The Sphinx a5-4

by Robert Doherty

  Duncan glanced at Mualama. She had a feeling both of the men were holding something back. She saw little reason for Kaji to guide them to the Hall of Records, and she didn’t think that Mualama had told all he knew.

  She noted when they were no longer in the Pyramid, as the walls changed from stone blocks to a tunnel bored through solid rock.

  “We are heading toward the Sphinx?” Mualama asked.

  “Yes,” Kaji answered shortly.

  “What is that noise?” Duncan asked, hearing a distant roar.

  “The River of Aker.” Kaji was walking steadily down the tunnel, his leather sandals shuffling along the dusty floor. “The Nile makes a loop under the Highland and then back again.”

  “How far do these tunnels go?” Duncan asked.

  Kaji suddenly stopped and was looking at the wall on the right side. “I have not traveled all the tunnels, so I do not know.” He pressed his hand against the wall and the outline of a stone appeared, then slid up into a recess above. Duncan had never seen the likes of that technology, and she knew it had to be Airlia.

  Kaji motioned for them to go through. They squeezed past and he followed, the door shutting behind them, the outline melding into the rock and disappearing.

  Kaji began hacking, and Duncan knew from the sound that he was seriously ill. When he was able to get his breath, he pointed down the tunnel where darkness waited. “The Hall is that way.”

  Duncan shined her flashlight where he pointed, but it was as if the very light was being sucked into the darkness. “What is that?” she asked.

  “The Old Ones had strange ways,” Kaji answered. “You must go through the darkness to come into the light.”

  “I think you should go first,” Mualama said.

  Kaji shuffled forward and disappeared into the darkness.

  “Do you trust him?” Duncan asked.

  Mualama shook his head. “No. I believe his great-grandfather tried to kill Sir Burton down here.”

  “Thanks for letting me know that now.”

  Mualama stepped forward. “But we will never know what is on the other side unless we go.” He disappeared, leaving Duncan alone.

  She stepped forward toward the darkness. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, as if the light were being absorbed by the air. Her ears popped from a decrease in pressure as she continued forward, moving by feel, totally blinded. Her stomach spasmed as she almost fell to her knees, but she forced herself to continue moving. The experiences reminded her of the feeling she’d had when Majestic had operated the gravity drive of the mothership in Hangar Two.

  She blinked as she was abruptly blinded by light.

  “That is the Hall of Records,” Kaji said, but Duncan barely heard him as she stared down at the Black Sphinx on the floor of the cavern.

  Moscow

  D — 1 Hour, 45 Minutes

  Yakov shoved the grate at the top of the stairs away and climbed up, Turcotte following. They were in a room illuminated by a few bulbs. Turcotte blinked, adjusting to what was to him a brightly lit area. There were several large objects in the room, and he had to look at them for several minutes before he recognized what they were: elegant horse-drawn coaches.

  “Where the hell are we?” Turcotte asked.

  “Remember when I said luck could always get worse?” Yakov asked in turn. “If I am correct, we are in the basement of the Kremlin Armory.”

  “And that’s bad?” Turcotte walked around one of the carriages to the lone door in the room, a thick heavy wooden one with metal bands across it.

  “The Armory is where the greatest treasures of Russia are housed,” Yakov said. “These carriages were probably used by the czars… there is always an exhibition of one or two on the main floor. The Faberge eggs are housed above us; the crowns of the later czars; the Icon of the Virgin of Smolensk.”

  “And?” Turcotte tried the handle on the door. It turned freely. As far as he was concerned, it seemed things were getting better.

  “Do not open that door. I would wager you a large amount of money,” Yakov said, “that you will trip an alarm if you open it. And there is always a heavily armed platoon of guards on standby in the Armory itself and over a battalion of men stationed on the grounds of the Kremlin.”

  Turcotte stopped turning the handle. Yakov came over and examined it, then pointed. “A laser along the inside. Open it more than a quarter inch, and you will trigger the alarm. There are many more such alarms once we get through the door. It is, as you Americans say, out of the frying pan, into the fire,” Yakov summed up his take on the situation.

