The Babel Codex by Alex Archer Page A

missing. Standing there, she looked back down at the right wingtip.
    Find the seven steps to the resting place that has been made for that which has been hidden.
    At first, Annja missed the “steps.” They were ledges that jutted out from under the wingtip and led farther to the right. Four of them had been blasted away, but she made out the scars where the natural formations had been.
    Just as she was about to descend, she saw dust from a Land Rover streaking across the hilly terrain toward her location. Annja dropped down into a prone position, hoping the Jeep was safely hidden.
    The Land Rover turned toward her position and rolled up to a dusty stop beside her Jeep. So much for trying to hide it. After a moment, the driver got out and stood there in a khaki shirt and hiking shorts, ankle-high walking shoes and a pith helmet. Dark, round-lensed sunglasses covered his eyes as he stared up the mountainside. He scowled through his white whiskers.
    “Have you found it?”

Chapter Twenty
    Annja walked down the mountainside, remembering the
first time she’d met the old man in France. She’d been searching out the secret
of the Beast of Gévaudan in the Margeride Mountains. Instead, she’d found Roux
and the last piece of Joan’s sword.
    The old former soldier had a way of turning up in the strangest
places at the most unexpected moments.
    “What are you doing here?” Annja called as she descended.
    “You call that a greeting?”
    “I think it tops ‘Have you found it?’”
    “You’re too sensitive. If I didn’t care how you were faring,
would I be here?”
    “I don’t know.” Annja reached the first ledge at the end of the
wingtip and stood there. “Would you?”
    “For your information, I left in the middle of a simply amazing
run of Texas Hold ’em in Dubai to be here. I was having an absolutely wonderful
time, and had captured the attentions of a pair of twins. They were quite
enamored of me.”
    “Ewww.” Hundreds of years old—Roux had already been a seasoned
soldier when he was tasked with protecting Joan of Arc—he had no problem
attracting the attentions of a woman. Garin was the same. Annja thought maybe
their appeal had something to do with living for hundreds of years. Living that
long, especially through the times they’d survived—what little she knew of
them—a guy accumulated a lot of confidence and know-how.
    “If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.”
    “You should have stayed there.”
    “If I had, you’d be dead very shortly.”
    Annja folded her arms. She had come to love the old man like a
daughter would, but he could be the biggest, most enigmatic pain she could ever
imagine. The same, she gathered, as a lot of father figures. “I would be
dead?”
    “Yes. Garin is en route, and then there is some man named
Baller.”
    “Bhalla.”
    Roux considered that and nodded. “African name and the Tower of
Babel. Makes a lot more sense.”
    “I left Garin in Damascus, in the hands of the Syrian military,
and I don’t know if Bhalla survived the last encounter we had. He might be
buried in a cave.”
    “Garin got out of jail and Bhalla is still alive.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because I keep tabs on Garin when I can, and I knew he was
chasing you, which interested me because it’s never good with the two of you. I
didn’t think I would need to get involved, but as it turns out, this is about
the Tower of Babel. I couldn’t stay away. As for Bhalla, my information
specialist tells me that he and a group of his people are headed this way, as
well.”
    “How?”
    “Evidently they’re following Garin, who is following you.
Garin’s so wrapped up in this Tower of Babel chase he’s forgetting one of the
first things I taught him about survival—always watch to see who follows
you.”
    “You could have called me to let me know.”
    “I could have. You would have stayed out here, though.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    Roux walked to the back of the Land Rover,