Gamay had her head down for most of the trip, flinching only when the windshield shattered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Paul jump off. She also heard Joe firing at the enemy. Gripping her own pistol tightly, she sat up and pulled the trigger as soon as she spotted a target.
Robson’s men knew something was happening when they heard the wheels of the Kissel rolling, but they didn’t know what. They held their ground and peered into the darkness. By the time they saw the car emerge from the shadows and opened fire, it was almost too late.
Fingers turned to run and was hit in both legs.
Snipe saw someone clinging to the right side of the automobile. He also saw the tall man running on the other side. He divided his fire between the two while trying to back away. He never saw Gamay until she popped up from the passenger compartment and hit him in the shoulder with a perfectly aimed shot.
The bullet spun him around and knocked him over. His own weapon flew from his hand as he hit the ground.
Gus was the last of Robson’s men to give in. He held his position to the end, turning to run only with the car bearing down on him. He went right, but his feet slipped on the sandy floor of the cave and the vintage Kissel slammed into him and sent him flying.
He landed awkwardly, breaking an arm and hitting his head. By the time he recovered his senses, he was being held at gunpoint.
With the cave’s entrance secured, Joe looked around for any other sign of trouble. One of Barlow’s crewmen was scampering back outside. From the look of it, the man wore a flight suit. Joe figured it was one of the pilots and not a major threat. There was no one else around to worry about.
“We’ve got the front entrance covered,” Joe shouted across the cave. “They’ll never get out now.”
* * *
—
Kurt heard Joe’s call but remained silent to avoid giving away their position. He and Morgan were making their way through the stacks of artifacts, looping around in a wide half circle, hoping to flank Barlow, Robson and Professor Cross.
Of the three of them, Morgan’s thoughts were on the professor. “How’d you know he’d gone over to the other side? I was sure he was with us.”
“Barlow’s men showed up in Cambridge on the same day we did,” Kurt said. “They didn’t follow us, they actually got there first. That suggested they were tipped off. And it was Professor Cross who insisted on punting on the river instead of meeting in his office. That allowed them to attack us in the open and make a clean getaway. He even shouted at you to throw the briefcase to them when they got too close.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “But they ransacked his cottage when they abducted him. It looked as if there’d been an awful fight.”
“Overkill,” Kurt said. “They already had the Writings of Qsn, there was nothing for them to search for. On top of that, there was simply no chance Professor Cross could have put up the kind of fight you described. Not against Barlow’s people. It had to be staged.”
“He did seem well when he reappeared.”
By now they’d circumnavigated the room and were nearing the back wall. “Thought we’d have spotted them by now,” Morgan said. “Either they’re playing dead or they’ve moved.”
Kurt pointed to the ground. Several brass shell casings could be seen in the dim light. “This is the right place.”
“They didn’t go forward,” Morgan said. “We would have seen them.”
“They must have gone back,” he said. “Deeper into the cave.”
Following the tracks in the dust led them to a section of the cave that looked more natural than the area filled with treasure. It twisted as it went farther into the cliff.
“They’re looking for a back door,” Morgan said. “If they find one, we’ll lose them.”
Kurt nodded and moved deeper into the passage. With Morgan covering him, they cleared one section at a time until the sound of scuffling reached them from up ahead.
Glancing along the passage, Kurt noticed the flickering glow from a flashlight moving about randomly. He stepped forward just in time to see its illumination tumbling down the side of the wall. Glancing upward, he spotted a pair of boots disappearing through a narrow opening thirty feet above.
“Too late,” he said.
“Can’t risk following them,” Morgan said. “They’ll shoot us as soon as we stick our heads through the opening.”
“True,” Kurt said. “But that’s rough country out there. They’re not going to get very far on foot.”
Chapter 62
Glen Canyon Dam, Arizona
Omar Kai and his men had left the power plant and made their way back inside the dam, stopping here and there to cut electrical cables and damage water sensors in a way that would make anyone on the outside think the dam itself was leaking badly.
“I think we’ve done enough,” Kai told his men. “Time to head for the exit.”
The men heartily approved, picking up the pace as Kai led them to a ladder. They went down three levels and entered another of the long galleries that ran the length of the dam.
“Shouldn’t we be going outside?” one of the men asked.
“This tunnel meets up with the old bypass channel at the far end,” Kai explained. “From there, we can break into a maintenance shaft that runs to the surface.”
Kai led his men forward, double-timing it through the dark tunnel until their feet began splashing through water. At first it was just a trickle of water running down the center of the corridor, but it widened by the second.
“What is this?”
Kai wasn’t sure. “Stay here,” he said. He continued forward, the water deepening with every step. When he was fifty yards from the end, he began to hear a hissing sound. Raising the flashlight, Kai saw water blasting into the tunnel through a crack in the wall at the far end. It was also pouring out beneath the door of the maintenance shaft they’d hoped to go through.
Kai remembered three small explosions and one large one that reverberated through the entire dam. Suddenly he knew what had happened.
