London Escape (11 page)

“I’m going to have to ask you to let the young lady go,” Peter says as he steps into the dim light of the hallway.

My two captors pause and look at one another while Peter’s eyes lock with mine. I half expect them to laugh and push him out of the way. Or worse, hurt him. Instead they speak nervously to one another. I feel a rush of hope again.

Peter speaks again, in German this time, and there is a forcefulness in his voice that surprises me.

Reluctantly they release their iron grip on my arms and with one final sneer in my direction they push past Peter and disappear into the crowded airport. Suddenly my legs refuse to hold my weight and I sink to the floor.

Peter walks past me and I’m not sure why until he hands me my backpack with all my belongings back inside.

I take it and clutch it helplessly. “What did you say to them?”

Looking up at him I see he is smiling slightly, unfazed. “Oh, I just reminded them of who they would have to answer to if they hurt you.”

“Who’s that?” I ask, feeling confused.

“Why me, of course.” He reaches down to help me to my feet.

My arms are sore from where they held too tightly and I’m sure there will be bruises in the morning. I must be in some sort of shock, because suddenly nothing is making sense to me. Somehow I manage to put one foot in front of the other and follow as he leads me out of the airport.

The next thing I know I’m being stuffed into a cab, still clutching my backpack to my chest as though my life depends on it. A full ten minutes pass before I’m able to speak.

“Who are you?” I ask, because that is the first question that pops into my mind, but before he can answer I’m asking another one. “Who were
they
?”

He smiles again, and it’s getting kind of annoying at this point. “I’m a friend. Let’s just leave it at that.”

But I don’t want to leave it at that. I want answers. I’m getting sick and tired of secrets. Jason could have avoided a lot of trouble if he had just told me the truth in the first place the night he left. As far I as I can see, Peter has no reason to keep secrets from me. What can he possibly know that would change anything?

“Can you at least answer my second question?” I ask, glaring at him.

His smile turns grim. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know who they are.”

This news doesn’t make me feel much better. Even without his input, I have a good idea who the two thugs are already. More importantly, I know who they work for and what they’re after.

I realize that Peter hasn’t asked me any questions about myself at all, which leads me to believe he knows a lot more about me than I know of him. I want to ask him if he knows anything about Jason, but his earlier reticence stops me.

I decide that if he’s not going to be upfront with me about who he is then there is nothing I can do besides keep to myself. I glance down at the backpack in my lap and realize I already have my hands on the next clue. Right now I only need to go somewhere quiet and get to work. The sooner I do, the closer I will be to finding Jason. It isn’t much comfort in light of what has just happened, but it is something at least. Something to keep me from drowning in fear thinking of what Jason might be dealing with right now.

“There’s nothing more I can tell you now and I’m sorry,” Peter’s saying, but I barely hear him. I’m already focused on the next step.

Just then the cab comes to a stop and I see we’ve pulled up to the curb outside the hotel I stayed in last night.

“Go back to your room, get some dinner, and rest. Call your father. Whatever you do, don’t go back out,” he says as he opens the door for me. Gone is the light-hearted old man I met last night. This person is completely different, commanding and in control.

However, I’m past the point of taking orders from anyone, especially not some old man who refuses to tell me who he is and why he keeps popping up in my life. My goal is to get Jason back, nothing more or less. And I sure as hell am not about to call my dad.

 I nod anyway. I know I should thank him, but my social graces seem to have fled. He gets back in the cab and is gone just as quickly as he came.

My room is still available, so they just give me my key right back. Numbly I climb the stairs, too tired to even notice or be bothered by them for once.

There are so many things that I should do once I get into my room and lock the door, double checking the locks. I should call Alexa and give her the update, but I really don’t want to get into the whole “I nearly got kidnapped” thing. I really should break out the other red book and start looking for circled letters or codes written in invisible ink. I need to find Jason, desperately now. So much it’s starting to hurt. Because for the first time I’m able to push aside the small hope that says he’s okay. Now I know he’s not okay. Far from it, V’s men have him, and it’s killing me that I couldn’t find him in time.

