The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Tarik yelled, kicking his brother in the ass, sending him flying forward as Tarik thrust his sword out to prevent the attacker’s blade from opening up his brother’s back. The two blades clashed, the shudder from the impact rippling up the metal and into his arms, a feeling he was unused to, his practice usually just that, the thrusts and parries from his partners weak compared to this man’s all-out attack.

  Another yell from the darkness had Tarik spinning toward it as he stepped to his left, covering Jabari who still lay on the ground. Fadil rushed past him on his right, into the darkness, tossing the torch ahead of him, revealing a second man, armed with a sword far finer that those left on the camel outside.

  Tarik’s man swung his sword at Tarik’s shoulder. Tarik raised his sword, dropping the blade to the left, blocking the attack, then stepped forward and kicked the man in the stomach. As he doubled over in pain, Tarik raised his sword and dropped it, fast, cleaving the man’s head in half, the sword stuck in the bone of the skull.

  Pushing on the man’s shoulder with his foot, he yanked the blade free as he watched Fadil battle the second man. Jabari rushed past, torch in one hand, sword in the other as Fadil was knocked to the ground.

  “Fadil!” yelled Tarik as he finally worked his weapon free, pushing hard against the ground as he raced to save his youngest family member. The attacker’s blade was coming down, hard and fast, the double handed attack leaving no chance Fadil would survive. Fadil raised his hands, covering his head, raising his legs as he did so in an attempt to kick at his attacker, but it was too late.

  Jabari lunged forward, his sword held out in front of him as far as his arm could stretch as he dropped the torch, but even his blade was too far. Suddenly there was a scream to his right, Dalila’s horror echoing through the cavern, but it was the blur of motion that caught his eye as she pulled something from the bun of hair atop her head. It glinted in the torchlight, then her arm whipped out, and a heartbeat later Fadil’s attacker gasped, his swing aborted, the blade falling atop Fadil but, the momentum gone, the man instead gripping a dagger now embedded in his chest.

  Jabari reached the man and finished him off with a single thrust of his sword, followed by a twist of the blade. Tarik pulled Fadil away from the collapsing corpse, and examined his brother’s arm where the blade had fallen. It was cut, but his brother’s tunic and heavy bracelets seemed to have absorbed much of the blow.

  Dalila pushed him aside and quickly began to administer to her husband. Tarik stepped back, then retrieved his torch, he and Jabari covering both sides of their fallen brother, searching the shadows for other foes, but finding none.

  “Are these the same two men you saw when you were here before?” asked Jabari.

  Dalila looked at the nearest one. “I believe so, but it was dark.”

  “And you are certain there were only two?”

  “Again, it was dark. Perhaps there were others who had left earlier, but when I saw them, there were only two.”

  She tied a scarf around her husband’s arm, stemming the light bleeding, then rose, helping Fadil to his feet. Fadil retrieved his sword and Dalila carried the torch, leading the way. They followed her through the darkness, and quickly found themselves at an opening in the wall, several tools lying about that had obviously been used to break through the cavern wall.

  Tarik wondered how they had known to dig here, and was about to wonder aloud, when he saw every five paces a small hole in the wall, where it appeared a spike had been driven, apparently to discover where the wall was hollow on the other side. Indeed, he spotted the long spike lying to his right, discarded in the excitement by their attackers when they had finally found an opening.

  Jabari stuck the flame inside and knelt down on one knee to look. His hand darted to his heart, covering it as if to protect it, then he rose, looking at Tarik.

  “As the eldest, I think it is your duty to go first.”

  Tarik nodded, having no doubt there wasn’t a trace of cowardice in Jabari’s conclusion. It was his duty as the eldest, and it was his duty due to the fact this entire endeavor was his idea. The irony wasn’t lost on him that if they hadn’t been watching the tomb, the necklace wouldn’t have been stolen by Dalila, but if the necklace hadn’t been stolen, they would not have known of the thieves who now lay dead behind them, never to plunder again.

  But thieves usually had masters, and as he crawled through the small opening and emerged into the large burial chamber, he realized what must be done. As his hand ran across the sarcophagus of his beloved Cleopatra, then that of her beloved Antony, dead barely a week before she committed suicide. His chest tightened as he imagined each of their final thoughts, filled with love and heartbreak, two lovers as the world had never before seen, and he doubted would again.

  “We have to move them,” he said to his brothers who stood respectfully aside. Jabari’s jaw was the first to drop, followed by Fadil’s.

  “Are you mad? That’s sacrilege!” exclaimed Jabari.

  Tarik shook his head slowly, his hand resting on the sarcophagus of his Pharaoh. “No, it would be sacrilege to leave it here, unprotected, where thieves could loot it at any time.”

  “But that’s why we are guarding it!” Fadil stepped forward, then back as he came too near Antony’s sarcophagus. “We will protect them!”

  “But what if something happens to us?” asked Tarik. “What if we are all killed somehow, or what of when we get old and grey? Who will protect her then?”

  Fadil had no answer, his jaw clamped shut as his eyes sought a solution, darting about the room uselessly. His eyes finally rested upon Jabari, it clear to Tarik that his youngest brother hoped for some sanity from the middle-brother.

