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Clever girl, Adam thought, admiration mingling with worry.

Constance had recognized her unique opportunity to force herself into Julian’s party—and get a shot at foiling his plans and saving Neil’s hide.

Adam just hoped she stayed clever enough not to get herself killed.

Sayyid used the distraction to dart the rest of the way to the altar, stopping just below the place where Ellie stood. He gripped the surface as though readying himself to dive behind it.

“Er… of course, we should like nothing better! Isn’t that right?” Julian added with a challenging look at the rest of his crew.

Dawson snapped his gaping jaw shut. Ears and Ralph exchanged a confused glance over their rifles.

Another flash of irritation twisted through Jacobs’ expression. It slid away a moment later, replaced by his usual mask.

“Whatever you say, ya Amir,” Mr. Al-Saboor commented tiredly.

“Marvelous!” Constance snuggled into Julian’s side.

“Right, then!” Julian turned for the stairs.

Dawson startled. “What about… But where do you want me to…”

Julian didn’t look back. Dawson scurried after him like a rat, still clutching the tablet.

The courtyard was silent as the sound of their footsteps faded.

“What do we do with these ones?” Mr. Al-Saboor asked, looking at Jacobs. “Should we… let them go?”

The senior Al-Saboor sounded a little hopeful about the prospect. Adam felt hopeful about it too—at least until he saw a snarl twist Jacobs’ lip.

“Absolutely not,” Jacobs bit out sharply.

Adam couldn’t really blame Jacobs for that. After all, the last time he and Ellie had turned up in the man’s life, they’d spoiled every one of his plans—and dropped a city on top of the magical artifact that he’d been tasked to find.

Jacobs had once told Adam that he got his job by being a guy whodoes whatever needs to be done.

Somebody who prided himself on competence likely didn’t appreciate being made to look like a screw-up. Nor was he likely to make the same mistake twice—by letting the people who’d mucked everything up for him last time go free to do it all over again.

Which meant that things were probably about to get unpleasantly messy.

Adam waited for Jacobs to give the order he knew had to be coming… and waited.

Jacobs was silent.

Adam finally took a moment to really look at the man. He was…seething. His gaze shifted to Ellie and Adam as though he was vividly imagining how good it would feel to take the pair of them out with two tidy gunshots—which he might easily have done.

And yet, he didn’t. Instead, his expression twisted with frustration. The look was uncharacteristically raw for the usually calm and uncannily collected Jacobs.

Something was holding him back from executing the violence he obviously wanted, and which Adam knew must have looked entirely justified from Jacobs’ point of view. But what could it possibly be? It sure as hell wasn’t moral conviction—a man who would’ve unflinchingly cut Ellie to pieces to ensure Adam’s obedience back in British Honduras was hardly going to shrink from a run-of-the-mill execution. Had Julian given him some sort of blanket order not to kill?

Or was something else going on?

Ellie had caught on to Jacobs’ tension and hesitation as well. She shot Adam a puzzled glance, even as she looked ready to dive behind the sun altar with Sayyid.

“Ya Reis?” Al-Saboor the First prompted with an uneasy look at his boss.

Before Jacobs could answer, the shadows in the antechamber came to life.

Black-cloaked forms spilled from behind piles of ruined stone. Others leapt down from the lower portions of the sun chapel walls. One of the first to appear spun from behind a column to grab a handful of Jacobs’ hair and press a small, thin silver blade to his jugular.