The Forbidden Tomb

by Chris Kuzneski

  Obviously, he had failed.

  ‘Chief,’ McNutt said somberly, ‘did I hear Hector right?’

  The voice in Cobb’s ear snapped him out of his daze. He swallowed hard, forcing the anguish from his mind. He could grieve later. For now, he needed to quell his emotions and rescue the people who could still be saved.

  Though their mission had failed, it was far from over.

  They still needed to make it out alive.

  ‘Sarah, get out of there. There’s nothing else you can do.’

  * * *

  Despite her respect for Cobb, she completely disagreed with his order.

  There was something else she could do.

  She could kill everyone in the compound.

  Without saying a word, she turned and sprinted back toward the armory. Dade could barely keep pace as she charged down the long corridor. Fueled by rage, she burst through the door and scanned the room for something to help her cause.

  She had plenty of options.

  Though she lacked McNutt’s expertise, she had received extensive weapons training in the CIA. After grabbing a crowbar from a rack of tools, she pried open the nearest crate. Hoping that the relics had been well maintained, she instead found a collection of corroded firepower that hadn’t been touched in more than fifty years.

  She cursed her luck as she reached for another lid. She knew they were wasting time. She needed to find something useful, and she needed to find it fast. Unfortunately, the second crate was no better than the first.

  ‘This is junk!’ Sarah shouted as she continued to search.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Dade replied. ‘A gun is a gun is a gun. This isn’t the time to be picky!’

  Sarah glared at him. ‘This stuff hasn’t been fired since World War Two. That means more than five decades of neglect. You pull the trigger on one of those, and it’s liable to blow up in your face.’

  Dade grimaced. ‘No wonder they’re fighting with swords.’

  ‘Still,’ she said with determination, ‘there has to be something here that we can use. I don’t care if it’s old, as long as it isn’t rusted.’

  Sarah tore open a third crate and nodded. ‘Jackpot.’

  She tossed the lid aside, revealing a dozen Benelli M4 shotguns. The modern, Italian-made weapon was sturdy and reliable, with a shot pattern that didn’t require pinpoint accuracy. The M4 could hold seven shells in its magazine and one in the chamber, and its twelve-gauge rounds could blow a hole clean through someone’s chest.

  It was more than ideal for what Sarah had in mind.

  It was perfect.

  ‘Take this,’ she demanded as she handed one of the guns to Dade. She dug deeper into the crate, reaching for the ammunition that had been stored with the guns. She tossed a box of shells to Dade. ‘Fill the gun, then fill your pockets.’

  He had never seen Sarah like this.

  The person he knew tried to save lives, not take them.

  Still, he wasn’t about to interfere.

  Sarah watched as Dade fumbled his way through loading the weapon. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’

  Dade stared at her, not knowing if she was referring to his clumsy attempt to load the shotgun or to his role in her plan – assuming she had a plan.

  He simply shrugged in confusion.

  Sarah ripped the Benelli from his hands and quickly filled the magazine, holding it out so that he could understand the process. When she was done, she pulled the shotgun to her shoulder and took aim at the video equipment mounted above the door. She pulled the trigger, and the camera disintegrated, along with a large chunk of the wall.

  She tossed the gun back to Dade. ‘Got it?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ she growled as she motioned toward the door. ‘Shoot anything that tries to come through. If it keeps moving, shoot it again.’

  Garcia chimed in. ‘Sarah, where are you? I don’t have eyes on you anymore.’

  ‘And neither do they,’ she snapped at him. ‘Don’t worry about what’s going on in here. Just let me know if someone’s headed our way. Got it?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Garcia said. ‘Whatever you need.’

  She glanced at Dade. ‘Does your comm still work?’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Your comm. Can you hear Hector?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled, worried about his friend. He anxiously watched as she turned away from him and searched through the chemical compounds that lined the wall. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m thinning the herd.’

  As she inspected the shelves, cartons, and bins that lined the wall, she was shocked and amazed at the variety of explosives that they had hoarded. She knew that compounds like Semtex and C-4 were great for jobs like the one in Alexandria – the explosives were stable enough that they wouldn’t explode en route, and they could be molded into a variety of shapes and sizes for maximum effect – but they also had their drawbacks. Namely, each package of explosive required its own blasting cap.

  On the other hand, dynamite and other nitroglycerin-based compounds didn’t require a primary blast as a simple electrical charge or standard fuse would trigger their explosion, but their destructive force was relatively weak when compared to plastic explosives. And for a job like this, weak simply wouldn’t cut it.

  No, Sarah was looking for something between the two products. Something that would fully incinerate the bunker yet could be ignited without the hassle of hundreds of detonators. Something simple yet devastating. A chemical with some serious kick.

  Something like ammonium nitrate.

  The white powder looked more like laundry detergent than a lethal explosive, but Sarah knew the damage it could inflict. In 1947, a shipload of ammonium nitrate detonated in Texas’s Galveston Bay. The resulting blast shattered windows forty miles away in Houston. The shockwave tore the wings off planes flying overhead, and the ship’s anchor was eventually found on the other side of the city. The explosion started a chain of destruction that has been compared to that of an atomic bomb.

