The Forbidden Tomb

by Chris Kuzneski

  Cobb nodded at McNutt, who ran off to find the enemy. It also gave Cobb a moment of privacy. ‘Hector, I don’t care why it’s happening. I just want you to fix it.’

  ‘But Jack, if it’s the stone—’

  ‘Listen,’ he said a little too loudly for his own good. ‘You told me communications wouldn’t be a problem. You said that these devices were tested in Romanian caves, that they transmitted a signal through solid rock. And now you’re telling me that they can’t transmit through tunnels? Sorry, Hector, that simply won’t cut it.’

  Garcia remained silent for a few seconds. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘You’re the genius. Figure it out.’

  * * *

  Sarah had expected to see another chamber on the other side of the wall. If Jasmine’s theory was correct, the temple built over Caesar’s Well would have extended deep into the earth. It would have housed priests and scholars, not to mention the artifacts they had dedicated their lives to protecting. She didn’t know whether to expect breathtaking opulence or humble simplicity, but she had envisioned a very large space.

  Instead, they found themselves in a narrow, horizontal shaft barely eight feet in height. The cramped passageway did not lead upward, nor did it descend toward a source of fresh water. It simply ran parallel to the surface, like an ancient subway tunnel – although there were certainly no tracks to be found.

  Sarah noticed a solid wall of rubble blocking the passageway to the left. There was no hope of escape in that direction, even with McNutt’s sonic device. She could only guess as to whether the path had once led to a magnificent temple or to the fiery depths of hell because she hadn’t examined this part of the temple on her rekky.

  Sarah glanced at Jasmine. ‘What is this place?’

  Before answering, she took a moment to study her surroundings. The passageway was supported by a forest of pillars that were evenly staggered throughout the space. The effect eliminated any direct path and forced anyone navigating the depths to constantly twist and turn as they wove their way through the obstacles. It was clear that structural integrity was given priority over efficiency of travel.

  Whoever built this tunnel built it to last through the ages.

  She stepped closer to examine the craftsmanship. She could see that the columns were constructed from crushed rock and other fragments of stone, held together with a distinct mortar. She had seen the composition before.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Jasmine blurted. ‘It’s opus caementicium.’

  ‘Opus what?’

  ‘Opus caementicium.’

  ‘English, please.’

  Jasmine smiled. ‘Sorry. It’s Roman concrete.’

  ‘And Roman concrete is . . .?’

  ‘It’s one of the most durable building materials ever discovered,’ she explained. ‘Today’s concrete pales in comparison to the strength of what the Romans used. They combined water and a volcanic dust known as pozzolana and discovered that the mixture could withstand unbelievable stress for remarkable lengths of time. Have you ever wondered why buildings like the Pantheon and the Colosseum are still standing? Roman concrete is the answer. And from the look of things, these columns are even older.’

  By the first century AD, it had become custom for Roman architects to cover the concrete base of a structure with a layer of fired-clay bricks. This not only protected the concrete from the elements, it was also considered to be more aesthetically pleasing. The absence of an outer layer of brick meant that these columns were probably built more than two thousand years ago.

  Jasmine couldn’t hide her fascination. ‘Do you realize that these pillars predate Jesus Christ? They’ve outlasted the rise and fall of empires and dynasties. They’ve withstood two millennia of constant strain, and they’re still standing strong.’

  Sarah didn’t have the same sense of wonderment. To her eyes, there was nothing overly impressive about the construction. Once age was taken out of the equation, they looked like normal concrete pillars. ‘The columns were built to last, and they lasted. To that I say: good job, Romans!’

  ‘It’s more than a good job. It’s an amazing job.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m underselling it. I’m simply thrilled that this tunnel is still standing two thousand years later. Otherwise, we would be forced to turn back.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Sarah pointed forward. ‘Speaking of which, let’s keep moving. I hear there are some really old sidewalks up ahead that I’ve been dying to see.’

