by Logan Ryles
“Excuse me!” Wolfgang said. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”
The woman shrieked as Wolfgang and Megan plowed through. The apartment on the other side was nothing like Pollins’s—this one was a wreck, with piles of laundry and household knickknacks everywhere. It smelled heavily of sour food, and a cat scurried by as Wolfgang rushed into the living room. Despite the mess and the smell, however, the balcony door was right where it should’ve been, and Wolfgang made a beeline for it.
“What are you doing?” Megan demanded.
“Thinking on my feet!” Wolfgang said. He threw the sliding glass door open and hurried onto the balcony, turning to the left and peering down.
The side of the tower gleamed with polished glass and metal, reflecting the city lights of Cairo. From where Wolfgang stood, he could see the next four balconies jutting out of the round tower in a spiral pattern, overlapping each other by about half their width as they wound toward the ground. The next in line stuck out like a stair step, fourteen feet below.
Close enough.
“Wait . . . What are you thinking?” Megan shook her head and stepped back a pace as Wolfgang hauled himself up onto the railing, tucking his toes onto the edge of the balcony outside the railing before twisting around to face Megan. “I’m not thinking, Meg. I’m getting the hell out of here!”
Wolfgang squatted on the outside of the balcony, transitioning his hands to the bottom of the railing before kicking his feet out and allowing his body to fall. His legs swung freely as his hands tightened around the bottom of the metal spindles, then he looked down. The floor of the balcony below him now rested about eight feet beneath his shoes—a jarring fall, but not a fatal one.
He let go of the railing. His body dropped like a bomb, clearing the eight feet in a split second before his feet slammed into the concrete beneath him. The impact sent pain shooting up his legs and through his knees, but he minimized some of the shock by allowing himself to crumple into a roll, hitting the balcony floor on his hips and shoulder before returning to his feet. Wolfgang panted and dusted himself off. Then he looked up to find Megan. “Come on!”
Megan hesitated, looking down the face of the tower to the cold pavement two hundred feet below. She swallowed, then turned to the door as shouting voices and thumping boots erupted from the Latina woman’s apartment.
That was all the motivation she required. Megan threw her legs over the rail and repeated Wolfgang’s move. By the time she landed, Wolfgang was already moving to the next railing, climbing to the outside before lowering himself into a monkey-bar-style hanging position, then dropping the final eight feet. The next fall hurt worse than the first, but adrenaline blinded the pain as the two of them proceeded from balcony to balcony, dropping fourteen feet every time and moving slowly around the circumference of the tower.
“Charlie Lead! We’re on our way,” Wolfgang said.
“We see you, Charlie Three,” Edric replied. “There are no balconies below the fourth floor. Jump to the awning over the main entrance. We’ll pick you up there.”
Wolfgang threw his legs off the railing off the sixth-floor balcony, knocking over potted plants and a bird feeder. A moment before he released the railing, the sliding glass door of the fifth-floor balcony hurtled open, and Marine appeared, his eyes bloodshot and his Glock clamped in one hand.
It was too late to stop. Wolfgang let go of the railing and dropped straight toward him. The guard’s eyes bulged, and he had no time to move. Wolfgang’s left foot hit him in the sternum, knocking him onto his back, and then Wolfgang crashed down with his butt smashing the guy’s face like a boxer’s glove. The guard shouted in muffled pain, and the pistol skidded across the floor of the balcony.
Megan landed next to Wolfgang and grabbed his hand, then shot a quick foot into Marine’s groin as the big man twisted to grab her by the leg. Projectile vomit exploded across the balcony as Megan and Wolfgang flipped over the rail and dropped to the final balcony. They could see Charlie Team’s van now, hurtling down the street toward the main entrance of the tower. The roof of the main entrance portico lay only ten feet below them, but there was an eight-foot gap between the edge of the balcony and the edge of the roof. Megan hesitated, gauging the distance as she panted for breath. Blood oozed from cuts on her palms, and her pants were torn, but her eyes were alight with the thrill of the run.
Wolfgang gave her a reckless wink that was far from sincere, then threw himself over the railing and into midair before he could think twice. The roof of the awning was fifteen feet off the ground, increasing his total fall to twenty-five feet if he missed it and hit the asphalt instead—a certain bone-breaker, but he didn’t have time to second-guess himself.
