Storm Clouds

by Steven Becker

  “Either you call the minister now or I will tomorrow. I’m sure he would be interested to know who was responsible for letting the man escape.”

  The leader’s brow creased. In order to advance in a society like Egypt’s a survival instinct must be nurtured. The leader immediately ordered two of the guards to stay with the foreigners and took the rest toward the entrance to the Ramses IX tomb. In seconds they had deployed in an arc around the square entry and had their weapons aimed at the portal.

  “They’ll get him, John.”

  “I’m more worried about Mako. This lot will shoot first and ask questions later.”

  John didn’t need to wait long to see how things played out—but it was not as he expected.

  One of the guards emerged from the tomb. “The man, Beecher, is dead. Killed by a rockfall.”

  John’s satisfaction was short-lived, as he immediately thought of Mako, but the guard said nothing about another person. The man said something to the other guards, who raised their rifles while he placed a phone call. After a short conversation in Arabic he disconnected and raised his rifle, pointing it directly at John. “The minister would like a word.”

  John knew there was no point in arguing while staring into the barrel of an automatic weapon. He nodded and allowed the men to lead them toward the parking lot. The best he could hope for was that, while complying with the man’s orders, Mako had seen or heard what had transpired outside the tomb. And hopefully John had bought some time, because he had the distinct feeling they were heading into the bowels of a prison system that had no exit.

  46

  The Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Egypt

  Mako had hidden in a small alcove when he heard the activity outside. Once the guards moved away he carefully surveyed the area outside the tomb. The guards had taken his father and Gretchen into custody. Somehow, in death, Beecher had turned himself into the good guy. After seeing the bags of expansive grout inside, Mako knew how Beecher had made and then demolished the tomb. He now had to decide how to get the word out.

  Alicia was the answer. He still had Assam’s phone. The first call he made was to Alaa, who he instructed to pick him up, but he had to get out of here first.

  As he slowly stepped into the sunlight, Mako noticed the guards were escorting everyone toward the parking lot. He expected the minister was closing the valley. That worked in his favor, and he dropped in line beside a tour group. With the focus on clearing the valley, his presence went unnoticed.

  Mako saw the cab pull up. Loose parts clung tenuously to the frame, looking like they might fall off with every bump. When they had met Assam, it had been a beater, but after the adventures of the past few days it was close to falling apart.

  He hopped in the backseat beside Adon. The boy had a wondrous look in his eyes. Mako smiled at him and dialed Alicia.

  “Crap,” the analyst said once Mako had brought her up to speed. “We’ve been watching feeds of the event. TJ pieced together a montage that clearly shows it was not an accident. But we can’t figure out how he did it.”

  “Expansive grout.” Mako explained about the material they had found in the tomb.

  “Brilliant. I can post the video to several sites where I know it will get picked up immediately. It’ll go viral in minutes.”

  Mako didn’t recognize that voice. “Hiring help?”

  “Long story. That’s Sam.”

  Though her idea had merit, it wasn’t time to tell the world. “We do that, then John and Gretchen lose their value to Ahmed.”

  “Not if we make him the hero,” Sam said.

  “And how do you propose to do that?” Mako asked.

  “Have him solve the mystery,” Alicia said. “We can offer to supply him with proof how the cavern was destroyed without having to disclose we know it was created in the same manner.”

  “So we show him the video TJ made and tell him we will allow him to release it in exchange for John and Gretchen?” Mako asked.

  “He’s got to know we’re not the only ones that can put something like this together.”

  “If I can find Rashi, she will help.”

  “I’ll see what we can do on this end,” Alicia told him.

  Mako disconnected the call.

  “Where to, boss?”

  Mako thought for a minute. “Back to the hotel.” Moving in the opposite direction from the scene wasn’t the ideal course of action, but for what he had planned a reliable internet connection was essential.

  Assam drove back to town. Mako kept an eye on his phone, waiting for the status bar to indicate there was strong cell service. Finally, on a long high stretch of road, he saw one bar, then two.

