Amazingly, the movement of the floor wasn’t an illusion at all. It was actually the ebb and flow of water as tiny waves were pushed into the cave and then sucked back out again. To her, it was a welcome sign. The ever-changing volume meant the pool was fed by the sea. And if it was, they could swim their way to safety.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.
Things were finally going their way.
Not only had they survived the collapse of the stone archway, but they had found evidence about the tomb and the library. As long as Cobb and McNutt handled the goons – and she was confident they would because they could handle just about anything – then this day had turned out better than she had hoped.
But her tranquility didn’t last long.
Confusion set in the moment she turned to her left and spotted an object that didn’t belong in an ancient chamber forgotten by time.
There, in the corner, was a plastic cylinder.
Not a remnant of the past, but a product of today.
Cursing softly, she plucked it from the ground and examined it in the beam of her flashlight. Unfortunately, one glance confirmed her fears.
It was a glow stick.
A fluorescent glow stick.
That meant she and Jasmine weren’t the first ones there.
‘Son of a bitch!’ she cursed as she flung it against the wall. Then she picked it up and was ready to throw it again.
‘Sarah?’ said a crackling voice. After being out of range for several minutes, she was finally close enough to the surface to make contact. ‘Is that you?’
She put her hand to her ear. ‘Hector? Where have you been?’
‘Trying to find you!’
‘You’re not going to believe this, but I found a tunnel that leads to the sea.’
‘Then use it!’ he shouted. ‘Use it now!’
Sarah froze. ‘What do you mean? I don’t know where it goes, and Jasmine’s still back in—’
‘Sarah, shut up and listen to me! You guys need to leave, like, right freaking now. You’ve got less than three minutes to evacuate. Jack and Josh found a bunch of explosives. The whole network is going to blow, and when it does—’
His voice cut off as she turned and ran.
Not toward the sea, but toward Jasmine.
30
Although there were crucial questions that needed answering, Sarah would worry about them later. For now, her lone aim was saving Jasmine.
Her stomach churned as she ran deeper and deeper into the depths of the city. By the time she had reached the bottom of the steps, she knew something was seriously wrong. She should have seen the flicker of Jasmine’s flashlight; instead, she saw only darkness.
‘Jasmine,’ she screamed, ‘we need to go!’
The tone of her voice made it clear.
They needed to leave now.
‘Jasmine!’ she screamed louder. ‘The tunnels are going to explode!’
Once again, no response.
With adrenalin surging, Sarah sprinted through the tunnel until she reached the stone pictograph that Jasmine was supposed to be documenting for the sake of the mission. But instead of finding Jasmine, she spotted two things that filled her with dread: a broken flashlight, and enough explosives to bring down a building.
Sarah couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Several of the Roman pillars had been rigged with Semtex, right there in plain sight. She could actually see the wires of the detonators and the compact payloads. Unfortunately, none of that mattered. She had been taught how to plant bombs, not defuse them.
The planned destruction didn’t end with the pillars. The entire pictograph had been covered in thick foam. To the untrained eye, it looked like whipped cream, but Sarah had seen it before and knew that eating it would be a horrible mistake. Known as Lexfoam, liquid explosive foam was a combustible compound that could be sprayed onto any surface and, once it hardened, it was nearly impossible to remove.
Like cement with a powerful kick.
Sarah glanced at one of the timers and cursed.
The countdown was forcing her hand.
She wanted to search longer. For Jasmine. For the bombers. For more clues about the tomb. But none of that was possible, not anymore.
Not if she wanted to survive.
As much as it pained her, she knew what she had to do.
She grabbed Jasmine’s flashlight and ran for her life.
* * *
Cobb and McNutt charged through the tunnels. They weren’t sure how many men still remained in the underground chambers – if any – but they didn’t have the time to be cautious. They acknowledged the possibility that any turn might lead to a hostile encounter, but if they were trapped in the tunnels when the bombs detonated, neither would survive.
With each chamber, the scale of the impending catastrophe grew larger. They could see the faint light of timers dotting the ceilings of every room. The damage wouldn’t be limited to a single building; it would consume an entire city block.
Cobb still didn’t know when the explosives had been placed. It could have been months since the bombs were hidden on top of the uppermost arches, far from the prying eyes of security guards or government workers who inspected the tunnels below, or it could have been during the last few hours. The packs were portable, Semtex was extremely stable, and timers could be turned on at any time with a remote device.
Common sense led him to believe that their presence in the cisterns had prompted the activation of the devices, but ultimately he knew it didn’t matter. The bombs would go off soon, no matter when they had been placed.
‘What’s the latest on Sarah?’
Garcia answered. ‘She hasn’t come back from getting Jasmine.’
It wasn’t the news Cobb had hoped for, but he had to stay focused. Sarah and Jasmine could take care of themselves. There were others who had no idea of the carnage about to erupt beneath their feet. He wanted to help them.
