Reaper came out with a syringe full of amber liquid. He tapped it and squirted a bit out to remove the air bubbles. The doctor glanced at him. “This isn’t a coronary. What is his condition?”
The lights went out, plunging the room into pure black.
“Just plain mean,” Reaper answered.
I nailed the doctor with an elbow to the face and then sprung off the table, moving in the direction of the three guards. I couldn’t see, but I had been expecting this. They were caught by surprise. A shape moved in front of me. I kicked straight out, low and fast, and caught someone in the knee. There was a scream. A hand grabbed my thobe and pulled. I grabbed the wrist, twisted it, and levered it down, snapping bones. I palm-struck that guard in the throat and put him down.
The emergency power kicked on a second later. The place was certainly efficient. The third guard was down, Reaper’s syringe in his neck. The man with the broken knee fumbled with the strap over his pistol. I snap-kicked him in the face, and he was done.
Reaper retrieved the briefcase and sprinted to the access panel. He opened it, revealing a twisted pillar of wires and fiber-optic cables. He immediately went to work. Starfish wasn’t powerful enough to destroy everything, just the unshielded electronics that were close to it. It was at ground level and wouldn’t travel very far. Inside the palace, it would have fried a lot of stuff, but the main security system would be shielded. But that was okay. We didn’t want to take it out; we only needed to give them a surge hard enough to force them to restart.
I pulled the syringe out of the guard, moved to the next one, and poked him in the side, careful to only give him a few CCs of the powerful horse tranquilizer. The doctor moaned and crawled toward one of the guard’s squawking radios. “Nighty night, Doc.” I stuck him in the arm and gave him the last of the drug. He sluggishly rolled over, smiled stupidly at me, giggled, and was out.
“System report. What caused the power surge?” It was Hassan’s voice on the radio. I picked it off of the guard’s belt. Apparently it hadn’t been hot enough to fry these.
“Unknown, sir,” someone else responded. “The system has gone down. We’ll have it back up shortly.”
“Find out, or I’ll have you fed to the tigers,” Hassan snapped. “Taha, report.”
The line was quiet.
“Taha. What’s the status of our guest?” Hassan sounded angry. He did not seem like the kind of person I wanted to deal with when he was angry. I had to assume that one of these men was Taha.
I made my voice as neutral as possible. “Dr. Karzi says that it was just gas. Al Falah is resting.” I began to remove weapons from the guard’s duty belts. FN FNP 9mms, good guns.
“Fine. Get him back here as soon as you can. Hassan out.”
I checked my watch. “Forty seconds,” I said to Reaper.
“Working on it.” He was flipping through wires like a man on a mission. “Get my computer.” I pulled the laptop out of the briefcase, opened it, and waited for his next command. It was already running and on the correct screens. We had practiced this a few times. This was his gig now.
From Big Eddie’s intel we knew that the palace compound was a closed system. There was no way to hack into the security from the outside world. If you wanted to take over, you needed to be in the belly of the beast. The design parameters told us that we had one minute from a power outage for the system to reset, and then we’d be locked out. It was a narrow window, but it was all we had.
Reaper picked a fat yellow cable and did his magic to it, clamping some sort of ring around it. He plugged a USB cable into his machine and then pushed me rather rudely out of the way.
“Thirty seconds.”
“I know. I know,” he muttered. Screens flashed by as he paged through them. “Come on, baby, come on.”
I stuffed two of the FNs inside the thobe and left the third on the countertop by Reaper. I stuck four extra magazines into my pockets. Might as well be ready, because if he couldn’t get us into their system, we were going to have a whole lot of explaining to do. And when I said explaining, I meant shooting. I also took one of the radios.
“Twenty seconds.”
Numbers were scrolling through a box on the screen. Another box was gradually filling up with asterisks below it. This was hard to watch, and my stomach felt sick at the tension. The computer beeped.
“Ten. Why did it beep?”
“Shut up, Lorenzo!”
“Five.”
