The Forbidden Tomb

by Chris Kuzneski

  Hassan hadn’t rounded up a bunch of street thugs.

  This was his personal battalion.

  Cobb approached the lead car – an opulent Mercedes-Benz G-Class fit for a prince – and sensed that all guns were trained on him. Kamal quickly stepped forward to cut him off before Cobb could knock on the tinted window. From that action alone, he knew that Hassan was sitting inside the luxury SUV.

  ‘Where’s Simon?’ Cobb asked as the two men came face to chest.

  ‘Safe,’ Kamal replied. ‘In car.’

  Cobb shook his head. ‘Tell your boss that Simon comes with me. You don’t need him anymore. Tell him that once Dade is free, I’ll lead you and the others to the Muharib stronghold. You can kill them all as far as I’m concerned. I just want the girl.’

  Kamal retreated to the Mercedes and spoke through a crack in the lowered window. A moment later, the rear door opened and Dade exited. As he walked toward Cobb, it was clear that he had expected his host to kill him and bury him in the desert.

  ‘Well, I guess I owe you again,’ Dade said.

  ‘Nope, just Sarah,’ Cobb replied. ‘She was worried about you, by the way.’

  ‘Good to know. Where is she?’

  Cobb smiled as he extended his hand. ‘She’s sitting this one out.’

  Dade thought the greeting was odd until he felt the small earpiece in Cobb’s palm. He fought the urge to smile as he took the device and slipped it into his ear while he pretended to adjust the stocking cap on his head. ‘Sorry I missed her.’

  Sarah laughed in his ear. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll meet up soon enough.’

  Kamal, oblivious to the deception, was growing restless. He hadn’t driven all this way to stand around while Dade chatted with Cobb.

  ‘No more talk. Time to fight.’

  Cobb nodded in agreement. ‘Have your men grab whatever they need. We go the rest of the way on foot.’

  Kamal shouted instructions in Arabic, causing five trucks’ worth of men to assemble beside him. They were heavily armed and bouncing with anticipation.

  Cobb pointed toward the Mercedes. ‘What about your boss?’

  Kamal shook his massive head. ‘He stay here.’

  Cobb shrugged. ‘Okay then. Follow me.’

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Cobb ordered the men to hold their position at the edge of the patrolled territory. It was as far as they could go without risking an ambush. He knew the shadow warriors were out there in the night, ready to defend their land at all cost.

  Cobb stared into the darkness. ‘Okay, Josh. Help me out.’

  McNutt stared through his scope from a half a mile away. From his vantage point atop a small dune, his night optics gave him a clear view of the scene. ‘On it, chief. You’ve got men approaching. Directly at your twelve.’

  Cobb looked straight ahead, trying to see the men that McNutt had spotted. But he saw nothing but sand. ‘I can’t—’

  His voice cut off as the shadows seemingly materialized in front of him. One moment they weren’t there; the next a half-dozen were heading his way.

  Then six became twelve.

  And twelve became twenty.

  And suddenly, they were everywhere.

  A sound like thunder rolled across the desert as Kamal opened fire. A single shot was all it took for the others to know that the battle was on. A second later, Hassan’s men fired multiple rounds into the night. Bullets sprayed in every direction as the enemy swarmed, forcing the men to defend themselves from all sides. They tried to fend off the shadow warriors as best they could, but their efforts seemed to be in vain.

  No matter how many times they shot, the ghosts just kept coming.

  Armed with nothing but ancient blades.

  * * *

  McNutt watched as the shadow warriors rose from the sand, as if they had emerged from the Underworld itself. It was a pretty neat trick, one that kept him on his toes as he carried out his one and only responsibility: protecting Cobb from harm.

  As wave after wave of swordsmen charged toward Cobb, McNutt zeroed in on those who posed the biggest threat. With each squeeze of the trigger, another enemy fell – most with a gaping hole in his head or chest.

  ‘Chief,’ he said, ‘permission to shoot both sides?’

  ‘Not yet. Let the gunmen help us for now, but if they turn on me at any time, you do what you do best.’

  McNutt grinned. ‘Sweet.’

  * * *

  From their base camp near Siwa, Garcia ignored the firefight that raged in the desert and focused on the activity below. His map of the stronghold wasn’t entirely complete, but it was getting close. By cross-referencing the video feeds that he was watching with the blueprint of the compound, he could determine where the troops were headed.

  Earlier, while combing through the footage, Garcia had noticed a series of narrow cylinders that rose from the bunker up through the sand. At first he thought they were ventilation shafts, but when he saw someone climbing toward the surface, he understood their true purpose. They were access tubes. Like the tunnels of the Viet Cong that stretched across Vietnam, these access tubes provided the Muharib with multiple entry and exit points all across the desert landscape.

  ‘Jack, you’ve got twenty more climbing to the north.’

  * * *

  Right on cue, nearly two-dozen warriors appeared. Cobb watched as they stormed in from the hidden shafts just beyond his view.

  Despite their cache of artillery, the Muharib carried only swords. The weapons had served them well for centuries, and there was no reason to believe their tradition would fail them now. In their time of need, they relied upon what they knew best.

