The first set of holes were bored after they returned with the last of the materials. With the grout and water mixed, Beecher poured an accelerant from a liter container into the mixture that would cut the time for the mixture to activate from an hour to a matter of minutes. Once the additive was blended in, they hurried to fill the holes. The work didn’t need to be as painstaking as the previous night’s. There would be no inspections of tonight’s work. If anyone found the secret entrance, the game would be over.
The soft limestone groaned and then crumbled as the grout expanded. Rated at 18,000 PSI, the grout obliterated the rock face. The holes had been spaced wider than the desired opening to allow enough room to push the debris to the side instead of remove it. Within a few minutes, they were ten feet deep.
Beecher removed a compass from his pocket and took a bearing on the path they had created. From the drone shot, he had calculated that from the point of entry the tunnel would need to run at 270 degrees. A small adjustment was made with the next set of holes.
Averaging ten feet an hour, they reached the cavern just before daybreak. Beecher knew they were running late, but the work was done. He and the men left their supplies in place and left the newly formed cavern.
The dark of night had changed to the steel gray of a desert dawn as they scurried down the cliff face and back to the truck. They loaded into the vehicle just as the first rosy tint appeared on the horizon.
Details were still coming into focus when he saw the silhouette of three camels at the base of the cliff.
“Shit. They might have seen us.”
He had been cautious to listen for any approaching vehicles, but the camels could have easily approached unseen last night. With the new back door at risk, there was no need to ask questions. People died in the desert every day.
“Head toward them,” he ordered the driver, as he pulled his rifle from its sheath beside him. He chambered a round and rolled down his window.
They were close enough to see the camels drop to the ground and the riders hunker down behind them. From his experience that meant they weren’t locals, who would have just ignored them. He trained the sight on the group. Shooting from the bouncing vehicle, killing all three would be difficult if not impossible, but he could put the fear of whichever god they worshipped in them and dull their curiosity.
He fired. The bullet sent a small puff of sand about ten feet to their side. Chambering another round, he adjusted his aim and shot again with the same result. He was about to let off a third shot when he saw something hovering in the sky.
Beecher looked up and cursed. A fleet of hot-air balloons was floating above them. He could clearly make out the rectangular baskets filled with tourists as the pilots descended to the desert floor. As the multi-colored balloons dropped lower, he could see the recovery vehicles racing toward them. They were too close for comfort.
“Head to the right ninety degrees.” The best he could hope for was that he had scared the camel jockeys.
The truck shot out of the canyon opening and turned to the east, away from the balloons and the tomb.
21
The Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Egypt
The camel stumbled again. Again meaning every other step the beast took. As if synchronized, a blast of noxious fumes shot from its rear end. The short tethers between Alaa’s, Gretchen’s, and his own camel placed Mako, who was last in line, directly in the blast zone.
Alaa was in his element. He was clearly enjoying the predawn desert, the ride, and Mako’s misery. Gretchen appeared a whole lot more comfortable than Mako was. Compounded by the awkward gait, his privates were already sore from last night’s activities.
Mako had a history of bad decisions. He wasn’t ready to judge last night’s yet, but he had to wonder if he was being manipulated. There was an attraction between him and Gretchen. That much was undeniable, but only time would tell if it was a mistake or not. If it were, he could rationalize it by adhering to the adage of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.
The larger problem was that he hadn’t called Alicia. He had lain awake long after Gretchen had fallen asleep. Slipping out of bed was made impossible by her position with a leg and arm cast over him. With every movement he could feel the involuntary contraction of her limbs, as if they were drawing him into her web.
Though he hadn’t been able to contact her directly, Mako had activated both the earbud and his phone. Gretchen hadn’t been happy about the phone, but they hadn’t heard from John’s captors in over a day.
Gretchen didn’t know about the earbud in his pocket.
Their early morning start had glossed over any awkwardness leftover from the previous night. Alaa had met them an hour before dawn. He’d driven them through town, across the river, and to a ranch bordering on the desert. Camels and mules were both available and, given a choice, Mako would have requested the latter, but a trio of single-humped camels were waiting. Alaa walked directly to the camels resting on the hard ground. Saddled and bridled, they were ready to go.
Mako had lobbied for a four-wheel-drive vehicle, but had been overruled. Gretchen seemed anxious for the adventure, and Alaa was worried about checkpoints that would deny them access. As they traveled wide around a blockade in the road, he silently thanked the guide. That didn’t help his misery.
From the moment the camel climbed to its feet, Mako had been in agony. As the gray desert sky turned ten shades of red, he could hear Alaa and Gretchen talking about the beauty of the desert. It was lost on him. As far as Mako was concerned the best sunrises were the ones he never saw.
The growing light showed the camels were following a worn path, though there was little visible definition between it and the sand around them. They had diverged from the path several times, crossing what appeared to be dried stream beds, known locally as wadis. He could see the advantage of using the camels over mules on the softer surfaces. Their wide, padded feet performed like a four-wheel-drive vehicle. But they swayed like a ship at sea and he started to feel nauseated as they crossed between soft sand and the hard-packed road.