  Turcotte checked the AKSU. He had four rounds in the magazine and no spares. “How are you doing?” he asked Yakov.

  The Russian held up the pistol. “Two bullets left. And I would prefer to kill as few of my countrymen who are just doing their job as possible.”

  Turcotte reached into his shirt and pulled out the SATPhone. “Let me see if I can get us a fire extinguisher.”

  Space

  D — 1 Hour, 30 Minutes

  The talon passed over the west coast of the United States, Warfighter and Stratzyda in its nearby wake. Four hundred miles below, millions of unsuspecting people went about their business in San Francisco.

  Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania

  D — 1 Hour, 30 Minutes

  Underneath Soda Lake in the center of Ngorongoro Crater, Lexina had tried calling Duncan once more but received no response. She went to the second number she had… direct access to the Cube at Area 51.

  The SATPhone was answered on the first ring. “Major Quinn.”

  “There is not much more time.” Lexina didn’t waste time on an introduction. “I want the key.”

  “We’ll get you your key,” Quinn said. “It’s taking us a little while.”

  “How can it take you so much time when you already have it? I will do as I promised. To show you I mean what I say, watch Stratzyda.” Lexina cut the connection. She turned to the black sphere and forwarded commands to the talon’s computer, which in turn controlled Stratzyda.

  Space

  D — 1 Hour, 28 Minutes

  Directly over Oakland, two long doors that even the makers of Stratzyda had hoped would never be opened, slowly slid apart, revealing the blunt nosecones of the cobalt bomb reentry vehicles.

  Area 51

  D — 1 Hour, 27 Minutes

  “Goddamn Russians” was Kincaid’s comment as the front screen relayed the view from a ground telescope of Stratzyda. “All the crap that went wrong with Mir, you’d think this wouldn’t work after all these years.”

  “They’ve always been better at making weapons than anything else,” Major Quinn said.

  “The President has this, doesn’t he?” Kincaid asked.

  “It’s being relayed to the War Room,” Quinn confirmed. “But with Interdictor destroyed, there’s not much anyone can do.”

  “Where the hell is Turcotte?” Kincaid muttered.

  “Oh God!” Quinn exclaimed, looking up at the screen. “She isn’t waiting!”

  With a puff of a small rocket firing, one of the reentry vehicles separated from Stratzyda. It moved away, gravity pulling it down, the small engine orienting its path on an angled trajectory.

  “Where’s it heading for?” Quinn demanded of the people monitoring the equipment in front of him. The Stratzyda was over Stockton, California.

  “We don’t have a solid lock yet,” one of the technicians responded. “It’s in a glide path rather than a direct downward shot. Warhead passing through three hundred and fifty miles altitude, descending rapidly.”

  The view on the screen switched to the tracking imagery from Space Command.

  Quinn breathed a momentary sigh of relief as the black line indicating the warhead edged eastward, away from Oakland and San Francisco. “Give me a targeting and impact point and time!” he yelled.

  Kincaid had shoved one of the technicians out of the way and was rapidly typing into a computer. He stiffened as numbers ap
peared on the screen. He swiveled around on the seat. “Time to impact is four minutes. Target and impact point is right on top of us.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Airborne

  D — 1 Hour, 25 Minutes

  The reentry capsule angled into the atmosphere over the Sierra Nevadas, the heat shield leading the way. Thirty seconds later it crossed the California/Nevada border at two hundred miles of altitude. Drogue plates, less than ten inches long and six inches wide, popped out perpendicular on the side of the capsule, slowing it enough so that it would not burn up.

  Area 51

  D — 7 Hour, 25 Minutes

  “Seal the Cube!” Major Quinn ordered.

  “Two minutes to impact,” Kincaid announced.

  A heavy steel door, over two feet thick, slowly swung shut over the only exit out of the underground complex, sealing off the elevator to the surface.

  “Do you think that will make a difference?” Kincaid asked Quinn.