  * * *

  Kamal checked his watch and began to worry.

  He had found three passageways leading from the second cistern, branching out in all directions. He had split the two men with him and ordered them to investigate separate tunnels. Kamal would check out the third tunnel, then they would all meet back at the cistern so that he could determine their next move.

  They were supposed to regroup after five minutes.

  That was ten minutes ago, and neither of Kamal’s men had returned.

  Unable to call his colleagues, Kamal turned off the light on his phone. He hoped that the darkness would allow him to see the others returning, led by the glow of their own screens.

  Instead, all he saw was black.

  He tapped a button on his phone and his screen sprang to life, allowing him to see a few feet in front of him. Refusing to waste any more time, Kamal chose a direction and continued his journey forward.

  * * *

  As Cobb roamed through the tunnels, a plan sprang to mind – one that had worked for him before during night combat. ‘Josh, do you have an extra flashlight?’

  ‘Affirmative,’ McNutt whispered.

  ‘Good. I want you to leave it in the middle of the path.’

  McNutt needed to hear the order again, just to be sure. He crouched in a corner and put his finger to his ear. ‘Please repeat. I think I misheard you.’

  ‘You didn’t mishear me,’ Cobb assured him. ‘I want you to leave the light where someone will see it. Repeat, I want them to find the light.’

  McNutt didn’t know what Cobb had up his sleeve, but he was eager to find out. He took the spare light from his backpack and dropped it to the ground. He knew the rugged plastic casing would keep the bulb from breaking, and he wanted the scene to look as authentic as possible. A pristine flashlight carefully set in the middle of the path would look staged. But a scuffed light would hint at an accidental drop.

  If the enemy was properly trained, they would know the difference.

  ‘Okay, chief. I did what you asked. Now what?’

  ‘Hide and watch.’

  McNutt climbed to the uppermost pillars where he found a nice spot to wait. From there he stared at the flashlight through his rifle’s scope, using the night-vision optics to see. It wasn’t long before one of the thugs came into view.

  At first, the Egyptian didn’t know what to make of the discovery. He circled it cautiously, as if it were a grenade that could blow at any moment. Finally, he reached down and grabbed the flashlight.

  He rolled it over in his hands, examining it.

  After concluding that it was, in fact, an ordinary flashlight, he tentatively pressed the switch to activate the light.

  He grinned when it didn’t blow up.

  Like most people when they get a new, shiny toy, his first thought was to show it off to his friends. He wanted to prove to them that they weren’t chasing a ghost. The woman was somewhere out there – and she was running scared.

  So scared, she had dropped her flashlight.

  Without so much as a cursory glance around the room, the goon raced back through the tunnels in search of his comrades, the flashlight guiding his way.

  This left McNutt more confused than normal. ‘Jack, I’m not sure if your plan worked. The guy took the light and ran off, but I don’t know what—’

  Just then, three gunshots echoed from the adjacent chamber. The blasts were so loud and so close that McNutt instinctively ducked for cover.

  A
few seconds passed before he heard anything else.

  This time, it was the sound of Cobb’s voice in his ear.

  ‘The plan worked.’

  25

  Cobb had assumed that the gunmen were operating under the rule of ‘shoot first, ask questions later’, but he had to be sure. He could defend himself against people determined to kill him – in fact, he was quite good at that – but he didn’t want to take any lives unless it was absolutely necessary. The challenge was how to determine their intentions without putting himself or McNutt in harm’s way.

  Turns out, all he needed was a flashlight.

  Tarek had heard someone approaching. He could distinguish the heavy panting of a man, but he couldn’t discern the direction of the sound. Then he saw the light: literally. The shimmer of a flashlight had made the hair on Tarek’s neck stand on end. He knew his men had only their cell phones to help find their way.

  When the flashlight emerged from the tunnel, Tarek opened fire on the person carrying it. He was shot on sight. No mercy. No hesitation.

