by Nick Thacker
“Guys,” Ben said. “We need to go. Now.”
No one spoke, but Reggie took point and darted to the left, aiming for the south edge of the square, where there were fewer people. Ben saw his goal — he was working to keep the throngs of people in the center of the square between them and the soldiers.
“Follow him,” Ben said. “Go!”
Just as they all broke into a run, the soldiers and Sharpe started sprinting, pushing and jostling people out of their way as they aimed for Ben’s position by the ticket building.
Ben followed the edge of the building toward the south, then cut right, following Reggie and the others. The quadrangle was narrower on this southern edge, and a low wall of ancient rock stood at the far west edge. That’s our goal, Ben knew. Reggie was heading straight for it, and if they could just make it there, they’d be —
Crack!
The sound of gunfire rang out, but Ben didn’t bother looking behind him. Screams immediately filled the air as well, and he knew the hunt was on.
And we’re the prey, he thought.
Two more shots were fired, then the unmistakable sound of a three-burst round from one of the assault rifles the men were carrying. Ben didn’t know how many people — if any — were between his back and the shooters, but he still didn’t dare look back.
The screaming of the tourists in the square grew in intensity to a dull roar in the back of Ben’s mind. It was there, but it wasn’t the immediate focus. He was in a race for his life, and in a race to protect his friends’ lives as well. Nothing else mattered.
Reggie had reached the wall and vaulted over it, then turned around to help Alex, Julie, and Mrs. E. Ben was panting in the heat, but he sped up and shot himself into the air. His foot struck the top edge of the wall just as Mrs. E slid over the wall.
He pushed, using the wall’s top edge as a step, flipping his body sideways and rolling through the air over the line of rocks.
He landed in a heap on the other side, dust and sand flying up and into his eyes and face. He coughed, feeling a sharp protruding rock hammering and bruising into his back, but he didn’t care.
We’re alive.
He sat up. The low wall’s top was only inches above the top of his head, and he knew this was far from a permanent hiding spot. The soldiers would be on them in seconds, and there was nothing but sand and emptiness between them and the Sphinx, looming in the distance.
“Gotta keep moving,” Reggie said. “Let’s follow the wall all the way down to the end. We’ll have no cover then for a few hundred yards, but we can run flat-out and get to the Sphinx complex. It’s set down into a moat of sorts, so if we get into the ditch we might be able to get some cover again.”
“And then what?” Julie asked. “They’re just going to hound us until we’re out of breath. There’s nowhere to go.”
Reggie pointed to the northwest. “That’s the Valley Temple Complex, right next to the Sphinx. It’s a maze of stone. We get in there, we might have a chance to get behind them.”
He looked at Ben, and Ben knew immediately what he was thinking. We get behind them and we might be able to disarm them.
Ben nodded, and Reggie took off, once again leading the way.
He heard a few smacks of bullets impacting the other side of the wall.
Once again under attack.
68
Reggie
REGGIE KNEW ONLY A MARGINAL amount about the Great Sphinx and its surrounding area. He knew the Great Pyramid, situated to the Sphinx’s northwest, was the last remaining wonder of the world, and that it had stood in this area for countless thousands of years, the actual age of the structure a point of contention among Egyptologists.
But during the flight to Cairo and Giza, during the downtime between bouts of conversation with Alexander, Reggie had brushed up on some of the history of the place they were now running through.
The Valley Temple, as it was called, was a sprawling stone complex sitting just to the south of the Sphinx and its own temple, and it was thought to have been the temple built for the remembrance of the Pharaoh Khafre, an Egyptian king who had ruled over four thousand years ago.
The Valley Temple is roughly square, about 150 feet to a side, and made up of a few different ‘chambers,’ each hewn from limestone that had been cut and quarried from the area surrounding the Sphinx plateau. To Reggie, the top-down view of the complex looked like some sort of spacecraft, like a two-dimensional Starship Enterprise:
The temple had been completely covered in sand until the 1800s, so it had been preserved well and hidden from looters and thieves. The result was a temple complex that was miraculously well-kept, the walls and columns still standing erect, only the roof that used to cover them missing.
Egyptologists ascribed the temple’s founding to the era of Khafre’s reign due to finding a bust of the pharaoh upside-down in a pit inside the temple. The problem with using this simple associative method for dating the structure around it is, of course, that the bust would have been added to the temple at any point after it had been built — including thousands of years after.
That sort of age-by-ascription was common in Egypt, Reggie knew, and one of the main problems he had with the academic community. The Great Pyramid itself had suffered from similar aging methodology, and current efforts to properly date the massive pyramid were constantly under attack by Egyptological ‘purists.’
The most telling reason Reggie had found to think that the Valley Temple — and the Sphinx, its own Sphinx Temple, and the rest of the impressive structures that made up the Giza complex — was far older than the accepted wisdom claimed, was something he’d discovered while quickly skimming a report of the Sphinx and its surrounding buildings. The original 200-ton limestone blocks that formed the Valley Temple had been later encased with granite facing stones. But those granite stones had been perfectly shaped to fit the weathered, eroded facades of the limestone blocks they were intended to cover — meaning the limestone blocks had been around for a very long time.
