The Seven Seals of Egypt (Matt Drake Book 17)

by David Leadbeater

  “You think he was manipulated back then too?”

  Alicia shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Soldiers carry out their orders and don’t ask questions. This was more about the man—the beast, if you like. I’ve never seen such ferociousness. It stopped me in my tracks. The only time that’s ever happened.”

  A silence panned out, punctuated by the road noise and the whistling air-con. In the end it was broken in the best, inimitable way of the Mad Swede.

  “Kenzie,” he said quietly into the silence with the comms on. “Please remove your hand from my lap.”

  Drake laughed. Even Alicia smiled. Smyth took the chance to tell everyone they were twenty minutes out and to start loading up. Their supply of ammo and other military gear was dwindling rapidly. If they didn’t top up soon, they’d be out before the next seal presented itself. Drake knew Crouch could probably take care of that, but didn’t want to rely solely on his ex-boss.

  A small town appeared up ahead; dusty, sandy and shining under the sun. Most of the buildings were dull browns and beiges, but some of the taller ones glimmered and more than one faux-gold capstone twinkled. Smyth made his way through until they were a block from the obelisk and then pulled up. Dust surrounded the vehicle as he stopped.

  “Reccy time,” Hayden said. “Don’t forget we have more than just mercenaries looking for the seals, and now Luther too. Bring your A game, guys.”

  Drake and Yorgi moved off to the left as the rest of the team split. The heat outside was unrelenting, beating down at his scalp, but at least there wasn’t the slightest breath of wind to stir the sand up. With a quick look he confirmed the others were on their way, Alicia and Mai together—surprise there. Dahl and Kenzie joined at the hip—no shock there. Drake worried for the big Swede, but getting personal was not his place. Half an hour later they all met up.

  “All clear,” Crouch said.

  “Seems so,” Alicia said.

  The obelisk stood less than a hundred meters before them, rising straight and high, and pointing right up at the heavens, at the sun. It was sandy in color, imposing in height and covered in pictures and hieroglyphics.

  “Y’know,” Alicia said with a laugh. “What the hell are we gonna do if the picture’s above head fucking height?”

  Drake blinked. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. It now became clear that their headlong flight across Egypt wasn’t exactly conducive to clear thought. Also, the stress caused by being on the run felt like a blanket, shrouding and blocking plain, sharp judgment. Crouch though, gave a short laugh.

  “No worries,” he said. “We zoom in with these.” He patted a pair of field glasses. “Great magnification and photo option included.”

  The obelisk stood in a tiny square, paving all around. To the left sat a low huddle of homes and to the right a hodgepodge chain of ugly buildings.

  Alicia stared at the perpendicular object. “Stands out like a sore—”

  “Alicia,” Drake warned her. “There are people around.”

  “What?”

  Those few passing by were locals, judging by their look and clothing. No tourists over here. Drake studied alleys and windows but saw no furtive movement. Crouch started forward.

  “Best get started.”

  Drake saw pictures he’d become used to now: large and small hieroglyphics. It didn’t take long for most of the team to scan the obelisk whilst two stayed on watch. After that it was Crouch using his binoculars to study each side. The capstone portrayal was at the very top and on the back of the obelisk, just underneath its own shining pinnacle. Crouch struggled to get a good photo because of the position of the sun, but came away after ten minutes of trying.

  “I think I have it.” He rotated a wheel, zooming in on the screen’s image. Four pairs of eyes crowded around to get a better look.

  “Is there anything to confirm it’s the doomsday device?” Kenzie asked.

  “No, but what else could it be? There was once talk of the Giza pyramid itself being built for such a purpose but it’s all too fantastical. Passageways hewn at just the right angle could amplify and cohere energy emissions using highly sophisticated crystal technology. It’s all a little too farfetched for me. I’m backing simple weapon, simple technology. It’s the capstone. But now . . . that’s interesting . . . the new depiction is the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut,” Crouch said with awe. “That’s easy to find and enter. Very famous. But, oh hell, it’s bloody huge.”

  “Bigger than the tomb?” Alicia asked.

  “Many, many times.”

