The Devil's Game

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Chapter 22

Harris ran down the corridors of the catacombs, not knowing what he was looking for. All he did know was that he had to be in and out before the police arrived.

Suddenly he saw smoke filling up the corridor in front of him, and he could see a man crouching on the ground.

Slowly, Michael’s senses were coming back to life. He felt resurrected.

“Who are you?” Michael said with squinted eyes, looking at Harris, who was standing in front of him.

“Michael Adams?”

“Yes, how do you…”

Harris interrupted him, “…I was hired to get the money you took from the Bellagio.”

“I didn’t take any money.” Michael avoided any eye contact with him.

“I don’t think so,” Harris said calmly.

“I don’t have time for this, I need to find him. He kidnapped Amanda.” Michael tried to get up to his feet.

“You mean the tall blond guy with the scars? You three are Devil worshipers?”

“Devil worshipers? No, of course not,” Michael said adjusting his clothing.

“I honestly don’t care, but I do know you’re coming with me.”

“Here, take this,” Michael said and gave him the folded paper from his pocket and continued, “This was written many, many centuries ago by a man who hanged himself in that room over there.” Michael pointed to the hole and the flames.

“This should prove to you that I didn’t take anything and that I’m not a Devil worshiper.”

“We can talk about that on our way back to the U.S.,” Harris said, unimpressed.

Suddenly Michael leaped toward Harris and tackled him to the ground. Harris’s head banged against the ground. His vision faded.

Michael got up swiftly and ran toward the exit.

Harris, still disoriented, pulled himself up along the wall. He could see a silhouette disappear around the corner.

* * *

Outside, Frank was getting nervous that the police could arrive and get him and Harris into trouble.

The wailing of sirens far off caught his attention.

Harris emerged from the catacombs, running past the clerk.

“Monsieur, where you going?” the clerk shouted at Harris.

Harris jumped into the car and shouted at Frank, “Did you see a black-haired guy run out of the catacombs? That bastard threw me to the ground.”

“No, I was looking out for the police.”

The sirens now got very close.

“Go, go, go,” Harris said anxiously to Frank.

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