Cool Egyptian air blew through his hair and tore at his jacket as he fell like a cannonball, arcing through the air toward the edge of the roof. Only a split second after he jumped, he knew he wouldn’t make it. The edge of the roof was a foot too far, and Wolfgang leaned forward and caught it with one hand as he hurtled down. His fingers scraped against metal as his full weight descended on his right arm. He grunted in pain, then heard the squeal of tires on pavement. The van slid to a stop directly beneath him, and Wolfgang let go of the roof. He fell the last couple feet and landed on the roof of the van like a dead body hitting a baking sheet, his head spinning.
The back door of the van popped open, and Kevin jumped out, already hurling grenades at the main entrance of the tower. A moment later, the air flooded with thick, grey smoke, clouding the cameras and shielding the view of the guards rushing in from the lobby.
Wolfgang coughed and blinked. His head swam, and the tower above him swayed in the dim light of the moon. He was vaguely aware of something falling toward him, sliding through the air toward the van’s roof like a cruise missile.
It was Megan.
Wolfgang rolled to the left just in time to avoid being crash-landed on by his fellow agent. A bullet struck the van near Wolfgang’s elbow, and then powerful hands drug both him and Megan off the roof and onto the ground. He landed on the concrete in a heap, every joint erupting in pain. Kevin pulled them both into the van as Lyle lay on the gas and Charlie Team rocketed to freedom.
10
Back in the hotel, Lyle stood next to the minibar, sucking on a Yoo-hoo. “I’ve got scans of the images routed to headquarters.”
Wolfgang didn’t know Yoo-hoos were available in Egypt, but somehow, he wasn’t the least bit surprised Lyle drank them.
The tech wiz burped, then wiped his mouth. “We should have a translation back within a couple hours.”
Wolfgang nodded and adjusted the icepack on his right knee. His entire body ached—his back, his knees, his ankles, and the soles of his feet. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself crashing from one balcony to the next, wincing with each impact.
Smooth idea. Really. Grade-A work.
“You all right?” Megan spoke from his left. She wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt, with her hair dripping down her back. Megan had opted to soothe her swollen joints with hot water as opposed to ice and now looked ready to run a marathon.
Wolfgang grunted as if their recent exploit were no more significant than a trip to the grocery store. “Never better. Just a little stiff.”
She smirked and settled down on the couch next to him. He caught a whiff of her shampoo and couldn’t resist stealing a sideways glance.
She brushed hair out of her eyes and wiggled into the couch. Her skin glistened, and even though she was without makeup, he found himself lost in the smoothness of her complexion.
Megan twisted toward him, and Wolfgang looked away, switching the ice to his left knee.
“You did a good job,” she said. “You thought quickly and took action. It got us out alive.”
Wolfgang shrugged, feeling his cheeks flush. Had any other member of Charlie Team extended the compliment, he would have basked in the praise. But with Megan, he felt bashful. Awkward.
“You pulled the fire alarm,” he said. “Tha
t got us out. I just started jumping.”
Megan chuckled.
“What?” Wolfgang asked.
“I was just thinking . . . I’m still gonna kick your ass for that damn drone.”
Wolfgang grinned. “You think you’ve got it in you?”
She punched him in the shoulder, and he winced as pain rocketed down his spine. “Okay! I tap out.”
She laughed again, but the door opened, and Edric stomped in from the adjoining suite, followed closely by Kevin.
“You two made a hell of a mess,” Edric said, his voice a mixture of amusement and genuine irritation. “Turns out my theory about IronGate placing a building in Cairo for demonstration purposes was right on the money. We just waltzed up to their prize show car and pissed all over it.”
Megan grinned again.
Wolfgang realized he’d never seen her this relaxed before and wondered if she were secretly an adrenaline junkie, still riding the high of her fix.
“We got what you wanted,” Megan said. “A simple thank you would suffice.”
Edric shot Wolfgang a challenging glare, and Wolfgang elected to take Megan’s side. It wasn’t a tough choice.
“The lady has a point,” he said.