As I stand in the middle of my room, so obviously alone, everything that has just transpired wells up inside of me. For the first time in my life I have been pushed around, threatened with a gun and come close to being kidnapped. I don’t exactly feel safe or even remotely sane at the moment. Part of me wants to give up and run home. But I know I can’t leave Jason, not when I know how much danger he’s in. I clench my fists tight, trying to force back the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. I look around for some sort of distraction.

I strip off my clothes, trailing them on the floor as I walk to the bathroom where I climb in the shower. Turning the water as hot as I can, I lean against the wall, sobbing. Just for that moment I let out everything I’ve been holding inside ever since he left. It all comes out in a torrent of tears that washes down the drain. Afterwards, when there’s nothing left, I get out, wrap myself in a robe and collapse onto the bed.

Sleep should have been elusive. After all, it is still fairly early in the day. It comes surprisingly fast, but it’s far from peaceful.

7. ALL IN

I
wake up with a start, disoriented and confused. My head aches and when my fingers carefully touch my forehead I feel a lump there from where I had my head practically bashed in yesterday. My arms feel sore, like someone is still grasping them hard. I pull up the sleeves of the robe I’m wearing and I can already see the faint marks of bruises beginning to appear on my upper arms. They are reminders that yesterday wasn’t all a horrible dream. The two red books lying on the bed and the shattered glass from the broken picture frame are further proof.

I sit up so quickly my head spins. Part of me wants to stay in bed, but I force myself to get up and throw on some clothes. The shirt I pull out of my backpack is the last clean one. I had planned on finding Jason and being on my way home by now. My lucky Converse are looking a little worse for wear, but it doesn’t matter. I’m beginning to doubt their power to bring me luck anyway.  A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s four in the morning, not even light yet. I’m wide awake. This doesn’t surprise me since I’ve never quite acclimated to the time change.

 After tying my shoes I turn back to the bed and the items on it. I can’t even look at the photo anymore, so piercing is the pain inside when I think of him. I tuck it under the pillow and move to pick up the book from the airport locker. It’s nearly identical to the first, same publisher and everything. The title of this one is Ovid’s
Metamorphoses
. This time I don’t even roll my eyes or allow myself a fond thought about Jason and his love of languages and mythology. Instead I get to work.

Painstakingly I begin to look through the book. It quickly becomes clear to me this would be a completely different clue from the last. Unlike the first book, this one isn’t written or marked in at all. In fact, it appears to be brand-new. Normally I would be frustrated already, but recent events have strengthened my resolve. If Jason is counting on me to help him, then I have to count on him to have left me something of use. There has to be a clue in the book somewhere. Once again it’s up to me to find it.

After nearly an hour of searching it becomes apparent there is nothing. Not a mark, not a letter or a word underlined or circled. I get up from the table and pour myself a second cup of coffee from the small pot in my room. I pace nervously for a moment, thinking of what Jason would have done. Then I remember finding the locker number, just barely visible in the crease between two pages. I would have never found it unless I had been completely desperate for something. Considering everything that had happened yesterday, I’m far more desperate now.

I begin to comb through the pages a second time. This time I check every crease between the pages, and do more than just scan the text. I would read every word if I have to.  It doesn’t take me long before I spot something. It’s so faint I’m not even sure it’s there at first.

On the second page of the introduction there is a tiny, nearly invisible mark underneath the “II” at the bottom of the page. Instantly my mind is racing with all the possibilities of its meaning.

Before I can even begin to decipher it, my phone rings loudly, jarring my already ragged nerves. I pick it up and I’m relieved to see it’s only Alexa. It must be a decent hour where she is if she’s calling me.

“I was hoping to wake you up for once,” she exclaims when I answer.

“Oh, sorry, I’ve been awake for hours.” I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice, it sounds raw and rough.

Instantly her voice changes as she picks up on my tone. “How did it go at the airport?”

The airport seems like a century ago and my memory of it has grown fuzzy. Or maybe I’m trying to block it out. Either way I’m not up to retelling the story now.