  They preferred ancient blades to antique guns.

  Garcia continued his analysis. ‘The numbers are looking pretty good. This might be the best chance we get. Most of the men have gone topside.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Cobb said with his hand to his ear. ‘We’re a go for phase two. Repeat. Go for phase two.’

  * * *

  Dade had arrived unarmed, but that quickly changed during the course of the battle. He borrowed a rifle from one of the dead goons and fired it at anyone with a sword.

  Though he was grateful that Cobb had rescued him, he wondered if he wasn’t better off back in the Mercedes with Hassan. He was tempted to head back to the car when he heard Cobb’s command to commence with phase two.

  ‘What the hell is phase two?’ he asked.

  It was Sarah who answered. ‘Simon, listen closely. Turn west, and sprint like your life depends on it . . . because it does!’

  Dade looked to his right and hesitated, seeing nothing but desert. He assumed it was filled with assassins, just waiting to cut him down. ‘To where?’

  ‘To me!’ Sarah shouted. ‘I need your help. Now!’

  He took a deep breath. ‘On my way.’

  * * *

  As Dade sprinted forward, Cobb began his retreat.

  It wasn’t an act of cowardice; it was part of the plan.

  Even though the shadow warriors had taken Jasmine and blown up the city, Hassan’s men weren’t exactly saints. He had heard the stories of how they ruled their territory. He also knew that they hadn’t followed him into the cistern to help him out. He was sure that they had been sent to kill him and his team, and he sensed that they still might try once the battle was over.

  If that was the case, why help them win?

  It didn’t make any sense.

  So Cobb pulled back to the relative safety of a nearby boulder and took a knee. With McNutt watching over him, all he had to do was separate himself from the chaos and keep his distance while the two sides slugged it out in the desert sand. As far as he was concerned, he hoped that the battle dragged on all night because the war was thinning the ranks of both sides and distracting the Muharib from his team’s ultimate goal: sneaking inside and rescuing Jasmine.

  74

  Dade barreled through the blackness, convinced that he would be killed by the shadow wa
rriors, cut into pieces by their blades.

  The fear didn’t stop until he spotted Sarah ahead.

  She rose from her crouch and signaled for him to duck behind a cluster of shrubs. Then she pointed at a raised, round lip in the sand on the other side of the bushes. It looked like a manhole in the middle of the desert.

  ‘Watch,’ she whispered as she crawled toward him.

  A moment later, the lid popped open and five cloaked men emerged from the hole. Dade braced himself for a slaughter, but the lump in his throat disappeared as the warriors ran off toward the battle in the distance.

  Once they were gone, he turned to Sarah. ‘What are—’

  ‘Shhhh,’ she said as she cut him off. ‘Hector?’

  ‘Hang tight,’ Garcia replied.

  * * *

  He kept a watchful eye on the surveillance feed from his command center and waited for the perfect moment for Sarah to spring into action.

  She was positioned near the closest entry tube to Jasmine’s cell but had been unable to enter because of the steady stream of guards. Though impatient, she knew if she bided her time that an opportunity would present itself.

  At least, she hoped so.

  They had yet to discover another way into the lair.

  Eventually, Garcia saw their chance.

  ‘Sarah,’ he blurted. ‘Two guards are headed your way!’

  * * *

  As the guards emerged from the hatch, Sarah shoved Dade from behind the shrub and out into the open. He instinctively cried out in protest, momentarily forgetting the assassins standing no more than fifty feet away.

  Responding to his girlish shriek, the guards spun toward the sound and spotted Dade. They instantly raised their swords and rushed in for the kill.

  But Sarah struck first.

  Using Dade as a diversion, Sarah had circled the bushes in the opposite direction. In their haste to slaughter Dade, they never saw her coming. She moved behind them and dropped them with silenced double-taps to the backs of their heads.

  They were dead before they hit the ground.

  She turned toward Dade. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘No, you aren’t! Not at all!’

  ‘Maybe a little,’ she said with a smile.

  Dade nodded. ‘Next time you need a diversion, just leave me out of it, okay?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘No promises.’

  She hurried over to the fallen warriors and pulled off their tunics. She knew they couldn’t roam through the bunker dressed as they were. They would need to disguise their appearance. ‘Put this on.’

  He didn’t argue as he took the tunic, but he still didn’t understand her intentions. ‘Fine, but at least tell me why. What’s the plan?’

  Sarah nodded toward the hatch as she got dressed. ‘We’re going in.’

  Dade looked at her in confused horror.

  He could tell from her face that she was serious.

  * * *

  Cobb knew what the shadow warriors were capable of. He had seen the shredded remains of their victims in the cisterns, and Manjani had described their handiwork in great detail. A reputation such as theirs did not come easily. It was established over centuries of action and continually reinforced throughout the ages.

  Cobb knew their skills were impressive, but not how impressive until he saw them in action.

  He watched in amazement as the shadow warriors and their ancient weapons bested the horde with machine guns. Though the warriors took casualties – try as they might, they could not deflect automatic fire with narrow, steel blades – it seemed like most of their deaths were selfless acts to protect their brethren by taking out gunmen.

