Mission: Irresistible Page 22

Adam had done it.

  The secret is in the math?

  What in the hell was he talking about? Harrison took the djed from his pocket and passed it from palm to palm. The electromagnetic properties helped him think.

  Math had been the one subject Adam had excelled in over Harrison.

  Okay. So? How did math help translate the scrolls?

  He paced Cassie’s living room, hands clasped behind his back rubbing the djed, his thoughts totally absorbed by the task. Cassie sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her. She looked so gorgeous he had to remind himself to keep his attention on the job at hand.

  The secret is in the math.

  What math? Solen’s birthday? Kiya’s birthday? The day of their deaths?

  Dammit. He didn’t have time for parlor games.

  Except it wasn’t a parlor game. Adam was in serious trouble over whatever he’d learned from deciphering the scroll.

  Think.

  The secret is in the math.

  The Minoans were seafaring people and merchants. Most scholars believed their hieroglyphics were nothing more than ledgers and accounts.

  Math.

  Harrison clutched a handful of hair in desperation and started to push his glasses up on his nose before he remembered that Big Ray had busted them in the fight and his extra pair was in his locker at the museum.

  Solen had been a Minoan scribe. Until he’d been sold into slavery and ended up in Egypt. Until Ramses IV had recognized his talents and sent him to learn Egyptian hieroglyphics. Solen would have acquired much new knowledge in the pharaoh’s house. He would have honed his skills, obtained new ways of communicating.

  What if Solen had combined the old skills with the new? What if the scroll Adam found in Solen’s tomb was a hybrid of Minoan and Egyptian hieroglyphics? What if the scroll had been written by Solen himself?

  The secret is in the math.

  Numbers. Numerology. The stars and moons and planets. Astrology.

  The sun.

  In the time of Ramses IV, the Egyptians had worshiped the sun.

  Yes, so what, big deal.

  Math of the Sun: The Immortal Egypt.

  The title popped into Harrison’s head. It was the name of a book Diana had given both him and Adam when they had graduated from high school.

  “It’s the seminal work on how math affected religion in ancient Egypt,” his mother had said. “Read it.”

  He’d found the work deadly boring and never looked at it after the initial attempt. But he still owned it. It was on the top shelf of the bookcase in his apartment.

  The secret is in the math.

  Could the answer be in that book?

  But the book Diana had given them was about Egypt. This was a Minoan scroll in Minoan hieroglyphics.

  And Solen had been a displaced Minoan in Egypt, learning the culture, absorbing the religious beliefs. It was worth a shot. He didn’t have anything else to go on.

  “I think I might have a chance at translating this thing,” he told Cassie.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “The problem is that it could take me a long time, and even then I might not be able to translate it. Should I waste time even trying, or should we just be out there looking for Adam?”

  “We don’t know where to look, and at least you do have a clue on how to translate the hieroglyphics. I think you should do it.”

  “We also need to get the amulet locked up someplace safe before the people who were after Adam figure out we’ve got it and come after us. We already know they’re ruthless.”

  “I could take the amulet to Tom Grayfield while you translate the scroll,” Cassie offered.

  He liked the idea. She would be out of her apartment. Both she and the amulet would be safe with Tom. Then he could totally concentrate on unlocking the secret of Solen’s scroll, knowing Cassie was in good hands.

  “I’ll call Tom,” he said, “and let him know what’s going on.”

  While Cassie got dressed, Harrison called Tom’s cell phone number.

  “Ambassador Grayfield’s phone,” Anthony Korba answered in his distinctive gravelly voice.

  “Anthony. It’s Harrison. Am I disturbing you?”

  “No, we’re on our way back from a meeting with the governor in Austin.”

  “May I speak to Tom? It’s urgent.”

  “But of course.”

  Thirty seconds later Tom came on the line. “Harrison, what’s up?”

