For the remaining five minutes of his ascent, Colonel Azire could only speculate if his men were successful in taking the room or if a set of American handcuffs awaited him at the top. When the moment of truth arrived, Azire poked his head up into the document storage room to find three of his men dead on the floor along with two American soldiers.
“Report,” Azire demanded of his two live soldiers in the room.
“We lost three in here and one more outside, but we did manage to take down all four Americans guarding the structure,” the nearest soldier reported.
“Where are the others?” the colonel asked.
“Outside, but I’m afraid things did not go quite according to plan.”
**********
Terrance heard the faint movement of fabric behind him and turned away from the computer desk to see Commander Allen cup his right hand over his ear to hear a situation update from his men.
“Acknowledged,” the stout, redheaded man said into his microphone as he directed his eyes toward Terrance. “My man standing watch outside the sealed Sphinx chamber, Corporal Johnson, he missed his radio check in.”
“And your men guarding the tunnel exit point?” Terrance asked with a somewhat elevated state of alarm. There could be any number of reasons the man was unable to check in. Most were harmless, but a few could mean trouble.
“They are holding their position, but staying on high alert. We’ll wait another check in cycle before they move to investigate the situation. If Colonel Azire and his men have managed to get out of your trap, they’ll be apprehended without making a scene,” came a reply laced with resentment. It was clear that Commander Allen preferred taking the direct approach in these situations, owing to some outdated code of honor between combatants no doubt. The man had no appreciation for subtlety.
“That will have to do I suppose,” Terrance sighed and decided to throw Commander Allen’s wounded warrior pride a lifeline. “It would be so much more elegant to have him trapped and out of communication while executing a plan he sponsored. That’s how it’s supposed to work in my covert world. When things go well, pieces are moved about or removed entirely without anyone being the wiser.”
“And when things go wrong?” Commander Allen fired back with a stern set of eyes.
The man’s naivety was amusing and drew a soft chuckle from Terrance’s otherwise rock-hard demeanor. “That’s the time when guns come out and bombs start dropping. That’s also where men like you come in so there’s that for you to look forward to, I suppose.”
A stiffening of his posture showed the commander’s condescending attitude had now changed to concern, “Things look like they’re going sideways on you, sir. We’re surrounded and outnumbered a thousand to one by Egyptian forces who are our allies at the moment. Are my men going to need their guns? Do I need to tell those men watching the tunnel exit to prepare for a fire fight?”
“Not until the bombs start dropping,” Terrance answered an instant before the communications officer stepped into the command tent. On his heels came a parade of men lugging tables and equipment.
“Make magic happen, gentlemen,” Terrance ordered and stepped to the side while the small tent meant to run an archeological dig site was transformed into a military epicenter.
Commander Allen joined Terrance in his little corner and continued their conversation in a soft voice. “When was the last time one of your operations went bad? How did things turn out?”
Terrance contemplated ignoring the question, but decided to provide an answer since the example was from a few decades ago and well publicized. “1989, we missed taking out Noriega. President Bush, Sr. became impatient, so he ordered the invasion of Panama.”
“At that point men like you got to flex their muscle and shoot their guns for the cameras, but the only thing I remember about the whole episode was losing 23 service men because the NSA couldn’t keep it in the shadows.”
“The man was a murdering, drug trafficking criminal and a menace to stability in the region. He had to go. How would you have preferred to handle the situation?” Commander Allen countered, taking offense to the notion that his preferred way of doing things was the wrong way.
The reply Terrance wanted to give would have divulged classified information. Instead, he kept his response short and vague. “You didn’t have to invade Venezuela to remove America’s problem down there now did you?”
Commander Allen spent a moment sifting through his memory. “You’re talking about Hugo Chávez? The Venezuelan president died of natural causes; cancer, I believe.”
“Of course he did. Perfectly ‘natural occurring’ cancer,” Terrance confirmed before moving his condescending eyes to the communications officer standing behind the SEAL team leader with his update.
“We are all wired up with Central Command in Qatar. General Austin is standing by on the sat-comm display,” the young man reported as he removed his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead and smooth his hair down before replacing the hat back on his head.
Terrance looked back at Commander Allen and inclined his head toward the video conferencing unit. “Come on, this involves you too.”
When the two men reached the sat-comm workstation, the heavily lined face of a bald, black man was staring back at them with no nonsense eyes that conveyed his state of mind. He may have been instructed to follow orders from Terrance, but he did not like it.
“General Austin,” Terrance began. “Can I assume you have already been fully briefed on the situation here in Cairo?”
“I am aware of the new chambers found and their alleged connection with the alteration of the moon’s orbit earlier today leading to earthquakes and tidal surges worldwide,” the general confirmed in a curt, level tone. “I’m also well aware of the repositioning of military hardware into the area at your…‘asking’.”
“Can you please confirm that the B2s are flying heavy with the new MOPs,” Terrance asked with a polite tone.
