Journey of the Pharaohs

by Clive Cussler

  Meanwhile, back in the center of the cave, Barlow and Professor Cross were crouching beside the sarcophagus, studying what they’d found.

  Professor Cross wiped it clean of dust, gazing at the painted blue and gold stripes on the facial portion. The paint was cracked and fading. He touched the lid, rubbing more dirt off and getting a sense of the texture. He rapped his fingers against it.

  “Appears to be made of wood,” he said. “Usually the outer case is made of stone and the inner casket is made of gold, but perhaps stone was too heavy to carry down here.”

  “It’s the golden death mask and the body that matters,” Barlow said. “Do you have any idea how much people will pay to have the mummy of a Pharaoh in their private collection? Let’s open it.”

  The two men found a seam and wedged their fingers into the gap. Lifting it up, they raised the lid a few inches at a time. It slid upward with ease, feeling surprisingly light. When it pulled clear of the lower half, Barlow shoved it away, allowing it to topple over and thump noisily to the ground.

  Barlow looked immediately for his prize. But instead of a golden casket or a mummified Pharaoh, he found something else entirely.

  Kurt Austin lay in the sarcophagus. He wore a satisfied grin on his face and held a .45 caliber pistol in his hand, the barrel of which was aimed at a spot directly between Barlow’s eyes.

  Both Barlow and Professor Cross froze.

  “Austin?” Barlow stammered. “How . . . I saw you killed.”

  “So you did,” Kurt replied. “But I’m old friends with Osiris, god of the Underworld. When I told him what you were up to, he canceled my reservation and sent me back here to put a stop to it.”

  Chapter 58

  From his position by the vintage car, Robson couldn’t clearly see what was happening at the center of the cave. He saw Barlow and the professor raise their hands, heard them mumbling something and then saw them getting down on their knees. For a second, he thought they were performing some ritual or even praying.

  Before he could figure it out, a whistle from behind the old automobile got his attention.

  Spinning quickly, Robson came face-to-face with Joe Zavala, who held a short-barreled MP7 submachine gun in his hands.

  “Get on the floor,” Zavala said. “Hands on your head.”

  Robson had no choice. He took a final glimpse toward the center of the cave as he lay down. He saw Barlow and Professor Cross getting the same treatment. They’d been caught as red-handed as it gets.

  With the leaders of the group captured, the men who’d brought in the lights panicked. Seeing the guns, they made a quick evaluation of the situation and took off running.

  The man nearest to the exit got halfway there before a woman, whom Robson knew as Morgan Manning, appeared from behind a statue of Anubis and hit him in the midriff with an ancient-looking staff. The wooden pole shattered, sending pieces in all directions, but the impact was enough to drop him to the ground.

  He stayed down, holding his stomach, as she pulled out a 9mm handgun. Seeing that any hope of escape was cut off, the other man surrendered, dropping to his knees and putting his hands behind his head.

  At the center of the cavern, Kurt stood up. He was pleased with the operation. He kept the Colt pointed at Barlow as he stepped out of the sarcophagus, waiting for the man to try something.

  Instead, Professor Cross began to speak. “Thank you,” he said, starting to get up. “Thank you for rescuing me. You have no idea how abhorrent it’s been. I’ve barely been able to—”

  Kurt fixed him with a glare. “Stay where you are, Professor. We’re not done here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “But I do,” Kurt said. “Now, get on the ground. You chose the wrong team.”

  The professor looked deeply wounded as he lay down, but he didn’t protest further.

  Kurt shouted to his friend, “Joe?”

  Joe’s voice echoed as he shouted back. “Got the drop on this one.”

  Morgan spoke next. “These two aren’t going anywhere either.”

  “Paul? Gamay?” Kurt called out. “Time to secure the prisoners.”

  Paul and Gamay emerged from another section of the cave. They made their way to Morgan first. While she guarded her two captives, Paul zip-tied their hands and Gamay sealed each man’s mouth with a length of duct tape.