  All because the shipment overheated.

  Sarah popped the lid from the plastic drum and stared down at the substance. The ammonium nitrate in this one container would easily take out the armory, the hallways, and the cell where she hoped the priests were still dying a slow, excruciating death. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted the entire compound to burn.

  Fortunately, there were three more barrels of the deadly mix.

  Enough to incinerate the compound several times over.

  Sarah smiled at the thought.

  To ensure that the chemicals ignited, Sarah pulled a brick of Semtex from the shelf. She rigged the package with an electronic detonator that would allow them to flee before the fireworks started, then she dropped the bomb into the barrel of ammonium nitrate and reaffixed the lid. She could now ravage the bunker with a push of a button, eradicating the minions that called it home.

  They had ended her friend’s life.

  Now she would end theirs.

  Sarah secured the detonator in her tunic and grabbed a shotgun of her own. It was time to leave. ‘Hector, how’s it looking?’

  ‘The hallway is clear. They’ve all rallied at the holding cell.’

  She stuffed a handful of shells into her pockets. ‘Simon, we’re leaving.’

  ‘It’s about time,’ Dade mumbled.

  He exited first, with Sarah directly behind him. But instead of running, she paused for a moment to sabotage the lock on the armory door. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would prevent the Muharib from accessing their weapons anytime soon. Once she was done, they hurriedly retraced their steps back toward the exit shaft.

  Garcia warned them of potential obstacles. ‘There are four guards waiting for you in the room near the hatch. I think they’re there to block your escape.’

  ‘Are they armed?’ she demanded.

  ‘Only with swords,’ Garcia informed her.

  ‘Big mistake,’
she muttered. ‘Simon—’

  He cut her off. ‘I know, I know. I’m the distraction.’

  Simon took a deep breath then ran toward the exit at full speed. When he approached the room where the guards were waiting, he unleashed a primal scream and ran past their door. The four guards immediately gave chase, none of them bothering to check for intruders that might be approaching from behind. This, of course, was a fatal mistake because Sarah mowed them down like targets in a shooting gallery.

  Blood and brains sprayed the walls of the hallway as she opened fire. Round after round tore through them, eviscerating bodies and spilling guts onto the floor.

  The guards never stood a chance.

  When it was over, Sarah just stood there in the midst of the carnage. Overwhelmed by rage, she could barely remember what she had done. All she knew was that she had wanted them to die, over and over and over again.

  Eventually, she looked down at the weapon in her hands.

  She was still pulling the trigger on the empty gun.

  Dade hurdled the corpses and returned to her side. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she lied as she tossed her shotgun to the floor.

  He followed her lead and did the same. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.’

  Due to the weight of the hatch above, Dade opted to go first. Sarah might have been tougher, but he was stronger. There was no doubt about that.

  They climbed the ladder as quickly as they could, one after the other, clearing two rungs at a time as they hoisted themselves toward the surface where the battle continued to rage in the nearby desert.

  With the detonator in her pocket, Sarah knew it would be over soon.

  She had lost a friend, but she would have her revenge.

  She would make them pay for her loss.

  Unfortunately, Kamal was thinking the same thing.

  78

  Dade slid the heavy plate from the top of the chute, giving them access to the desert above. He peeked out of the concrete cylinder like a meerkat looking for a predator and quickly learned that they weren’t alone.

  Unable to use the tunnel himself, Kamal had waited patiently near the hatch, playing a hunch that Dade would exit in the same place that he had gone in. His restraint was rewarded when his former colleague emerged from below. Wasting no time, Kamal grabbed Dade by the neck, lifted him from the hole, then tossed him through the air like a bag of trash before he turned back to deal with his accomplice.

  * * *

  A moment earlier, Dade had been blocking her path on the ladder. Now he was nowhere in sight, as if he had been grabbed by Amun and pulled to the heavens above.

  Sarah glanced up to figure out how that was possible.

  She had her answer a second later.

  Kamal’s face filled the space above, soon followed by a glimpse of his gun. In the cramped space of the tunnel, she knew she was an easy target. With those odds hanging over her head – not to mention the ugly brute – she did the one and only thing she could think of to avoid near-certain death.

  She released her grip and plummeted to the floor below.

  * * *

  Kamal didn’t care how she died, only that she did. With that in mind, he simply stepped to the edge of the opening and fired a single shot at the woman on the ladder. He watched her fall before he slammed the lid shut and refocused his attention on Dade.

  His death would not be quick.

  Dade, still reeling from the shock of his unexpected flight, rose to all fours while trying to catch his breath. Unfortunately, this made him an attractive target to Kamal, who charged toward him and kicked him as hard as he could in the midsection. The giant smiled when Dade started to cough up blood, knowing that he had broken some ribs.

  ‘Get up, you deceitful slug!’ Kamal shouted in his native Arabic. He didn’t care if Dade understood him. He was merely venting his anger. ‘Stand up and face the consequences of your actions!’

  But Dade didn’t stand.

  He merely groaned in pain.

  So Kamal kicked him again, toppling him onto his back.

