“Things are going to go to hell, fast,” murmured Niner.
“They’re going to have to declare martial law and put troops on the streets until things calm down.”
Dawson looked at Atlas and nodded.
“I’m afraid you’re right. Good thing so far is there aren’t any reports of retaliation back home yet.”
“It’ll come,” said Red, his eyes glued to the television. “How can’t it? They destroyed the Statue of Liberty, for Christ’s sake. They have to pay.” He sighed, waving his hand in the air. “You know what I mean.”
Dawson gave his friend a weak smile. He knew exactly what he meant, for he had the conflicting emotions too. He realized it was a minority, but right now, at this very instant, he wanted them all dead. It was the same way he had felt on 9/11. He wanted all Muslims everywhere dead so it could never happen again. But the emotions had subsided, and he had done his duty, protecting the innocent and killing those truly responsible. And the coming weeks and months would be no different. Those responsible, who would never have the courage to actually be one of those who sacrificed themselves, would be at large, would be identified, would be found, and would be killed.
By people like him.
The door to the common area opened, and Dawson looked up to see the Executive Officer beckoning him. Dawson pushed himself from the couch and followed the man into the hallway.
“Feel up for some action?”
Dawson’s teeth clenched.
“After what I just saw, you better believe it.”
The XO nodded, his face one of understanding.
“We’ve got a group of British nationals in Egypt that need evac along with an American citizen. Should be a cakewalk, but you never know after today. You up for it?”
As soon as Dawson had heard the mission, his stomach had leapt.
“Archeological dig?”
The XO’s eyebrows shot up.
“How’d you guess?”
Dawson shook his head.
“Just a hunch.”
Those two are always involved.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site
Acton eyed the man approaching them, the smile being displayed clearly designed to put them at ease, yet there was something wrong that he couldn’t put his finger on. The uniforms seemed in order, the vehicles as well, but there was something off.
Leather stepped up behind them and Acton turned his head slightly as the man began to speak quietly, his lips barely moving.
“These aren’t Egyptian army.”
“How can you tell,” asked Reading.
“Their unit patches don’t match, probably stolen or retired uniforms. And their weapons aren’t standard issue, just a mishmash of Kalashnikov’s.”
Acton’s eyes flashed to the shoulders of the men, suddenly realizing what it was that wasn’t right.
“Who do you think they are?”
“If they were here to kill us, they would have already,” said Leather. “I’m guessing these are the guys who were watching us.”
“Recommendations.”
“Play along. If they want us to leave, let’s politely refuse and see what they do. If they insist, we insist on keeping our weapons. If that fails, I’ve got a contingency plan.”
“What contingency plan?” asked Acton.
“I am Colonel Soliman of the First Field Army, Third Corps, Eighth Mechanized Division. Whom may I ask is in charge?”
The man’s English was impeccable, probably American educated, and his interruption left Acton wondering what contingency plan Leather might have planned. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Leather was gone.
How the hell did he do that?
Laura stepped forward.
“I’m Professor Laura Palmer, University College London. We’re here on a dig authorized by your government. Would you like to see the paperwork?”
The man’s smile broadened and he waved his hands.
“Professor Palmer, that’s not necessary at all. I’m well aware of your dig, and its legality. We’re here to evacuate you, only temporarily.”
“Why’s that?” asked Acton, stepping to Laura’s side.
“Have you not heard the news?” The man shook his head. “Perhaps you have not. There have been many attacks across the world today, terrorist attacks.”
“We’ve heard,” replied Laura. “How does that impact us?”
“Hopefully it doesn’t, however word of your discovery has spread across the world, and, well”—the man shrugged his shoulders, displaying his palms—“I have my orders to evacuate you until we can be assured of your safety.”
“Why not station a guard here instead, that way we can continue our work?”
It was Reading who suggested it, and it was a brilliant test in Acton’s mind. It seemed to catch the man off guard, and his eyes darted between the small group until he finally found words.
“I have my orders. To disobey them in today’s Egypt is not a good idea, I’m sure you’ll understand.” He motioned to the second, apparently empty vehicle. “There are supplies in the back, and plenty of room. Come, we have a long journey ahead of us.”
“May we keep our weapons? We don’t want to just leave them lying around.”
Colonel Soliman thought for a moment, then nodded. “I don’t see why not.”
Acton heard the phone ring in Laura’s pocket, but she didn’t answer. It stopped ringing after three tries, then went to voicemail. Probably Terrence checking in. Acton’s heart thudded a little harder.
Or somebody calling to warn us these guys are here to kill us.
“How many of you are there?” asked the Colonel.
“Just eight,” replied Laura.
“So few?”
“Our students evacuated hours ago.”
It in fact had been less than an hour, but Acton knew Laura was hoping their “rescuers” would think they were too far ahead to bother trying to catch. The Colonel smiled. “Good, I hope they will reach safety soon.”
