James broke free from Alistair’s grip. Moments later, James was at the top of the stairs, millimetres away from freedom. The lanky nerd grabbed him by the ankle. As James glanced down at Alistair, for the first time, James saw the icy stare in Alistair’s eyes. There was something menacing about the gaze. But what he couldn’t figure out was his motive. Did he want the sword for himself? Was this his motive for murder, kidnapping, and theft? James was missing something. Merde. I’m still too far away.
He looked down at Alistair again.
In one swift motion, James kicked his right leg back and struck Alistair in the nose with his brown leather boot. Alistair stifled a groan as he immediately released his grip on James’s ankle. James sprinted through the door and across the museum floor. He was free.
A pair of cold, large hands grabbed James by the shoulders, then slammed him against the display cabinet, shattering the glass panel, exposing a series of tribal spears to the atmosphere of the room. He pushed against Alistair, but the man didn’t budge, not even a millimetre. James felt like an overambitious ant, trying to push a cupcake into his anthill.
Blood trickled down the side of Alistair’s face from his hairline. He wiped his forehead. Alistair raised his perfectly sculptured eyebrow at James and smirked. James was trapped and at his mercy, but he would not go quietly.
James smiled to himself as he set a spear free from the cabinet behind him. As he drew the spear closer, James cut his wrist on the shattered glass on the edge of the display case. Alistair’s eyes snapped to the tribal spear in James’s hand, and he groaned. He released his grip on James and clutched the end of the long spear instead. James pulled the spear towards him and tried to shake Alistair’s hand free. Only one option was left.
James released his grip on the tribal spear. In one swift motion, the butt of the spear propelled forward and struck Alistair in the face. Alistair clutched his cheek as James seized another spear from the display.
‘Not that.’ Alistair directed James to put the object back where he found it. ‘It’s real. Not all of this is, but that item costs several million pounds and is not replaceable.’
James dropped the spear and dashed towards the stairs that led to the mezzanine level. He turned around, finding Alistair close behind.
‘Suddenly grown a conscience?’ James pushed a tribal statue on top of his opponent.
Alistair grimaced as he rolled the statue off him and onto the floor. James panicked as his foe picked up his pace and strode towards him. He raced around the museum floor, then made a beeline towards a cabinet full of swords. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw the spear lying on the ground. He picked it up and threw it towards the glass.
It bounced off.
‘It’s made of wood, genius,’ Alistair said with a hint of laughter.
As Alistair approached, James punched the glass. Upon impact, the glass shattered across the floor and rained over him. James reached his bloodied hand into the cabinet, pulled out a sword, and pointed it at Alistair’s chest.
‘Do it,’ he taunted James. ‘You can’t. Can you?’ Alistair kicked James in the stomach.
James fell backwards and released his grip on the sword. Both he and the sword fell to the floor. Alistair picked the blade up as James crawled over to the display case and pulled out another sword. He rushed across the floor, looking for a place to shield himself from Alistair’s blade. James froze as he felt the edge of a sword digging into his back. James dropped his sword, faced Alistair, and placed his hands in the air. Alistair lowered his sword and grabbed James by the collar.
James seized the opportunity and kicked the sword out of Alistair’s hand. The weapon flew across the museum floor. Alistair shook his hand, then clenched it into a fist, pulled back, and in one swift motion struck James in the jaw. As James fought back, Alistair pushed him against another cabinet. Out of the corner of James’s eye, he saw Alistair’s dark-grey jacket lying across a chair on the far side of the museum, a black bag protruding from a pocket.
The sword. He brought it with him. What an idiot.
Alistair looked toward James’s gaze. James pushed Alistair off him and sprinted across the floor, but the tall man reached the chair first. He pulled the broken sword out of the bag and pointed the blade at James’s chest.
‘You should have stayed out of this.’ Alistair inched closer to James.
James stepped back and tripped over the tribal statue before he plummeted towards the floor. ‘And just stand back and watch you murder colleagues and museum staff, lie and steal? All for a sword.’
Alistair scowled as he towered over him and gripped the broken sword with his fist. ‘Is that what you think this is about? This sword represents my entire life’s work—years of research. I’ve lobbied the North Cornwall council for years seeking permission to dig.’ Alistair’s face flushed a shade of crimson as he hunched over James.
A sharp pain shot through James’s lower back as he struggled to breathe.
‘It was I who suggested to that imbecile of a caretaker at Tintagel to dig in that section of the land,’ Alistair bellowed. ‘After he dug and found a hint of metal, the caretaker rang his niece, Elizabeth, instead of me. When I found out, I persuaded Elizabeth that she needed my expertise. Now, she’s taking all the credit. So when I was given a better offer—rightful credit, a book deal, tours at the best museums—I naturally jumped at it. Later, I realised the offer came with strings attached and loopholes that would only benefit the investor. So I took matters into my own hands. With Elizabeth behind bars, I can just seize credit for all my hard work.’
Alistair raised the broken sword to prepare for a potentially fatal blow. It would take only one. As Alistair lowered the sword, James struggled to pull his weary body away from his attacker.