Free King's Crusade (Seventeen) by AD Starrling Page B

canal, Alexa was conscious of Jackson hovering close to her, his stance strangely protective. She was only vaguely aware of the local men’s stares. Although form-fitting, the dark cargo pants, combat boots, army T-shirt, and leather jacket she wore were comfortable, utilitarian in their design, and helped mask her custom-made body holster. She saw no need for false modesty unless it was crucial to the mission at hand. Besides, she could count the number of dresses she owned on one hand. All of them had been ridiculously expensive gifts from her godfather.
    They landed at the port terminal shortly and were making their way through the crush of bodies when the back of her neck suddenly prickled.
    Alexa froze. Her head snapped around. She caught a glimpse of a short, bald, saffron-robed figure before it melted in the crowd.
    She stood perfectly still as she scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces. She was certain it was the same man she had spied close to Jackson’s apartment in Boston.
    The Harvard professor stopped a few steps ahead and looked at her curiously over his shoulder. ‘What is it?’
    Alexa hesitated. ‘It’s—nothing.’ She filed the event under ‘things to investigate further’ and joined him.
    A trip to the administrative offices of the port authority revealed that the Juzur Tawilah had stopped briefly at a cargo handling yard less than a mile south of their current location, before proceeding up the canal to the fishing harbor. They left the building and made their way along the busy streets of the city to the address they had been given. It turned out to be a large depot in the middle of a row of similar constructions, all of which looked out over the water. The place was bustling with activity.
    ‘Now what?’ said Jackson. They stood in the shadow of a shipping container and studied the warehouse two hundred feet down and across the road from their position.
    Alexa observed the layout of the yard with a thoughtful frown. ‘We wait until nightfall.’
    Jackson stiffened. ‘You mean, we’re breaking and entering again?’ he countered, staring at her.
    ‘Yes,’ she replied without compunction.
    A sigh left his lips. ‘I worry about how easily you said that,’ he murmured.
    They headed into town and found a quiet cafe a short distance from the harbor. Alexa called Reznak and updated him with the recent developments. She omitted her sightings of the mysterious, saffron-robed figure.
    ‘Boyko Dragov?’ said Reznak.
    She could picture the frown on her godfather’s face. ‘Yes. The techs didn’t have anything on him,’ she said quietly.
    ‘I’ll see what I can dig up,’ he said before disconnecting.
    She sat back and closed her eyes while Jackson got on the phone to his contacts in the universities and museums in North Africa and the Middle East. No one had heard of any tombs being dug up in the Eastern Desert in the last two months.
    ‘The people who did this will not be using normal channels to move the stolen goods.’ Alexa opened her eyes and looked calmly at the Harvard professor’s troubled face.
    ‘I don’t get it. If they’re not intending to display the artifacts, then what’re they planning to do with them?’ said Jackson testily. ‘Dispose of them on the black market?’
    ‘Reznak would have heard of it by now if that were the case,’ she said dismissively.
    They returned to the warehouse at eight that evening. The shipping yard was quieter than it had been that afternoon, and they easily avoided detection in the darkness. Alexa completed her second perimeter check of the day before joining Jackson in the shadows of the adjoining depot.
    ‘There’s a light on at the back. The place looks dead otherwise.’ She pulled on a pair of black leather cross training gloves, removed the Sigs from their holsters, and screwed a pair of suppressors on the ends.
    Jackson watched her warily while she clipped magazines to her waist. ‘What are you intending to do with