The screen changed color, and Reaper clapped his hands together above his head. “I so rock! We’re in. I think I should be the new sysadmin.” Reaper began to tab through windows. Alarm systems, cameras, laser arrays, surface-to-air missiles; you name it, we had it. He immediately found the camera for the infirmary. It was a black-and-white image of the two of us standing over the computer, with a bunch of people lying on the floor. He fiddled with the track ball, and the camera rotated until it was looking at the far wall. Now it was an empty room.
“I’m going,” I said. I reset the timer on my watch. “Mark, ten minutes. Then we blow this sucker.” From our best estimates, that was how long we figured we had before system command figured out that they were compromised and the whole place locked down on red alert.
“I know the drill,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the screen. Of course he did. We had practiced this a hundred times. He was already screwing around with the palace’s communications. In a few seconds, the only people who were going to be using the radio net in this place were the ones Reaper was going to allow to do so. He didn’t need to do anything to the outside equipment; Starfish had destroyed most of that. So now he was randomly closing down interior systems. Hopefully they’d think that it was some sort of equipment malfunction and not that they were being violated by people like us.
At ten minutes, I exited, took a quick glance down the hallways, and then walked purposefully toward the main elevator. Some servants noticed me, but I smiled at them like I belonged there, and they let me pass. I entered the elevator and waited for the doors to close.
Nine minutes left. The elevator was secure and plated in gold and polished mirrors. You needed a card key to access anything other than the main floors. Only a handful of the staff here had the card necessary to do so. I didn’t even press any buttons, and the car began to move smoothly down. A digital display counted rapidly into the negative numbers as we headed deep into the bowels of the palace.
My radio beeped. I pulled it out. “Go.”
“I’m in control now. I’ve locked out everyone else. They’re confused, blaming it on the surge. You’ve got two guards standing at the base of the elevator shaft, and you’re going to walk right into them.”
“Put me through to them,” I said, then cleared my throat. I had only spoken with him for a moment, but I needed to do a real convincing Hassan, real quick.
“You’re on,” Reaper said, and the radio clicked.
“All guards on basement six report to the level command post.” I could only hope that those were the correct terms, as that was what they had been labeled on Big Eddie’s stolen plans. “I want you there immediately.”
“But, sir, you said not to leave our—”
“Tigers! I will feed you to the tigers! Hassan out.” I shouted.
“They’re moving, Lorenzo,” Reaper said.
At seven minutes the elevator slid to a halt at negative six and the doors whooshed open. This was the lowest floor, chiseled out of the solid rock and containing one very secure vault. The hallway was empty. The concrete floors echoed as I walked down them. The level command post was just around the corner. I needed to get past it to get to the vault room.
I slid along the cold wall. Even the desert heat couldn’t reach this deep into the Earth. I carefully took stock of the command room. I could see at least a half a dozen men through the glass doors, most of them standing, looking around nervously, waiting for Hassan to arrive.
I checked my watch. Six minutes. There was no way I
was going to get past there without getting spotted. I pulled out the radio. “Need a distraction at the guard room.”
“I’m looking through the menus. Hang on.”
The clock was ticking. I was going to give him thirty more seconds, and then I would try to sneak past on my own. Knowing that I was probably going to get spotted, I pulled one of the pistols and checked the chamber. No time for thought, once you pick a course of action, you were committed, and you’d damn well better see it through.
“Got it.”
The guards shouted in confusion as the fire sprinklers came on. I was immediately drenched in the downpour. I moved quickly while they were either looking up or covering their heads. I ran, splashing down the hallway, and pushed my way through the heavy double doors at the end. Once again, I didn’t even have to swipe a card.
“Oh shit. I screwed up, chief.”
“What?” I stared at the mighty vault door. It was enormous, a circular stainless-steel ultra-modern monolith to security engineering. To a thief like me, it was the most intimidating thing I had ever seen. Multiple combination locks ringed the device, over a dozen giant bolts were compressed into the tempered steel at different angles. The fact that the sprinklers in here were dumping water everywhere made the scene slightly surreal. On the other side of that vault were the greatest treasures in the world, wealth beyond all comprehension.
