I needed time to ask questions and be angry at the answers, and then to decide if I was going to stay angry. But everything was happening too fast.
We sprinted across sand, slipping over and staggering up as we headed deeper into the desert. Looking back, I saw the cloud of smoke and dust growing thicker as it rose from the destroyed tomb and the underground caves.
“Will you both hurry up!” Mum yelled at us from the base of a dune. Only, it wasn’t a dune at all. She grabbed the edge of a camouflage sheet that looked exactly like sand and yanked it away to reveal one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. It was all frame and bars, with fat wheels and chunky grips, four seats, a steering wheel and not much else.
“It’s a dune buggy,” she said. “Get in the back.”
“But, Mum,” I replied, “you drive a Volvo.”
“Just get in, will you?”
A second later the wheels were driving, spraying up sand. Ahead, the sun had begun to rise, already setting fire to the desert and quivering the air with heat mirages. A desert fox burst from a hole. We swerved, and I clung tighter to the buggy’s frame.
“Mum?” Pan cried.
“Seatbelts!” Mum yelled.
“Mum!”
Mum jammed on the brake and we skidded to a stop. She turned, looking at us through a mask of sand and dirt and sweat and blood.
“Yes, Pandora?”
Now that Pan finally had a chance to speak, the words seemed to be caught at the back of her throat. There were too many questions. So Mum hadn’t been kidnapped? She was the black suit, the Cult of Osiris? In the end I could think of only one thing to say, and it wasn’t a question at all.
“Mum … we’ve been trying to save you.”
She stared at us for another long moment, breathing hard. Then, suddenly, she leaned from her seat and grabbed me in a hug so tight I winced. She let go and wrapped Pan in an even tighter embrace.
It was the first time I’d seen them hug for over a year. Pan scowled and mumbled something disapproving, but didn’t try to pull away.
“You’re not just an ancient historian, are you, Mum?” I said.
The wail of a siren cut though the dawn. A dozen police cars roared towards us from the Giza Plateau.
Mum actually swore. It was impressive, too, a string of curses that went really well together.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day. I know you have a lot of questions. But right now the thing to remember is that I am your mother and I love you. Now hold on tight.”
The police raced closer. Mum stamped on the accelerator and we were away. The buggy jumped over a dune, then slammed back onto the sand.
“Seatbelts!” Mum barked again.
We fastened them tight.
“I promise I will explain everything,” she added. “For now, just do what I say and maybe we have a chance of saving your father.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Your father was captured.”
“But—”
“Hold on!”
We skidded from the sand and onto a rough track. We were back in the City of the Dead, the jumble of shanty houses among cemetery tombs. Mum turned us down an alley so crowded that I could touch the corrugated shacks and stone tombs on either side. People living among them shouted at us, and Mum shouted back.
“You speak Arabic?” Pan asked.
This was such a strange day.
We turned down another alley, then another. Sirens wailed. Green lights flashed. Police cars raced after us along the passages.
Mum looked completely calm, as if she were driving to a picnic. I noticed her eyes scanning the tombs, reading names carved into stone.
“What are you looking for?” I called.
“Something from … long ago.”
She spun the buggy ninety degrees into another alley. Glancing back, I saw police cars trying to make the turn. The first messed it up, blocking the way for the rest.
Ahead, a police car stopped across the end of the alley. Two officers burst out, charging at us.
Mum jammed on the brakes and leaped from the buggy. One of the men tried to grab her, but she was too fast. Her hand lashed out and something snapped. The officer’s scream was cut short as Mum slammed him against a tomb. At the same time her other arm shot back and blocked a blow from the second policeman. She spun him around, snatched his handcuffs from his belt and cuffed him to his colleague’s wrist.
She turned back to us. “Despite what you just saw, do not ever disrespect an officer of the law. Understood?”
“Did you just break his wrist?” Pan said.
Gun shots pinged off the side of the buggy.