  Without enough service to access the internet with any speed, Mako had to work the old-fashioned way. First he called the Egyptian Museum and was finally routed to Rashi’s voicemail. He did the same at the library in Alexandria. While he waited for her to call back, he worked on his plan.

  Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Egypt

  Ahmed rarely experienced mixed emotions. But watching Rashi being helped down the debris pile at the base of the cavern, he felt something in his heart. He had braced himself for collateral damage to the point where he had rationalized that losing her would be necessary to ensure his plan stayed a secret.

  He shut off the emotional faucet and got to work. The chaos following the cave-in had turned into controlled confusion. First responders controlled the scene—this was no longer a scientific site. That meant that he would have to somehow reinforce his authority over it.

  Finding the men in charge wasn’t hard. In Egypt they were generally the ones wearing suits, at least until they reached the rank of general. A group of them were gathered in a tent. You didn’t get to wear a suit by standing in the sun. Ahmed approached.

  “Casualties?” he asked.

  There was little in Luxor that didn’t rely on tourism or archeology. The three men knew who was standing in front of them. Ahmed picked up on their recognition as well.

  “We were lucky. Only a few injuries. No deaths. We have accounted for everyone who was in the cavern at the time.”

  Everyone—except Beecher.

  “Very good. We need to secure the area. I will be sending in a team of experts to evaluate the conditions here,” Ahmed replied.

  The men appeared happy to be given orders instead of issuing their own. After a thirty-second conference, they left the tent. Ahmed could hear orders being shouted as they went.

  That left him alone to ponder his next step. He peered outside. An initial line of guards was being formed around the rubble. A looser secondary ring was placed around the entire site. Activity from the first responders was winding down and, sensing a void, the media quickly filled it.

  Several news vans were clustered just outside of the debris field. Cameramen sought the best angles to show the destruction, while reporters using powerful verbs and intense adjectives added drama to the event. Producers were scrambling to line up interviews.

  Ahmed immediately noticed they were flocking to Rashi. He knew there would be speculation and scrutiny about what had caused the event over the coming weeks. Theories ranging from the Curse of the Pharaohs to the wrath of God would be cast around like a soothsayer throwing bones. Ahmed would let them spin their fables. It was the conspiracy theories he needed to control, because one of them would probably be correct.

  What Rashi said was critical. Her words would carry weight and be remembered long after the curses were forgotten. Ahmed saw her preparing for an interview and walked over.

  “You are alright? I was worried.” Ahmed bent to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away. He noted the change, but considering the circumstances didn’t dwell on it.

  “Lucky, I think. Is anyone . . . ?”

  Ahmed could see she was choked up and wanted to comfort her, but after having his first advance rebuked, he tried to reassure her verbally. “They have everyone accounted for.” Except for Beecher.

  “I will cond
uct a full inquiry.”

  She glanced toward the debris piled up at the base of the cliff. “It is a total loss. I would suggest starting with a geologist. That looks rather dangerous.”

  “Of course.” Ahmed had no intention of pursuing any kind of investigation. The only thing on his agenda was to have Beecher comb through the debris for any sign of malfeasance. “I’ll have Beecher handle it.”

  Ahmed’s phone rang, saving him from facing Rashi’s fierce expression at the mention of the excavator. Since Beecher was not an archeologist, Ahmed planned to emphasize safety over any resurrection of the tomb as the purpose of the inquiry. He knew of at least a dozen examples where promising excavations had been abandoned because of unstable conditions. The buzz created by the speculation and rumors, even the inevitable revival of the Curse of the Pharaoh, would still fuel the tourist industry, though only at a fraction of what discovering a real tomb would.

  The temporary gain was a personal loss for him. Ahmed was out of pocket for what he had paid the excavator and the forger. Someone would pay for that.

  “Yes,” he answered. He turned away and listened for a minute. “Bring them here.”