But that wasn’t what I’d come for.
“That command turned on all the fire sprinklers in the palace. I’m watching the cameras. Everybody is freaking out!”
I continued down the hall. The carved stone became rougher and rougher and the passage started to trend sharply downward. I was now in the ancient tunnels that predated the construction of the palace. There were no sprinklers here, but their water flooded in a fast trail past my feet to disappear ahead of me.
“The IT guys know something is up,” Reaper exclaimed. “Hurry.”
They were ahead of schedule. Why was it that nothing ever went according to plan?
The tunnel opened into a larger room. A string of lights had been bolted into the ceiling. The room was perfectly square, every surface covered in carved writing. I didn’t recognize any of the words; everything was too archaic. There was a circular indentation on the floor. The room felt ancient.
And it should. This space had been carved over a thousand years ago by unknown hands. Discovered by Saladin’s armies, it had been used to house his most valuable possessions. Or so the Fat Man’s report had said. All I knew was that the thing I sought was under my feet.
There were only a handful of these keys still in existence, passed down from fathers to whoever was the best warrior among their sons for hundreds of years. Over time they had gained something of almost religious significance. It was prestigious to be the bearer of the key, even though the reasons had long since been lost to the sands of time. Eddie’s file had said the prince didn’t understand what he was sitting on, except that it was prestigious and therefore had to be hoarded.
I found the keyhole in the center of the floor, a bizarrely geometric shape, going straight down. Standing in the indentation, I took the key out. I had to turn the base slowly until the protruding spines lined up with the hole. I inserted it until it clicked into the lock. As I twisted the base back, there was a cold hiss of air around me and the stone under my feet began to shudder. Steps appeared one by one as the floor sank. I leapt back in surprise. I had expected a simple door or something, not an elaborate construction that seemed to work like oiled silk even though it was a millennium old.
Holy shit, that’s cool.
Within thirty seconds a narrow staircase had materialized, shooting straight down into the darkness. The steps were tiny, brutally steep, and made for feet far smaller than mine. I went down, and after a few steps I made out a faint glow. The stairs terminated in a stone wall carved with a three-foot skull. The skull had curving ram’s horns. The light was coming from inside the skull’s open mouth.
There it is. Whatever it is. It was sitting in the alcove formed by the mouth. It was vaguely Egyptian looking, almost like one of those beetle things they carved on the pyramids. A scarab, I believe they were called. It was only two inches of intricately carved black metal wrapped around a gold blob. At first I thought the center was glass, but it was different somehow, almost like crystal. With a shock I realized that the center was actually where the light was coming from.
I was scared to touch it. Maybe it was radioactive. “Shit,” I muttered. I didn’t have time for this. I reached inside the alcove and scooped up the thing. It was surprisingly heavy. I froze as I felt it shift in my palm, for an uneasy second thinking that it was alive, but it was the golden interior. It was some sort of dense liquid shifting about sluggishly. I felt incredibly nervous, like I was a child screwing around with something that I really shouldn’t be. There was an unbelievable temptation to just put it the hell back.
This thing wasn’t natural. It was somehow wrong.
Reaper pulled me back. “Time’s up, Chief.” I looked at my watch, I had only been down here for ten seconds, but it had felt like forever in the dark. “I gotta go. I’ve set the system for our getaway and crashed everything else. I locked the sprinkler controls. I’ve opened every gate except for the one that leads to the water main. I’m going to pump half the Gulf in here before they get that door breached, punk-ass newbs tried to mess with me. Elevator is running freely now. The guests are trying to get out. All hell’s breaking loose. Shit. Some guards are coming this way, gotta run.”
“Go, I’ll meet you at the car,” I said, stuffing the scarab inside my clothing. I didn’t have time for metaphysical bullshit. I had a job to finish. I ran back up the stairs, reached the top, twisted the key free, and sure enough the stairs began to rise, one by one. I knew that within seconds it would be like I had never been here.