  Like kamikazes with swords instead of planes.

  Once they had infiltrated a crowd, their every movement was not only graceful, it was calculated. Their angles of attack used friendly fire to aid their cause. By always positioning themselves between their enemies, they ensured that any bullets that missed or passed through their bodies would end up lodged in their opponents.

  Combined with their nimble swordplay, it was like watching a ballet of death.

  * * *

  Kamal had seen Dade run away.

  At first he had assumed that the coward was simply running from the fight, too scared to face things like a man, but he quickly convinced himself otherwise. Dade ran with purpose, not fear, accelerating in a straight line. All things considered, Kamal could think of only one justification for his behavior.

  Dade wasn’t running from someone.

  He was running to someone.

  But who?

  Kamal was determined to find out.

  * * *

  Sarah descended first, leaving Dade to slide the heavy steel covering back into place. The chute was much narrower than it had looked outside. It reminded Sarah of the time she had toured a World War II submarine. The tunnel had that same dimly lit, claustrophobic feel.

  She looked up at Dade, and noticed that he had to scrunch his shoulders to keep from banging them off the sides of the tube.

  The tunnel was that tight.

  When she reached the bottom of the ladder, she had to fight every instinct to go charging through the hallways in search of Jasmine. They needed to move quickly, but they needed to blend in as well. She knew the only reason that Garcia had eyes inside the bunker was because it had been wired for surveillance.

  That meant someone else was watching.

  * * *

  Despite their advanced weaponry, Hassan’s men were losing the battle. Although the goons were seriously outmanned, it was the Muharib’s willingness to sacrifice themselves for the greater good that was the real problem.

  The warriors were relentless.

  As the cloud cover grew and the moonlight waned, the Muharib were driven by a sense of destiny. They believed that Amun had blessed them with additional darkness – a sign that their actions had pleased their god.

  In response, they attacked with renewed vigor, overwhelming their opponents with their superior numbers. Though many on the frontline were gunned down, the surge of humanity quickly enveloped the trespassers. At such close range, the bulky firearms were no match for the agile swordsmen. Skulls were split and organs were spilled as the Muharib sliced their way through the crowd.

  The goons continued to fight, but it was only a matter of time.

  It was a slaughter in every sense of the word.

  Sensing that his window was closing, Kamal slipped off into the darkness, leaving the others to fend for themselves. Despite Hassan’s order that Dade was not to be harmed, Kamal intended to make the American pay for his betrayal.

  Dade was out there, somewhere in the night.

  Kamal would not stop until he had been punished.

  * * *

  Hassan stood beside his car and watched the massacre through night-vision binoculars. Though it wasn’t the same as being there, he could see well enough to know how the fight would end. He cursed his men for not rising to the challenge, then cursed himself for not bringing more men.

  People were expendable.

  Opportunities were not.

  Hassan lowered the device. ‘They have failed me.’

  Realizing his defeat, Hassan smashed the expensive lenses against the nearest Humvee in frustrated disappointment. ‘A hundred rounds of ammo each, and still they are beaten by men with swords . . . Swords! They insult me with their incompetence.’

  He folded his hands behind his head and looked skyward, sucking in the cool night air in an attempt to calm down. ‘Come, Awad. It’s time to go home.’

  In response, the bodyguard drew the long, curved blade he had hidden under his jacket. He had been embedded as a spy in Hassan’s camp for years. His job was to keep an eye on the tunnels that ran under the gangster’s territory and to notify his brethren in the Muharib if anyone breached the wall of the underground temple.

  Ultimately, he was the one who had sounded the alarm in Alexandria.

  He had given the order to at
tack Hassan’s men.

  He had given the order to abduct Jasmine.

  And he had given the order to blow up the temple.

  Now he had one more loose end to deal with.

  If Hassan had seen it coming, he would have recognized the blade immediately. It was the same weapon that he had just belittled. The same weapon that had just cut through his squad of goons. Now he was about to understand its power.

  In a flash, Awad’s blade swept across Hassan’s throat.

  Blood gushed from the wound as he slumped to the ground.

  Awad stood over his boss and sneered: ‘I am home.’

  75

  Jasmine didn’t know how long it had been since Kaleem had been dragged from their cell. Her face no longer ached, so she guessed it had been at least a few hours since she had been struck by the guard. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she was sure of one thing: the waiting was intolerable.

  So much so, she actually felt relief when the door swung open.

  Unfortunately, the feeling wouldn’t last.

  It would quickly turn to fear.

  The guard who had slapped her came in first. As he moved toward her, she instinctively retreated to the rear corner of the cell, the farthest point that her chain would allow. Rather than give chase, the guard simply stared at her – as if his only purpose was to ensure that she did not intervene in what was about to happen next.

  Jasmine watched in confusion as five more guards entered the room. Each carried a long, slender rod that bowed across his shoulders. The rods were weighted down on both ends by heavy oil lamps that dangled from metal hooks. The additional flames filled the room with an abundance of light and scented smoke.

  Not ready for the glare, she shielded her eyes with her hands.