  “Good job there are so many of us,” Kenzie said positively. “We’ll get the job done.”

  “But no chance of destroying or even hiding the picture.” Dahl gazed up at the topmost heights of the obelisk. “Which I think we should do with at least one of these clues.”

  Hayden clapped Kinimaka on the back. “We could always ask Mano here to lean up against it.”

  Drake smiled. “Or just walk past it.”

  “Hey, cool it, brah. Or I might just walk past you.”

  Drake studied the terrain for the dozenth time. “Abba is right though,” he said. “We do have to slow our pursuers.”

  The roar of a powerful engine and the grinding of large tires reached their ears.

  Drake keyed the mic. “Smyth?”

  “We got two fully laden military vehicles headed right toward us. Full-on velocity too. They’re taking no prisoners.”

  Crouch went sheet-white. “No. Not now. We can’t—”

  Drake felt a strange trickle of trepidation drip down his spine. “Luther?”

  “Well, none of them trucks got a name,” Smyth said. “But the way, even on approach, there’s men hanging out the windows with RPGs I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet.”

  Judgment, Drake thought.

  Their judgment was here.

  And it had brought the motherfucking fire.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Flight or flight? Drake thought. Fight or flight?

  Ordinarily, the choice was clear but today it had a number of cloudy alternatives. In the end there was no choice. Crouch was already running for the lead car.

  “Outgunned. Outplayed. They have superior vehicles, backup and drones. Just run.” The man’s voice was calm over the comms.

  Hayden’s decision had to be split-second. “Go.”

  They crowded back into the cars, waiting twenty seconds for Smyth and Kenzie, and then gunned it down one of the tributaries that led away from the town. Even inside the cars they could hear the roar of Luther’s transport, hear it growing closer and closer. The man knew exactly where they were, possibly aided by the drones, but now Drake remembered something.

  “You said Luther was old school,” he said. “He won’t have backup or eyes in the sky.”

  “I know,” Crouch said seriously. “But we had to move. We could never have held that square as we were.”

  “So he’s what . . .” Alicia asked. “Sniffing us out?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Crouch said. “He’s here now!”

  Ahead, two military Hummers swung into the street, traveling two-abreast. Drake’s mouth fell open in shock as they began to pick up speed.

  “Do not play chicken with this maniac!” the Yorkshireman cried.

  Crouch swung the wheel right, followed by Kinimaka in the second vehicle. “I don’t intend to. I don’t have a death wish, Drake.” He jammed his foot to the floor, pouring on the speed.

  Drake turned around, saw Kinimaka’s vehicle almost kissing their rear fender and then, storming around the sharp corner, both of Luther’s Hummers, bouncing off potholes and walls alike.

  “He’s not holding back.”

  “And neither will we.” Hayden was breaking out the rear window in the following car, preparing to shoot.

  “Wait,” Dahl said. “This man, notwithstanding his reputation, is a government employee, sent by the Americans, carrying out a mission. Do we know his orders are to kill, or capture? Do we know who sent h
im? Certainly not President Coburn. Do we know if he wants to talk, or shoot?”

  Drake tended to agree with the Swede. Luther was a soldier under orders, not a mercenary taking dollars for blood.

  “Meatballs has a point,” he said. “Surprisingly.”

  “Call me one more Swedish export and I’ll set Kenzie on you.”

  “Ooh,” Drake cackled. “Promises, promises. Ow!”

  Alicia removed her fist from his ribs. “Careful, boy.”

  “Shit, I can’t even crack jokes anymore?”

  “Listen,” Crouch cut across them. “Let’s have the verdict. What are we going to do?”

  Dahl took a careful squint through the rear window. “I have an idea.”

  Drake threw a hand up to either side of his face. “God, no.”

  “Believe me,” Dahl smiled, “you’ll like it.”

  With that he told Crouch and Kinimaka to stamp on the brake pedals. Both vehicles came to a quick stop, jarring the occupants. The chasing Hummers slammed on too, the closest impacting gently with Kinimaka’s rear trunk lid.

  Dahl was out of the car, the others bemoaning the sanity of the plan but forced to follow. The Swede chose to climb up onto their Jeep’s hood, then climbed the windscreen and ran across the top of the car.

