The Oracle Code by Charles Brokaw Read Free Book Online Page B

like very much to see what I—Thomas and I—have found.”
    “I have a rope coming. We can get you out of here soon.”
    “Don’t hurry on my account.”
    “What about your leg?”
    “I’m not going to think about my leg.” Boris tried to limp away under his own power. Lourds had to catch his friend before he’d gone three steps. He grimaced and looked up at Layla. “Perhaps you could send a physician down.”
    “If I can find one curious enough and sober enough to agree to it, I will.” Layla started to crawl away.
    Lourds called after her. “Director Teneen.”
    “Yes?”
    “Thank you very much for the rescue.”
    Layla hesitated a moment, then nodded. “You’re very welcome. And you owe me a story.”
    “A story?”
    “Of what brought you down into this place.”

8
     
    32 Miles Southwest of Herat
    Herat Province
    Afghanistan
    June 21, 2012
    Three days later, after much of the cataloguing of the hidden cave within the mountain had been done, though much also remained, Lourds and Boris invited Layla Teneen to the Russian’s tent for dinner.
    At first, Layla hadn’t known whether or not to attend. After all, if anything, she should have been punishing them for risking their necks the way they had.
    But there was something about the tall, good-looking, American professor that drew her. He was unrepentant and irrepressible, a man every woman should stay away from and yet so many were drawn to.
    Even during her years in the West while at college, Layla had taken only a handful of lovers. The concept of sleeping with a man while not married to him went deeply against her moral fiber, even though she refused to conform to a typical Muslim woman’s role.
    Still, Thomas Lourds interested her, but she would not allow herself to become involved with him. That just wasn’t going to happen.
    As she walked through the tents, one of Captain Fitrat’s soldiers dogged her trail. The man was experienced and aloof, no more bothersome than Layla’s own shadow.
    She stopped at the front of Boris’s tent and waved the soldier off. He took up a post only a short distance away. As she stood there, the twilight deepening into full night, she realized music was coming from inside the tent.
    The jazz was a surprise, filled with light and airy movement. In spite of herself, Layla smiled. So...Professor Lourds had something else in mind other than dinner.
    She spoke loudly enough to be heard over the music. “Professor Glukov, it is Layla Teneen. I have come at your invitation.”
    After a moment, the tent flaps opened, and Boris stuck his shaggy head out. “Ah, good evening, Director. So good of you to come.”
    “The two of you still owe me a story, I believe.” Layla stepped into the tent.
    “Indeed we do.” Boris waved her farther into the spacious tent.
    Over the past three days, Layla had been dealing with the dead men and the media blitz that had settled on the dig after the announcement of the find was made. She’d had no time to speak with the professors about the events of that night.
    Layla was amazed at the smell of food. She recognized the spicy scent of palao and qorma . It had been weeks since she had enjoyed a decent meal. All of her meals had come out of the microwave lately, or a cereal box. Occasionally, and generally only if she was entertaining an archeologist group, she grilled on a small stove outside her tent.
    In the center of Boris’s tent, a table stood under a burden of food and braziers that held small flames to the undersides of dishes. Pots held several different foods, including bata— sticky rice, mantu— pasta dumplings, and aush. Layla loved noodle soup, and she felt hunger pangs chew at her.
    “Oh, this smells wonderful.”
    “It does, doesn’t it? We thought you’d like it.”
    “Like it? I’m amazed.”
    “Thomas and I will settle for amazed.”
    She looked at Boris. “The two of you did not cook this?”
    Boris shook his head. He stood on crutches, his right leg