He backtracked to his men. “Can’t go that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because those two idiots let the explosives get sucked into the bypass tunnel. The explosives detonated inside the dam instead of against its outside wall. There must be a fissure in the tunnel. The backflow is forcing its way into the dam.”
“How much of it?”
“Enough that we’re going to need another way out.”
As he spoke, the door at the far end groaned from the weight of the water pressing against it. Kai looked down, he and his men were standing in two inches of water. And the pace of the inundation was picking up. It flowed past them toward the low point at the center of the dam.
Kai had to come up with a contingency plan quickly. “We need to go back to the power plant.”
“And then what?” one of the men asked. “We’ll be trapped there.”
“Not if we swim for it,” Kai said.
“What about the water we just released?” one of the men said. “A billion gallons of it, flooding into the channel.”
Kai saw that as a positive. “It’ll give us cover and push us downstream at high speed. We get a few miles away and disappear into the backcountry. They’ll never find us.”
The men always took their cues from Kai and they seemed to consider this a reasonable plan even if he knew it was a long shot. Truth was, they had little choice. “It’s either that or take the elevator to the top and fight off the National Guard with a couple of handguns.”
None of them wanted that. They got up and moved back through the corridor, climbed the ladder and wound their way back to the door they’d entered earlier. Pushing through it, they moved across the open-air corridor and took cover.
“Watch for snipers,” Kai ordered.
On high alert, the
men edged their way around the building and onto an extension of the power plant that ran along the southern wall of the canyon.
The area was broad, flat and paved. Several trucks were parked there. A road led from the parking area into a tunnel. Kai briefly considered that as an escape route. But, however inviting the open end at the bottom looked, the top would be guarded like the walls of a fortress.
“Move toward the outlet pipes,” Kai said. “The mist will cover us.”
The water pouring through the gates on the other side of the dam was blasting out through four huge pipes, two on each side and each wide enough to swallow a full-sized van. The water was deafening, the spray and mist silently drifting up and back.
Half the parking area was shrouded. Four or five parked vehicles and a small concrete wall at the end offered some cover.
Kai was about to run for it when one of his men grabbed him and pointed upward.
Through the mist, Kai saw a Black Hawk helicopter swoop in over the Glen Canyon Dam. It descended rapidly, dropping toward the power plant. A second helicopter could be seen near the crest.
“Now we’re outgunned for sure,” one of the men said.
The first Black Hawk slowed to a hovering position over the top of the plant. A squad of men deployed from it, sliding down ropes, onto the roof.
One of his men foolishly shot at them, drawing fire in return that was far more deadly. He took three bullets to the chest, tumbled back and fell over the railing, splashing down into the churning green and white water of the Colorado River.
“Move!” Kai shouted to the others. There was nothing to do but run or surrender and he didn’t feel like surrendering. He took off, crouching low and ducking behind the trucks that were parked near the outlet tunnels.
He moved in spurts, from one to the next, well aware that he was probably being shot at, though he couldn’t hear the gunfire. This close to the pipes, the roar of the jetting water had become so loud that even shouting was pointless.
Kai urged his men on, waving his arms and then pointing. One of them took a bullet in the calf and fell to the blacktop. Another pulled open the door of a truck, found the keys above the visor and tried to drive off.
Kai shouted a warning, but the man had made his decision. He jammed the truck into gear and turned toward the vehicle tunnel. A hail of bullets from the Army specialists stopped the truck before it reached the entrance.
Now alone, Kai knew he had only one choice. He sprinted through the mist and vaulted the wall, landing on top of one of the outlet pipes.
The pipe had an immense diameter. Standing on top was like standing on the roof of a moving train. The entire conduit shook with the relentless flow of the water as it curved away. Crouching to stay out of sight, Kai felt its vibration coursing through his body like a current of electricity.
Between the wall and the mist, he was temporarily out of the line of fire, but he now had nowhere else to go. If he emerged, he’d be shot head-on. If he waited, he’d be picked off from the side or surrounded and captured. And if he jumped . . .
Kai stared at the water blasting from the pipes with a force like rocket engines at full throttle, each jet ten feet in diameter and moving at a hundred miles an hour. The water left the four pipes separately, then merged ten feet from the outflow point, where it dropped to the churning waters below.
If he jumped, it would either drown him or break every bone in his body. Probably the river would do both.
Better than spending the rest of my life in an American prison, he thought.
A spread of covering fire pinged off the concrete wall behind him. He knew that meant one group of soldiers was moving forward while the other group was keeping him pinned down.
He raised his pistol and fired blindly over the wall in all directions, emptying the magazine in hopes of giving himself a second to act.
With the ammo used up, he tossed the gun aside, turned toward the river and dove from the outflow pipe into the mist.
Several of the Rangers saw him dive. One even snapped off a shot, though in his report he admitted it was not well aimed. Whether it hit the target or not, he would never know. Omar Kai disappeared into the Colorado River and vanished. His body was never recovered.
