Page 100 of Dangerous

“Two of them were caved in and the third had a locked door. The guard we bought the information from only knew of the tunnels, not where they led. We were lucky to find the exit at the bluff. Even so, it took us a good six hours of digging to free the old door.” Adam could hear the traces of long-ago anxiety in the other man’s voice.

“Why did you agree to come back here today?” Adam asked, truly curious as to why this man would risk death for the son of the man who’d made him a slave.

“The Captain asked me.” His words were simple, but Adam saw the complex emotions that lay beneath them. Bouchard had been correct; Ramsay commanded impressive loyalties.

The man in front of him stopped and turned to Adam.

“We are at the door to the first cell,” he whispered. “Ramsay says it is one of the larger ones and there will be many slaves inside. Extinguish your torch and take my belt.”

Adam nodded and snuffed the flame in the sandy floor of the tunnel. He hooked the fingers of his left hand through the other man’s belt and lowered his right to his sword.

Even in the dark Adam could tell when they entered the cell. The heat in the room and the odor of dozens of unwashed bodies was almost overwhelming.

Adam felt something under his boot—a hand?—and stepped back.

He could hear Ramsay’s voice a few feet away, the Arabic words low and soothing. Whatever he said must have been convincing because the only answering noises were a few soft words in return. He heard the sound of a flint being struck and a torch flared to life.

He blinked and opened his eyes to a sight that would stay with him until the day he died. Dozens of bodies lay around the room, some on pallets, but most on the uneven rock floor. A single waste bucket overflowed in one corner, bodies curled around it. The smell of excrement and despair made his eyes water. Most of the men were only sparsely clothed and many had scars, some still new and bleeding.

Ramsay spoke to a man stooped with either age or suffering or both. The people in the room, all men or boys, seemed remarkably wide awake. When Ramsay finished speaking, they rose almost as one body and moved toward the tunnel back to Quora’s Bluff.

“What did he tell them?” Adam asked the man who’d been in front of him.

“He told them they are free, to disappear into the desert and not into town.”

Adam relit his torch from Ramsay’s and then handed it to a boy of about twelve. The boy took the torch wordlessly, his eyes burning with desperate hope.

They waited until the room was empty and Ramsay turned to Adam.

“The old man told me Jibril was being held in a cell by himself. It is near the entrance to the slave quarters and two men always stand outside the door. The slaves pass it every day on the way to the outdoor pens. He says Assad was in the palace earlier today but he believes the guard presence is lighter than usual around the palace. Once we approach the cell, we will need to work quickly and quietly or they will alert whatever guards are left. Here is where your skills with the blade will be useful, Exley. You and I will go get the boy and Delacroix will go and release all the others.”

Adam had not known freeing slaves was part of the plan but after seeing the hell in this single room he could not disagree. Delacroix and Ramsay shook hands and the Frenchman turned away, his lethal-looking helpers following close behind him.

Ramsay turned to him and grinned. “Are you ready to have some fun?”

Chapter Thirty

The fetid smell of the cells grew less pungent as they approached the main entrance to the slave quarters. Ramsay put his hand on Adam’s shoulder as they neared a corner, motioning to let him know the cell was to the right.

They rounded the corner and found two guards outside, just as the slaves had warned. One of the men was slumped in a chair, asleep. The other man had his shoe off and was doing something with his foot. Adam was beside him, his blade on the man’s throat, before the guard could utter a peep. He looked up and Adam shook his head, placing a finger to his lips and pressing the blade closer.

The guard saw Ramsay and muttered something low in Arabic, his eyes becoming as big as cannonballs. Ramsay grabbed him, yanked the cloth from around his head, and stuffed a wad of it into the stunned man’s open mouth. He looped it around his neck and then to the back of his body, where he used it to bind his hands.

Adam whacked the sleeping guard at the base of his bowed head with the pommel of his rapier. The man grunted and slid to the floor. A battered pistol sat on the bench and Adam checked to see if it was loaded and then tucked it in his waistband.

“Nicely done, Exley.” Ramsay crouched beside his victim and searched for keys, finding a large ring on the one who was still conscious.

Adam tried key after key until one turned the heavy tumbler. The room beyond the door was perhaps six feet wide by ten feet long. There was only one occupant and he was lying on the floor, face to the wall. He muttered something in Arabic but did not turn. Adam could see his bare arms were striped with dried blood and welts.

“You’ll have to speak English if you expect me to understand you,” Adam said, raising the lantern and taking a step toward the silent figure.

A low laugh came from the pile of rags.

“Did my mother send you?” It was the voice of an English gentleman and Adam smiled. Mia had obviously schooled her son well.

“How did you guess?” Adam asked. “Now, can you get up? If I don’t get you back to her, there is no point in my going back, either.” He crouched down and put the lantern he’d taken from the guards on the floor beside the man.

Jibril rolled over and Adam winced when he saw his bruised and bloody face. A pair of familiar green eyes looked up at him but the face was darker and the eyes were separated by a beak that would have done a Roman senator proud. Jibril Marlington had his grandfather Carlisle’s nose.