‘Hector, contact emergency services. Hack into the system, do whatever you have to do. There have to be hundreds of people up there.’
‘You want me to evacuate the buildings?’
‘There’s no time for that,’ Cobb insisted. ‘Tell them to send ambulances, fire trucks, and anyone with paramedic training to the neighborhood above.’
His message was clear: they couldn’t prevent the tragedy, but they could jumpstart the rescue efforts.
Garcia checked the GPS trackers. He could see that Cobb and McNutt had finally made it to the tunnels leading to the first cistern. A few moments more, and they could climb their way to the boiler room.
‘The next chamber is the exit,’ Garcia informed them. ‘The boiler room is clear. You’ve got an unobstructed path to the street.’
As they emerged from the final tunnel, Cobb and McNutt panned their flashlights upward, revealing the ‘unobstructed path’ to the exit.
Garcia had spoken too soon.
The cistern was a death trap.
Water poured from the broken pipe near the ceiling, dousing everything and making every surface slippery to the touch. The arch nearest the boiler room had been toppled, and chunks of broken stone crashed down from above, pried loose by the force of the gushing water.
McNutt raced over to the chiseled ladder on the far side of the room. He reached for the first handhold, but the cascading water prevented a solid grip. He tried again, but it was no use. The ancient grooves were too slick. The ladder was useless.
They attempted to pull themselves up to the next level, just as they had in all the other cisterns. Only this time they were pelted by torrents of water and hammered by falling chunks of debris. Their muscles burned and their fingers ached as they tried to claw their way upward.
Through it all, they could hear Garcia shouting above the clamor of rushing water. ‘Thirty seconds! Get out of there!’
Cobb realized the futility of their effort. The downpour was too great an obstacle to overcome; and even if they could reach the top, someone had de
stroyed their access to the ledge. There was no way to make it out in time, and Cobb knew it.
McNutt knew it, too, but he wasn’t about to give up. He frantically struggled against the unyielding force of the water. If he was going to die, he would go out fighting – like he had been taught in the Marines.
Fortunately, Cobb had a different idea.
One that didn’t involve dying.
* * *
When Sarah reached the water’s edge she offered a final update, hopeful that her message would get through to someone on her team.
‘If anyone can hear me, Jasmine is missing. I looked for her as long as I could, but I can’t wait anymore. I’m going to swim for it. I have no idea where I’ll surface, but I sure would appreciate a ride. With luck you can follow my GPS.’
With that, she took two huge breaths and plunged into the underwater passageway. She pulled herself through the water with powerful strokes, kicking like her life depended on it – which, in this case, it did.
Her flashlight died quickly, and she found herself submerged in darkness. But she refused to panic. Instead, she blocked out the creeping fear of death and convinced herself that if she kept her course and held her breath, she would survive.
Moments later, her faith was rewarded.
She could see a faint light in the distance like a beacon, guiding her to safety. Her strength was waning, but she knew she could make it if she kept fighting.
Starving for oxygen, her vision narrowed. Her lungs burned, desperate for her next breath. But the light grew brighter with every stroke. The open sea was right there in front of her; all she had to do was reach out and grab it.
As the tunnel bent upward, Sarah grabbed the jagged rocks of the fissure and pulled herself in the direction of the surface above. By then, she had nothing left to give.
Only her own buoyancy could save her.
Her eyes rolled back into their sockets as she finally broke the surface, but her chest heaved as she instinctively gulped for air. It had never tasted so sweet.
She was alone, disoriented, and struggling to keep herself afloat.
But she was still alive.
For now.
31
The roar of flooding water echoed through the chamber. It was loud enough to drown out any conversation between Cobb and McNutt. Rather than compete for his attention, Cobb simply grabbed him by the belt and pulled him toward the farthest corner of the room. McNutt stumbled a bit but followed Cobb’s lead. He didn’t know what his friend had in mind, but it had to be better than their current predicament.
If not, they would soon be dead.
When the cisterns were converted to bomb shelters at the start of World War II, whole levels of the system were reinforced with concrete. The result was a series of long alleys that could be used for protection. The accommodations weren’t luxurious – they offered little more than fresh air, safe water, and wooden benches – but they were better than nothing.
Many residents of the city knew what lay beneath their feet. Stories were passed down through family members, wartime tales that described the threat of air raids and the proposed exodus into the tunnels. The older generation was proud of their government’s efforts to save its people. They were comforted by the massive corridors that would protect them from an aerial assault, even if they hadn’t seen them in person.
Luckily, Cobb had.
He had spotted the reinforced hallways during his rekky. He had also found smaller, hidden spaces that could house only a handful of people. These compartments were not designed to save everyone, only to protect a precious few. Cobb knew the first rule of tactical defense was to ensure the safety of those in authority, so he assumed that these spaces would have been built to withstand a direct hit.
In a time of war, their country would depend on it.
Today, Cobb and McNutt would test its strength.