Alaa stopped and pointed at the cliffs ahead. Barely visible in the low light, the vertical surfaces, one of which held the newly discovered tomb, were still featureless. For now, only the ridge running across the top of the cliffs was defined.
Mako was almost rocked out of his saddle as the camel left the “road.” In the softer sand each footfall was even more pronounced—and agonizing—as they made their way toward the cliffs. With the increased light, Alaa resumed his role of tour guide, but Mako had little interest. Now that he could actually see, he wondered if there was any purpose to the expedition.
In single file, they started toward the cliffs. Finally they reached the bottom and stopped. Alaa gave a guttural command and his camel dropped to the ground. Tethered together, the others followed like dominoes. Mako was only too happy to dismount. He strode around the camels, trying to get the kinks out of his body. Once the circulation had returned, he moved next to Gretchen, who had stepped away from the rock face.
“Let me have your phone,” she said.
“You going tourist on me?”
She ignored him. “Look. The features are similar.”
Mako saw that she had the map on the screen and moved closer.
Comparing the three-dimensional cliff face to the two-dimensional map was difficult. To make matters worse, as the sun inched higher in the sky the cliffs seemed to move. Every minute the desert appeared slightly different. They were already looking for a needle in a haystack, and Mako was becoming even more convinced this was not the way to find it. Ignoring the resources available through Alicia and TJ was only hurting them.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Okay?”
“Privately.” He started walking away from Alaa and the camels. The guide had a hurt look, but Mako ignored him and moved out of earshot. Gretchen reluctantly followed.
“We need technology. Whatever doubts or pro
blems you and my father have with Alicia, she can help us.”
Gretchen’s face went blank, but Mako expected she was doing a risk assessment. He had an argument planned, but gave her time to think.
“You’re right.”
Mako tried to keep the surprise from his face. Instead of the pitched battle he expected, he heard the two words every man longs to hear from a woman. He tried to regroup without looking smug.
“Let’s document the whole place and head back.”
“Makes sense. This place will be crawling with officials anytime now.”
They had taken their bearing using the lights marking the site earlier. In the daylight they could see the site was heavily guarded. They had stayed to the north and east of the discovery, near where the cliff turned back on itself. It was as close as they dared get without being seen and harassed.
As they walked back to Alaa and the camels, the guide suddenly became animated and pointed to the sky. Mako followed his extended hand and saw a gaggle of hot-air balloons rising over the ridge.
“That way would have been a bit more civilized,” Mako muttered.
“Not enjoying yourself?” Gretchen asked.
“Is there a purpose to this misery?”
“Stop!”
Alaa steered his camel to a small, rocky outcropping. His camel suddenly dropped to the desert floor, initiating a chain reaction with the other two beasts. Mako knew what was coming this time and clung to the horns of the saddle when it was his turn. Alaa hopped off and motioned to Mako and Gretchen to follow, as he lowered himself to the ground, using the rocks and his camel to screen his body.
The camels chewed their cud, but were otherwise quiet, allowing Mako to hear the distinct sound of an engine in the distance. He tried to place it, but the sound echoed. Instead, he studied the desert in the direction Alaa was watching. A small cloud of dust emerged.
Mako, realizing the dust cloud was associated with the engine noise, saw it was coming toward them.
“We’re kind of sitting ducks,” he said.
Alaa laughed at the metaphor. “Unless they are bandits they will leave us alone. If they are there’s not much we can do.”
Gretchen pulled her headscarf tightly around her. If they were bandits, it would be worse for her.
The desert and the ocean are the two places where a true 360-degree view of the horizon is possible. Mako scanned the terrain. The only feature within tens of miles was the cliffs, and the vehicle was coming from that direction. He assumed camels could run, but decided he would rather wait out a painful death here than suffer that unique torture.
Knowing that their best chance was to remain where they were, he evaluated the situation. They were exposed, but the camels offered some protection and camouflage. Of little comfort was the small caliber pistol Alaa had pulled out of his pack.
“Put that thing away. If they mean us harm, that’ll make matters worse. If they don’t it won’t help,” Mako said. Instead of replacing it in his pack, Alaa shoved it into his robe. At least it was out of sight.
Mako turned back to the approaching vehicle, noting it was moving quickly toward them. He estimated it would reach them in less than a minute.
They hunkered down.
The sound of a gunshot startled Mako. He glanced at Gretchen, who was looking at Alaa. The guide showed his empty hands. Mako raised his head above the camel’s hump just enough to see the raised barrel of a rifle protruding from the passenger side of a camouflaged utility truck.
Before he ducked down, he noticed the vehicle bouncing along the uneven surface. The terrain might have been the only thing that saved him. He flinched, waiting for another shot to be fired when a shadow covered them.
He hadn’t recalled any clouds and looked up to see the sun blocked by a hot-air balloon, silently descending. Another glance at the truck showed it moving away at a ninety-degree angle.
