Hatch Read online

  “You got it.”

  Corbin looked over the place. “Two bedrooms?”

  “Yep, the accommodations are usually pretty decent,” Hatch noted.

  “Providing they can give us any accommodations,” Corbin added, with a smile.

  “I’m looking forward to this.” As Corbin walked through to one of the bedrooms, Hatch grabbed his laptop, sat down at the nearby table, and checked in.

  Almost immediately, Killian signed on. How was the trip?

  Perfect, Hatch replied. This place is hot and muggy and overpacked as always. He got a thumbs up for that report. Hatch shook his head and quickly typed a message, asking if the Mavericks had any new intel.

  Nothing helpful was the response.

  “Damn.” Hatch sat back, looked around, then called out to Corbin, “We’ll have to start hunting without intel.”

  “Figured we would.” He came back out in jeans and a black T-shirt. “Where do you want to start?”

  “I’d say the last known location, but Millie had a couple friends she stayed in touch with. We’ll start with that.”

  “Can you ask Killian to do it?”

  “He’s contacting the father’s friends and acquaintances to see if Marcus gave them any idea where he and his daughter were heading or what Marcus might have been up to. I want to take a little more personal touch with Millie, getting to know her friends.”

  “Good enough,” Corbin replied. “Do you need me for anything?”

  “We need maps of the area, especially an archaeology map of what digs are currently going on. More important, we need to figure out what digs Marcus was working on recently or if he might have been working undercover.” He gave Corbin a hard look.

  “Anything else?”

  “Neighboring towns, sinkholes, lagoons, anything of a geologic hazard.”

  “Right. How detailed?”

  “As detailed as you can possibly get,” Hatch noted. “We could be out there for a few nights.”

  “Got it,” Corbin asked. “What about gear?”

  “That’s another thing. Start by putting together a list of what we’ll need for …” Hatch stopped, thought about it. “Four to five days out in the desert.”

  “That’ll be quite a bit.”

  “I know,” he agreed. “Doesn’t mean we’re taking it all at once. We have a central location for our base, but we’ll have to start traveling soon.”

  And, with that, Hatch pulled up the list of phone numbers of Millie’s friends and took a closer look. She had two girlfriends and one male friend listed. He wondered what that last relationship was all about. Studying the name, Strand, Hatch shrugged and started dialing.

  Millie Bragner curled up in the corner, her head dropped down to rest on her knees, with her arms tight around her legs, … holding her knees against her chest. Wedged into the corner, she had no room to rock, and it was a childhood habit that she was desperate to break, but this was hardly the time.

  Her kidnappers had taken her father out about an hour ago, and, so far, he’d yet to return. She lifted her head and once again stared at the dim room all around her. It was dirty, top to bottom, … floor, ceiling, and walls. For all she knew, she was in a cave at an archeology site that she had yet to dig into herself. She was being held captive by two men for sure, possibly four.

  What she knew for certain was that she’d been awake at her hotel suite when there was a knock on the door—she thought it was two nights ago—she couldn’t remember anything after that. Her arm was sore, as if she’d been given a jab, or maybe somebody had used chloroform over her face and that was why she couldn’t remember what happened. Just more unanswered questions she faced along with myriad more.

  Her stomach growled, and her arm hurt, and her head ached dully. So the possibilities for her injuries were almost limitless, and it sucked from start to finish. … It all sucked. She had been angry and upset at her father and his big mouth; … at the Egyptian government, after questioning them and releasing them; and at life in general. Her father never seemed to know when to keep his mouth shut, which had gotten him into trouble, time and time again, even though he had specifically promised her that he would keep his opinions to himself so they could have a decent time at this dig.

  But, of course, he didn’t keep his promise. As soon as somebody had made some comment that he disagreed with, he would go off, ranting and raving. She knew it was easy to blame the alcohol, but was that fair? As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t. He was still the one who had consumed the alcohol, knowing perfectly well what it would do to him. And that, … that just drove her mad. She almost never touched the stuff because of it.

  She had just no room in her world for that kind of problem. It was embarrassing, humiliating, and downright terrifying, and she was tired of it.

  They’d been picked up by the authorities several days earlier and held for questioning. When they’d finally been released, with the understanding they were not to leave town, she hadn’t even been sure what to think about that. But that night at the hotel, her father had apologized to her over and over again; she hadn’t forgiven him and wasn’t even sure she could. She should never have come this time.

  It wasn’t the first time for these outbursts by her father, and now she understood it wouldn’t be the last time. No matter what he told her, no matter what lies he believed himself, it just wouldn’t happen.

  He was self-delusional to think he could stay off the alcohol, and she’d been delusional to think that she could believe him. And now their situation was even worse. It was one thing to have been held in a relatively humane jail cell, knowing that the Western world would be arguing on their behalf. She had wondered how long that might be, since her father had gotten the reputation as a troublemaker. If he weren’t so damn brilliant at what he did, nobody would tolerate him.

  But now it may not matter that he was good at what he did. Now it seemed that he’d pretty well worn out his usefulness because of the trouble he kept getting everybody into.