  Ahmed noticed the curious expression on Rashi’s face. “A cave-in at KV5. This is serious business. We are going to have to close the entire valley.” He didn’t tell her about the rest of the call.

  He turned back to Rashi. “Would you allow me to arrange a ride back to the hotel?”

  Rashi looked around the site. “Let me check in with my associates first, but thank you, yes.”

  She walked off in the direction of the debris. Ahmed turned his attention to an approaching Jeep. Inside he recognized the woman but instead of the younger man he expected who had accompanied her earlier, seated beside her was John Storm.

  He cursed.

  47

  The Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Egypt

  Mako’s options had dwindled with John and Gretchen in custody. His support team of Alaa, Assam, and Adon had been helpful, but they were not going to spring his father and Gretchen from an Egyptian jail. The dark side of diplomacy—blackmail—seemed the only solution.

  Until he remembered something that Adon had said.

  “Adon, you asked if we wanted to see the lost tombs. What are they?” There was nothing he could do from his hotel in Luxor that Alicia couldn’t do better from Key Largo.

  “Mister, no miss. I take you.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  The boy’s naïveté was refreshing. Before he lost cell reception again, Mako called Alicia and asked her to handle the minister. He got the GPS coordinates from TJ, but remained vague about his plan, just telling them that he would check back in an hour.

  Adon had Assam backtrack to the bend in the road where he had dropped them earlier. Mako had recorded the coordinates, but now found himself without service. A standalone GPS unit would be required—something he didn’t have.

  “I’m going with you,” Alaa said. He reached down and picked something up from the floorboard. Mako flinched when he saw the AK-47, partly because Alaa had produced it and also for the casual way he handled it. “Army. Two year mandatory conscription.”

  Mako assumed he had picked up the weapon when the Egyptian soldiers had laid down their arms to look for survivors. He stepped out of the cab and walked toward the embankment, where he followed the soldiers’ footsteps, which were now small divots in the sand.

  Adon led them toward the cliffs. They reached the bottom and he started to climb, following a path too narrow for a skinny goat. Mako picked his way up the slope. The trail wound around a steep area, where they began a short descent. They had entered a natural feature shielded from all sides. Mako glanced around, disoriented.

  Adon continued toward a small shadow on the cliff where he seemed to disappear. Mako followed, with Alaa acting as their rear guard. Mako walked directly to the spot he thought Adon had gone, but found himself facing a rock wall. Certain that this was where the boy had gone, he ran his hands over the surface, hoping to find any clue as to where the boy had disappeared. He stepped back, confused, and stared at the rock face.

  A small vertical slot revealed itself. The way the edges protruded shielded the opening from view, unless you were looking at it head-on. Mako slowly approached.

  Suddenly the boy popped out, causing Mako to jerk backward.

  “Lost tomb, mister. Come.”

  Now concerned more with what lay in front of them than behind, Mako followed Adon, with Alaa at the rear. The opening was dark, lit only by a small streak of sunlight that barely penetrated the entrance. Mako took out Assam’s phone, turned on the flashlight, and entered what appeared to be a narrow chasm in the rock face.

  Mako navigated a double-blind turn that rendered what lay beyond invisible to anyone who didn’t know the cavern’s secrets. Mako wondered how Adon had found the opening, but happenstance was responsible for many unique finds. The Dead Sea Scrolls, for example, had been found by a goat herder.

  Mako tried not to get excited when he saw the hieroglyphics chiseled into a smooth stone wall. The other tombs had also shown signs of ancient graffiti. His doubts fell away when he entered a large, squared-off chasm that was better described as a room. Before he could examine the walls and furnishings, his light caught the glitter of gold.

  “You like, mister?”

  “Adon, how did you find this?”

  The boy shrugged and Mako glanced around, studying the artifacts scattered in the chamber. After a few minutes of observation, he noticed that all the items were large. He had no firsthand knowledge of what ancient Egyptian graves were stocked with, but he had to assume there were also smaller items. Then it dawned on him that this grave had over the years been continuously plundered of the smaller, easily transported, and salable items.

