‘Working with them?’ McNutt laughed at the suggestion. ‘Not a chance. They sliced those bastards like deli meat. No way they were playing on the same team.’
Cobb glanced at Papineau and could see the wheels turning in his head. The news was more than unexpected; it was baffling. Cobb was oddly comforted by Papineau’s confusion. Cobb didn’t like secrets on his team, and it appeared that the Frenchman didn’t know any more about the men in the tunnel than he did.
Cobb would dig into the matter later on, but for now, there were more important things to worry about. ‘What about Sarah?’
Papineau lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘She’s resting.’
‘Are you positive?’ McNutt demanded.
‘Yes. I’m sure.’
McNutt took a deep breath and tried to contain his emotions. Given his presumption that Sarah had been crushed in the explosion, McNutt was certain that Papineau was doing his best to soften the confirmation of her death. It never occurred to him to take the news literally. ‘Has anyone called her family?’
‘Of course not. Why would we do that?’ Garcia wondered.
‘Why?’ McNutt growled, as his face turned bright red. ‘Because that’s what you do when someone’s resting – you notify their next of kin!’
Earlier it had been Garcia’s poor choice of words that had led to Sarah’s confusion. This time fault fell on Papineau’s shoulders. Garcia was so thrilled to have company in the team’s doghouse that he started to laugh uncontrollably.
Which, of course, made McNutt even angrier.
‘And now you’re laughing! You cold, heartless, son of a bitch! What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a video game! We can’t just hit the restart button and bring Sarah back from the dead.’
‘Dead?’ Papineau bristled at the suggestion. ‘Sarah isn’t dead. She’s asleep in her berth. Who said anything about her being dead?’
‘You did! You said she was resting! I thought you meant: RIP.’
Despite the tragedy of the day, or maybe because of it, Papineau started to laugh as well. ‘Josh, you’re a Marine, not a two-year-old. If someone dies, I’ll say they died. I won’t say they’re resting – and I won’t say they’re living on a farm upstate.’
‘Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!’ McNutt blurted as he struggled to make sense of things. ‘You’re telling me that Sarah is alive, but my dog is dead?’
‘Your dog?’ Papineau asked.
McNutt nodded glumly. ‘My parents sent him upstate when I was seven. Despicable people, those two. Obviously a pair of liars.’
‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.’
McNutt shrugged. ‘Oh well, at least Sarah’s alive.’
‘Wow,’ Sarah said as she appeared in the ship’s kitchen from a back hallway, ‘try not to sound so glum when you say that.’
McNutt’s face filled with joy as he sprinted across the room and lifted her in a giant bear hug. ‘Oh my God! I’m so happy to see you! And you smell so clean!’
Sarah appreciated the affection, but she could have done without the hug and the layer of filth that now covered her clothes. ‘Josh, put me down.’
But McNutt didn’t stop. He simply swung her back and forth like the clapper inside a bell. ‘Seriously, you smell really good. I’m tempted to lick your face like Sparky used to do.’
‘Don’t you dare! Josh, put – me – down! Now!’
McNutt laughed as he lowered her to floor.
Sarah took a step back and dusted herself off before she truly studied Cobb and McNutt. At that moment, she realized that nearly drowning might have been the easy way out because the guys looked like they had finished their shifts at a coalmine before they had decided to run a marathon through Chernobyl.
Their clothes were grimy and stained with sweat. Dried blood covered McNutt’s arm and matted Cobb’s hair. Their hands had been scraped raw when they dug through the shattered rock, and their eyes were bloodshot from the smoke of the burning crater.
All in all, she had seen healthier-looking zombies.
Sarah pushed her freshly washed hair over her ears and smiled. ‘I guess they buried the lead about getting me out in time. Sorry about that.’
Cobb shrugged, his eyes locked on hers. ‘I wasn’t worried. I knew you’d make it.’
Sarah blushed slightly. ‘I knew you’d make it, too.’
36
Cobb needed three things: a shower, a sandwich, and a summary of what had happened to Sarah and Jasmine in the tunnel.