  She raised her head once again and looked around at the room. She had already explored the area and had found absolutely no way out of it, except for the very modern door that had been bolted and shut tightly under lock and key. A new addition, she figured, in an area that probably hadn’t seen the light of day for a very long time, except for these people who were using it as a hidden jail cell. And, for that, it was quite effective.

  She figured at least one or two guards were on the outside; otherwise they were damn confident in their ability to keep them locked up. When she had first woken up, her stomach had been on fire, and her head had been throbbing. Both had calmed down somewhat, but then the guards came and dragged away her father. Now she couldn’t do anything, except sit here, worrying about what their kidnappers could be doing to her father.

  When the door opened suddenly, she stared in surprise at a stranger.

  “What do you want with me?” she cried out, but her voice was raspy and raw. Probably from the drugs or from something else; she didn’t know. The air was dry, dusty, and she was parched. A bottle of water was handed to her. But no answers to her question were forthcoming. “Where is my father?” Her voice gained strength after a drink.

  Again no answer.

  She was then handed a small packet wrapped up in cloth. She knew it was a common way for food to be moved for the locals. He definitely looked like a local, but the lack of empathy in his gaze suggested that he didn’t give a crap what he looked like and that, if she didn’t behave, he’d take care of her. Permanently.

  She sagged back against the floor and nodded her thanks. She quickly opened the cloth, as he left, and, sure enough, it was food, some local bread. No meat but a nice soft cheese.

  She ate slowly, sparing the food and water gingerly, since she didn’t know when she would get more. Her guards had been decent so far, but no telling what could happen if her father became disagreeable. The jailers could withhold the bare necessities of life from her an
d her father and otherwise make things much more difficult. She’d heard of things like this happening before but had never been in a position where she’d been forced to experience it.

  When the door opened again a while later, she looked up to see her father stumble in and fall to the ground, as the door was slammed behind him. She bolted to his side. “Poppy, are you okay?” His face was battered, and his eyes were red and teary. One was almost swollen shut.

  She gasped, as she helped him to the corner where she’d been sitting, then gave him a bit of water. When he drank, she cried out, “What did they want?”

  Chapter 2

  Millie’s heart ached, as she saw the damage to her father’s face. He wasn’t a fighter in a physical sense; he was a verbal fighter. Not somebody you would take into a boxing ring and punch it out with.

  Her father hadn’t said two words since he’d returned, but he drank the offered water slowly. When he put it down, he let his head roll back against the wall. “We are in so much trouble.”

  “You think? What the hell did they want?” she muttered. “And did you give it to them?”

  “I can’t,” he replied. “They want to know the location of that tomb we heard about in the pub.”

  “The tomb discussed in the pub?” she repeated softly, her mind casting back. “You mean, a few nights ago?”

  He nodded.

  “What? This kidnapping, your beating, has nothing to do with us being picked up earlier by the Egyptian government?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Seriously?” She stared at him. “We don’t even have a name for that tomb. We know nothing about it.”

  “I know. I asked him if he had any reference for me, something that would help me identify which one he was talking about, but he said that I should know that. He was sure that I had talked to somebody about it in detail at the pub …” Her father almost choked as he coughed a bit. “His spies had told him about it, and he wanted to know before any archaeologists got there.”

  “Right, so he could rob it blind, I suppose,” she muttered in disgust.

  “Presumably,” he murmured. “But I’ve got to tell you that he isn’t your typical grave-robber type. He already has buyers lined up for anything we can get out of there.”

  “Ah, crap.” She stared at her father. “If he’s that organized …”

  “I know.” Marcus nodded. “And, yeah, I got into this again, and I swore I wouldn’t.”

  “Yeah, you did.” She sat down again, still not quite ready to let her father off the hook. “I should have known better than to believe you.” She sighed. “You just don’t have the strength to say no to booze.”

  “No,” he agreed, “not when I get tired and upset. Then I don’t give a damn.”

  “Yeah? Well, getting tired and upset and not giving a damn is exactly why we’re sitting here,” she muttered. “And, like you said, we’re in trouble.”

  “They’ll question you too,” he noted. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Of course they will! And I know even less than you. I was too busy being pissed off and angry that we were in the stupid pub to begin with to pay any attention to anyone’s drunken ramblings, including yours.”

  Marcus nodded. “I tried to tell them that, but they don’t want to believe that you had nothing to do with it.”

  “Great, that’ll go over really well. I’ll come back looking like a punching bag too,” she snapped.

  He groaned. “I hope not.” He paused. “If you tell them something, anything at all, it will go easier on you.”

  “Maybe so.” She raised both hands in frustration. “Except I don’t know anything, so we’re just stuck here. Nobody even knows we’re missing.”

  “Well, they’ll know that we’re missing eventually,” he replied. “They just won’t know where we are.”

  “Did you see anything about our surroundings while you were out?”

  “I wasn’t outside,” he corrected. “I was just on the other side of this room.”