  Quickly Harrison told him what had transpired, except he did not tell him about the scroll. It was pride that held him back. He would hate to admit defeat where Adam had succeeded if he failed to translate the hieroglyphics. “I need someone to look after Cassie while I take care of a few things. Can you keep her and Solen’s amulet safe for me?”

  “You don’t even have to ask. I’m there,” Tom said. “We’re still an hour out of Fort Worth, but give me her address. We’ll drop by and pick her up on the way.”

  “Thanks, Tom, I owe you big-time.”

  Tom laughed. “We’ll work it out. See you later.”

  Harrison cradled the receiver and looked up to see Cassie in the doorway, dressed in her Cadillac jeans and a sexy turquoise tank top. Her hair shone in the light. Even without his glasses he could see she was a knockout.

  She crossed the room toward him and his heart careened into his chest. He took her hand and pressed the amulet into her palm. “Tom’s sending a car for you.”

  “Thank you for looking out for me.” She curled her fingers around the amulet. “I promise to guard it with my life.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Harrison’s heart was pumping hard and fast when he let himself into his apartment with the scroll tucked under his arm. Part of his erratic pulse was due to the excitement of trying to translate the scroll, but most of it was attributable to his changing relationship with Cassie.

  He was having feelings he shouldn’t be having, and he didn’t know what to do about them. He had always protected his heart by disengaging from tender feelings. He analyzed his emotions. He did not wallow in them.

  Except he was wallowing now, and he’d never felt anything this intense.

  It’s just the thrill of the danger. Don’t worry about it now. Find that book. Translate the scroll. Figure out what had Adam running scared. Later. You can think about Cassie later.

  He hurried into his office, spied the book he needed on the top shelf. He stood on his toes, stretching to reach it. It hit the floor with a solid thunk. He picked it up and opened it on his desk. Then carefully, reverently, he unrolled the scroll. Somewhere, among the old books and the arcane knowledge, he was determined to find the answers.

  He was determined to find his brother.

  And he was determined to shut down these inappropriate feelings for Cassie before they got completely out of hand.

  Cassie was in the backseat of Tom Grayfield’s black stretch limo making small talk with the ambassador when her cell phone rang. Thinking it might be Harry, she smiled at Tom. “Do you mind if I take this call? I know it’s rude to talk on the cell phone when you’re having a conversation in person, but this might be important.”

  “Not at all.” Tom smiled. “Go ahead.”

  What a nice man, she thought. Considerate and generous. Imagine, someone as important as the ambassador to Greece going out of his way to pick her up so she wouldn’t have to drive around by herself late at night.

  She pulled out the antenna and flipped her phone open. “Hello?”

  “Cassie, it’s David.” Her brother-in-law’s voice was low and rushed.

  “Hi, David. Now’s not really a good time for me to talk.”

  “You’re with someone.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it your friend Dr. Standish?”

  “No.” Cassie smiled at Tom and mouthed, I’ll just be a minute.

  “Listen to me, Cassie; this is very important. I know you have a habit of not fully listening, but please make an exception th
is time. Do it for me.”

  Had he found out something negative about Harrison? Could Ahmose be right after all? But no, she could never believe that about Harry. Not after everything they’d shared.

  “Is it related to what we discussed yesterday?” she asked.

  “It is. I checked out your friend, and he’s as clean as they come. The guy could have been an Eagle Scout.”

  What a relief. Cassie blew out her breath. “Whew, you really scared me there for a minute. So everything checks out?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What not exactly?”

  “Did you know Standish has a half brother named Adam Grayfield?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “His father, Tom Grayfield, is the ambassador to Greece. Not a nice guy. He has a tavern in Adam’s and Harrison’s names. It’s called the Minotaur. The Minoan Order holds meetings there. He’s under investigation by the Greek government. He moves a lot of gold bullion out of the country and they can’t figure out where he’s getting it, but they suspect he’s laundering it through the Minotaur Tavern and Grayfield’s scrap metal companies in the U.S.”

  Cassie gulped. Alchemy. The ability to turn base metal into gold. Members of the Minoan Order were supposed to know the secret of alchemy.