At that moment, the shower would have to wait.
McNutt tore into the pantry as Cobb rummaged through the fridge for life-sustaining fuel. Neither had eaten since that morning – an eternity with the stress and workloads of their day – and they were willing to make a meal out of almost anything. Fortunately, they wouldn’t have to rough it. The kitchen was well stocked with meats and cheeses, a variety of breads, and an assortment of fruits and vegetables.
The meal did more than satisfy their hunger. It also gave Sarah a chance to fill them in on everything that had happened between the arrival of the gunmen, which was when the team separated, and her escape through the sea tunnel. She spent a few minutes describing Papineau and Garcia’s heroic rescue before Cobb asked her to concentrate on the evidence that they had discovered inside the temple.
‘Jasmine called it a pictograph,’ Sarah explained as she drew tiny symbols on a paper napkin to illustrate. ‘Carvings on a wall that represented events from the city’s past.’
McNutt whistled. ‘That’s a lot of history. How big was the freaking wall?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘It wasn’t a complete history. More like a highlight reel. It included depictions of various wars, those who came to power, that sort of thing. It even explained what happened to the Library of Alexandria.’
She paused, allowing Cobb and McNutt to ponder that last bit of information. Although they understood the basic implications of her statement, it was Papineau who clarified the importance of such a discovery.
‘The pictograph may not rewrite history – because rumors about the library have existed for years – but it will unquestionably bring it into focus. Where there once was doubt, we now have certainty,’ he said.
‘Great,’ McNutt said as he picked fig seeds from his teeth with a toothpick. ‘But how’s that going to help us?’
‘The wall also describes the history of Alexander’s tomb.’
Cobb perked up. ‘Is that true?’
Sarah nodded. ‘The carvings started with the arrival of Alexander and the creation of his city, and they ended with his body being smuggled out of Alexandria just before a massive flood leveled everything.’
Cobb thought back to Papineau’s original briefing in Florida. It had included a video simulation of a catastrophic tsunami in 365 AD. ‘The earthquake in Crete?’
‘Good memory,’ said Sarah, who was surprised that Cobb was still upright let alone functional. ‘According to Jasmine, an oracle warned the priests that a natural disaster was on the verge of destroying the city. The prophecy gave them enough time to smuggle Alexander’s tomb to safety.’
Cobb grimaced. ‘A prophecy, huh?’
‘Look,’ she admitted, ‘I don’t know about the prophecy part, either, but it doesn’t matter what we believe. People back then lived for that shit. And if the almighty oracle told them that their city was on the verge of a horrible tragedy, I’m pretty sure they would have dug up Alexander and carried his skeleton to somewhere safe.’
Cobb was intrigued by the possibilities, but not enough to distract him from what mattered most – and that was Jasmine. With that in mind, he needed to figure out who had the most to gain by destroying the pictograph and the cisterns.
‘Sarah,’ he said, ‘did you find anything else down there? Were there any signs that someone had been there recently?’
‘You mean apart from the Semtex and the explosive foam?’
Cobb smiled. It had taken a while, but he was actually starting to ap
preciate her biting sense of humor. ‘Yes, Sarah, other than the bombs.’
‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘I found a used glow stick at the seaside end of the tunnel. I have no idea if the bombers dropped it, or if it was sitting there for five years.’
‘Did you take it?’
She laughed at the absurdity of the question. ‘Of course I took it. Like you even have to ask. I would have taken the wall, too, if I didn’t have to swim.’
His smile widened. The glow stick was exactly the kind of clue he was hoping for. Torches were impossible to trace, and flashlights were so commonplace that tracking them was almost irrelevant, but the glow stick gave him hope. The technology was relatively new, dating back only forty years or so, and there was only a handful of manufacturers.
‘Josh,’ Cobb said as he assembled a plan of attack in his head. The clock was ticking, and they needed to get to work. ‘How are you feeling?’
McNutt sucked on his toothpick. ‘Kind of bloated – how about you?’
‘I mean, are you able to work?’