  “Barlow and the professor next,” Kurt said.

  “With pleasure,” Gamay said.

  She and Paul turned toward the center of the cave, but the roar of an engine filled the space as one of the ATVs came charging into the cavern.

  Morgan turned to fire but was forced to dive out of the way to avoid being run over. Paul and Gamay leapt to safety as well and the rider sped past them and rushed headlong toward the stash of treasure—and directly at Kurt, Barlow and Professor Cross.

  Kurt had no choice. He raised his pistol and fired twice, knocking the man off the machine with the first shot and blasting the front right tire with the second.

  The tire exploded, sending the ATV into a diagonal spin. It bounced off a wall, flipped and tumbled. Kurt was forced to dive behind the sarcophagus, hitting the ground just as the four-wheeler slammed into the side of it, sending fragments of painted wood and dust exploding into the air.

  Kurt rolled to get clear and then popped back up. He saw Professor Cross running deeper into the cave and Barlow leveling a snub-nosed pistol in Kurt’s direction.

  Kurt and Barlow fired at each other, dodged to their respective sides and then fired again. Neither of them took a hit, but Barlow had the better position, protected behind the wrecked ATV. All Kurt had was the thin wooden husk of the shattered sarcophagus to shield him.

  * * *

  —

  Up on the platform, beside the vintage automobile, Joe saw Kurt was in danger. He raised his weapon and fired down at Barlow, forcing the man to halt his attack and go for better cover.

  The choice gave Joe’s prisoner a chance to make his own move. The instant he wasn’t covered, Robson rolled over, pulled a pistol of his own and began firing at Joe.

  Joe dropped down behind the Kissel and listened as the slugs hit the metal of its engine block. When the firing stopped, he looked beneath the car and saw Robson sprinting in the opposite direction.

  Jumping up, Joe took a shot at Robson, but the bullet pinged harmlessly off the rock wall as he escaped into another part of the cave.

  Paul and Gamay ran up the ramp, joining Joe behind the old car.

  “They’re all in the back half of the cave,” Joe shouted. “We have them trapped.”

  No sooner had he uttered the words than a hail of bullets came at them from the front. Robson’s mates from the streets of London had come inside to join the fight.

  Gamay shook her head. “You just had to say something, didn’t you?”

  The battle quickly turned into a four-way cross fire, with Barlow and Robson’s reinforcements at the entry, Kurt and Morgan taking cover near the center, Joe and the Trouts on the far side by the vintage Kissel and Barlow, Robson and Professor Cross trapped deeper in the cavern.

  For a brief while, one side took potshots at the other, but with everybody carrying limited ammunition—and nobody interested in running out—the gunfight soon turned into a stalemate.

  In the absence of gunfire Barlow’s voice echoed from the depths of the cave. “You moved too soon, Austin! You should have waited till we were all in the cave.”

  “I would have preferred that myself,” Kurt shouted back. “Didn’t have much choice once you popped the lid off the sarcophagus. It was worth it to see the look on your face.”

  “It’ll be the last thing you ever smile about,” Barlow insisted. “You should have shot me when you had the chance. You’ll soon realize not pulling the trigger was a mistake.”

  “Trust me,” Kurt sai
d, “your mistake is going to be more costly than mine. You and the professor have run off in the wrong direction. You’re trapped back there. I can wait for reinforcements all day long if I need to, but you’re going to miss the bus home if you don’t get out of here soon.”

  Kurt faced his own dilemma. He couldn’t radio from the depths of the cave—the signal would be blocked, absorbed by all the rock surrounding them. Barlow may or may not have known that, but Kurt wasn’t about to point it out.

  “Waiting for help, eh?” Barlow laughed as he spoke. The laughter was sinister, deep and genuine. “Well, you did surprise me, Austin, I’ll admit that. But now I have a surprise for you. Your reinforcements aren’t going to come. I’m afraid they’re going to be very, very busy.”

