13 |

Valhallavagen Street
Stockholm, Sweden
Present Day

 

“What do you think?”

Acton shook his head, frowning at the road as Laura expertly guided them away from the embassy and along a pre-planned route programmed into the car’s GPS—a route that took them past several important locations such as police stations, as well as the American and British embassies. “I think they have him.”

Laura cursed. “So do I. Do you think he’s dead?”

A pit formed in Acton’s stomach. “If past experience is any indication, then yes, but the question is why? Why would they kill a Swedish archaeology professor? It makes no sense!”

“Little makes sense with these people.”

Acton grunted. “True, though there’s usually at least a thread of logic. In this case, I can’t see any.”

“Maybe he’s not dead.”

Acton nodded. “Perhaps, but if he isn’t, why hold him?”

“They want something from him.”

It was a possibility, and the only plausible explanation so far that had his friend still alive. “If he’s alive, then I agree. Let’s operate under that assumption. He’s alive, and they want something from him. It must be the ring. That’s the only thing that he has that could possibly be linked to Saudi Arabia.”

“That’s not entirely correct.”

Acton’s eyes narrowed and he tore his eyes away from the road to look at his wife. “What?”

“The body the ring was found on, this Fatima. If we assume she’s Muslim, then maybe they want her as well. Or instead.”

Acton chewed his cheek for a moment as he grabbed onto the dash, Laura shuddering them to a halt for a red light that had bested her. “But do they know who she is?”

Laura shook her head. “I can’t see how. Perhaps with DNA testing they might be able to trace her lineage, but it’s been a thousand years, and there could be tens of thousands of relations by now.”

“But if there’s royal blood—”

Laura hammered on the gas again, reminding Acton of the first night they had met, and how her driving skills had saved their lives. Though they hadn’t, really. The man who had tried to kill them that night was now a friend, and had explained to him how he was toying with them the entire time, putting on a show for his corrupt taskmaster.

Though he did compliment her on her driving, her skills honed on the track with her late brother’s Porsche.

Acton pried his fingernails from the dash and instead worked his imaginary brake. “But if she has royal blood, how could they possibly know? I doubt they’ve done the DNA testing yet.”

Laura eased off the gas as they approached the first police station on their route. “Stay or go?”

Acton glanced behind them, finding no evidence of pursuit. “Go.”

She resumed their route, giving them more time to gather their thoughts. “There’s no way the DNA testing is back yet, and most likely hasn’t even been started. I think this has everything to do with the ring.”

Acton grunted. “Or fanaticism.”

Laura stole a quick glance at him. “No Christian scientist will possess any ancient Muslim artifact?”

Acton shrugged. “I wonder if they know Viggo is atheist.”

Laura chuckled. “If it’s fanatics, all they care about is that you’re different from them.” She eased off the gas slightly as they approached the British Embassy. “Stay or go?”

Acton crouched down to check his side mirror. “Go.” He gestured at the speedometer. “I think you can ease off now. I don’t think they’re following us.”

Laura lifted her lead foot off the accelerator.

Slightly.

“Do you think they’re going to try anything?”

Acton glanced at her. “With us?” He shook his head. “No, but we need to let the authorities know what we know.”

“There’s another police station coming up.”

Acton pursed his lips, debating what to do. “No, two crazy tourists spouting conspiracy theories won’t get us anywhere.”

“Then what?”

“I can only think of Mira. She can get the university involved, and anyone else we can think of. We can hopefully have a shit storm brewing before tonight’s newscasts.”

Laura frowned. “Could that just panic them?”

“I think they’re already panicked by me being there. If he’s already dead, then my guess is they began the process of disposing of his body before I even got there. But if he’s still alive, then this might just keep him that way until they figure out how to extricate themselves from this situation.” He sighed. “I have to think they don’t want a repeat of Istanbul.”

A burst of air erupted from Laura’s lips. “I doubt they learned anything except to have the fall guys lined up ahead of time.”

Acton’s phone, still gripped tightly in his hand, vibrated. He checked the call display to see it was a blocked number. He held it up for Laura. “I wonder who that could be?”

“Answer it.”

He swiped his thumb, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Jim, is that you?”

Acton’s jaw dropped and his heart slammed as Laura eased off the gas, her attention now split between the road and Karlsson’s voice. “Yes, Viggo, it’s me! Are you okay?”

Another voice, an altered voice, replied. “Your friend is alive. How long he stays that way is entirely up to you.”

Acton’s body tensed. “What do you want?”

“We want the ring.”

Acton’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“That is none of your concern. Get us the ring, and your friend lives.”

Acton stared at the phone, his eyes wide. “How? I don’t even know where it is!”

“Instructions will be sent to your phone. Tell anyone of what has happened, and your friend dies.” There was a pause before the words that sent a chill down his spine. “And so do you and your wife.”