They ran to a narrow section of the wall where the ancient stone had been replaced by modern cement. Peering through a crack no wider than his head, McNutt could see a small, open space beyond the cement barrier. He knew if they could crawl inside that they might be able to weather the explosion.
Together, they set about expanding the entrance.
Shards of cement flew as they hammered away, using their weapons as tools. After a few quick blows, a larger chunk of the wall gave way. Cobb and McNutt were able to slither through the opening as the final seconds ticked down.
Three . . . two . . . one . . . BOOM!
For an instant, they could feel the detonation before they could hear it. The air rushed past them as the explosion sucked in more life-sustaining fuel. As experienced soldiers, they knew the sudden change in air pressure caused by the blast could literally pulverize their internal organs, so they opened their mouths to counter the impending shockwave.
And they covered their ears to block out the deafening roar.
Then they closed their eyes and prayed.
There was nothing else to do.
* * *
Earthquakes were fairly common in Alexandria. Over the centuries, the city had been hit with its fair share of seismic activity; everything from slight tremors to catastrophic events. Given this history, few people on the street panicked when they heard the rumbling sound rising from the earth.
They had no reason to believe that their lives were in danger and assumed it would pass rather quickly.
This time, they were dead wrong.
Throughout the vast network of cisterns, the Semtex obliterated the uppermost arches. Shards of rubble rained down from the heights of each chamber. The air was heavy with smoke and particles of pulverized rock. The ceiling of every room was charred, scorched by the heat of the explosion and not by an actual fire.
Semtex had been chosen for a particular reason. Unlike pyrotechnic compositions such as Thermite – which can burn at more than forty-five hundred degrees Fahrenheit – Semtex doesn’t create a raging inferno. The Semtex charges were designed to instantaneously demolish the stone supports at the upper level of the cisterns.
The bombs weren’t meant to burn the pillars.
They were meant to destroy them.
The initial blast was over in an instant, but the damage was far from done. The destruction had been focused on key structural points that were essential to the integrity of the cistern. Once the arches crumbled, the pillars quickly gave way. Without the stanchions the ceiling was not able to support itself, and it collapsed under its own weight. The cumulative burden of the ceiling and the upper level was simply too much for the lower supports to bear, and they were crushed under the load.
It was known as the pancake effect.
And it was quite effective.
This controlled, vertical shaft of destruction used the force of the collapsing upper levels to wipe out everything in its path. The explosions just triggered the process; gravity did most of the work. For city engineers, it was the preferred method of destruction when dealing with large buildings in a crowded metropolis. When done correctly, there was no damage outside the blast radius but total destruction within.
That was bad news for the city of Alexandria.
And the neighborhood above the cisterns.
With nothing to support them, whole buildings began to sway like timbers in a swirling breeze. A moment later, they started to sink into the earth.
The roar of collapsing homes, offices, and restaurants was accompanied by the screams of those trapped within. Onlookers stared in awe as the ground ruptured and split, pulling helpless victims into its gaping maw. The deep canyons below the surface swallowed everything and everyone above.
Glass shattered as the buildings broke. Fires raged as sparks from electrical lines ignited gas leaks and fuel spills. The scent of death filled the air.
Five minutes earlier, the city block had been thriving.
Now it was a scene from the apocalypse.
* * *
Sarah heard the rumble of the explosions and felt
the shockwave that funneled through the flooded passageway before dissipating in the water beneath her feet. Now she stared in horror at the carnage just beyond the coast.
Smoke billowed into the sky. The wind swept clouds of dust and noxious fumes in all directions. During her years with the CIA, Sarah had seen plenty of people die. She had even played a role in some of those deaths. But this was different.
Her targets had been criminals.
These victims were innocent.
If all the cisterns had been rigged like Garcia had described, she knew the destruction would be widespread and the casualties would be severe. The body count would reach well into the hundreds, if not thousands, and her friends were most likely dead. After all, how could they possibly survive a blast that brought down a city block?
To her, none of it made sense.
Who would do something like this?
Was this because of Alexander’s tomb?
Or did we stumble onto something else?
As she pondered the questions in the back of her mind, she spit water from her mouth and tried to talk. ‘Hector . . . can you hear me?’
She tapped her earpiece, hoping that her message got through.
‘Hector . . . if you read me . . . I’m float—’
She never got the chance to finish her thought.
One moment she was fine, the next she was being pulled under by the surging water, which was dragging her back to the opening of the tunnel. The explosions had pushed the air from the underground system, and the sea rushed in to take its place. As huge bubbles forced their way to the surface, the tunnel continued to gurgle, toying with Sarah as she bobbed in the choppy surf above.
She choked on mouthfuls of seawater as she gasped for air, trying to stay afloat as if the hand of Neptune pulled her from below. In her struggles, she somehow spotted an approaching boat, but the undertow wouldn’t allow her to call out for help. The most she could do was flail her arms wildly in the hope of drawing attention.
The Forbidden Tomb Page 18