  Jumped onto Kinimaka’s, still running.

  Drake followed, and then Alicia. The others chose the low route, using the roadway. Dahl jumped onto the second Jeep’s roof and ran harder. Doors were opening further back, four men with weapons climbing out. By then Dahl was leaping through thin air, hitting the first Hummer’s hood with both boots and continuing his run. Drake was three steps behind. At floor level the rest of the team were keeping pace, weapons kept low but at the ready.

  “Hold there!” a voice boomed out, augmented by some kind of tannoy system built into the Hummer.

  Dahl, atop the vehicle, paused. Drake stopped outside the windshield, staring in at the speaker himself.

  Luther.

  Their eyeballs fused, unable to wrench one from the other. Drake saw a muscle-bound man in his early forties, a man with a head as big as a bear’s, with a millimeter of bristle for hair, with hard, purposeful black eyes and with a well-lined face set with formidable, granite-like determination. A terrible white scar ran from his lips to his temple.

  “Hold right there,” Luther spoke into a radio. “Turn yourselves in. We’re taking you in, Drake. Dahl. All of you. Put down your arms and surrender.”

  Drake had to try even though he guessed it would be hopeless. “You’re being manipulated, mate. We’re not the enemy they’re painting us to be. And this . . . this is a really bad time.”

  “Not my call,” Luther boomed. “I gotta deliver every last one of you, dead or alive. Now . . . lay down your arms.”

  Dahl glanced at Drake; they had their answer. Alicia jammed a finger into her right ear. “Wow, man, even your voice is loud.”

  “Sorry, dude,” Drake said. “But we’re laying down nothing.”

  Dahl leapt from the roof on top of a soldier, bringing a forearm across the bridge of the man’s nose. He went down, groaning. Dahl wrestled his weapon away and threw it up to Drake.

  Drake threw it back to Hayden.

  One more to the tally.

  Alicia rushed to help Dahl. A shot sounded, loud in the narrow road, signaling Luther’s lack of knowledge or respect for all they had previously accomplished. Drake slammed a boot on the windshield right in front of Luther’s face.

  “Get your old, moldy ass out here,” he said. “I got a beating for you.”

  Luther unfolded his body from the car seat, slammed the door open, and jumped out. Drake met him head on, giving no mercy because he knew none would be given. Luther was a rock, a solid rack of beef. Drake’s knuckles jarred as punches landed. Up close, he put the gun away and tried to take Luther down.

  The huge soldier was fast, as fast as Drake and stronger. He took the punches without flinching. As he fought he kept an eye on his men, on Drake’s team, and much of the terrain around. Drake found no weaknesses. The Hummers disgorged five figures in total, four men and one woman who all immediately fought nose to nose against Drake’s team.

  Hayden came over the top, dropped down and implored Luther with a gaze. “We’re the good guys. You gotta listen to us!”

  Luther simply turned his back on the fight, even took a punch to the kidneys, and shouted at his own team.

  “Turn it up a level.”

  All hell broke loose.

  A soldier slammed a door into Smyth’s face, forcing him away, reached inside the Hummer and took out a fully prepped rocket launcher. On the far side of the car another man did the same, using Crouch as a punch bag. Two RPGs lined up on opposite high walls that bordered the street.

  “No!” Alicia’s cry was in vain.

  Grenades flew from the small barrels, streaking across the small space. A loud explosion filled the street and concrete debris showered down on top of the Jeeps. A large chunk buckled the hood of one and a persistent cascade shattered the windshield of another. Blocks bounced off onto the floor. Debris blocked the road.

  “Light ’em up,” Luther yelled.

  Drake leapt hard at him, striking the bull-like neck and pushing him face-first into the very wall he’d just ordered bombed, drawing forth a grunt. Drake pushed in hard but Luther used his own forehead to lever away from the wall. He slammed an elbow around, first to the left and then the right, catching Drake, then again and again. Hayden stepped in, but Luther leaned to the side and kicked out, smashing a boot into her chest and stopping her in her tracks, gasping for breath.

