us.’
A sudden scrabbling from behind the door.
‘Scratch
before us
,’ hissed Motti, ‘they’re still
in there
–’
Then the door to the lockup flew open. Patch yelled as the edge cracked into his face, knocking him backwards.
For a split second, Tye caught a dance of dark shadow in the torch beam, figures swooping out from inside. Then the light was knocked from her hand and bony fingers clamped around her throat.
Chapter Nine
Tye didn’t struggle. She used her attacker’s momentum to her advantage, falling back as he charged forwards. She landed on her back, brought up her leg against his stomach and flipped him over her head. He crashed into something that smashed noisily, but Tye was already back on her feet, running for the light switches she’d seen earlier across the room.
She slammed them on. An awkward flicker of light as the fluorescents warmed up. It was almost like a strobe effect: in snatches she saw Motti wrestling with a masked black-clad figure, saw the man she’d brought down in the debris of a large earthenware jar, saw someone else racing for the door that led on to the stairwell, dodging exhibits with ease.
‘Stop them!’ Motti yelled, like she needed telling.
As the lights strengthened into noisy, humming life, Tye hurled the torch at the fleeing figure. It was a woman, wearing a black veil like a dupatta – Hindu maybe? The woman staggered as the torch cracked against her skull, lost balance for a moment. Tye was already sprinting after her when she realised the woman was clutching something, some kind of jar …
The lekythos. Whoever these people were, they wanted it too.
The woman assumed a fighting stance as Tye approached. Though the black veil shrouded most of her face, her hooded eyes showed through, cold dark stones. Though her speed and agility suggested someone in the flush of youth, there was something ancient in those eyes that made Tye shiver.
In her other hand the woman held a stiletto. Its tapering blade gleamed. Tye clocked the tattoo that coiled up from the woman’s wrist to her knuckles – a distinctive blue snake. Then she swung up her leg in a high front kick to knock the stiletto away.
The woman swung the knife out of reach, then lunged forwards. Tye jumped back but knocked against the edge of a display case, gasping as she felt the sharp corner bite into her spine. Caught off-balance, she couldn’t deflect a kick to her stomach, and with a gasp she went down.
In a second, Tye’s assailant was crouched over her, one hand holding the lekythos up and out of reach, the other ready to plunge the knife down into her chest.
Then, suddenly, the old Greek vase seemed to explode. The woman cried out.
And in a shower of fine black dust, a glass eyeball plopped out of the lekythos on to Tye’s chest.
‘Lousy bloody shot!’ wailed Patch, still clutching his head.
Tye used the distraction well and punched her attacker hard in the jaw. But the woman fell backwards, rolled over and was back on her feet in asecond. Still clutching the remains of the vase tight to her chest, she turned and ran for the door. Patch was knocked to the ground as Motti’s attacker followed her to the exit. The man Tye had tackled first must already have made his getaway.
‘Patch, is Motti OK?’ Tye snapped.
‘I’m fine,’ Motti shouted, though his nose was pouring blood and his glasses were smashed. He staggered over to help Patch up. ‘Get after them! Go!’
Tye nodded and ran to the exit. The sound of pounding feet echoed all around the concrete stairwell. She charged down the steps, swinging herself round the rickety banisters, driving herself faster, faster. Finally she shot out into the alleyway.
To find someone was taking a swing at her with a makeshift bat.
She twisted away desperately but she was going too fast to dodge the blow. The plank broke in two over her shoulder, and she cried out with the sickening, jarring impact. It was the same masked man she’d thown
A sudden scrabbling from behind the door.
‘Scratch
before us
,’ hissed Motti, ‘they’re still
in there
–’
Then the door to the lockup flew open. Patch yelled as the edge cracked into his face, knocking him backwards.
For a split second, Tye caught a dance of dark shadow in the torch beam, figures swooping out from inside. Then the light was knocked from her hand and bony fingers clamped around her throat.
Chapter Nine
Tye didn’t struggle. She used her attacker’s momentum to her advantage, falling back as he charged forwards. She landed on her back, brought up her leg against his stomach and flipped him over her head. He crashed into something that smashed noisily, but Tye was already back on her feet, running for the light switches she’d seen earlier across the room.
She slammed them on. An awkward flicker of light as the fluorescents warmed up. It was almost like a strobe effect: in snatches she saw Motti wrestling with a masked black-clad figure, saw the man she’d brought down in the debris of a large earthenware jar, saw someone else racing for the door that led on to the stairwell, dodging exhibits with ease.
‘Stop them!’ Motti yelled, like she needed telling.
As the lights strengthened into noisy, humming life, Tye hurled the torch at the fleeing figure. It was a woman, wearing a black veil like a dupatta – Hindu maybe? The woman staggered as the torch cracked against her skull, lost balance for a moment. Tye was already sprinting after her when she realised the woman was clutching something, some kind of jar …
The lekythos. Whoever these people were, they wanted it too.
The woman assumed a fighting stance as Tye approached. Though the black veil shrouded most of her face, her hooded eyes showed through, cold dark stones. Though her speed and agility suggested someone in the flush of youth, there was something ancient in those eyes that made Tye shiver.
In her other hand the woman held a stiletto. Its tapering blade gleamed. Tye clocked the tattoo that coiled up from the woman’s wrist to her knuckles – a distinctive blue snake. Then she swung up her leg in a high front kick to knock the stiletto away.
The woman swung the knife out of reach, then lunged forwards. Tye jumped back but knocked against the edge of a display case, gasping as she felt the sharp corner bite into her spine. Caught off-balance, she couldn’t deflect a kick to her stomach, and with a gasp she went down.
In a second, Tye’s assailant was crouched over her, one hand holding the lekythos up and out of reach, the other ready to plunge the knife down into her chest.
Then, suddenly, the old Greek vase seemed to explode. The woman cried out.
And in a shower of fine black dust, a glass eyeball plopped out of the lekythos on to Tye’s chest.
‘Lousy bloody shot!’ wailed Patch, still clutching his head.
Tye used the distraction well and punched her attacker hard in the jaw. But the woman fell backwards, rolled over and was back on her feet in asecond. Still clutching the remains of the vase tight to her chest, she turned and ran for the door. Patch was knocked to the ground as Motti’s attacker followed her to the exit. The man Tye had tackled first must already have made his getaway.
‘Patch, is Motti OK?’ Tye snapped.
‘I’m fine,’ Motti shouted, though his nose was pouring blood and his glasses were smashed. He staggered over to help Patch up. ‘Get after them! Go!’
Tye nodded and ran to the exit. The sound of pounding feet echoed all around the concrete stairwell. She charged down the steps, swinging herself round the rickety banisters, driving herself faster, faster. Finally she shot out into the alleyway.
To find someone was taking a swing at her with a makeshift bat.
She twisted away desperately but she was going too fast to dodge the blow. The plank broke in two over her shoulder, and she cried out with the sickening, jarring impact. It was the same masked man she’d thown
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