  Cobb now had the proof he needed.

  These men weren’t there to talk.

  * * *

  Cobb listened as the other men hurried through the tunnels, trying to find their way back to the scene of the gunfire. He could hear them scurrying along the stone floor and splashing through the standing water like overgrown sewer rats. More importantly, he could hear the frantic confusion in their rush to find out what they had missed. Cobb needed a way to stir the hornet’s nest of emotion gathering inside them. He needed a way to pluck their nerves, to turn curiosity into panic.

  ‘Now,’ Cobb whispered.

  On his order, both he and McNutt fired volleys of gunfire into the air. They alternated shots, listening as the booming explosions reverberated throughout the water system. The cacophony masked the fact that they were only two men. The echoes made it sound like an entire platoon was engaged in a firefight.

  And his deception worked.

  Once they stopped firing, random blasts continued throughout the water system. Obviously the enemy had panicked and had started to take wild shots in the darkness even though Cobb and McNutt were tucked safely in another part of the tunnels.

  Cobb smiled, realizing that their job had just gotten easier.

  * * *

  Confused by the gunfire, two of the goons had accidentally fired on one another.

  As one man entered a cistern, another reacted by shooting him twice. The first round caught him in the leg. The second tore into his gut. This error was compounded when the wounded man fired back and struck the first shooter in the face.

  Kamal, who was standing ten feet away in the darkness, watched it unfold. He saw the first gunman’s head explode as the other man crumpled to the floor.

  Worried that he might get shot in the confusion, Kamal raised his weapon and aimed it at the wounded man as he identified himself in the dark. It didn’t take the bright lights of an emergency room to know that his injuries were severe. The muscle of his leg was shredded, and dark blood seeped from the opening in his stomach.

  Sensing the wounded man’s fate and unwilling to leave him behind, Kamal opted to speed things along. ‘I am sorry, my friend.’

  Then Kamal silenced him forever.

  * * *

  Cobb studied the henchman. Unlike his companions, the gunman hadn’t charged foolishly toward the sounds of battle. Instead, he had crouched low, waiting for the enemy to come to him.

  He wouldn’t have to wait long.

  Cobb looked down upon the unsuspecting goon from the third level of stonework. The stacked pillars that supported the spacious room had served another purpose: allowing Cobb to shimmy his way upward. Beyond the reach of the cell phone lights, Cobb walked across the myriad of sturdy stone arches, readying his attack.

  Cobb stalked his prey from above, like a panther looking down from a tree. Besides his angle of attack, Cobb had another distinct advantage: he could see his target with the night vision feature of his flashlight, but his target was blind. In an effort to surprise the next person to enter the room, the thug had turned off the light from his cell phone.

  Cobb took position directly above the goon and silently dropped to the ground. Before his foe could scream or even comprehend what was happening, the battle was over. Cobb plunged his knife through his opponent’s trachea with surgical precision. With a quick twist of the wrist, Cobb had separated his airway and severed his spinal column. Even if his brain had fired off one last message, a final order to resist or fight back, the message would never have reached his trigger finger.

  ‘One down,’ Cobb whispered.

  Garcia drew a slash on his notepad. It was up to him to keep track of enemy personnel in the tunnel, or lack thereof. ‘Copy that. One confirmed.’

  * * *

  McNutt was confused by the broadcast. Something was definitely wrong. Either he had missed an earlier transmission, or Cobb had just radioed in bad intelligence.

  No way, he thought. Cobb doesn’t make mistakes.

  Then again, the evidence was hard to dispute.

  ‘You mean two down,’ McNutt replied.

  ‘Negative,’ Cobb shot back. ‘One down. Repeat. One down.’

  McNutt frowned. He looked at the gunman lying at his feet and kicked him gently to see if he was alive. It was obvious that he wasn’t since he was lying in a puddle of blood and his guts were spilling out. ‘Chief, I’m standing over your handiwork. Dark hair, about six feet tall, incision from his crotch to his chest. Sound familiar?’