While the general spoke to his men off screen for confirmation, Commander Allen leaned into Terrance’s ear, “M-O-P?”
“Massive Ordnance Penetrator. It’s the next generation of bunker buster bombs,” Terrance responded with a twinkle in his eye. “5,000 pounds of explosives designed to penetrate through two hundred feet of solid concrete. It was designed with Iran’s Fordo uranium enrichment facility in mind, but it’ll do the trick here as well.”
Commander Allen instinctively snapped back to attention when General Austin returned to the screen. “Confirmed. Four B2s are flying heavy with MOPs on board.”
“Excellent. The SEAL team on site is about to head out and paint the target with their laser designators. The birds will be a go in about ten minutes. Please notify the crews while the SEALs get into position.”
The general’s obedient composure faltered upon hearing the order. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now hold on just a minute. Repositioning ships and planes around is one thing, but you are ordering an attack on a foreign country. This could, and likely will, start a war.”
“To the outside world, it will be the equipment inside those chambers that caused the explosions,” Terrance countered. “The beauty of having stealth planes is no one will ever know they were there.”
“I can’t possibly give that ord…”
“You can and you will,” Terrance interrupted with a sharp reprimand. “By presidential decree you will give that order. You must give that order. Now for God, country and humanity, give that order.”
General Austin looked like a man forced to eat spoiled fish as he replied, “Yes sir.”
Terrance cut off the video transmission and turned to Commander Allen. “That goes for you too. Get four of your men into position. One will target the Sphinx while the other three target separate locations on the pyramid near one of those chambers.”
“What about the fourth chamber inside the pyramid?”
“We need something to survive the blasts in order to prove the attack was justified in case thos
e planes are detected,” Terrance instructed.
Just then, a loud and urgent shout came through Commander Allen’s earpiece, loud enough that Terrance could hear the words loud and clear standing five feet away.
“Shots fired! Shots fired from inside the tunnel exit building. Moving to investi…” the frantic words were suddenly cut short and replaced by a second voice.
“Brady’s down. The Egyptian forces are pushing out from the building with guns hot.”
A noisy exchange of machine gun fire gave Commander Allen the opportunity to issue orders. “Fall back and maintain surveillance.”
“Can’t, they have me surrounded. I can…ah, I’m hit. I…” then the radio fell silent.
Terrance wasted no time. He turned to the SEAL team communications officer. “Block any attempts at electronic communications within a ten mile radius of that tunnel exit point. I don’t want them getting out any signals.”
Terrence turned his focus toward Commander Allen who looked ready to disembowel somebody. “This does not change the mission priority. Whatever happens, the Pyramid and Sphinx must be reduced to rubble. Paint the targets until the bombers arrive, then we’ll deal with our exit strategy along with Colonel Azire and his men. Understood?”
Observing that the SEAL team leader was none too happy with his orders gave Terrance a chance to drive home his point made earlier. “Chin up, Commander, this is your way of doing things isn’t it?”
Chapter 28: Using the Back Door
Frank hated to admit it, but he had to give credit where credit was due. Chin knew the area surrounding the first Chinese emperor’s burial mound like the back of his hand. The man guided Alex to park the van along the southern side of the pyramid with a whole forest of pine trees leading all the way to the pyramid and up the steep sloping sides.
The additional cover was most definitely required. Two men sneaking their way across open terrain was tough enough. Four individuals lugging equipment, weaponry and backpacks full of explosives would have been impossible to hide. Detection by the anemic Alpha patrols was easy to avoid among this dense thicket of trees.
Locating the crater was not nearly as difficult as Frank had envisioned. Finding a single depression in the soil inside of a quarter mile square area seemed daunting, but the two archeologists were able to spot the telltale tracks of drainage runoff that led them right to the spot.
Chin produced a battery-operated drill with the longest bit Frank had ever seen. The corkscrew drill bit was eight inches in diameter and was eight feet long. Chin had to sit on top of Frank’s shoulders to operate the thing and drill a vertical shaft in the middle of the twelve-foot wide crater. The two repeated the process five more times in a circular pattern that, when completed, looked similar to the loading cylinder of a six-shot revolver.
The Chinese operative set aside the drill and looked at the four fully loaded backpacks resting on the ground for a moment.
“That one,” he said pointing to the one with red electrical tape along the side to indicate the type of explosive device inside. Frank set the pack upright and loosened the top for Chin to reach in and pull out a cylindrical object two feet long and six inches around. Next, he pulled out a ream of detonation cord, wired the device and lowered it down one of the shafts he had dripped.
“Are you sure these will do the job?” Alex whispered. “Explosions usually go outward, not down.”
“An EFP is a shaped charge designed to propel a copper slug through walls and armor,” Frank explained while Chin labored to fill the other five holes. “They should be able to punch through ten or twenty feet of packed dirt. If it’s much thicker than that, then we’re gonna have a problem.”
“We haven’t made much noise up to this point, but these things don’t have a silencer. They’ll be heard all over this complex; there’s just no getting around it,” Frank added with a finality to his words.