  “We’re going to find out, aren’t we?” Quinn snapped in reply. He nodded at the door. “That’s not the important thing. What’s critical is that our air filtration system works. The bomb should go off in the air to maximize the spread of the cobalt.”

  “What about all the people still on the surface?” Kincaid asked. Quinn’s silence was answer enough to that question.

  Airborne

  D — 1 Hour, 24 Minutes

  Over target, the reentry capsule split in two, the pieces ripping away into the air at 5,000 feet altitude. A drogue chute popped open on top of the bomb itself as it drifted down. A built-in sensor on the bottom of the casing ranged a radar beam to the ground below and received immediate bounce-back, giving the arming system relative altitude. The detonator had been preset many years before the launch to go off at 3,000 feet relative altitude above target.

  Area 51

  D — 1 Hour, 23 Minutes, 30 Seconds

  “There it is!” Quinn pointed at the corner of the front screen, where the feed from one of the surface video surveillance cameras had picked up the small dark dot of the deployed parachute directly overhead. “Any second now.” Quinn’s voice had dropped to a whisper and all activity in the Cube had ceased.

  Breaths were held as the parachute grew larger, and now a small black object could be detected hanging below.

  “How high?” Quinn asked.

  “Passing through four thousand feet,” Kincaid replied.

  The ring of Quinn’s SATPhone caused everyone to jump. For the first time, Quinn didn’t jump to answer. His gaze was fixed on the screen.

  “Three thousand, five hundred,” Kincaid announced.

  The phone continued to ring.

  “Three thousand.”

  “Damn it!” Quinn snatched the phone. The bomb could clearly be seen now. “Quinn!” he yelled into the phone.

  “Do you believe me now?” Lexina’s genderless voice was barely audible. “Can you stop it?” Quinn felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. Kincaid’s voice echoed through the Cube. “Two thousand, five hundred.”

  “Give me the key,” Lexina said. “In a little over three hours, Stratzyda will be over the center of your country, the warheads able to blanket it completely.”

  “Two thousand!” The strain was getting to Kincaid, his voice rising.

  “When you are ready to be serious,” Lexina said, “you can contact me… SAT Code two-four-bravo-six-nine-eight.”

  “Wait!” Quinn yelled into the phone. “Can you stop the warhead?”

  “One thousand.”

  Quinn looked up at the screen. The camera was panning from the vertical as the bomb rapidly descended. It followed as the black orb slammed into the desert floor less than a hundred meters from the control tower on the edge of the runway.

  “The warhead is one of six that are nonfunctional,” Lexina said. “Rest assured, though, that the other twenty-six will work quite well.” The SATPhone went dead.

  CHAPTER 26

  Giza Plateau, Egypt

  D — 1 Hour, 15 Minutes

  Duncan had to grab Mualama twice to keep him from falling off the stairs that led to the floor of the cavern. The African archaeologist’s legs moved numbly, his eyes focused on the Black Sphinx. They followed Kaji and finally ended up standing just in front of the large, dark face with glinting red eyes. The statue between the paws loomed above them, mounted on a six-foot-high black pedestal.

  Duncan stared up, even more impressed with this than she had been the first time into Hangar Two and seeing the mothership. The stone copy on the surface was majestic, but this held an overwhelming sense of power.

  “The key.” Kaji had his hand out.

  Mualama pulled the scepter out of his pack.

  “Hold on a second… ” Duncan protested, but Mualama didn’t appear to hear her as he handed the artifact to Kaji.

  The Egyptian held it in his hands reverently. “Generations of my family beyond the horizon of known history have watched the Highland of Aker and guarded the way to the Hall of Records.”

  “When was the key taken away?” Duncan asked.

  Kaji seemed surprised that she spoke. “I do not know.”

  Duncan was tired of mumbo-jumbo talk and bowing before Airlia artifacts. The Watchers had known of this hidden Sphinx and the Hall of Records since before recorded history… at least according to Kaji… yet they had kept it hidden, which she had a feeling was the way the Airlia and their lackeys… both sides… would have preferred it.

  “You don’t even know what’s inside, do you?” Duncan pressed.