There was no way that stealth was going to work now. I drew one of the FN pistols and kept it low at my side as I hurried up the tunnel. The sprinklers were still pumping. One of the guards stepped into the raining hallway from the control room, shouting into his blocked-off radio. He heard my footfalls and turned just in time to catch a face full of steel slide. The shock reverberated down my arm, and the guard rebounded off the wall. I was past him, in a full-on sprint now. Voices shouted behind me. I extended the 9mm as I ran, not even looking as I fired wildly down the corridor, just trying to keep their heads down.
Bullets whizzed past. I spun to the side as I slid into the elevator. Projectiles impacted the wall, shattering the polished glass. Mashing the up arrow repeatedly, I leaned the gun around the corner and cranked off wild shots until the slide locked back empty. The door slid closed, bullets clanging off the exterior.
I dropped the spent mag on the soggy carpet and reloaded. The elevator car vibrated slightly as pulleys lifted me toward safety. I pushed the button to stop at the lobby floor. The doors opened onto pure pandemonium. Water was pouring down the walls, collecting in chandeliers, and ruining antique furniture. Billionaires were pushing to get out the entryway, and the prince’s men were trying to stop them. A fight had erupted between one of the bigwig’s security detail and some of the gray-uniformed guards.
I collided with a fat, bloated slug of a man. He glared stupidly at me with little pig eyes and tried to push his way into the relatively dry elevator. “Hey, you’re bleeding,” he said nasally in American English as he pointed at my robes. “What happened in here?” Not seeing any guards looking in my direction, I grabbed him by the throat, yanked him into the car, broke his nose with a head butt, kneed him hard in the crotch, and then slammed his face repeatedly into the wall. He collapsed in a whimpering heap in the shell casings and broken glass.
Nonchalantly as possible, I stepped into the indoor rain and pushed through the chaos. Carl magically appeared at my side. “Wow, you really kicked Michael Moore’s ass,” he whispered. I turned back briefly. It had kind of looked like him . . . Naw.
There
was Reaper, also heading toward the door. Hassan was blocking the door with his bulk, shouting for order and begging the VIPs to calm down. I saw Eduard Montalban at the foot of the stairs, a grinning caricature of a human being. In sharp contrast, the Fat Man stood behind him, holding an umbrella open over his employer. Big Eddie golf-clapped for me.
Hassan finally relented, surely not willing to risk the prince’s wrath, and let the sodden guests through the door. We shoved along with the rest of the sheiks, royalty, CEOs, and scumbags into the scorching desert air. Hassan was too busy screaming into his nonresponsive radio to notice me exit. Steam immediately rose from my man-dress as we headed for the car.
The crowd was spreading when the first explosion went off. It was at the opposite end of the compound, but it sent the group into an even bigger frenzy. Reaper had set the mines along the opposite perimeter to detonate randomly. He was grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the up-close view of his handiwork.
The radio under my thobe began to speak. It was my voice in panicked Arabic, the audio file recorded back at our hideout and set to play on the radio net as a final distraction. It was going to repeat every thirty seconds, and it was the only thing that was going to broadcast over their intercoms and radios. “We’re under attack. Forces are breaching the north wall. All guards to the north wall. Evacuate the guests. The prince does not want them found here. Let everyone out the gates!” I opened the door and slid into the backseat of our Mercedes. Carl and Reaper jumped in the front.
Around us, other drivers were attempting to start their expensive cars to no avail, their modern electronics all hopelessly fried by Starfish. “Go!” I shouted. We were spinning tires and leaving rubber on the pavement in an instant, zipping through the gardens, through the tunnel under the wall, and then we were out into the blinding desert. The acceleration sucked, but within a few minutes our land-yacht was doing a hundred.
We had done it. We had pulled it off. The palace was shrinking in the distance. All three of us began to whoop and cheer wildly. Carl screamed out happy profanities. Reaper punched the ceiling. We had done the impossible. Phase Three was done. This suicide mission was done. Screw you, Eddie. We got your stupid treasure.
Dead Six-ARC Page 46