Edric muttered something about hotheads as he navigated to the minibar and poured himself a tumbler of scotch. Wolfgang was suddenly aware of Kevin standing in the background, eyeing him with a renewed coldness.
“What?” Wolfgang mouthed.
Kevin said nothing, and Edric returned from the bar.
“Regardless of the outcome, the point remains. We won’t be welcome in Cairo much longer. As soon as Lyle hears back about the translation, I want everybody ready to go. Standing plan of action is to locate the tomb and recover Pollins and the scroll”—Edric paused and gestured toward Megan and Wolfgang with his glass—“without fireworks.” He tipped the glass back and finished the drink in one gulp. “Ice those knees, Wolfgang. We aren’t home free yet.”
“It’s right there.” Lyle pointed to a spot on one of Megan’s maps. The five of them gathered around a hotel bed, now spread with notes and more maps. The point Lyle gestured to was east of Cairo, maybe twenty kilometers from the city in an expanse of open desert occupied only by occasional industrial complexes.
Megan leaned close, inspecting the spot and tracing her finger back toward the city. She shook her head. “That can’t be right. That’s open desert.”
Lyle shrugged. “The linguist who translated Dr. Pollins’s images of the scroll indicated that the tomb was close to Cairo. Ancient landmarks are difficult to use because not all of them still exist. But they’re pretty sure the area we’re looking for is someplace over here, east of the airport.”
“But that’s in Cairo,” Megan said. “Cairo wasn’t founded until A.D. nine sixty-nine. During the time of the ancient Egyptians—the time of the pharaohs—most Egyptian civilization was concentrated far inland, near the ancient city of Thebes, or modern-day Luxor.” Megan shuffled to a bigger map of Egypt, then pointed to a spot about four hundred miles south of Cairo. “Here. This is where the Valley of the Kings is. King Tut’s tomb was discovered there, along with many others.”
Wolfgang frowned. “But the pyramids are near Cairo.”
“The pyramids are west of Cairo, in Giza, because Giza sits on a rock plateau that is uniquely suited to building a very heavy pyramid but is not suitable for digging an underground tomb. By the time the Egyptians switched to digging underground tombs like King Tut’s, they’d migrated south. An underground tomb in Cairo doesn’t make sense for the era.”
“How do you know all this?” Kevin asked.
Megan sighed. “I read. You should try it.”
Edric held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. All of you are missing the point. We’re not looking for an undiscovered tomb—we’re looking for a kidnapped woman and some stolen Egyptian property. Finding the tomb isn’t our prerogative.”
The group glanced impulsively at the door into the adjoining suite. Ashley Pollins still lay in bed, as she had all day. They’d given her sleeping pills, food, and encouraged her to take a shower, but all she would do was sit on the end of the bed and stare at the television, waiting for news of her kidnapped sister to appear. The thought of her bloodshot eyes brought a hush over Charlie Team, and Wolfgang stared at his shoes.
“Lyle,” Edric said, “how sure is the translator?”
Lyle pushed his smudged glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Impossible to be sure. The best they can give us is a general location in the desert. There are so many industrial complexes around that it’s difficult to believe a tomb could lay undiscovered so long.”
“It doesn’t matter if there’s a tomb or not,” Edric replied. “It only matters if our kidnappers think there is.”
“What if Dr. Pollins lied to them?” Megan asked. “They kidnapped her to translate the scroll, but she could’ve made something up. Sent them on a wild goose chase anywhere in Egypt.”
Kevin shook his head. “She knows they had her sister, and she doesn’t know they sent her sister to die. They’ll use that to motivate her.”
Wolfgang nodded. “Plus, she’s obsessed with Egyptology. She’s not going to waste time in the desert when there’s a chance to find this thing—a chance for her to write her name in the history books.”
Edric grunted agreement. “I agree. We work with what we have, then. My arm is still giving me hell, so Lyle and I will take the van and maintain operational control. The rest of you will take the 4Runner and head on-site. Lyle, how’s the drone?”
Lyle’s face turned dark, and he indulged in an involuntary pout. “Pretty messed up. I managed to replace most of the burned wires and reinstall the battery. It’ll run.”
