Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(98)

He just wished it had books on those empty shelves. Rare ones, the kind that smelled of the years they’d survived, written in the hand of their maker. He’d miss that. He’d miss a lot of things. Breakfast at their favorite sidewalk café with his friends. Thick Alexandrian coffee. The twisting streets of London. The taste of Spanish food. The smell of roses.

He closed his eyes and tried to hold on to those things until his brother’s whisper said, Don’t die just yet. I’m enjoying my time on my own for a change.

He almost smiled. Almost. Brendan felt so real, so present, that he thought he could touch him.

When he opened his eyes, Dario said, “They’re coming.”

He expected the Archivist, but instead it was a High Garda Elite captain, decked out in the red uniform. He, Jess thought, could pass even Lord Commander Santi’s harsh inspection. Even his boots looked polished.

The captain hadn’t even bothered to draw his gun, and didn’t now. He also didn’t look at all surprised. And . . . he was alone. No sign of the Archivist.

“Well,” he said. “I didn’t really expect much. But this is a nice surprise.”

“Where is your master?” Wolfe asked. “Too afraid to show his face?”

“Too smart, Scholar. Far too smart. Unlike you. Really, did you think this simpleminded trap would work? That you’d convince the most hunted man in Alexandria to put his head in a noose just because a criminal whose sons already betrayed him said so? I’m curious.”

“No,” Wolfe said. “I really didn’t think he would. But it’s good he sent you. You’ll do.”

“Do for what? Did you forget about the observation level?” He looked up. So did Jess, and felt his stomach turn over.

He’d expected to see the Blue Dogs and Morgan. But they weren’t there. He didn’t know those faces at all.

Those hard, angry, unmerciful faces were aiming rifles down at him, Dario, and Wolfe. The trap they’d planned had closed on them instead.

“Any last words, Scholar? I’ll be happy to record them and add them to your journal . . . Oh, sorry, the Archivist has ordered your journals burned. No one will remember you. Especially when we kill all your followers.”

“I don’t have followers,” Wolfe said. He looked at his students. “Do I?”

“No, sir,” Dario said. “I’m afraid not. You’re too unlikeable.”

“As I feared.” He looked back at the captain. “You see? So leave my young friends out of this. Make it between adults, if you can manage that.”

“I’m not interested in fighting you, Scholar.”

“Well, in that case, I do have last words,” Wolfe said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

The captain drew his gun at last. He aimed straight at Wolfe. “Go ahead. Ten seconds.”

Wolfe smiled. “I only need one. Morgan?”

From somewhere up above, she said, “Yes.” And she dropped an illusion that must have cost her much, in terms of power and endurance.

Glain and her squad were standing motionless behind the Elite soldiers. The Blue Dogs barked in unison, and it was a guttural, eerie sound that woke chills down Jess’s spine.

“Give up, Captain,” Wolfe said quietly. “For the sake of your soldiers. Tell us where to find the Archivist and we’ll spare all your lives.”

Jess knew it wouldn’t work. He lunged forward and grabbed hold of the Elite captain’s hand as the man fired; the shot barely missed Wolfe’s head and impacted the hard stone wall beyond. Gunfire erupted on the second level, but it wasn’t coming at them. There was a battle going on between the soldiers. He could only hope Glain’s squad was faster, if not better.

He managed to get the gun wide enough that the next shot the captain fired still went wide, but his strength was failing him. Dario came to the rescue, slamming a fist hard into the man’s temple and rocking him off balance, and he, too, got a grip on the man, trying for the gun. Wolfe was moving forward, but everything seemed slowed down now. Jess shook with effort. His lungs burned. His whole body felt raw and empty and so very tired.

I’m losing. He could taste defeat. It was bitter, like the blood welling up in his lungs.

Wolfe took the gun away, went back a step, and without a blink of hesitation, shot the man.

The red-uniformed captain clearly couldn’t believe it. Jess could almost read his rueful thoughts: Felled by a Scholar.

The man’s knees folded, and the captain collapsed to the floor, bleeding. Dario stepped back, and pulled Jess away with him.

“Where is the old man?” Wolfe asked, and aimed his weapon at the captain’s head. His voice sounded very quiet. Very calm. “You have one chance. Just one. Then I kill you.”

“No you won’t, Scholar,” the captain said, and bared his teeth. “I surrender. And you’re not a murderer, are you?”

“Glain?” Wolfe called. Jess heard her boots on the stairs, and in the next instant she was beside them, smelling of gunpowder and blood. Her favorite perfume. “Status?”

“Six prisoners, sir, the rest are dead.” She put her foot on the captain’s chest. “Permission to execute the traitor?”

“No, Wathen. I don’t think so. Take him to a Medica station and then put him behind bars.” Wolfe let out an angry huff of breath. “We’ve failed. The Archivist is probably halfway to Russia now.”