  From his pocket he produced a Glock.

  Drake jabbed at the hand, raining punches down until Luther dropped the gun, flexing bruised fingers and revealing that the gun had been a ruse. A knife appeared in his other hand and jabbed hard at Drake, completely fooling his defenses. The six-inch blade struck without any obstruction, hitting hard.

  Drake grunted and fell back. Hayden saw it and jumped in, her own Glock leveled at Luther’s face.

  “Drop—”

  The man moved faster than she could see; her Glock there one minute and falling to the floor the next. Blood trickled down between her fingers.

  Drake, on his knees, somehow managed to collect both fallen weapons then scramble back. The knife had struck his stab vest, saving his life, but jarring and throbbing so much he was seeing double. A bullet hammered into the wall above Luther’s head, another close to Hayden. Dahl threw a man at the wall, and was shocked to see him bounce right back with a flying front kick. Mai tripped her female opponent and turned for the knockout blow, only to find a backhand slamming her across the face. Kinimaka’s face was bloody. Smyth tried to pick himself up off the floor. Only Kenzie looked in control, and that was because she fought with wild abandon, shaking the blood off in a stream of droplets and diving, snarling, right back for more.

  “More!” Luther snarled.

  Drake brought a flying elbow down on the man’s neck, finally staggering him. The returning punch stopped him though, making him wheeze. Hands on knees, bent over, the two regarded each other.

  “Give it up, Drake.”

  “I . . . can’t. Too much at stake.”

  “We’re taking you to justice.”

  “The people you work for haven’t a clue about justice.” Drake’s chest eased and his breathing began to come a little easier. “When Coburn finds out, it will put them and anyone that has helped them in the firing line.”

  “The President doesn’t know half of what happens out here,” Luther growled. “And that’s for his own good. Don’t try to manipulate me or my team.”

  “Another time, another place, we would have been teammates.”

  “Maybe. I read about SPEAR. Shit, I followed you in three times, though you never knew. Babylon.” He nodded. “Hawaii, and New York. I was part of your backup.” He dropped his eyes. “I knew Komodo. Good soldier.”

  “And sti
ll you think we’re rogue? I don’t get it.”

  “Not me. I admit I was surprised, but you’re going down, Drake. You and the rest of SPEAR.”

  “Not today.”

  Drake raised both guns and aimed them at Luther. “Even that mountain you call a head wouldn’t deflect a bullet.”

  Luther stared impassively and then turned his head slightly. “2015.”

  Drake found it hard not to gawp, impressed, at the fifty-millimeter scar. “Shit. But do you wanna gamble on that pony twice?”

  Luther went to back away, but Dahl was at his rear, also a gun in each hand, one of which lodged into the small of Luther’s back. The battle was at a stalemate, guns aimed, nobody giving an inch. It was entirely clear to Drake that Luther would never concede out loud.

  “We’re leaving,” he said. “Catch us later.”

  Crouch called over from the far side. “Can’t go forward.”

  Drake waved a gun. “We’re taking the Hummer.”

  Steadily, with incredible care, the team inched their way inside the oversized military vehicle, weapons unwavering. Luther and his team didn’t give an inch, never said a word, but made no aggressive moves.

  “Now that’s spooky,” Alicia whispered over the comms. “What is that? Extra sensory perception?”

  Nobody spoke, trying not to break the spell. Crouch found the starter and checked the rearview.

  “Moving now,” he murmured. “Stay frosty.”

  Drake realized his eyes were still welded with Luther’s. He watched the larger-than-life figure until they were out of sight and saw not one flicker in the man’s frame, not a single movement.

  Apart from the eyes. They spoke a grim and dangerous vocabulary.

  Crouch heaved a huge sigh as they drove away. “Everyone okay?”

  Affirmatives were received, so the team settled in a little, combing the Hummer for useful items.

  “He’ll find out where we’re going,” Crouch said.

  “You said yourself—it’s huge,” Hayden said. “We’ll be careful.”

  Crouch looked unconvinced.

  Drake, beside him in the front seat, said: “Now I know what you mean.”

  “That the guy’s a walking apocalypse?”