  ‘Negative,’ Cobb replied. ‘Not mine.’

  Even if Cobb was the joking type – which he wasn’t – the tone of his voice told McNutt that he wasn’t fooling around.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly not mine,’ McNutt assured them. ‘I would have remembered this one because this guy was gutted. What about Sarah?’

  ‘Not hers, either,’ Garcia said. ‘She’s still off the grid.’

  ‘Then whose is it?’

  Cobb gave it some thought. ‘Either they’re killing each other, or . . .’

  Or there are more people down here than them and us.

  ‘Guys,’ Cobb whispered, ‘I don’t think we’re alone. I think there’s an interloper in the tunnels.’

  McNutt froze in place. ‘Fuck me. Is that like an alligator?’

  ‘No! A third team. I think there’s a third team in the tunnels. Us, the gunmen, and someone else.’

  ‘Cowboys, Indians, and aliens?’

  ‘Yes! Three separate entities.’

  The newcomers – murderous assassins who had been dispatched to protect the tunnels at all costs – did not play favorites. The motion detector in the iron grate and the infrared cameras hidden in the crevices of the ceiling had signaled two groups of trespassers, and the assassins were there to ensure that no one survived.

  McNutt cursed under his breath. Initially, the discovery of the dead gunman had been a blessing, but now that he understood the full scope of the situation – that there was a knife-wielding third party lurking in the tunnels – he realized that the killer might still be nearby. He quickly raised his scope in order to survey the room, a split second before the attack began. He only caught a glimpse of the man, dressed in black like a ninja, before the blade struck him. The glancing blow sliced through his arm like a razor.

  Ignoring the pain, McNutt kept the gun pressed tightly to his shoulder as he followed the track of his attacker.

  Both spun toward each other, determined to inflict a fatal wound.

  It was McNutt who found his mark first.

  He squeezed the trigger of his Glauberyt and watched as the hail of bullets pierced the swordsman’s chest. Blood splattered on the wall as the body dropped to the ground. McNutt relaxed his grip and stood there in silence, thankful for his quick reflexes.

  But it wasn’t over.

  His senses now fueled by adrenalin, McNutt heard footsteps scurrying across the beams behind him. He turned a
gain, his weapon raised, his instincts still intact.

  The last thing McNutt expected was a circus performance, but that’s what it looked like to him. Three new arrivals leaped about the upper levels of the cistern with acrobatic moves that were as graceful as they were astonishing. While he and Cobb had been forced to climb the columns using brute strength and an iron grip, McNutt watched as the gymnastic mercenaries propelled themselves upwards by springing off the columns and landing on the arch above. They used momentum to defy gravity, all while keeping a firm grasp on their blades.

  They moved about the room like monkeys.

  But they were circling like sharks.

  ‘Jack, we’ve got company. At least three more men.’

  McNutt took aim and fired. The rounds missed the assassins and smashed into the ceiling, showering him with bits of rubble. He fired again, and bullets ricocheted in every direction as more pieces of the stone cavern were dislodged.

  He cursed under his breath and tried to spot them in the darkness. In all of his years of combat, he had never seen anyone move like that.

  If his life hadn’t been in danger, he would have been impressed.

  Instead, this new breed of enemy only strengthened his resolve.

  Bear down! You’re a fucking Marine!

  The moment for subtlety had passed.

  It was time to unleash hell.

  26

  McNutt aimed his gun at the monkey men and unleashed a torrent of gunfire. He swung his Glauberyt from side to side, spraying the cistern above like a sprinkler.

  The invading force had no choice but to take cover. An unsuspecting target was one thing, but this was something else entirely. Having been spotted, they now faced the full fury of a submachine gun and decided to hide behind the pillars.

  McNutt reloaded, determined to continue the onslaught. He slammed the magazine into place, chambered a round, and pulled the trigger.