He had been intrigued by the information, filing it away in case it was something that was necessary to their operation in Giza. Now they were running toward the low-ceilinged temple, unsure of what lay inside.
Reggie ran at the front of the line, knowing that he could count on Ben to keep up at the rear. The gunshots had subsided for now, but he knew it was only because the men chasing them were well-trained. They wouldn’t waste ammunition by firing stray rounds. They would wait until their shots were clear.
He picked up his pace, nearly diving forward with every long stride, until he was at the entrance to the Valley Temple. A circle of Asian tourists stood nearby, startled and afraid, but they were moving away from the entrance slowly, keeping together and trying not to make eye contact. He was glad they were working their way toward the front gates, but still in disbelief that their pursuers had actually opened fire on them in the middle of the day, not caring at all about the innocent civilians and passersby.
It told him that the Mukhabarat weren’t about to lose the opportunity to take them out. They were here to do a job, and that job involved making sure Reggie and his buddies were completely out of the game.
And he knew all too well how they intended to accomplish that mission.
All of it told him that they were no longer dealing with just the Interpol agent, Agent Sharpe, who had seemed decent and harmless enough. Now they were in the thick of the battle, chased by a group of people who would risk collateral damage and killing innocent bystanders to hide whatever it was they were trying to hide.
And to hide Sarah.
He surged forward, launching himself into the front door of the Valley Temple. He ducked instinctively, even though the ceiling was high enough to not pose a threat to the top of his head. He stopped for a brief moment, catching his breath and waiting for the rest of his team. In the brief respite, he took in the interior of the grand temple, seeing the pictures and descriptions he’d read coming to life before hi
s eyes.
He wasn’t sure if having information about the Valley Temple or the Sphinx would help them stay ahead of their pursuers — and it certainly wouldn’t help them not get shot — but it only reaffirmed his suspicions that there was something very strange and off-the-record about the entirety of the Giza Plateau.
69
Julie
JULIE’S SIDES WERE SPLITTING with the growing pain of exertion. They were safe — for the moment — inside the Valley Temple, but Reggie had barely stopped to wait for her and the others before motioning them onward into the depths of the ancient structure.
He had researched the buildings that made up the plateau, and combined with his love of and knack for history as well as Alexander’s firsthand knowledge as an ex-resident of Cairo, she felt they were in good hands.
Still, she wished those hands had something in them that could fire back at their pursuers. Reggie had told them that the men following them were with the Mukhabarat. The security force was in charge of anything the Egyptian government deemed worthy of their being in charge of; they had a near-carte blanche in dealing with local threats to the Cairo and Giza governments.
And Julie knew also that Agent Sharpe was not only out of his jurisdiction, he didn’t have a jurisdiction. The fact he was here was surprising — Interpol wasn’t a police force, but merely a communications firm that assisted national and local governments. He was probably feeling as overwhelmed with his involvement as Julie was with her own, but she knew there wasn’t anything he could do or say to call off the Mukhabarat men. They were on a mission, and Julie and her team was the threat.
They would eliminate the threat, or they would fail.
And she didn’t seem to think they were interested in failure.
She followed close behind Reggie, Mrs. E, Alex, and Ben just behind her. They twisted through the near-empty expanse of the Valley Temple. Most of the tourists had been scared off by the impending violence and gunshots, and were making their way to the eastern gates in droves. A few stragglers — either people unaware of what was taking place or choosing to remain ignorant — stayed behind, reading inscriptions and walking among the pillars of stone in the temple.
Julie hoped for their sake that the men following them wouldn’t be careless enough to crack off shots as soon as they rushed inside.
Reggie turned right up ahead, then immediately left. Thanks to the lack of a roof covering their route, Julie could just barely see the top of the Sphinx’s head in the distance, and she noticed that the winding path Reggie was taking through the column-laden temple was going to end up somewhere near the southeastern side of the Sphinx.
Just as Julie took the left turn, she saw Reggie step through a plastic sheet that was blocking a doorway at the northwestern corner of the Valley Temple. The doorway was narrow, hardly wide enough for a pair to fit through side-by-side, and a sign stood next to the door stating the purpose of the closed-off section in English and Arabic.
Causeway currently closed; no public access.
Reggie didn’t stop to ponder the sign’s meaning or ask the others for their opinion, he simply ran through the thin plastic sheet, tearing it from the weak painter’s tape holding it to the stone walls. Julie followed behind him, finding herself running down an infinitely long tunnel. The ‘causeway’ was also roofless, and the bright sun illuminated the entire strip of stone pathway that ran the distance between the Valley Temple and its destination, somewhere near the front of one of the pyramids.
Julie didn’t know what the causeway’s original purpose was, but it was clear that it was now used for some sort of construction project. She hurdled paint cans, sawhorses, and other tools and supplies as she ran. More plastic sheets covered the stone walls, and scaffolding had been erected in a few places over the top of the causeway, allowing workers to pass overhead as necessary.