 “I found the next clue. It’s another book, Ovid’s
Metamorphoses
.” I speak quickly, mostly because the nagging feeling that I’m running out of time is creeping up on me, and also because I’m not really in the mood to answer a million questions.

She asks them anyway. “Where was it?”

“In an airport locker. I found the locker number in the back of the book and the key was on the keychain.” I answer hurriedly again. “The only thing of significance in the book is the Roman numeral for two. We need to figure it out, and quickly.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she presses, ignoring my last statement.

“No, I’m not,” I answer truthfully. “I’m just—” I pause again, not sure how much truth to actually reveal. “I’m worried about Jason, that’s all.”

“Nothing happened at the airport besides finding the second book?” she prods again.

“No,” I answer automatically. “Look, I’m really tired, that’s all.” I don’t know what surprises me more, how easily the lie slips out or how believable it is. The truth is I’m more than a little worried about Jason. I’m deathly afraid for him. And tired doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel at this moment.

“Okay.” She sounds wary but convinced. “Tell me the name of the book again?”

“
Metamorphoses
by Ovid,” I respond, relieved to be back on task. “It’s the same publisher as the
Aeneid
was, they look almost identical.” I lay the phone down on the table after putting it on speaker and rub the spot between my eyes where a headache is forming.

I can hear the tap-tapping of her fingers on a keyboard as she searches for clues.

“Can you send me a picture of the book and the page with the clue?” she asks.

I snap the pictures she requested and send them to her. I can’t help but notice how businesslike we’ve both become. We’re now both singularly focused on one thing, finding the next clue so we can help Jason.

We’re silent for a long time. She works while I take a moment to rest my head in my hands. I’m hoping and praying she’ll find something of use, because I’m so spent right now I’m completely useless.

“I think I found something,” she says after ten minutes have passed. “I ran a simple cross-checking search, running
Metamorphoses
and the Roman numerals for two.”

I sit up a little straighter.

“First, Ovid’s
Metamorphoses
is divided into fifteen parts. They’re usually marked by Roman numerals, of course. So maybe check part two in your book for any more clues?” she suggests.

I find the second section of the book. It’s marked with the Roman numerals just like the second page of the introduction. After combing carefully through the pages I can’t find a single mark.

“No,” I sigh.

“Okay.” She sounds annoyed, but not discouraged. “Wait, I’m looking at the picture you sent me of the book. Tell me if I’m seeing this right, it says it contains books one through eight?”

I squint at the cover and see the Roman numerals I-VIII printed directly under the title. “Yes,” I confirm, “Books one through eight.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” she exclaims. “It has fifteen parts, not eight!”

I’m still waiting for her to clue me in.

“There’s a second volume, Kit.”

“Another book,” I whisper. Instantly a scene flashes before my eyes. Jason’s bedroom in his apartment, a bookshelf tipped over, books strewn all around the floor.

This time I know exactly what I’m supposed to do.

After telling Alexa my plan, I repack my belongings and face my decision to head back to Jason’s apartment. The sun is just now rising outside, and already the day looks dreary and dismal. I check out of the hotel once again, wondering if I would be coming back at all tonight. By this time tomorrow I could be on my way back home with Jason. Either that or I’d be kidnapped too.

I shudder at the possibility as I step out onto the sidewalk. It’s raining now, just a light drizzle. I’m thankful for the excuse to pull my hood up over my vivid hair. I’m pretty sure after our encounter yesterday the two goons—Thing One and Thing Two as I had taken to calling them—would easily be able to spot me again.

I’m not in the mood for breakfast but I do stop and buy a latte and drink it as I walk. Once I reach Jason’s neighborhood I find an inconspicuous spot across the street to wait. I finish my coffee while keeping one eye on the front entrance of the building. After ten minutes or so I decide it is safe and make my way across the street and into the building. The brick that had been propping open the door the other day is gone, but it doesn’t matter because I have Jason’s keys. The stairs give me a slight pause, but I take them one at a time just like before.