  Jabari looked at Fadil, smiling slightly, suggesting he understood Fadil’s concerns, then stepped forward, placing his hand respectfully on Cleopatra’s sarcophagus.

  “What do you propose, brother?”

  Tarik smiled at Jabari, knowing he would see the reasoning behind his argument, then motioned for Fadil to join them. He did, reluctantly, and he too placed a hand on the sarcophagus. Tarik took the hand and placed it atop Jabari’s, then placed his own on top of both.

  “We, The Brotherhood, shall move this tomb to a place of safety, known only to us, so our beloved Pharaoh may rest in peace for eternity, and we and our children, and our children’s children, shall stand guard over her, ensuring her security, and the restful slumber of our Queen.”

  And with that solemn declaration, their lives changed forever, the weight of the moment lost on none of them.

  A scream pierced the chamber, and Fadil broke their huddle first, crying out his wife’s name as he dove for the small opening dug by the thieves. Jabari was next, followed by Tarik, who when he emerged, gasped as he found Fadil cradling his wife in his arms, her face pale, covered in sweat.

  “Why? Why did you do it?” he cried, holding her cheek against his.

  “To save you from having to,” she whispered, raising her hand to touch her husband’s. “To save my darling husband the pain of having to execute his own wife for her crimes.”

  Fadil’s eyes poured tears, the clang of a sword on stone going unnoticed as Jabari killed the king cobra that had been in the basket brought with them for this very purpose. As Tarik watched, joined quietly by Jabari, his mind reeled with the duty he had just committed them to. They had already killed two tonight, a third life was in the process of being claimed, the price for violating the tomb

  He only prayed that the gods would forgive them their desecration, and grant them the wisdom, the courage, and the permission, to protect them in the afterlife.

  And with a sigh, Dalila’s last breath echoed through the cave, followed by the heart wrenching cry of her devoted husband.

  Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

  Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack

  Acton held his hands up, mentally guiding the rope that held his most precious treasure, Laura. The rope swun
g slightly from side to side, but not too badly and in just another foot or so, he’d be able to touch her boot to steady her.

  “Almost there,” he called, his voice reassuring, the cavern now well lit, several powerful LED lanterns passed down via bucket before Laura insisted she be lowered. He had objected, silently, but realized this was her dig site, and most other weeks he wouldn’t have been here to object regardless of how he felt.

  This was their job, to dangle from ropes, climb into caves, brave spiders and snakes, outsmart ancient booby traps, and battle boredom, the most common enemy of a dig going badly. But he couldn’t recall a dig where he had been bored. Pick your site well, do your research, then follow the grid pattern, reevaluating as you go along.

  How could you ever get bored doing this?

  He grabbed his fiancée and carefully guided her to the floor. With her feet on the ground, she gave him a kiss, then untied herself, tossing the rope aside.

  “I’m clear!” she called to those above, and immediately the rope was pulled up.

  “Hugh! You wanna come and join us?” asked Acton with a wink to Laura, knowing full well what the answer would be.

  “No, I’ll coordinate things from up here.”

  “Martin?”

  “Thought you’d never bloody ask!”

  Moments later a set of boots appeared, and Acton waited for their friend to be lowered as Laura began to examine the find. As she circled the large cavern they had stumbled upon, it was quite obvious that the place had been chosen carefully to hide a secret so precious, so important, it was clearly never meant to be found.

  But they had found it.

  And he immediately began to wonder if the Curse of the Pharaoh’s would plague their dig now that they had.

  Suddenly his nose stung and his eyes watered as he took a boot from Chaney to the head, cursing himself for not paying attention.

  “Sorry, Professor, didn’t see you there.”

  “Don’t worry about it, my fault,” replied Acton as he guided Chaney to the ground.

  Has the Curse already begun?

  He smiled and shook his head.

  If a boot to the head is the best they can do, I think we’ll be okay.

  Nubian Desert, Egypt

  30 BC, Five Months After Cleopatra’s Death

  The three brothers lay exhausted on the ground, soaked in sweat, covered in dirt, their clothes nearly in tatters. But they all had smiles on their faces, staring up at their handiwork. It had taken months of painstaking, laborious work, but it was done. The first thing they had to accomplish, and it had been done quickly, was to find a new location, out of the way, hidden from prying eyes.

  That had turned out to be easy.

  Jabari had discovered a deep crevice on newly purchased land that was easily passable, yet had probably not seen a visitor in hundreds if not thousands of moons, and his own explorations had revealed caverns carved into the rock face by whatever force of the gods had created the crevice in the first place.

  A specific location was chosen, then every night they would journey to the tomb, load their carts, then transport them to Tarik’s house, where they would then be carefully packaged by trusted servants, then moved to their new home. No suspicions were raised as it was their land they were travelling to, and with no one the wiser, this part of their plan was merely laborious.

  But the third and final part, thought of that first night by Fadil, was the most difficult.

  The decoy.

  They knew if the tomb was discovered with the bodies of their revered Pharaoh and her husband missing, a hunt, far and wide, would ensue, and three brothers, out at all hours of the night, transporting goods to newly acquired land, may be looked upon with enough suspicion to cause problems.