  Kamal glanced down at him without pity and raised his boot above Dade’s face. Then, with as much force as he could muster, he tried to stomp his head into the ground, but somehow Dade found the strength to roll out of the way.

  The giant smiled at the effort.

  He was having fun.

  * * *

  Sarah opened her eyes at the base of the ladder. Her ears were ringing and her head throbbed from her crash landing on the floor, but she was okay.

  At least she thought she was.

  She patted herself just to make sure.

  No blood, as far as she could tell.

  Just a bump on her head.

  Still gathering her senses, she glanced at the ladder above and tried to remember everything that she had seen before her fall.

  The hatch. The giant. His gun.

  Then it hit her. ‘Simon!’

  * * *

  Dade clambered to his feet. His neck ached and his ribs were broken, but he had to fight through the pain. His quickness was the only advantage that he had over his bigger, stronger opponent, and he couldn’t use it lying on the ground.

  Kamal raised his fists like a boxer. ‘Come. Fight like a man.’

  In response, Dade flung a fistful of sand in the giant’s face, momentarily blinding him. Then he charged forward, hoping to use the moment of weakness to incapacitate his opponent with a swift kick to the groin. The plan probably would have worked on a shorter man, but due to a combination of things – Kamal’s height, poor traction in the desert sand, plus Dade’s inability to swing his foot high enough to even reach Kamal’s crotch – Dade barely grazed his target. Instead of inflicting excruciating pain, his foot got stuck between the giant’s thighs like a car getting wedged between two walls.

  ‘Son of a bitch!’ Dade said, embarrassed by his failure.

  Soon his shame would turn to pain.

  Still blinded from the sand, Kamal couldn’t fully see his challenger, but he could feel his foot in a place it shouldn’t be. He responded by grabbing Dade’s leg and twisting it with so much force that the ligaments ripped in his knee and ankle.

  Dade screamed in agony and tried to pull away but was unable to break the giant’s grip. He frantically clawed at his tormentor, hoping to break the vise-like lock as the shooting pain in his leg took hold of him. He was on the verge of passing out when Kamal finally released his grasp.

  Not out of sympathy.

  But to end Dade’s life.

  * * *

  The thought of Dade had driven Sarah to her feet. She knew he was defenseless, having dropped his shotgun before ascending the ladder. She scrambled to find the weapon, knowing that it was still fully loaded.

  Dade hadn’t fired a shot.

  She had seven chances to settle things.

  She grabbed the gun in one hand and climbed the ladder with the other. Her progress was slow and lurching as she struggled with the awkward, single-handed climb.

  Still, she couldn’t give up on him.

  Not in his time of need.

  * * *

  Kamal’s anvil-like fists rained down on Dade, unleashing a torrent of pent-up rage: for the indignity that he had suffered at Hassan’s house, the humiliation of tracking the Americans through the sewers, the devastating loss of his entire crew, and his displeasure at accompanying Dade in the city and during the long ride through the desert.

  It was simply too much to handle.

  Enjoying every single moment, Kamal had started low and had methodically worked his way up. Now that he had reached Dade’s face, he stared down at him with a crazed look in his eyes. He grabbed Dade’s jaw and smiled, making his next target clear.

  ‘For Tarek,’ he growled in English.

  Dade defiantly spat blood in the thug’s face. ‘Fuck Tarek.’

  Infuriated by the insult to his dead best friend, Kamal grabbed
a softball-sized rock from the sand and swung it at Dade’s head. The bones of his face collapsed under the pressure, killing him instantly. But Kamal continued to pound away, releasing his hatred with blow after angry blow. The giant never let up, not even as Dade’s skull was reduced to nothing but a sopping stew of bones and brains and hair in the arid desert sand.

  79

  Sarah reached the top of the ladder and crawled into the moonlight. No more than twenty feet away, she could see Kamal hunched over Dade’s lifeless body.

  The fight was already over.

  She was too late to save another friend.

  The grief was nearly too much to bear – even for someone like Sarah.

  If she had wanted to, she could have run to safety. Kamal was clearly lost in his rage, and he assumed that she was dead. It was likely that he never would have noticed her. She could have easily slipped past him and returned to base camp.

  But the thought never crossed her mind.

  Without saying a word, Sarah lifted the shotgun to her shoulder, trained it on the unsuspecting thug, and opened fire. The shot tore through Kamal’s arm, spinning him to the ground. The second shot splintered his leg. He cried out in agony, but she was all out of sympathy and would be for a very long time.

  Clinging to life, Kamal did the only thing he could.

  He reached for his pistol, determined to go out fighting.

  Sarah granted his wish, unloading the remaining rounds into his chest before he could brandish a weapon. With every shot she moved closer, growing more and more satisfied with every pull of the trigger. By the time she reached him, it was very clear that he was dead, but she kicked him a few times just to be sure.

  * * *

  Garcia had watched her carry the shotgun up the ladder, and he had heard the shots shortly thereafter, but he had no idea what had happened. Once she had left the bunker, he could no longer track her movement with the network of cameras.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said, ‘can you hear me? What’s your status?’