He sat up straighter. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. I want you to find out everything you can about the explosives. Who deals in Semtex and Lexfoam in this part of the world? What would it take to get the amount that was needed for this job? I want you to plan the mission in your head and give me all the angles. Your flashlight should have recorded plenty of close-ups of the bomb packs and detonators, so have Hector pull the files if you need a visual reference.’
McNutt’s eyes lit up. He loved the thought of planning an explosion; even the one that had almost killed him. ‘I’m on it, chief.’
Cobb spun to face his computer whiz. ‘Hector, you’re going to be quite busy the next few days, so crack open a Red Bull, Mountain Dew, or whatever geniuses like to drink. I need to know everything there is to know about that glow stick. Make, model, country of origin, retail distributors – all of it.’
‘No problem.’
‘How long until you know about the flashlight drives?’
‘Tomorrow morning at the earliest.’
‘Why so long?’ Cobb demanded.
‘The worst thing you can do to a wet circuit is to power it up. That’s why I took the batteries out right away. Even the smallest surge can fry a drive.’
Cobb trusted his judgment. ‘Don’t rush the process, but don’t take all week, either. We need this sooner rather than later.’
Garcia nodded. ‘Understood.’
‘And Hector, as soon as the footage is ready, I want you to find Sarah. She can walk you through all the symbols that Jasmine explained to her. Cross-reference her interpretations with whatever expert analysis you can find online – without actually talking to anyone. We need to keep this as quiet as possible.’
‘No worries. I hate talking to people.’
‘And they hate talking to you,’ Sarah added.
Garcia grumbled under his breath. ‘I can’t believe I saved your life. What was I thinking?’
‘Probably: look! An unconscious female! Here’s my chance to make out with her before she wakes up!’
McNutt laughed. So did the others.
The only one who didn’t laugh was Garcia.
Sarah turned to Cobb. ‘And what about me?’
Cobb answered, ‘We’re going to comb through every other video that we shot. I want to know how these bastards got in and out of the cisterns. You can’t open a manhole and drop in a few hundred pounds of explosives without being seen. We spent two days down there. I want to know what we missed.’
Sarah nodded in understanding. They had detected very few entry points during their rekky, and none offered the access required to deliver their supplies. That meant they had overlooked something. ‘Alright. I’ll meet you in the lounge – after you’ve showered.’
‘Not before?’ he teased.
‘After,’ she stressed again. ‘Definitely after.’
Cobb smiled and turned his attention to Papineau, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the briefing. ‘Jean-Marc, I’d like you to—’
Papineau cut him. ‘Sorry, Jack. I have my own leads to pursue.’
Cobb frowned. ‘Such as?’
‘I have colleagues who might be able to help us in a great number of ways. The explosives, the glow stick, the translation of the pictograph – I can cover all aspects of the investigation, but I can’t do it from here. My connections must be made in person.’
‘If you say so,’ Cobb grunted.
When it came to Papineau, the rest of the team had grown somewhat accustomed to his eccentricities. They knew he was a curious creature who flitted in and out of their lives like a distant relative who only surfaced when the moment fit his needs. Occasionally he brought gifts and sometimes he offered guidance, but other than that, he played things so close to the vest that his agenda was practically indistinguishable from the fabric itself.
For Cobb, that was a major problem. He still knew far too little about the man who had presented them with such a captivating offer. He had entered into their arrangement with a hearty level of distrust, and thus far Papineau’s actions and behavior had only served to provoke Cobb’s suspicions.
‘Can you at least tell us where you’re going?’ Cobb asked.
‘The Orient,’ Papineau lied. ‘Which already says too much.’
His point was abundantly clear.
He wasn’t going to provide a straight answer.
As tempted as Cobb was to call him on his bullshit – and he was very tempted after the long day he’d had – he ultimately decided to shrug it off. In his mind, it wasn’t the time or place to create disharmony on his team.
Not with so much at stake.
Instead, he decided to bring the team together.