  Chapter 59

  Glen Canyon Dam, Arizona

  The tour of the Glen Canyon Dam was mildly interesting even to Omar Kai, but they weren’t there to sightsee.

  Having made it through the security screening without any hassle, he and his men walked casually with the rest of the group, mingling with retirees from Utah, a few engineering students from Arizona State and Japanese tourists who’d come down from Las Vegas, where they’d already seen the Hoover Dam.

  After a brief walk along the top of the dam they entered a large elevator, descending five hundred and fifty-eight feet to the foot of the structure. There, they stepped off the elevator and were outside again. They crossed a short open-air corridor and lawn and arrived at the power plant.

  Visible through windows to one side were the large turbines that helped electrify large swaths of Utah, New Mexico and Arizona. At the far end, glass walls enclosed the control room, where, inside, computer screens flickered and two engineers regulated the intake of water, the speed of the turbines and the output of electricity.

  Looking around casually, Kai noticed one armed guard near the control room and a second guard standing against the far wall.

  He nodded to his men, noted their acknowledgment and then crouched to tie his sneakers once more. Loosening and then retying them, he pulled the long metal tips from the ends of the laces, palming them as he stood up. That done, he twisted the cap off of his water bottle, took a sip and then slipped the tiny strips of metal into the bottle.

  The shoelace caps looked like ordinary snips of aluminum, but they were actually made from an exotic combination of lithium and cesium, two metals that react violently when exposed to water. To prevent an instant explosion, they’d been coated with a layer of paint that would dissolve in approximately thirty seconds.

  After screwing the cap back on, Kai walked over to a blue recycle bin and casually tossed the bottle in. Walking back toward the tour group, he began counting in his head. Right at thirty seconds, the bin exploded with a thunderous boom.

  The blast was louder than it was destructive. Paper, plastic and bits of the recycle bin itself flew in all directions while gray smoke billowed across the room.

  Some members of the tour froze, some hit the floor, others ran. The security guards, flinching, turned toward the explosion. Before they knew what hit them, Kai and his men had attacked.

  The guard near the control room door was Kai’s target. He slammed a knee into the man’s groin, dropping him to the ground. He followed that with a blow to the back of the head, severe enough to knock the guard unconscious.

  The second guard presented more trouble. He’d managed to pull his weapon from his holster and was now wrestling with Kai’s people. In the melee, two shots were fired, but they flew harmlessly through the ceiling.

  “Take him down!” Kai shouted.

  By then, his men had gained the upper hand. The gun was pulled free and the security guard pistol-whipped into submission with it.

  Seeing that it was about to turn into a hostage situation, the rest of the tourists started to flee. Kai aimed the weapon he’d taken off the first guard above their heads and squeezed off a shot. “Everyone, on the floor!”

  The gunshot did its job. Those attempting to escape froze. The others covered up. The room grew quiet.

  “That’s better,” Kai said. “Guard them.”

  As his men spread out, Kai moved toward the control room door. He didn’t bother trying the handle. Rapping on the glass with the pistol, he got the attention of the two engineers. “Open the door.”

  The man and woman looked at each other. The woman shook her head.

  Kai hauled up the bloodied guard and held the pistol against his head. “I won’t ask again.”

  Reluctantly, the woman pressed a button. The door buzzed and Kai barged through. “Good choice.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re not here to kill anyone. We’re . . . eco-warriors,” the word sliding off his tongue. “We’re here to do a little bit of sabotage and put the dam out of action for a few months. Of course, I’d blow the whole thing up if I could, but that’s far easier said than done. Don’t you agree?”

  The woman had no idea what to make of him.

  “I’ll bargain with you here,” Kai said. “You help me turn on every single faucet and start flooding the canyon and I won’t stain this control room with your blood.”

  “That’s all you want?” she asked.

  “That’s my part,” he said. “Deal?”