“Good. We’ll put the drone in the air for communications and a live video feed.”
Edric rolled up the map, then glanced around the bed. “Whatever happens, don’t forget why we came here. Our primary objective is to secure the scroll. Our immediate secondary is to rescue Dr. Pollins. Then we extract. Are we clear?”
Everybody nodded.
“Excellent. Let’s hit the sand.”
11
The desert outside of Cairo was as desolate as the Saudi Arabian wasteland only a hundred kilometers farther east. As Wolfgang stepped out of the 4Runner, a blast of sandy wind tore at his clothes and ripped the door from his hand. He blinked back the dust, then quickly pressed sunglasses onto his face. Megan appeared a moment later, dressed in canvas pants and a loose canvas jacket that barely concealed the pistol she wore in a shoulder holster.
Wolfgang glanced back into the 4Runner and saw Kevin at the wheel, eyeing him with that frosty glare again.
What’s with this guy?
“Charlie One, sitrep,” Edric called.
Wolfgang looked involuntarily to the sky, but he couldn’t see Lyle’s drone. It was either too high to make out or lost in the glare of the desert sun.
“We’re half a klick offsite,” Megan said. “Moving in now.”
“Copy that. Charlie Two, remain on standby.”
Wolfgang looked to Kevin again and wondered if he was angry because Edric had become comfortable with pairing himself and Megan while leaving Kevin for backup support. Kevin’s operational specialty was combat, which most of their missions required little of. That left Kevin doing the grunt work—driving, setting off fire alarms, picking up Chinese food. It had to suck, but Wolfgang didn’t have time to worry about it. He liked being on the leading edge of the action. He liked the thrill, the danger, and the pressure.
Most of all, he liked being close to Megan.
The two stepped away from the road and started into the sand. Cairo International Airport lay only a few kilometers to the northwest, and Wolfgang could hear the roar of a jet preparing for takeoff. He saw the glittering towers of Cairo rising from the desert. The city was a stark contrast to the desolation directly ahead and to his right. As they topped a slight rise in the sand, they paused, a
nd Wolfgang held a hand over his eyes, sure that he was being blinded by the sun, in spite of his sunglasses.
But the yellow blob in front of him wasn’t blindness—it was desert. Stretching out to the north and to the east for miles on end, the desolation was almost complete. Fields of packed sand, windblown and empty, were broken only by crisscrossing dirt roads and small compounds of industrial buildings. A few personal vehicles and an occasional semi-truck crawled toward Cairo in the distance, and a black exhaust rose from a tower in the middle of one of the complexes. Otherwise, the desert was as vacant as an ocean.
And so damn large.
Wolfgang let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
Megan dug a pair of binoculars out of her pack and scanned the desert. She adjusted the focus on the binoculars from time to time as she panned to different points in the sand. Then Wolfgang saw her back stiffen just a little.
She leaned forward, adjusting the focus again. “Charlie Eye,” she said. “Did Pollins own a car?”
There was a pause over the coms as Lyle checked his notes. “Let’s see . . . Um, yeah. A two thousand four Chevy Cobalt. Grey. Usually parked at the museum. Why?”
Megan lowered the binoculars and broke into a fast walk back toward the 4Runner. “Because I see it.”
“Drive!” Megan said, slamming the door of the 4Runner. Kevin had already started the engine and was shoving the SUV into gear before Wolfgang even shut his door. They bumped off the road and into the desert, cresting the small rise Megan and Wolfgang had just stood on, before dipping into the valley beyond. Dust exploded around the 4Runner’s tires, clouding the side windows in mere seconds as Wolfgang clutched the back of Megan’s seat and tried to keep his head from slamming into the ceiling.
“What did you see?” Wolfgang asked.
Megan ignored the question, guiding Kevin across the surface of the desert with a pointed finger. Wolfgang leaned between the two front seats and watched as the landscape unfolded in front of them. From a distance, everything looked flat, but closer in the desert was an uneven expanse of dips and rises, with small ravines and random pits sprinkled among them. Kevin had to turn rapidly on a number of occasions to avoid ramming one wheel of the 4Runner into a hole, but they gradually approached the spot Megan identified, and then Wolfgang saw the car.