Cobb cleared his throat. ‘As you know, I’m not one for making speeches, but I want to remind each of you that we’re working toward a common goal here. We might be approaching it from different angles, but it’s still a common goal. So if you find anything – and I do mean anything – that may help one of your teammates in his or her search, then I want you to voice it immediately. Not later, not tomorrow, and certainly not next week. I want you to speak up as soon as you possibly can because one of our friends in danger and it’s up to us to bring her home.’
37
Kamal stared at the lavish home of Hassan and swallowed hard. Of the eight men who had been sent after Sarah, only Kamal and the lookout he had assigned to the boiler room had survived the cisterns. Despite the staggering amount of bloodshed that occurred in the tunnels, both men realized that their biggest threat still lay ahead.
They had yet to face their boss.
Nothing that day had gone as Kamal had intended. Tarek and five others were dead, and their target had eluded them. Worse still, an entire city block of Hassan’s territory had been utterly demolished, and Kamal had no idea who was responsible.
He would be punished for his failures.
He was sure of that.
For a fleeting instant, Kamal considered running away. He wondered how far he could get before dawn and how long it would be before Hassan placed a bounty on his head. In the end, it didn’t matter. Hassan would demand blood, and there were few places Kamal could hide for any length of time. He was way too large and too well known to hide anywhere in Egypt, and if Hassan turned the whole underworld against him with a promise of riches, he would have to leave the hemisphere.
No, running away wouldn’t solve his problems; it would only make them worse.
So he climbed the stairs to meet his fate.
Hassan’s bodyguard Awad answered the door. He smiled wide when he saw Kamal and the other henchman on the porch. It wasn’t a friendly greeting. It was excitement over what was to come. Awad didn’t want to miss Kamal’s explanation of what had happened in the city – or the consequences that would follow.
Without saying a word, Awad led them into the house.
As Kamal passed the foyer mural, he glanced at the i
mage of the treasure thief who had found mercy through admitting his crimes. When his trusted servant had wronged him, Pharaoh Ramses had granted the misguided craftsman a reprieve. Kamal wondered if Hassan would be so forgiving or if he would live up to his fiery reputation.
Kamal would find out soon enough.
As he stepped into Hassan’s office, his eye was drawn to the center of his boss’s desk. The gleaming Desert Eagle .50 was still there, loaded and ready to be fired.
Hassan looked up at him from across the room. His eyes were fiery with rage. The veins in his neck bulged, as if ready to erupt. ‘Sit down.’
The words were growled more than they were spoken.
Kamal and the lookout did as they were told. They dared not speak until spoken to, but as the silence drew out, they began to second-guess their decision. Finally, after the quietest minute of their lives, Hassan vented his anger.
‘A whole city block – gone! Police and soldiers everywhere! The eyes of the world upon us! Do you realize how much this will cost me?’
The loss of life was of little interest to Hassan. He was more concerned with the financial considerations of the tragedy. It was hard to collect from dead tenants.
Hassan slammed his fist down onto his desk. ‘I gave you and your boyfriend six men to find the girl! More than enough to bring her back to me! Instead, you destroy my city and return with nothing. At best, your actions are incompetent. At worst, they reek of defiance. Is that what this is, a mutiny?’
Kamal knew Hassan was addressing him and only him. Hassan had given him the responsibility to find Dade’s friend, and he alone was to answer for the calamity. Unfortunately, the lookout – who had never met Hassan before today – ignored the chain of command and charged in with a defense of their actions.
‘I swear, it was not our fault,’ he pleaded. ‘We did everything we could. There were others protecting the girl. At least—’
All it took was a glance from Hassan for his bodyguard to spring into action. Awad grabbed the unsuspecting lookout from behind, forced his head back, and pried his jaw open. Before the lookout could say a word, Awad pulled a small stiletto from his belt and severed the lookout’s tongue from the base of his mouth. Not wanting to spill any blood in Hassan’s meticulous office, Awad left the meaty hunk of muscle in the victim’s mouth and then pulled his forearm under the lookout’s chin, forcing his jaw shut.
The Forbidden Tomb Page 21