  “Um … ,” she began, trying not to get nervous, “as a matter of fact, I’m in Tom Grayfield’s limo right now as we speak.”

  “Aw, shit, Cassie, no.” The timbre of David’s voice changed so quickly, she felt her fingers grow icy cold.

  “What is it?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to panic you, but whatever you do, you must get out of that man’s car!”

  But it was too late. The back of her head burned fiery hot. Cassie turned to look at the ambassador.

  Tom Grayfield was still smiling, but now he had a derringer clutched discreetly in his hand. “It’s time you hung up the phone, Cassie.”

  Harrison worked feverishly, playing with myriad combinations of the number sequences that he found in the math book and drawing on his knowledge of Egyptian hieroglyphics.

  Three hours into the ordeal, he finally broke the code.

  The ancient Minoan Order had used numbers to represent the characters from the Egyptian hieroglyphics. Their system was obviously influenced by Solen’s association with Egypt. Once Harrison understood which number related to which character, he was able to start translating the scroll.

  It was a slow, painstaking process. He had to go from Egyptian hieroglyphics to Minoan number symbols to English. It was after midnight by the time he completed the conversion. He read what he’d written. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes and read it again.

  No. He shook his head. It could not be.

  There, in black and white, was the reason why the amulet was so important to the Minoan Order. It meant far more than reuniting star-crossed lovers, and it possessed much greater power than merely cursing a vizier’s descendants. The secret was even more stunning than the ability to turn base metal into gold or to create thunderstorms.

  And it explained everything.

  With dawning horror, Harrison realized what his brother must have understood the minute he translated the scroll.

  Tom Grayfield would kill for the amulet. Even if it meant murdering his own son.

  The truth was a sledgehammer.

  Harrison had not only delivered Solen’s half of the amulet into Tom Grayfield’s deadly hands, he’d also placed Cassie in imminent danger.

  There had to be a way to put a positive spin on this.

  No point feeling terrorized or distressed just because she was staring down the barrel of a gun. What good did it do to panic or freak out? Life with Duane had taught Cassie that the more you focused on negative things, the more they grew. No negative thoughts allowed. She wasn’t going to end up in a ditch with a slug through the center of her head. No sirree. So she was just going to stop picturing that.

  Being taken hostage by the U.S. ambassador to Greece was just a minor inconvenience. A little misunderstanding. A tiny blip in the huge scheme of things. It would all work out in the end.

  Except no one else knew that Tom Grayfield was a homicidal maniac.

  Stop it.

  He wasn’t a homicidal maniac. He was just misguided, misdirected, or misinformed. It was up to her to set him on the right path.

  “Tom,” she said, purposefully using his first name in hopes of putting him at ease. “You look really tense. Maybe you should have a tipple of something from that minibar.” She nodded at the small fridge tucked in the back of the limo.

  “I don’t want anything to drink,” he snapped. “Just sit back and shut up.”

  “A little vodka and tonic? A slug of gin and ginger ale? A snort of bourbon and branch?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Jeez, okay.” She raised her palms. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

  “Well, don’t. Now, hand over the amulet.” He waved the gun at her.

  “Is that what this is all about? Well, why didn’t you just say so? I would have given it to you without all the gun-brandishing. Sheesh.”

  Cassie reached into her purse, pulled out Solen’s ring, and handed it over to him, because she didn’t know what else to do and she didn’t want to get shot. Not when she and Harry were just now getting to the good part of their relationship. The wild, hot sex.

  “Seriously, Tom, you don’t want to kill me. Think of your reputation. Think of everything you’ll lose.”

  Tom Grayfield flicked the dome light on, and he was staring at the ring with such rapture that Cassie almost asked if he needed a private moment alone with the amulet, but decided against being flippant.

  He actually licked his lips. “No, I’m thinking of everything I’ll gain.”

  “So you’re an optimist. Me too.”