Chapter 63
Kurt and Morgan returned from the depths of the cave with bad news. “Barlow and Robson escaped out the back. They’re on foot.”
“Let’s go after them,” Joe said.
With Paul and Gamay guarding the prisoners, Kurt, Joe and Morgan reloaded their weapons and left the cave.
As they emerged, one of Barlow’s Black Hawks dusted off and headed south. It traveled half a mile down the slope of the ravine and then hovered and began a slow, sideways drift.
“I’ll give you one guess what they’re looking for,” Kurt said.
“Barlow and Robson,” Morgan said. “They must have called for help.”
Kurt looked over to where the second Black Hawk sat quietly. Turning to Joe, he asked the obvious question. “We’ll never catch them on foot. Can you fly that thing?”
“No problem,” Joe said. “They’re all basically the same once you get inside.”
The three of them rushed to the helicopter and Joe climbed on board. As he started the engines, Kurt and Morgan climbed in the back. They found a heavy, mechanized cart, shovels and other tools that had never been used.
“Barlow came prepared.”
“He’s going to leave that way too if we don’t hurry,” Kurt said.
Joe powered up the engines, getting them off the ground in record time. They turned to the south, where the other helicopter had picked up Barlow and Robson.
“They’re on the move,” Morgan said. “We need to catch them.”
Joe poured on the power, accelerating toward the other craft, but Barlow’s pilot did the same thing, flying along the deck and heading toward the open end of Silver Box, where it merged with the main branch of the Grand Canyon.
He couldn’t close the gap.
“Can’t catch him,” Joe said. “These choppers are identical. We have the same exact amount of power.”
“We don’t have to catch them,” Kurt said. “All we have to do is follow. There’s no way they can fly that thing to Canada or Mexico. Eventually, they’ll have to land and try some other method of escape.”
“That sounds easy enough,” Morgan said.
“Too easy,” Joe replied. “They’ve already figured it out.”
Up ahead, Barlow’s helicopter was slowing and turning to the side. Muzzle flashes from the open cargo door announced a barrage of rifle fire.
Joe shoved the controls over and banked hard to the right. Glancing behind him, he saw Kurt and Morgan righting themselves.
“A little warning next time,” Kurt said.
“Sorry,” Joe said. “They tried to hit us with a broadside.”
* * *
—
The mood in Barlow’s helicopter couldn’t have been more tense. “You missed,” Barlow snapped at Robson. Both men were looking out the cargo door.
“We need to be closer,” Robson said.
Barlow turned toward the pilot. “You should have disabled the other helicopter.”
“I was busy coming to rescue you,” the pilot said. “Besides, how was I to know they had someone who could fly it?”
Realizing two streams of bullets were better than one, Barlow grabbed a rifle. “Let them get closer,” he said. “I’ll deal with them personally.”
* * *
—
Joe could see the danger plainly. The nearer he got to Barlow’s Black Hawk, the more likely he was to get hit. On the other hand, if he turned and ran, they’d be even more vulnerable. His only hope was to get Barlow’s pilot to make a mistake.
He swung wide, kept up his speed, and then rolled the helicopter back
in the other direction. “Setting up for an attack run,” he shouted.
Behind him, Kurt pushed their cargo door open and locked it into place. “No sharp turns without telling me first,” Kurt said. “I don’t want to end up skydiving without a parachute.”
Joe nodded and turned his attention back to the target. Barlow’s helicopter was turning tightly and losing speed in the process. Joe had to keep his speed up to stay ahead of the rifles that were being aimed out the side door.
“I’m going to fake left and then turn right. You’ll get a shot as we fly past.”
The approach was a twisting one, with the helicopter picking up speed, banking to the left and then back to the right.
Barlow’s pilot responded by slowing almost to a hover and rotating the Hawk like a turret. A hailstorm of fire came from the cargo door. Most of the bullets went wide and low, though a couple of shots caught the bottom of the craft, punching holes in the sheet metal and disappearing.
Joe pressed on, racing past the motionless craft. As it flashed by, Kurt and Morgan unleashed everything they had. When they looked back, it didn’t appear they’d done any damage.
“Pistols against rifles is a losing bet,” Morgan said.
“And now they’re after us,” Joe said.
Their fortunes had now reversed. As soon as Joe passed Barlow’s craft, Barlow’s pilot had turned. The hunter had become the hunted.
With Barlow’s helicopter following them, Joe had little choice but to run. That meant flying along the deck like a madman.
Kurt and Morgan held on in the back, checking their ammunition. “Two shots left,” Kurt said.
“I have five,” Morgan said. “That’s not going to do much.”
The chase continued down the length of Silver Box Ravine and out across the narrow strip of water that was the Colorado River by the end of summer.
With the wider space of the Grand Canyon around them, Joe banked to the left, hoping to circle Barlow’s helicopter and regain the advantage.
Journey of the Pharaohs Page 31