The camels continued to chew their cuds, oblivious to what was going on around them, but Mako, Gretchen, and Alaa all knew the balloon had likely saved them. They rose and returned the waves of the passengers as the basket touched down a hundred yards away. Several pickups were racing toward it and, in a well-orchestrated move, they collected the balloon’s delicate fabric before it hit the ground.
Mako turned to Alaa. “Those weren’t ordinary bandits. If they were, they would have held us up at gunpoint.”
The guide, still shaken from the incident, nodded.
“They’re gone now,” Gretchen said, staring at the horizon where the dust cloud had disappeared.
The men had wrapped up the balloon and secured it in the bed of one of the trucks. They were wrestling the basket into the bed of the other when a small bus pulled up. “I’m all for getting out of here. Think we can hitch a ride?”
Alaa stepped in front of Mako as he started toward the bus, making him wonder if he’d crossed some kind of line.
“Let me negotiate. They’ll take advantage of you.”
Mako smiled at the guide. “Appreciate that.” Alaa continued toward the bus, where the tourists were in the process of loading up. He confronted the driver and the two seemed to get into a heated argument.
“Doesn’t look good,” Gretchen said.
“Actually, I think they’re negotiating.” A second later, Alaa waved at them to come toward the bus.
“What about the camels?” Gretchen asked.
“If I never see one again it’ll be a good day.”
Alaa met them halfway. “He will take us for one hundred pounds.”
The amount startled Mako until he did the quick math and realized it was just over seven dollars. He pulled the wad of cash from his pocket and peeled off a hundred-dollar note, which he handed to Alaa.
“What about the camels?” Gretchen asked.
“Give me another bill.”
Mako felt rich as he peeled off another hundred.
Alaa waved to a boy riding a donkey. He was with a group of several other school-age children, mostly on foot, who appeared to be begging money from the tourists. The boy trotted over to them. Mako watched him bouncing around on the donkey and wondered whether without a saddle or stirrups if the ride would be worse than a camel.
Alaa met the boy before he reached them and offered him the single note. He took it gladly and called for several of his friends, who ran over. A minute later, with the camels in tow and a wide smile on his face, he waved goodbye to Mako.
With the addition of the three of them, the bus was standing room only. Mako didn’t care, though, as even the jarring bumps of the uneven road were far better than the camel ride. He was much relieved when the bus pulled up to their hotel.
Even his appetite had returned. “Breakfast?”
22
Bethesda, Maryland
John bid his time until morning. He would have preferred to make his escape attempt at night. Darkness would have caused confusion, which would aid his attempt, but with two men holding him it could cripple him as well. He had exercised both his mind and body throughout the night. Mixing his measured breathing routine with the contraction and release of each muscle in his body had primed him both physically and mentally. When dawn broke he was ready.
Unfortunately, his captors were pros. Hardware-store variety zip-ties were pliable and could be forced and stretched until the mechanism failed or loosen. The law-enforcement-type restraining his wrists and ankles were heavy duty. They would not fail on their own. Had he been conscious when he was bound, he could have simply turned his wrists out, allowing enough extra space to wiggle free. Despite his efforts throughout the night, he had made no progress.
There were not a lot of options, but John knew the most important was to not allow them to inject him again. Another dose could be a death sentence.
A short while later, light penetrated the curtains through the eastern-facing windows. John continued to play possum. He squinted and surveyed his surroundings. The room appeared to be empty. Taking a chance, he wiggled his to
rso higher against the armrest to get a better view. He saw nothing, but froze when he sensed movement in the kitchen. A moment later, he dropped back to the couch as the two men appeared.
Had he not been preparing himself to kill them anyway, their fate would have been sealed when he smelled the Ethiopian coffee a friend from the consul supplied him with. John’s senses were now finely tuned from his breathing exercises and the scent permeated his brain. His resolve stiffened further.
The men made no attempt to conceal themselves as they approached the couch. They sat in adjacent chairs and sipped his coffee like he wasn’t there. That gave John time to evaluate them. They were dark-skinned but not black, leading him to believe they were Middle Eastern. There were a number of other nationalities that had similar coloring, but this entire business related to Egypt.
It was a relief to see they were in street clothes. By holding him in his home and acting as casual as they were, he determined they were not terrorists. If they were, there would likely be more of them and, instead of his living room, he would be held in some commercial or industrial space where he would soon be decapitated. That didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous—it was actually a sign that they were pros.
Their mouths were moving, but John could only hear murmurs. Had he any resources other than his wits, he might have continued to play possum, but these men were not going to be taken unaware by a bound man twice their age.
“I can help you get what you want.” His gambit was a twist on the Stockholm syndrome. If they were pros, they were working for someone who was paying them a lot of money for something. It was in the men’s benefit to complete the task as soon as possible. If they thought he could help, they might listen, and if they found him helpful, they might not drug him.
One of the men’s mouth moved, but John couldn’t make out the words. The other man motioned to his ears and rose. He stepped over to John and removed the ear plugs.
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