  So Fadil made a suggestion that Tarik thought beyond his years.

  A brilliant suggestion.

  The tomb could be left emptied, the victim of tomb raiders, but the bodies had to remain behind. Which was exactly what they did. A funeral had to be held for Dalila, and Fadil paid to have her embalmed in the traditional way, and with a large additional payment, the body of one of the slain thieves was also embalmed with no questions asked, a vague reference to a despised cousin provided.

  A lavish funeral was held, hundreds in attendance, the body of their beloved Dalila entombed in the family crypt. But when night fell, it and the embalmed body of the thief were moved to Cleopatra and Antony’s former resting place, and left for future generations to find.

  Tarik wondered what questions would be raised if those bodies were actually found. Would they be what they expected, or completely different? Would history be rewritten, Antony’s legacy of suicide changed to death in battle due to the sword wound that had cleaved open the man’s head who now took his place?

  He knew the job of those bodies was merely to take the place of their revered counterparts long enough for memories to forget the months long labors of three brothers in the night, and if fortunate, long enough for their duties to have been inherited by the next generation of The Brotherhood.

  Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

  Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack

  Reading ignored the now organized activity about him, and instead scanned the horizon for the telltale signs of their observers, but could see nothing. He walked over to one of the guards providing security for the new site, his sunglass covered eyes slowly casing the area.

  Or providing cover while he stared at the female students’ arses.

  Who knew?

  It was one of the reasons he always had a suspect remove their sunglasses before interrogation. The key were the eyes. You could tell if they were lying, scared, hiding something.

  Or completely psychotic.

  Those were the ones who sent a chill up your spine. The calm ones, the collected ones, the ones whose eyes revealed nothing, who could look at a hacked up corpse as if it were a Christmas dinner.

  I miss it.

  It had been a tough choice to go Interpol, a choice more or less forced on him due to the incident with the Triarii and the inquiries that had occurred later. He was too high profile after that, and knew he’d be hounded by his colleagues and by witnesses, victims and suspects if they recognized him from the newscasts.

  Then the offer had come out of nowhere.

  And after twenty-four long hours of procrastination, he had decided to take it. He had to admit to himself that certain aspects he enjoyed. The intel he had on hand was incredible, knowing what was going on around the world, that the average citizen had no clue of, was at once exhilarating as it was terrifying. It also allowed him the flexibility to travel almost anywhere in the world, and on occasion, help out his friends Jim and Laura, who seemed to be magnets for trouble.

  Which was why the flashes on the horizon had concerned him so much. He knew they were a foreshadowing of things to come if this pair’s history was any indication. But what it might mean, who it might be, and what they might do, were mysteries.

  “Any word?” he asked the man.

  “They’re on their way back. ETA two minutes.”

  “Did they find anything?”

  “There was some chatter. The colonel said he’d fill you in when he returned.”

  Reading nodded, knowing there was no point in pressing the former soldier. He’d obey his chain of command, and about the only people who could perhaps convince him otherwise were twenty feet below them, playing in the sand.

  That’s not fair.

  He mentally slapped himself for insulting his friends’ profession as he returned to the hole. As he watched the pulley system erected by the students in no time, and the organized effort that was a credit to their teacher, he realized that these were professionals, doing a serious job, in a deliberate way. There was a process, there were rules. He could respect that. And though they weren’t out saving lives as part of their job—that part was merely coincidental—they were teaching kids, something he could
respect, and with the character these two had displayed over the couple of years he had known them, he couldn’t imagine two other people he’d want more to mold the hearts and minds of his own son.

  These are good people.

  And he knew he was lucky to have them in his life. After a near lifetime of seeing the dark side of society, socializing with fellow cops who only saw that side as well, they were a welcome relief despite their penchant for getting into trouble.

  Reading looked over as a jeep pulled up. Former Lieutenant Colonel Leather was everything his name implied. Well-worn but tough. He exited the jeep and strode over to Reading.

  “Sir, are the professors available?”

  “Negative, they’re in the pit right now. Is it urgent?”

  “It’s got potential, hard to say.” Leather looked toward the horizon where the flashes had been seen earlier. “When we arrived we saw two men already departing on horseback, far enough from their original position to tell me that they had been tipped off we were coming.”

  “From one of us?”

  Leather shook his head.

  “Doubt it, but it is possible one of the helpers isn’t playing for the home team. I’m guessing however they have other lookouts and simply spotted us leaving.”

  “And now they know we know.”

  Leather nodded.

  “Which is what could make this situation escalate should their intentions be hostile.”

  Reading sighed.

  “We have to assume their intentions aren’t good. If they were just curious, why run?”

  “We did have guns prominently displayed, so we can’t rule out that we just scared them.”

  Reading looked at the sunglasses, his own concerned visage looking back.

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “No, sir, not at all. I think the prudent thing to do would be to shut this operation down until we can ascertain who is watching us.”

  Reading grunted.

  “You’ll never get them to agree to that,” he said, his head nodding toward the pit where the two professors were working.