“Both of you, get down, now!” Mum cried.
I grabbed Pan and we took cover behind one of the buggy’s wheels. I was about to jump up to help Mum, but one look at her told me help would not be welcome. Her eyes had narrowed and darkened, just like Pan’s when she’d shot the giant snake. She leaped over the front of the buggy and charged at the police officers. There were more gun shots, a cry and several thuds.
“Up you get,” Mum called. “Both of you, please, chop-chop.”
We rose from behind the buggy, gun shots still ringing in our ears.
All of the police officers lay unconscious on the ground.
“Mum,” I rasped, “are you a ninja?”
“Ninja? Honestly, Jake, you can be ridiculous. No I am not a ninja. I’m trained in kung fu, aikido and ju-jitsu. The rest is just gymnastics and luck.”
“But … how?” Pan asked, baffled. “When?”
Ignoring her, Mum climbed onto the roof of a tomb and looked across the City of the Dead. Police cars were still coming from all directions.
She jumped down. “All right, this might get tricky, but I’ve been in worse situations.”
“You’ve been in worse situations than being hunted by the police?”
Mum rubbed dirt from my cheek. “A few.”
A woman charged from one of the shacks, yelling and waving a broom. Her anger turned into delight as Mum spoke to her in Arabic, offering her the keys to the dune buggy. She led us to one of the tombs and rushed back to claim her reward.
The tomb looked like all the others: a concrete block with a small window and a wooden door. But the door only looked like wood. It was steel, and it was locked.
Mum ran her hands over Arabic writing carved on the tomb wall.
“What does it say?” Pan asked.
“Al-atlasu,” Mum replied. “Atlas in Arabic.”
She tapped one of the letters, and a stone panel slid aside to reveal a screen. Mum pressed her palm against it. The steel door creaked open and then shut behind us.
The tomb was as basic inside as out – two coffins on stone ledges, and nothing else. Only they weren’t normal coffins. Mum pulled the brass handle from one and punched a code into a keypad. The casket opened with a hiss.
It was a mini version of Kit’s headquarters at the souk, a panel of screens and dials, with gadgets strapped to the inside of the lid.
“Jake, keep watch out the window,” Mum ordered. “The glass is bulletproof. Pandora, open the other coffin, please.”
“What’s the password?” Pan asked.
“History. Jake, what do you see?”
I saw police – lots of them. They were on foot now, storming into shacks around the City of the Dead, tearing open tomb doors. Locals yelled at them, but the officers yelled louder and shoved them aside.
“They’re everywhere, Mum.”
Mum brought up a satellite image on one of the screens. It zoomed in on the desert and the patchwork shacks of the City of the Dead. She scrolled through the image, searching for our exact location.
“The first rule of treasure-hunting,” she said, “is never enter anywhere without knowing at least two exits.”
I’d heard a few “first rules of treasure-hunting” recently, but right then that one seemed the smartest.
Pan opened the ot
her coffin. Inside was a bag crammed full of cash from various countries, as well as passports and other documents.
“These are our emergency supplies,” Mum explained. “Your father and I stashed bags like that at a dozen locations along the Nile.”
“What?” Pan asked. “When? Mum?”
“The police are right outside!” I called.
“The door is reinforced steel,” Mum said. “They’ll need a battering ram to get in. Which they’ll have.”
The thumps on the door grew louder as the police swapped fists for boots, then boots for shoulders, in an attempt to break through.
Mum barely seemed to notice as she typed onto one of the screens. “We have two minutes until extraction,” she said. “Plenty of time to think.”
Thuds on the door were now causing the whole tomb to shake. The police were using their battering ram!
“Mum!” I barked.
“Jake, please. I’m concentrating. I’m thinking of a way to rescue your father.”
“Where is he?” Pan asked. “Where is Dad?”
“I don’t know, Pandora. We were forced into a van and driven out of Cairo, but I escaped, thanks to your father. After that, I don’t know where they took him.”