  “Stop being friendly,” he said and slipped the amulet into his pocket while still keeping the derringer aimed at her heart. “I don’t want to like you.”

  “It’s okay to like me. Everyone likes me.”

  Well, except for Phyllis Lambert, but she was in the minority.

  And Harrison. He didn’t like you either.

  Maybe not at first, but he liked her now. In fact, he liked her a lot. She could just tell. Cassie grinned, remembering.

  “Why are you smiling? You’re in deep trouble, young lady. Stop smiling.”

  “I can’t talk, I can’t be nice, I can’t smile. What can I do?”

  “Face reality, woman.”

  “I’ve never been very good at that.”

  “How about this: if you don’t shut up,” he threatened, “I’m going to shoot you on general principle.”

  “If you’re gonna get testy about it, all right, all right. I’ll shut up.”

  “Thank you.” Grayfield blew out his breath in exasperation and turned off the dome light.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I thought you were going to shut up.”

  Cassie made a motion of zipping her lip.

  “I’ll believe it when I hear it.” Grayfield sighed.

  They traveled in silence. Cassie peered through the tinted windows and tried to see where they were going. She didn’t recognize this part of Fort Worth. There were lots of warehouses and scrap metal places. It was a dimly lighted, secluded area.

  For the first time, it hit her how truly isolated she was and that she might not make it out of this alive.

  The driver turned down a narrow road filled with potholes. There were no streetlights. The darkness around the limo loomed thick, lumpy, and profound. Anything or anyone could be lurking around the next corner.

  Harry, if you can read minds, I’m in deep trouble. I need ya, babe.

  She sent the mental vibration into the ether, crossed her fingers, and prayed. She was tapped out of positive thoughts.

  The limo stopped at the end of the road, next to a large warehouse with an empty parking lot. The headlights played across a man lounging agai
nst the dock. He was smoking a cigarette. When the lights hit him, he dropped the cigarette on the cement steps, crushed it out beneath his sneaker, and leered at the car with a sinister smile.

  A chill shot straight to the heated core in Cassie’s head. Here was a dangerous man.

  The limo stopped and the man sauntered over. She recognized him at once. He was the man who’d come running out of Clyde’s house and knocked her down. The one who’d detonated the bomb.

  Tom Grayfield rolled down the window. “Do you have what we need?”

  “Uh-huh,” the man grunted.

  For one surreal moment, it felt just like when Duane used to swing by his dealer’s location to pick up drugs.

  The limo driver cut the engine. Apparently they were getting out.

  The ransacking bomber opened the back door.

  “Demitri,” Tom Grayfield said, “this is Cassie. I want you to take good care of her.”

  The way he said “good care” made it sound like anything but.

  Demitri held out a hand to help her from the car. She shied. His fingernails were dirty, and the look on his face was even dirtier.

  “You were the one who ransacked my apartment,” she accused, staring down at his scuffed Nikes. “And you set off a bomb in Clyde’s house.”

  “At your service.” He was still extending his hand, and she still wasn’t taking it.

  “That was a really crappy thing you did, wrecking my collage wall, blowing up Clyde’s place. He doesn’t make a big salary, you know.”

  He shrugged. “Had to make sure you hadn’t hidden the amulet inside your pictures. What’s that wall all about, anyway? Those all the guys you laid?”

  “Demitri, there’s no need for vulgarities,” Tom Grayfield prodded. “Ms. Cooper, do as I say. Take Demitri’s hand and get out of the car.”

  She didn’t want to but she didn’t have much choice, seeing as how Grayfield had just positioned the nose of the derringer right under her rib cage.

  “I’m going, I’m going; don’t get so pushy with the gun.” Reluctantly, she took Demitri’s grimy hand and he hauled her from the car. The limo driver was standing outside the car with a flashlight and what looked to be a garage door opener in his hand.

  “What are we gonna do with her?” the driver asked. His voice was deep and croaky. He sounded like a frog with throat cancer. She knew the thought was uncharitable, but at this point Cassie was over being kind.