The Alexander Cipher Page 0,5
Gaille!”
Gaille hurried back along the passage. “Elena?” she called up. “Is that you?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing down there?”
“I thought you’d fallen. I thought you might be in trouble.”
“Get out!” ordered Elena furiously. “Get out now.”
Gaille started to climb. She saved her breath until she reached the top, then she said hurriedly, “Kristos told me you wanted to—”
Elena thrust her face in Gaille’s. “How many times have I told you this is a restricted area?” she yelled. “How many times?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Koloktronis, but—”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Her face was red; tendons stood out on her neck, reminding Gaille of a straining racehorse. “How dare you go down there? How dare you?”
“I thought you’d fallen,” Gaille repeated helplessly. “I thought you might need help.”
“Don’t you dare interrupt me when I’m talking.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t you dare!”
Gaille stiffened. For a moment she considered snapping back. It had barely been three weeks ago, after all, that Elena had called her out of the blue and begged her—begged her—to take a month out from the Sorbonne’s Demotic Dictionary project to fill in for a languages assistant who had fallen ill. But Gaille knew instinctively how well she matched up against other people, and she didn’t stand a chance against Elena, not when she lost her temper like this. The first time Elena exploded, it had left Gaille shell-shocked. Her new colleagues always shrugged it off, telling her that Elena had been that way ever since her husband died. Full of internal rage, she boiled like a young planet, erupting unpredictably in gushes of indiscriminate, molten, and sometimes spectacular violence. It had become almost routine now, something to be feared and placated, like the wrath of ancient gods. So Gaille stood there and took on the chin all Elena’s scathing remarks about the poverty of her abilities, her ingratitude, and the damage this incident would doubtless do her career when it got out, though she herself of course would do her best to protect Gaille.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Koloktronis,” she said when the tirade finally began to slacken. “Kristos said you wanted to see me.”
“I told him to tell you I was coming over.”
“That’s not what he told me. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen.”
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere. I just checked at the bottom.”
“Very well,” said Elena grudgingly. “Then we’ll say no more about it. But don’t mention it to Qasim, or I won’t be able to protect you.”
“No, Ms. Koloktronis,” said Gaille. Qasim, the on-site representative of the Supreme Council, was every bit as secretive about this place as Elena herself. No doubt it would be embarrassing for Elena to have to admit to him that she’d left the door unlocked and unguarded.
“Come with me,” said Elena, locking the steel door then leading her across to the magazine. “There’s an ostracon I’d like your opinion on. I’m ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure of its translation. You can perhaps help me with the other naught point naught one percent.”
“Yes, Ms. Koloktronis,” said Gaille meekly. “Thank you.”
“ARE YOU AN IDIOT?” GROWLED MAX, having followed Knox to the stern of the dive boat. “Do you have a death wish or something? Didn’t I tell you to leave Hassan’s woman alone?”
“She came to talk to me,” answered Knox. “Did you want me to be rude?”
“You were flirting with her.”
“She was flirting with me.”
“That’s even worse. Christ!” He looked around, his face suffused with fear. Working for Hassan would do that to people.
“I’m sorry,” said Knox. “I’ll stay away from her.”
“You’d better. Trust me, you get on Hassan’s wrong side, you and your mate Rick can forget about your little project, whatever the fuck it is.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“I’m just warning you.” He wagged a finger as if he had more to say, but then he turned and walked away.
Knox watched him go. He didn’t like Max; Max didn’t like him. But they had a valuable relationship. Max ran a dive school, and Knox was a good, reliable dive instructor who knew how to charm tourists into recommending him to others they met on their travels—and he worked for peanuts, too. In return, Max let him use his boat and side-scan sonar for what he disparagingly referred to as their “little project.” Knox smiled wryly. If Max ever found out what he and Rick were after, he wouldn’t be so dismissive.
Knox had arrived in Sharm nearly three years ago, needing a place to lie low for a while. While he