“Who? Who took him?”
“I don’t know that either, Jake. Whoever they were, they were highly trained and extremely well-funded. Their weapons were top of the range.”
“Kit hired them?” I asked.
“No,” Mum said firmly. “Kit Thorn knew about it, I’m sure of that. But he’d never plan to kidnap your father. He loved him like a brother.”
“Loved him?”
“I think Kit was hired by the same group that took your father,” Mum said. “Whoever is behind this.”
“The Cult of Osiris?” Pan asked.
“There is no such thing as the Cult of Osiris,” Mum replied. “Kit made that up to make you trust him. But someone hired Kit.”
“I saw him talking to someone,” I said.
“Who?”
“A woman with white hair and a case with an emerald snake symbol.”
Mum slammed the coffin shut. She fixed me with her narrowest eyes. “What emerald snake symbol?”
“Like the one in the tomb,” I said. “On the walls. Didn’t you see?”
I guessed she’d been too busy trying to stop me from detonating that bomb to notice the wall decorations. Her eyes stayed on me, but now they looked a little scared.
“Does that symbol mean something to you?” Pan asked.
“Possibly,” Mum replied. “It doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that matters is that these people, whoever they are, still need your father to find the Tomb of Osiris.”
“The tomb?” I asked. “But we blew it up.”
“You blew it up,” Pan said.
“Stop squabbling,” Mum snapped. “You found a tomb. But there was no mummy and no coffin.”
“It was moved somewhere else,” I said.
“That makes sense,” Pan agreed. “The Egyptian Old Kingdom, the time when they built the pyramids, ended in civil war. Pyramids were looted. Priests would have protected something as sacred as the mummy of Osiris. So the coffin was moved to a new tomb. There’s a second tomb of Osiris.”
Mum looked at Pan, surprised. She’d never seen Pan being so openly clever. “That’s … that’s right, Pandora.”
“So if we get to it first we can still swap the mummy for Dad,” I said. “Just like we planned.”
“That was what you planned?” Mum asked.
“Yeah.”
She looked even more thrown. “That was my plan too. Finding the mummy is your father’s only chance.”
Another crash against the door, and the steel began to crumple. I pressed a shoulder against the slab, as if I could hold back a battering ram.
“They’re gonna get in,” I grunted. “We need weapons. Pan, smash up that coffin to make clubs.”
“Jake,” Mum said, “do not be so ridiculous. Of course the police will get in. But we won’t be here when they do.”
A rush of hot air filled the tomb, then a light so bright that I had to cover my eyes. When I looked again, I saw that the entire roof of the tomb had slid open. Something metal hovered above it. The light was beaming from its base like a scene from an alien abduction. Three wires hung from the device, with clips dangling from their ends.
“What is it?” Pan yelled.
“It’s a UED,” Mum said. She strapped the bags of cash and documents over her shoulder. “Unmanned extraction drone. Fix the clips to your utility belts.”
My first thought was that is so cool. My second thought: but it’s taking us up high.
“Uh, Mum? I don’t know about this…”
Mum gripped my shoulder, knowing my fear of heights. I thought she might say something reassuring, or loving.
“Jake, stop being such a baby and clip that wire to your belt. And you, Pandora.”
“No,” Pan replied. “I’m not going anywhere until you say what’s going on.”
“Pandora,” Mum replied, “put that clip on your belt.”
“You’ve lied to us.”
“No, I just haven’t told you the truth. That’s different from a lie.”
“You’re not who you said you were.”
“I am your mother. Right now that is all that matters.”
“You’re not my mum. My mum is a boring ancient history professor. You are… I don’t know what you are now.”
“Pandora, you will put on that clip right now.”
“I will not, until—”
“Put it on or you are grounded.”
“Grounded? Are you serious?”
“Guys!” I yelled. “The police?”
Pan cursed, but finally fixed the clip to her belt. The drone seemed to know, because the instant she was attached the machine began to rise, hoisting us up and out of the tomb.