  “Just great,” she muttered. “So this is a secret location, where they don’t expect company or to be interrupted. Meaning, they can keep us here and randomly beat on us indefinitely.”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “I hope not, but … we never had a chance to call for help. Not a soul knows that we’re … where we are. How bad is it?” she muttered.

  “Well, the Egyptian government knows we’re in trouble.”

  “Sure, but only because you didn’t show up as you were supposed to, but they could easily assume we just absconded on our own. So nobody really knows differently.”

  He rolled his head toward her, and she saw tears in his eyes as he whispered, “You have no idea how sorry I am. I would have done anything to not have you mixed up in this.”

  “Damn grave robbers,” she muttered. “We come up against them all the time.”

  “This one is different,” Marcus noted. “He’s organized, and he’s angry.”

  “Why is he angry? At whom?” she asked, looking at her father.

  “Because the last grave that we had found, he’d been tipped off about it but had to back off because we were already there.”

  “Great, so now he thinks we’re responsible for him losing out.”

  Marcus nodded. “And believe me. He doesn’t care how he gets paid back, but he wants the money he figures he lost out on.”

  “And yet, even if we did want to pay him, we don’t have any to give him.” She shook her head, staring at her father.

  “No, we don’t, and I told him that. So he wants us to find the next grave and to keep it secret, so he can have it.”

  “So he can plunder another rich find?” she asked in horror.

  “And, of course, that’s our worst nightmare, but he doesn’t know that.” Marcus added, “And you need to keep that in mind.”

  “He’ll know that already. He knows far too much about us as it is. He knew where we were. He knew how to grab us, and he most certainly knew how to keep us away from everybody else.”

  “He knows that we’re dedicated archaeologists.”

  “And you’ve been incredibly vocal regarding your opinions of the Egyptian government and grave robbers,” she stated. “No way he doesn’t know. So basically he’s hedging his bets that he can keep us captive long enough to tell him where this next grave is, preferably one that’s full of loot that he can then destroy.”

  He nodded. “Apparently. If it were just me, I’d tell him to eff off,” he murmured. “But it’s not just me.”

  “No, and they’ll use me against you.” Her heart sank as she stared at her father in horror. “And, if they kill you, they’ve still got me to do their dirty work for them.”

  “I know,” Marcus whispered. “We can only hope that the US government knows about this and is sending help.”

  “What help will they send?” she asked bitterly. “Especially after you promised them that you wouldn’t cause trouble for them here in Egypt.”

  He winced. “We have to keep the faith. Somebody out there will care. They may not care about me, but they know you’re innocent, so they’ll care about you.”

  “Not likely.” She wished he was right but knew the odds weren’t in their favor. “Any care they might have had would have gone out the window with your last rampage.”

  He stared at her. “I’m sorry.”

  She relented, knowing that he meant it, at least in that moment. And the next time anything happened, he would mean it all over again. She nodded quietly. “Let’s just hope that somebody in Egypt’s government at least wants to get you back home again, so you can’t cause more trouble here.”

  He snorted at that. “Even that would work, and, if you don’t mind, I need to get some sleep right now.” He closed his eyes and crashed.

  Hatch stared down at his phone. “No, it’s a serious question,” he replied to the man on the other end. “They’ve gone missing, and I’m asking if she had any contact
with you in the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  “No,” stated Strand, a male friend of Millie’s. “I haven’t heard from her in months. I don’t even know why you’d call me.”

  “Well, one of the reasons to call you was to see just how close you were,” he explained, “and to see if she would call you if she were in trouble.”

  “Hardly,” he answered. “We had one hell of a fight, and she walked out of my life. I haven’t had any contact with her since.”

  “So, that was just before she came over here?”

  “Yes, I didn’t want her to go, so this is just divine,” he noted bitterly.

  “Interesting way to look at a woman who’s now missing and possibly dead.”

  “Her father is a complete screwup. His life is literally just one fuckup after another,” he retorted, “and so goes the lives of anybody near him. I told her not to go back there, worried that it would end badly, but she didn’t want him going on his own, with nobody to look after him.”

  “Her father?”

  “Yeah, when he gets into the booze, … man, it gets ugly, but almost always she ends up paying the price for his indiscretions.”

  “Interesting,” Hatch noted. “What is the rest of their relationship like?”

  “It’s more like a mother looking after a son, instead of a father protecting his daughter,” he suggested.

  “How is that?”

  “Ever since her mother died about ten years ago, Millie pretty well stepped into her mother’s role, looking after Marcus, because, when he gets out there on a dig, he’s just all about the job. He forgets to eat, forgets to change clothes. I mean, most of the time he’s just a walking zombie, until he drops on the spot to grab enough sleep to carry on. So Millie’s been looking after him in that way for years. I told her that I was marrying her, not him, and that things would have to change. Of course that didn’t go over well.”

  “No, I can’t imagine it would,” Hatch replied.

  “Anyway, we broke it off, and I haven’t had anything to do with her since. Ultimately I still think I made the best decision, although I really do miss her at times,” he admitted. “She’s funny. She’s bright. She’s superintelligent. However, she’s got this very ugly blind spot when it comes to her father.” And, with that, Strand hung up.