He stepped closer and extended his hand. Laura reached forward to take it, then suddenly grabbed the man by the shirt cuff, ripping it open, revealing a tattoo.
A tattoo of a king cobra, coiled around the hieroglyph representing Death.
The same design as on the inside of Cleopatra’s tomb!
“Who the bloody hell are you?” exclaimed Reading as they all stared at the tattoo.
The Colonel simply smiled, continuing to hold Laura’s hand, slowly turning his wrist up, exposing his lower arm for all to see.
“I am with The Brotherhood, and your actions here have been blasphemous.”
One of the “soldiers” yelled something, pointing, causing the Colonel to break his grip of Laura’s hand, and his eyes to bulge in shock. Acton spun around to see all four of their security team racing over the ridge and out of sight.
Acton just hoped the contingency plan Leather had referred to was not to save their own asses.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, Approaching the Egyptian Army Checkpoint
“I’m really worried.”
“I know you are,” soothed Jenny. “We all are.”
“Why wouldn’t she answer?”
“Perhaps they were busy loading the vehicles.”
Terrence knew he was being patronized, but it still felt good to have someone like Jenny doing it.
“What’s that?” asked Stephen, pointing as they rounded a bend.
“Shit!” exclaimed Terrence, taking his foot off the accelerator and gently applying the brakes so as not to have a repeat of just a few minutes ago. “What the hell is that?”
Jenny stood up and pointed. “Are those bodies?”
Terrence wasn’t certain, but what was certain is there had been an accident or incident recently. Several vehicles were smoldering, and nothing seemed to be moving at what appeared to have been some sort of roadblock. Terrence took his foot off the brake, easing the clutch up as he gave it some gas, rolling slowly
forward, toward what he didn’t know.
As they neared it became clear that there were indeed bodies strewn about, and the stench of at least one burning corpse filled the air. As they rounded the shell of a vehicle and through what had been the roadblock, Terrence nearly yelped when he saw a man jump out in front of them, waving his arms.
Terrence hit the brakes, and the man was at his window within seconds, babbling in Arabic.
Terrence shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Arabic. Do you speak English?”
“A little.” The man sucked in a breath, then deliberately pronouncing each word, said, “Get. Me. The. Hell. Out. Of. Here.” He smiled. “Understand?”
Terrence couldn’t help but laugh, as did the rest of the occupants.
“What happened here?”
“Bad men, army men, attack. Kill everyone.”
“Why not you?”
The man pointed beyond a ridge. “I over there. Bathroom.”
Terrence looked to where the man was pointing. Lucky bastard.
“Was it three trucks?” asked Jenny.
The man nodded. “Three. Very bad men.” He grabbed Terrence by the shoulder. “Get. Me. The—”
Terrence held up his hand, nodding. “I got you. Give me a minute, okay?”
The man nodded and Terrence pulled out the satellite phone, hitting the speed dial. It rang several times, then answered, but all he heard was gunfire and shouting. He put it on speaker so the rest could hear, both vehicles of students surrounding the phone, listening in horror as their guardians died.
Tears streaked the faces of them all as they stood helpless to do anything.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, Within Sight of University College London Dig Site
Adel lay on the ground, his chest still heaving from the sprint of several miles he had just completed. His Imam had requested that he go ahead to survey the archeologists’ camp before the attack, and what he had seen was of no comfort. There appeared to be at least two dozen armed Egyptian troops, along with half a dozen Westerners. Where the students were, he had no idea. He had run back to the convoy to report this, and had been ordered to return and report when the troops left.
Three trips, with a fourth in his future, had left him exhausted and thirsty. Why no one had thought to bring radios was beyond him, and their cellphones wouldn’t work out here in the desert. It wasn’t his place to question the wisdom of his Imam, but sometimes he had to wonder.
And why the delay?
All over the world their brothers were sacrificing themselves, willingly, to strike at the infidels who would prevent the return of the Caliphate, yet here, today, his Imam and his followers sat, waiting for the enemy to leave? Why? Why not simply charge in and kill them all, then destroy the blasphemous idols that had just been discovered?
It suddenly occurred to him that his Imam had waited in the truck during the assault on the checkpoint. He hadn’t risked his life at all. Was it because he was more important than them? It had to be. Adel sighed, satisfying himself with that explanation, rather than the one that had been nibbling its way forward in the back of his mind.
He’s a coward!
There were no cowards amongst the true believers. A true believer knew what awaited him on the other side in paradise, in Jannah, if he died in service to Allah. Seventy two virgins, there to please him for eternity.
I wonder what women get?
He shrugged his shoulders.
As long as I get my virgins, I’m happy.
He peered through the binoculars, surveying the camp, and nearly jumped up to shout a warning when he noticed four of those from the camp strolling up an embankment to the south.
And that’s when he noticed what appeared to be a pulley system set up.
That must be where the blasphemous idols are!