The door gave way and the police stumbled through. They grabbed at our feet, but we were already too high, and the spotlight was too bright for them to aim their guns.
I wanted to yell suckers, but all that came out were swear words as we rose higher and my vertigo kicked in.
“Jake!” Mum scolded as the drone lifted us even higher over the cemetery. “Watch your mouth. And do not think that I have forgotten about that stolen tablet.”
“The tablet?” Pan said. “Mum, Jake just blew up an ancient tomb.”
“Yes, we’ll talk about that, too.”
“Where are we going, anyway?” Pan demanded.
“Somewhere safe, until I can work out what we’re going to do.”
Until we could work out how to save Dad. That, I was determined, was our next mission. I clung onto the wire and tried not to look down as the drone carried us higher and faster, far from the police and the dust and the smoke and all the trouble we’d caused, and away towards the rising sun.
24
I gripped the wire tighter as the extraction drone carried us over the edge of the desert. My arms trembled on the line, not from the effort of holding on – the wire was clipped to my belt – but from fear. It was a relief to be heading away from Giza, and the police and guns, and the whole hunted-for-terrorism thing – but I wished our escape route wasn’t so high.
Above, the drone buzzed and hummed, a giant metal spider with rotors spinning on each leg and lights blinking on its body. Mum must have programmed a route into the machine, because it seemed to know where it was going. I couldn’t help wondering exactly how it was holding us up.
“We’re safe, Jake,” Mum said, noticing my grip on the wire. “The drone is calibrated to hold our weight.”
“You just fought a giant snake, Jake,” Pan said. “How can you be so scared of heights?”
It wasn’t the height that scared me. It was falling from the height and decorating the desert with splatter marks that used to be my body.
The drone carried us in the direction of the dawn sun. Tourists snapped pho
tos of us from a hot air balloon as we flew past. They were headed to the pyramids, but they’d be lucky to see them now after what we’d done.
Behind us, the cloud of dust and sand that rose from the Giza Plateau glinted and shimmered in the dawn light, as if someone had hurled the contents of a treasure chest into the morning sky. We swept over a highway and saw a stream of police cars, fire engines and news vans racing to the scene of the chaos.
“Our names and photographs will be on every newspaper and TV channel in the world,” Mum said. “We will be hunted by the police.”
“But why?”
“Because you blew up an ancient tomb, Jake. Whoever Kit is working for will make sure the police know we are to blame. We have to leave the country as quickly as—”
“Leave?” I said. “But what about Dad?”
“That is what he would want. To protect you.”
“We’re not in danger, though,” Pan said. “Kit wouldn’t hurt us.”
“Stop worrying about Kit. If what you said about the woman with the snake case is true, then your father is in more danger than I realized.”
“Who is she?” Pan asked.
“We’ll get to that. But even Kit is out of his depth with this one, and he’s one of the best hunters in the world.”
“You mean treasure hunters?” I asked. For a moment I forgot about how high we were and I focused on what Mum was saying. “That’s what you are, isn’t it, Mum? You’re a treasure hunter.”
“I haven’t been for a long time. I will explain, I promise, once you are both safe and out of the country.”
Her voice was like steel, but there was something softer in her eyes. Keeping one hand on the wire, she slid the other into her combat suit and pulled her Isis amulet out on its chain. Her fingers tightened around it, as if she was trying to squeeze strength from the symbol, to carry on with her plan. But the plan was crazy and we all knew it. There was no time to get us out of the country. Not if we wanted to see Dad alive again.
“If there is a second Tomb of Osiris,” I said, “we have to find it before Kit and the snake lady. We have to get there first and get the mummy to save Dad.”
We swept over a cluster of white villas with swimming pools and iron gates. Our desert boots brushed the tops of palm trees in the gardens as we finally began to descend.
Jake Atlas and the Tomb of the Emerald Snake Page 11