  With the security guard’s pistol aimed at their backs, the woman and her partner began opening the floodgates. One after the other, every turbine in the power plant spun up to full capacity.

  “The bypass channels too,” Kai demanded.

  The engineers did as asked, opening all the side tunnels, which allowed water from Lake Powell behind the Glen Canyon Dam to flow around it and its turbines and then out into the Colorado River beyond.

  It took a few minutes for the surge to reach maximum capacity. At that point, water was blasting from the outflow diversion tunnels at a rate of fifty thousand cubic feet per second. Kai saw the effects on one of the computer screens and felt it in the control room as the building began to vibrate with a subtle rhythmic energy.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Now you need to leave the room so I can flood it with nerve gas.”

  “What?”

  The engineers looked at him as if he were joking, but when he raised the pistol they headed for the door so rapidly that they nearly knocked each other over.

  As the engineers left, one of Kai’s men came inside. He carried his own bottle of water and the metal tips from his own shoelaces. Placing the bottle on the control panel and tossing the cap aside, he dropped the strips of metal into it. These tips were made of another chemical, one that would react differently with water.

  “Good,” Kai said. “Let’s go.”

  Kai and his partner left the room, sealing the door behind them. Within seconds of their departure, the water in the bottle began to foam and bubble. Soon, the bottle was venting a greenish gas that spread across the room like a witch’s potion.

  “That’s Q5 nerve gas,” Kai told the hostages. “If anyone goes in there, they’ll die. If the door is opened, you all die. Understand?”

  Half the group nodded. That was good enough.

  “What about the Japanese tourists?” one of Kai’s men asked.

  Kai turned back toward the control room. It was slowly filling with the green fog. “I don’t think that needs much of a translation.”

  With everyone amply scared, Kai looked for the exit. Using the key cards they’d taken off the security personnel, they released one of the sealed doors and moved through it. Crossing the open-air corridor, they reentered the dam.

  “Part one of this plan is in operation,” Kai said proudly. “Let’s hope those techno-geeks can handle part two.”

  * * *

  —

  Out on the waters of Lake Powell, Xandra and Fydor watched the Glen Canyon Dam through binoculars,
looking for any sign the floodgates had been opened. They’d expected a sudden current or maybe a whirlpool to appear behind the dam, or the roar of a waterfall, as acres of liquid were sucked into the twin intake tubes. But from half a mile away no sign of any change could be seen.

  “They must have failed,” Fydor said, “or been captured. I knew we should have remained anonymous. Let’s get out of here.”

  Xandra ignored him. While she saw no sign of a whirlpool or even rapidly moving water, she did see a veil of fine mist floating up from the other side. It caught the afternoon light, creating a barely visible rainbow.

  “The water’s flowing,” she said.

  Changing her focus, she spotted a line of cars racing toward the dam. They had flashing red and blue lights on top. They pulled out onto the dam itself and began hustling tourists and employees off of the structure.

  “They haven’t failed at all,” Xandra said, lowering the binoculars. “Policemen are swarming the dam. They’re rushing everyone to safety. Time for our attack. Let’s make sure our impact is more obvious.”

  Fydor looked as nervous as ever. “Fine,” he said. “We should hurry though.”

  They moved to the aft end of the boat and loosened the cord on a plastic tarp. Pulling it aside revealed a pair of ROVs. The aquatic machines were roughly torpedo-shaped and painted dark gray. After lifting the first one up and dropping it into the water, Xandra attached a payload of explosives spaced along a rope to the back of the vehicle.

  Both ROVs would act like miniature tugboats, hauling their respective payloads and releasing them near the dam. The currents in and around the dam would do the rest, bringing the explosives into contact with the wall of the dam, where they would explode like mines.

  The random spacing between each explosion would keep the authorities off balance. The delay caused by explosives drifting would give her and Fydor time to make a leisurely escape.

  Fydor got on his laptop and directed the first of the ROVs toward the dam. The small craft submerged thirty feet, vanishing from view, and moved off.