Gunfire erupted and he watched as the four men scrambled over the ridge and out of range. He felt his heart slam into his chest as nearly half the soldiers ran in pursuit. Adrenaline surged through his veins, his hands beginning to shake with liquid courage as he damned his orders from the coward who would claim to be their better, and instead rose to his feet, Kalashnikov at the ready, and charged down the hill, unnoticed.
I do this in your name, Allah, please reward me should I die!
“Allahu Akbar!”
Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site
Acton was still staring at the ridge where their supposed security team had fled, debating whether or not he hoped the men chasing him were successful or not, when the all too familiar scream of “Allahu Akbar” rang out from behind him. He spun around to see a man charging over a dune and rushing toward them, his weapon belching lead. Several of the imposters dropped, two crying out in pain, the third silent, the hole in his head explaining why.
The “colonel”, if he could be called that, raised his weapon and calmly fired, dropping the man less than fifty feet from the first truck. He continued to writhe on the ground, his shouts of “God is great” in Arabic muted, but continuous. Several of the imposters rushed over to him, the first kicking his weapon away, the rest aiming their weapons at his chest as the colonel approached.
Acton, unable to resist, and unhindered by the preoccupied force, walked over to see who the man was. His uniform matched the others, but his weapon seemed old and well-worn, suggesting he too was an imposter.
He muttered something while glaring at Acton, and the colonel looked over his shoulder at the archeologist.
“What did he say?” asked Acton.
“He said ‘many more are coming’.”
Acton shuddered.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s not army.”
“Neither are you.”
It was Laura, now standing by his side, who challenged the man with the hypocrisy of his statement.
The man nodded. “You are correct, neither are we.” He pointed at the man who began to shake on the ground, then stop breathing with a gurgle, the hole in his stomach finally doing its job. “But if there are more like him coming, then like the proverb said, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ And we must become friends, if we stand a chance.”
“Why would we help you?” asked Acton, exasperated at this sudden turn. “And who the hell are you?”
The colonel motioned for the body to be moved away, then he led Acton and Laura back toward the camp, where Chaney and Reading were standing with the lone reporter. The colonel pointed at the reporter.
“You are?”
“Naser Khattab. Al Ahram newspaper, Cairo.”
The colonel nodded. “I know you. I’ve read your work. It is very good.” He leaned in. “At times.”
Naser stammered, not sure what to say to the qualified compliment.
“Umm, thank you?”
“You will report nothing of what I say, or I shall have you killed.”
Before Naser could respond, the colonel turned to Laura.
“You have discovered the tomb of Cleopatra.”
“Yes. And Antony.”
The man nodded toward the pulley on the ridge to the south.
“Over there.”
“Yes.”
“And what are your intentions?”
“To document the find, and should the Supreme Council of Antiquities wish it, remove the artifacts so they can be shown to the world.”
“Are you not aware that it is blasphemous to touch the tomb of a pharaoh?”
“I understand that there are those in the past who held those beliefs.”
“In the past?” The colonel seemed slightly exasperated at this. “I can assure you it is true in the present as well.”
“By some, I’ll grant you. However I think a proper, respectful cataloging of the find should satisfy even those people.”
The colonel seemed to pause a moment, then looked at the four Westerners.
“I am happy to see I was right about you. Your intentions are good, your motiv
ations are good, only your ignorance is at fault here. Which is why I did not order your immediate execution.”
Acton instinctively placed his shoulder ahead of his fiancée.
“And again, we ask, who are you?”
“I am Mohammad Soliman, Eldest of The Brotherhood.”
“The Brotherhood?”
“We are the male descendants of a family sworn to protect the tomb of Cleopatra, and of other Pharaohs, from blasphemers who would desecrate their final resting places.”
Acton squinted slightly. Another two thousand year old organization? If he didn’t know of several others, he’d be inclined to dismiss the man’s claims, but with the knowledge he had gleaned over the years, nothing surprised him anymore.
“So you’re not a colonel in the army?” asked Reading.
“Actually, I was. Recently retired. I find the uniform and title come in handy at times.”
“How many are you?” asked Acton.
“Enough.”
“But didn’t you desecrate the remains yourself?”
Acton cringed at Laura’s question.
Don’t antagonize the man with the gun, Dear!
The man nodded, a slight smile of respect emerging from the corners of his mouth.
“Indeed we did, but from necessity. The founders of our group discovered Queen Cleopatra’s tomb violated within mere weeks of it being sealed. We took matters into our own hands and moved her tomb here, onto lands my family once owned millennia ago. We have kept her secret ever since.”
“You mentioned others.” This time it was Reading who had been paying attention.
“We have moved several tombs into the area. At least our ancestors had. We merely guard those already moved from people looting them.”
“And why are you here?”
“To evacuate you.”
“Why?”
The colonel motioned at the corpse now resting behind a nearby boulder.
“Because of fanatics like him.”
“And why should we help you?”
“You have no other choice.”
The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 17