  Mako wandered through the chamber. Ahead was a narrow opening. He assumed the burial chamber lay within. If he was correct, it would transform a mere cache of goods into a tomb.

  With the phone extended in front of him, Mako stepped into the opening. The light reflected off something in the center of the room, but before he could investigate further, the sound of a gunshot stopped him.

  “Adon?”

  “Here, mister.”

  “Stay with me.” Mako drew the gun he had taken from Beecher and walked back toward the double-blind entrance. Another shot fired, stopping him. If he were outside, he might have recognized whether it came from Alaa’s AK-47 or another weapon, but the sound reverberated off the contours of the cave walls, distorting it.

  Mako moved close enough to the entrance to allow his vision to slowly adjust to the blinding desert conditions. He waited, listening carefully. Quiet.

  “Alaa?” he whispered.

  There was no answer and Mako called out a little louder. He stopped and listened again. “Adon, wait here.”

  Mako didn’t wait for an answer. He raised the gun and stepped into the small clearing. Alaa lay on the ground, blood pooled near his head. Mako knew right away he was dead and stepped back into the cavern.

  He was rattled, not so much by the gunfight or even Alaa’s death, but by his situation. Thinking about the back door Beecher had made in the fake tomb, Mako asked Adon if there was another exit to this one.

  “No, mister. This one real.”

  The boy didn’t sound fazed. He had no doubt heard the gunfire, but had no idea Alaa had been hit. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Bad guys?” The boy made a pistol shape with his fingers and fired.

  “Yeah, bad guys. They got Alaa.” Mako figured telling him now would blunt the surprise. He needed the boy focused. Mako watched him carefully for any sign of distress. His face showed determination. Mako appreciated how tough these kids were. “Can you get us out of here?”

  Before Adon could answer, Mako heard a voice call out in Arabic. He glanced at Adon, but the boy was not forthcoming. A second later the demand was made in English.

  “We have you c
ornered. Come out now.”

  Facing an unknown opponent with only five rounds was not good odds, and for the second time that day Mako regretted not taking an AK-47 when he had the chance. Alaa’s lay by his body.

  “Two minutes and we are coming in.”

  Mako recognized the voice of the minister and wondered if John and Gretchen were with him.

  “He’s telling the truth, Mako.”

  John’s voice answered that question.

  “Prove that Gretchen is safe and I will surrender.”

  “I’m okay,” Gretchen called back.

  Mako now knew there must be at least two other bad guys with the minister in order to keep watch on his father and Gretchen.

  “Mako, you don’t have a choice.”

  It was Rashi’s voice.

  “He tracked you here.”

  Mako felt that one way or another a resolution was near. With Beecher crushed by rubble in the tomb of Ramses IX, all the players were present.

  “Okay. I’m coming out,” Mako called back. He felt Adon by his side. Not wanting to implicate or endanger the boy, Mako told him to stay put until they were gone and then run. The boy was scared now and looked up with sad eyes. Mako reached into his pocket and handed him the wad of cash he had left. The boy took it, but his expression didn’t change.

  “You take care of yourself.”

  “Yes, mister.”

  Mako stepped into the sunlight. The glare hit him immediately. Even with his eyes acclimated it was a shock. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Shapes turned to figures that became people.

  Five muzzles were pointed directly at him. Looking beyond the line of soldiers, Mako could see Gretchen, John, Rashi, and Ahmed.

  Mako dropped the gun and put his hands over his head.

  “Something of interest? You can’t think we just let you walk away without following.” Ahmed said, stepping through the line of soldiers. “Rashi, care to have a look?”

  One of the soldiers dropped back to guard John and Gretchen while another prodded Rashi forward. She dodged Mako’s glance, and he could see her conflicted expression as she walked toward the entrance.