Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [97]
My hand flew to my throat. My necklace. So it had been Mohammad who had taken it after all. About the only one of my suspicions that had been correct.
Flora giggled. “You almost killed her yourself, hitting her like that. Still, it was a good job. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“You’ve ruined my life,” he said, almost wonderingly.
I’d heard enough. Too much in fact. But what should I do? If I left to find help, they might kill Alan before I could get back. And screaming wouldn’t work over the music and noise from the sound and light show.
I picked up a rock. Somehow, in my head I was thinking if I threw it and then ran, they would know they had been overheard and would be too afraid to kill Alan. I took careful aim at Mohammad, mostly because I figured they needed him to carry Alan, and threw as hard as I could.
Years of playing ball with my brothers had strengthened my arm, but unfortunately had no effect on my aim whatsoever. Straight and true, the rock whistled through the air and struck Alan squarely on the head. He had been woozily struggling to sit up and now collapsed back down like a punctured balloon. I froze in horror. For a long moment all four of us just stared at Alan and the rock, and then Mohammad spotted my head above the wall and gave a roar.
I fled. Exactly like the old mummy movies. Heroine running through Egyptian ruins, pursued by monsters. Except I wasn’t wearing pumps and a dress. I vaulted over a low wall and hit the sand running. Unfortunately, Mohammad wasn’t wrapped in linen bandages, de rigueur for most Egyptian monsters. I could hear him pounding behind me, his breath harsh and loud, gaining fast. I squealed and, with a burst of speed, exploded out of the pillars and into the open obelisk court.
I narrowly missed running into Kyla. She, Anni, and DJ Gavaskar stood in a little cluster, talking. I later learned that Kyla, almost frantic about my disappearance, had rallied the troops to come looking for me.
As I shot past the group, Mohammad’s hands closed on my shoulders. I felt myself jerked back, and my feet flew out from under me. He stooped over me, reaching for my throat, apparently oblivious to the witnesses. In a shining moment, one that she would recount with pride for the rest of her life and one that I would never tire of hearing, Kyla leaped behind him and kicked him squarely in the middle of his wide stance.
Unlike mine, her aim and execution were perfect. I could hear the solid thud as her pointed Gucci ankle boot connected directly with his balls and watched as though in slow motion as he released my throat and dropped like a stone. That is, if stones curl in fetal positions and writhe in agony.
DJ had also leaped forward to deal with Mohammad, but since there was now no need, he pulled me to my feet. I was gasping, my voice hoarse. “Alan! They have Alan.”
“Who? Who has Alan? What is happening? And are you all right?” asked Anni. She was obviously shaken, but instinctively trying to soothe me and calm things down.
I wanted to scream. “They are going to kill Alan,” I shouted, grabbing DJ’s hand and pulling. This time it sank in and we ran, leaving Mohammad where he lay.
I ran back through the columns and past the “No Admittance” chains and around the crumbling walls. To my intense relief, Fiona and Flora were gone and Alan lay where I’d last seen him, stirring feebly. DJ rushed to his side, pulling out a little flashlight.
“He has a head injury,” said DJ. “He’s bleeding and may be concussed. We need an ambulance right away.”
Anni whipped out her cell phone and dialed rapidly.
“He’s also been injected with morphine,” I added.
Three pairs of eyes turned to me with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
“I heard them talking,” I explained. “That’s how they overpowered him. They lured him out here and gave him an injection before he could stop them.”
DJ lifted Alan’s wrist to take his pulse. “It’s possible. His pulse is very slow. Tell them to hurry,” he directed Anni.
“Who did this?” Kyla asked, looking down at Alan. “Mohammad and who else?”
I knew they