Reggie ran ahead, then stopped at an intersection with another passageway that branched off the causeway to the right.
“This shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, breathing heavily.
“What do you mean?” Julie asked.
“This causeway,” he replied. “It’s just a long and straight stone passageway, probably meant to bring water up to the pyramids. There weren’t any offshoots, from what I remember.”
“Maybe you missed it?” Julie said, just as the three stragglers behind her caught up, all of them panting.
“No,” he said. “I mean, it’s newer, too. Look.” He pointed to the walls around the main causeway, then at the newer passageway. Julie had to admit the new branch looked to have been cut recently, the fresh corners and edges still sharp.
“You’re right,” Ben said. “So… do we take it?”
Reggie looked behind him, then nodded. “They’re going to be right behind us, and there’s no other exit from the Valley Temple besides this causeway. It’s too long to run the length of it before they’re on us, so we’ll be sitting ducks. This fork is the only way to go. They’re probably —“
Before he could finish, Julie heard the sound of heavy boots — many pairs of them — echoing louder through the causeway.
“They’re almost here,” Reggie said. “Come on.”
Julie didn’t hesitate. She followed Reggie into the perpendicular branch off the main causeway. It was covered, and thus darker. Reggie had slowed down, so as not to miss any dangerous ledges or obstacles, and Julie kept up.
70
Ben
THE DOORWAY THAT HAD BEEN cut into the side of the causeway wall led to another hallway, this one a bit higher, but narrower, than the original Egyptian one. It was darker, too, owing to the fact that this hallway still had a roof — or at least the bedrock that the hallway had been cut out of hadn’t been cut all the way to the surface. Sand and chips of rock piled along the sides of the hallway, and a light coating of dust picked up and filled the air as they walked inside.
Ben couldn’t at first see exactly how far the hallway had been cut, but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted and he saw that the hallway ended only twenty or so feet ahead.
Unfortunately, the way it ended was in a thick, massive metal door, completely closing off access to whatever lay behind it.
“Not good,” Reggie said.
“Definitely not good,” Ben echoed.
Ben heard the footsteps behind them growing in volume, and he could see the shadows of the soldiers looming in the longer causeway.
“What is it?” Alex asked. “It’s obviously modern.”
“No idea,” Reggie said. “Probably some sort of access corridor for maintenance or something.”
“Whatever it is,” Mrs. E said, “it is locked.” She pulled on the handle again and the door didn’t so much as budge. “We are stuck here.”
Ben felt the adrenaline rush he had been on immediately leave him, and his heart sank as he looked at Julie. He moved in front of her, blocking her view of the main causeway. And blocking their view of her.
He wouldn’t be much of a shield, but it was better than nothing.
“Should we rush the hallway?” Ben asked.
Reggie was standing next to him, both large men standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the smaller corridor, completely filling the space. “We don’t really have a choice, I guess,” Reggie said. “On my count.”
Ben nodded, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out.
“One,” Reggie said, his voice a whisper.
Ben watched the shadows bouncing toward them, growing larger and fainter as they neared their position. The heavy footfalls thundered down the causeway, and the cacophony of it all made it sound like there was an army bearing down on them.
“Two.”
Ben knew they had less than three seconds before the soldiers and Sharpe reached their position. Three seconds to prepare whatever defense they had in mind — in this case, nothing more than hoping their surprise attack took them off guard. Three seconds to tell Julie —
“Three!”
Reggie lurc
hed forward just as the first soldier rounded the corner. Reggie flew at the man with an unbelievable speed, his shoulders hunched but his head up, aiming the crown of his forehead toward the chin of the first man.
The cracking sound of the impact — bone on bone — reverberated even louder than the footfalls, and it took Ben a split second to realize it wasn’t just the impact from Reggie’s head-butt that had made the sound.
The second soldier in the line of the men running down the length of the causeway had reacted to Reggie’s attack with a quick pull of his trigger. The assault rifle’s retort sent the round sailing toward Reggie, landing in the thickest part of his upper thigh.
He screamed, falling sideways, just as the first soldier — the man whom Reggie had hit with his head — recovered and lifted his own rifle.
Ben stopped dead in his tracks. He had been running as well, but his speed was no match for Reggie’s and his friend had taken off and raced in front, reaching the causeway and the first man in the line a second before Ben.
Now, Ben was standing at the intersection of the causeway and its smaller corridor, staring down the barrel of a Maadi MISR 7.62mm assault rifle.
He swallowed, then closed his eyes. Reggie groaned from his spot on the ground in the causeway, the blood on his leg beginning to pool around him.
This is it.
He heard a loud cracking sound and he held his breath. The sound was followed by a smaller, lighter squeak, and he dared a glance at the soldier.
The man wasn’t looking at him.
Instead, the soldier had his eye on something over Ben’s shoulder. Ben let out the breath, then turned around.