  “It is the Hall of Records,” Kaji said.

  Duncan shook her head in disgust. “That’s a name for something when you don’t have a clue what it exactly is.”

  “The Ark of the Covenant.” Mualama intruded on the conversation, stirring out of his Sphinx fog. “That is what is inside the Hall of Records.”

  “And what is the Ark?” Duncan’s voice was sharp.

  Mualama’s eyes came off the Sphinx, and Kaji looked up from the scepter. Duncan finally had their attention. She pointed at the Sphinx. “Forget your preconceptions. Forget your legends. Neither of you knows a damn thing about what is really going on. I don’t either.” She jabbed a finger into Kaji’s chest. “You’re setting us up. I know that. He knows that.” She nodded at Mualama. “He’s just too caught up in his search to let that stop him. You’ll leave us down here to die once you have the key and open the Hall.

  “You don’t think The Mission isn’t on our trail?” Duncan asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. “You Watchers are out-of-date. Humans can’t sit back and simply observe anymore, because the truce between Aspasia and Artad is over. Your man knew that deep in the Amazon when he alerted us to the Black Death.” With her free hand Duncan pulled a ring out of her pocket and showed it to Kaji. “This is his ring. He was a Watcher, and he died taking a stand. It’s time for you to take a stand. To make the sacrifices the generations of your family who have guarded this place have made worth something.”

  She pulled the 9mm pistol that Turcotte had given her out and held it at her side. “I’m tired of people playing games with hidden agendas. My agenda is I want what is in there, whatever it is.” She gestured with the gun. “So let’s open it up.”

  Kaji reached out and took the ring from her. He turned it in the light of the false sun, noting the eye design on the face. “It is the sign of the wedjat,” he agreed.

  “Open the Hall,” Duncan pressed.

  “We will see…” Kaji paused and cocked his head. “Someone has entered the Roads of Rastau.”

  “How do you know?” Mualama asked.

  “I can sense it.” The first display of emotion that Duncan had seen played across Kaji’s face for the briefest of moments. “They have my son.”

  “The Mission is coming,” Duncan said. “You can let us in the Hall or let them in. Your choice. You know you will not be able to save your son, and that the line of Kaji the wedjat on the Highland of Aker wil
l end today.”

  Kaji quickly turned and walked forward between the paws of the Black Sphinx.

  “What does the stela say?” Mualama asked, referring to the six-foot-high, polished black stone that rested against the chest of the Sphinx at the end of the open space between the paws and upon which rested the statue. High runes were carved all along the face of the stone.

  “I do not know,” Kaji said.

  Duncan had a feeling he was lying, but the stone could be examined later. She had no idea how far away The Mission’s people were. Mualama pulled out a small camera and took a picture of it. In the very center of the stela was a proportional drawing of the scepter.

  Kaji held up the scepter and placed it on the image. He pressed it against the stone for several seconds. Duncan was startled as the glowing orb overhead blinked out for a second, then came back on. The surface of the stone shimmered and the scepter began sinking into it, absorbed into its own image. Kaji let go of it and stepped back next to Duncan and Mualama.

  “What now?” Duncan asked as the scepter completely disappeared into the stone. “I do not know,” Kaji said.

  “I would think that… ” Mualama began, but he shut up as the stone smoothly slid down, revealing a six-foot-high opening into the body of the Black Sphinx. The passageway beyond had several steps down into it, was eight feet high with curved and straight walls of the same black metal. A thin line of blue lights along the center of the ceiling illuminated the way.

  Duncan put the gun away and walked into the corridor, the men following her.

  Area 51

  D — 1 Hour, 10 Minutes

  Quinn’s SATPhone buzzed once more. “Quinn here.”

  “This is Captain Billam. We need the floor plans for the armory inside the Kremlin.”

  Quinn had to stop for a second to run that request through his brain one more time, the image of the bomb lying on the sand still burned into his mind. There was an explosive-ordnance disposal team there now, preparing to make sure the bomb had actually malfunctioned. Quinn did not envy them their job. “How am I supposed to have access to that?”