Страница 88 из 94
Thorvaldsen was going to protest, make a scene, but he noticed that the chief of the guard assumed a position beside Gary. A gun beneath the man’s jacket was pointed straight at the boy.
The message was clear.
He faced the driver. “That’s correct. Thanks for coming.”
Herma
“I would say so,” the vice president said.
Herma
“Bring them both inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”
EIGHTY-THREE
SINAI PENINSULA
MALONE WAITED UNTIL GEORGE HADDAD WAS SAFE BEHIND the bookshelf’s end cap, where he and Pam had assumed a defensive position.
“Back from the dead?” he said to Haddad.
“Resurrection can be glorious.”
“George, that man wants to kill all of you.”
“I gathered. Lucky you’re here.”
“And what if I don’t stop him?”
“Then this entire endeavor would have been a waste.”
He needed to know, “What’s back there?”
“Three more halls and the Reading Room. Each like this one. Not many places to hide.”
He recalled the directory. “I’m just supposed to shoot it out with him?”
“I got you here. Now don’t disappoint me.”
Anger swelled in him. “There were simpler ways of doing this. He could be bringing reinforcements.”
“I doubt that. But I have eyes outside watching to see if anyone else enters the farsh. I’m betting he’s alone and will stay that way.”
“How do you know that? The Israelis have been all over us.”
“They’re gone.” Haddad pointed across the hall. “He’s all that remains.”
Malone caught sight of McCollum dashing through the archway and disappearing deeper into the library. Three more halls and the Reading Room. He was about to violate a multitude of the rules that had kept him alive for twelve years with the Magellan Billet. One was clear-Never go in unless you know how you’re going to get out. But something else he’d learned also occurred to him. When things go bad, anything can hurt you, including doing nothing.
“Know this,” Haddad said. “That man was responsible for your son being taken. He also destroyed your bookshop. He’s as much to blame for you being here as I am. He would have killed Gary, if need be. And he’ll gladly kill you.”
“How do you know that about Gary?” Pam asked.
“The Guardians have access to a wealth of information.”
“And how did you get to be Librarian?” Malone asked.
“Complicated story.”
“I bet it is. You and I are going to have a long talk when this is over.”
Haddad gri
Malone pointed at Pam and spoke to Haddad. “Keep her here. She doesn’t follow orders well at all.”
“Go on,” she said. “We’ll be fine.”
He decided to quit arguing and rushed forward down the aisle. At the exit, he stopped to one side. Twenty feet ahead another chamber opened. More towering walls, rows of stone shelving, letters, images, and mosaics from floor to ceiling. He crept forward, but hugged the corridor’s polished sides. He entered the second hall and again took cover at the end of one of the shelf rows. The room was more square than the first, and he noticed a mixture of scrolls and codices.
No sign of movement. This was damn foolish. He was being drawn deeper. At some point McCollum would turn and fight, and on his terms.
But when?
HADDAD WATCHED PAM MALONE. BACK IN LONDON HE’D tried to assess her personality, wondering what she was even doing there. The Guardians had assembled personal information on Cotton Malone, things Haddad knew little about-Malone rarely talked about his wife and family. Theirs had been an academic friendship, spurred by a love of books and a respect for knowledge. But he knew enough, and the time had come to use that knowledge.
“We have to go back there,” he said.
“Cotton said to stay here.”
He allowed his gaze to bore into her. “We have to go back there.” And to prove his point, he removed a pistol from beneath his cloak.
Surprisingly, she did not flinch. “I saw when you looked at McCollum.”
“That the name he gave you?”
She nodded.
“His name is Sabre and he’s a killer. I meant what I said in my apartment in London. I have a debt to pay, and I don’t plan for Cotton to pay it for me.”
“I saw it in your eyes. You wanted him to shoot. But you knew he wouldn’t.”
“Men like Sabre are stingy with their courage. They save it for when it’s really needed. Like right now.”
“You knew all this was going to happen?”
He shrugged. “Knew, thought, hoped. I don’t know. We’ve been watching for Sabre. We knew he was pla
“You did this all so you could die?”
“I did this to protect the library. Sabre works for an organization that surely wants this knowledge for its own political and economic uses. They’ve been investigating us for some time. But you heard him. He’s here for himself. Not them. Stop him and we stop everything.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not me. You have to do this, too.”
“Me?”
“Cotton needs you. You going to walk away?”
He watched as she rolled the inquiry through her mind. He knew she was smart, gutsy, and brash. But also vulnerable. And prone to mistakes. He’d spent a lifetime reading people, and he hoped that he’d read Pam Malone correctly.
“No way,” she said.
SABRE FLED THE ROOM OF PROVINCE AND ENTERED THE READING Room, which was filled with more tables and fewer shelves. He knew from his first excursion that the next hall, the Room of Eternity, led to the last hall, the entire library U-shaped. Fake windows and alcoves adorned with faraway landscape paintings and special lighting created an outdoor effect. He had to keep reminding himself that he was underground.
Inside the Reading Room, he stopped.
Time to make use of what he’d noticed earlier.
MALONE KEPT ADVANCING, GUN READY. HE’D CHANGED THE magazine for his last fresh one, but at least he had nine shots. Three more remained in the one in his pocket, so he now had twelve chances to stop McCollum.
His gaze darted from wall to wall and ceiling to floor, his senses alert. His chest and spine were damp with perspiration and the subterranean air chilled him. He passed through the second hall and started down the corridor to the next lighted room, which right-angled. He heard nothing and the silence u
He came to the entrance to the third hall.
The Reading Room.
Maybe twenty tables of thick, rough-hewn planks, dark and worn, dotted the room amid the shelving.
He spotted the exit on the opposite wall.
The room was larger than the other two, rectangular and maybe sixty feet along its length. The walls supported slabs and lintels of Byzantine origin, along with mosaics, this time scenes devoted to women, some spi
He expected McCollum, at any moment, to spring up from between the tables. He was ready. But nothing happened.
He stopped.
Something was wrong.
Then, across the room, at the base of the far wall, he spotted a dark reflection in the shiny red granite. A shadowy image, like looking through a soda bottle, rippling across the mirrorlike qualities of the finish.