from a silver vacuum flask. “I ask the questions and you answer them. It’s very simple, if you take the time to listen. Would you care for a drink?”

Vincent answered him by glaring into his face. No way was he sharing a drink with this bastard.