He then looked up at Alex and Professor Russell with real concern in his eyes. “You do realize that this is a one way trip right? If this works and we get in that tunnel, then we’ll be trapped between those ceramic pots coming at us from the chamber we’re trying to reach and our rear when they find this hole. There is no realistic chance of anyone who goes in making it back out.”
Frank shrugged his head toward Chin. “For him and I this is our duty. You two need to get the hell out of here and let the professionals do their thing. You’ve done your part.”
“Who is going to navigate your way around down there, carry all of these backpacks, and cover your back while you guys set up the explosives?” Alex demanded. “Just because you work for the government doesn’t give you a monopoly on a sense of patriotism or duty. You have a much better chance if we go down there with you, so we’re all in this together until the job’s done.”
“Never argue with a passionate lady I always say,” Frank sighed and turned his attention to Chin who held a bright yellow detonation control box with six wires running out of it.
“We’re ready. Everyone grab a pack, get back fifty feet, find a tree to hide behind, and cover your ears,” Chin ordered.
Chin wedged one ear against his scrunched shoulder and plugged the other with his index finger. He checked to see that everyone else was ready and then used his free hand to depress the firing trigger.
A moment later, Frank’s ears were ringing and his body ached from the concussion wave. He fought through the pain to bring himself to his feet and managed to run toward the smoking crater. He expected to find a circular shaft leading to darkness below. Instead, he found pretty much the same sight that he left before detonating the explosives, except each of the six holes was now smoking profusely.
Out of frustration, Frank jumped high into the air to land with all of his weight dead center among the six smoking holes. To his great relief, but sudden horror, Frank felt the ground beneath his feet fall away. He swung his arms out to the side in an attempt to catch the sides of the shaft, but his weight and momentum were too much. His backpack was thrust upward against the back of his head as it grated along the back wall of the shaft all the way down.
His landing was somewhat softer than expected, at least as soft as a twenty-foot drop could feel. He landed atop a pile of loose dirt and fumbled around for his flashlight to examine his surroundings. He quickly realized that he was sitting on a ten-foot tall pile of dirt extending almost all the way up to the ceiling of a tunnel that was twenty feet wide and branched out in three directions.
Frank kicked some of the larger chunks of earth out of his way as he scampered down the pile. He would have loved to take his time to look around and guarantee everyone’s safety down there, but he knew time was short. The Alpha would have heard the explosion, and the rising pillar of smoke from the blast site would not be difficult to find. They had at best five minutes to get good and lost among these meandering corridors.
He scrambled part way up the dirt pile to holler up the shaft, “I’m fine, now get your butts down here so we can get movin’.”
Each landing got progressively more jarring as the dirt pile became more compacted. Chin was the last one down and hit like a ton of bricks. He tumbled head over heels down the mound and came to rest staring straight up at Frank and his extended helping hand. “Anything broke?”
“No,” Chin groaned on the way to his feet, “but I feel like I was sat on by a sumo wrestler.”
Frank ignored the comment and took charge immediately. “Prof., this is where you and Alex come in. Get us to that chamber without too many wrong turns before we have company. Now which way?”
“North,” they said together and marched on leading the way with their flashlights sweeping from side to side.
Chapter 29: Theseus to the Rescue
“This way,” Professor Russell ordered as the group moved past yet another three-way fork in their dimly lit subterranean path. He focused the beam of his flashlight onto his compass to verify they were still heading in the general direction of north. They had a
lready made two wrong turns that initially headed north, but eventually turned in the wrong direction.
Without a true map of the catacombs, the only reliable piece of navigation for the group was the mausoleum’s orientation toward the cardinal points of the compass. Since they entered along the southern side of the pyramid that meant the burial chamber lay to the north. As they walked along the six-foot wide path, Professor Russell watched the compass needle turn to the west.
“Stop, go back,” Brian said with a frustrated huff. “This is taking us the wrong direction again.”
“How did the workers have time to dig out this maze?” Frank asked while executing an about face. “I mean it probably extends all the way around the burial chamber; it’s huge.”
“You forget, they built the maze and palace first, then buried it under the mound,” Chin instructed. “Still very impressive though.”
“And time consuming,” Frank added.
Professor Russell, now back at the crossroads, shined his flashlight down the other two passageways to see if either made a turn northward. The one on the right appeared to do so after about fifteen feet. He turned his head back to the others to give the order, but Frank’s outstretched palm cut him short.
“Shhh, I think I might have heard something coming from behind us,” Frank whispered.
Brian closed his eyes to focus on his sense of hearing and felt his knees go weak with panic upon hearing heavy footsteps echoing through the corridor at their rear.
“Does anyone else feel like we’re in the Cretan Labyrinth with the Minotaur stalking us?” Alex whispered.
“I said quiet,” Frank snapped. “Everyone but the Prof. kill your lights. Now move. Quickly, and no more wrong turns either.”
Origins: The Reich Page 18