The Forbidden Tomb

by Chris Kuzneski

Cobb waited several seconds for a response. He wasn’t the type to panic, but considering what had happened moments earlier, the prolonged silence was deafening. ‘Hector, give me an update. Where’s Sarah?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Garcia said. ‘I watched her and Simon crawl up the wormhole, but I think they were attacked outside the bunker because I watched her drop back down the chute, pick up a shotgun off the floor, and head back to the surface. Next thing you know I’m hearing multiple shots. And not from a wimpy Glock; something a lot more powerful.’

  Cobb had heard the shots as well. Not only in his earpiece, but in the distant desert. Now that he knew they were from Sarah’s gun, he needed her to check in. If she didn’t, he would have no choice but to track her down.

  ‘Sarah, it’s Jack. Are you out there?’ He waited a few seconds before he continued. ‘If you can hear my voice but can’t talk, just tap on your comm and give us a signal. Josh and I will come to you.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she ordered.

  Cobb, Garcia, and McNutt breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘You had us worried,’ Garcia said.

  ‘Don’t be worried about me. Be worried about yourselves.’

  Cobb didn’t like the ominous tone of her voice. He knew that she was hurting from the loss of Jasmine, but now wasn’t the time to lose one’s cool – not with danger lurking in the desert. ‘Sarah, where are you? Are you with Simon?’

  ‘Simon’s dead,’ she announced as she continued to run from the compound. ‘Kamal killed him, so I killed Kamal.’

  Cobb groaned. Losing one friend was hard enough, but losing two back to back had to be devastating. ‘Sarah, I’m sorry about Simon. I really am. Where are you?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ he said, confused.

  ‘Are you clear of the compound?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, struggling to comprehend.

  ‘What about Josh?’

  ‘What about me?’ McNutt asked from his sniper post.

  ‘Are you clear of the compound?’

  ‘Yes, I’m clear of the goddamned co—’

  ‘Wait,’ Cobb shouted as a feeling of dread washed over him. From the tone of her voice and her line of questioning, he sensed what was about to happen. ‘I know you’re hurting, but think things through. Don’t do something you’re going to regret.’

  ‘I won’t regret it.’

  ‘Jack,’ Garcia demanded, ‘what are you talking about?’

  * * *

  Sensing trouble, McNutt used his scope to search for Sarah in the darkness. He was shocked to see her sprinting across the desert.

  Through the optics of his rifle, she seemed to be completely out of control, as if she no longer gave a damn about herself. Regrettably, he had seen this type of behavior on the battlefield before, and it never ended well. He prayed a kill shot wouldn’t be necessary, but he wanted to be ready just in case she threatened anyone on his team.

  ‘Chief, I’ve got eyes on Sarah. She’s sprinting toward base camp like her pants are on fire. What the fuck is going on?’

  ‘She’s running toward me?’ Garcia blurted.

  ‘Relax,’ Cobb said to them.

  McNutt continued to watch. ‘Chief, she’s got something in her hand. I can’t tell what it is. I don’t think it’s a gun, but I can’t tell from here. Just say the word.’

  ‘Sarah,’ Cobb said, ‘don’t do it unless you’re sure.’

  ‘Do what?’ Garcia demanded. ‘Am I in danger?’

  ‘Just say the word, chief,’ McNutt repeated.

  Now that she was far enough from the compound, she slowed to a halt then turned back to watch the desert. ‘Jack, I’m sure about this. This needs to be done.’

  * * *

  Cobb took a deep breath and nodded in understanding.

  He had been there many times before.

  He felt her agony. And anger.

  Contrary to McNutt’s concerns, Cobb knew this wasn’t about Sarah losing control. This was about reclaiming it. Two of her friends had died a few minutes apart, and she had been unable to save either. Although she couldn’t bring them back to life, she could even the score by killing the people that she held responsible for their deaths. She had already killed Kamal, and now she wanted to kill the rest.

  And he wasn’t going to stop her.

  ‘Josh, stand down. Repeat. Stand down.’

  McNutt did as he was told. ‘Standing down. Repeat. Standing down.’

  ‘Josh,’ Cobb said.

  ‘Yeah, chief.’

  ‘You might want to watch this.’

  ‘Watch what, chief?’

  ‘The fireworks.’

  * * *

  Sarah started the show with the touch of a button.

  A moment later, the Semtex that she had rigged in the armory erupted. The explosion devastated the weapons depot and rocked the foundation of the bunker, but that was just the beginning. As the heat of the blast ignited the barrels of ammonium nitrate, a wall of flame roared through every room and corridor in the complex. And just as she had escaped through the hatch, so did the raging inferno.

  Only it used every tunnel, all at once.

  Pillars of flame rose high into the air, lighting the sky and turning night into day. For those unfortunate souls in the tunnels themselves, they were set on fire and launched into the heavens like meteorites that had changed their minds. Bodies were silhouetted against the flames as those who remained in battle spun frantically in confusion, searching for an escape from near-certain death. But before they could move, the trembling sands beneath their feet pulled them down into the depths of the earth.

  As the fire consumed them, everyone on the battlefield was buried, crushed, swallowed, and scorched by the collapsing terrain. Like a biblical horror, their bodies melted as the heat consumed them. To the Muharib among them, it was as if Amun had brought forth his inescapable wrath to punish them for their sins. They accepted their fate without question.

  For Hassan’s soldiers, it was much, much worse.

  For them, there was no salvation.

  There was only death.

  * * *

  By the time McNutt and Cobb found each other in the darkness, the desert was eerily quiet. Despite the glowing purr of the sinkhole and the occasional pop of munitions, there were no more signs of life. The grunts and groans of war had given way to the shrieks and cries of death, but now even those had ceased.

  The land had been swarming with activity.

  Hundreds of souls, committed to their cause.

  Now only they remained.

  Cobb looked him over. ‘You okay?’

  McNutt nodded. ‘Yeah, chief. I’m good.’

  His usual jovial demeanor had been replaced by a melancholy sadness. While his humor often hid it, he had come to think of the team as family – something he’d never had as a child. Having known Jasmine for less than six months only added to his misery. In his mind, they were just getting started.

  They walked toward the road in silence, each contemplating what the future had in store. They knew they still had five millions dollars coming to them for their original mission, but the money seemed meaningless. They would have gladly traded it to have Jasmine back. One thing was certain: Papineau would keep all of his promises to her, or they would spend the rest of their lives destroying his.

  It was nearly dawn as they reached the makeshift parking lot just off the desert road. As they approached the Mercedes SUV, it was clear that something wasn’t right. Though they were nearly a mile from the battlefield, there was blood splattered everywhere. The entire front half of the vehicle was doused in sticky crimson.

  They spread out, converging on the scene from both sides.

  ‘What happened here?’ McNutt whispered.

  Cobb shook his head. ‘It wasn’t like this before.’

  A few seconds passed before they spoke again.

  ‘You need to see this, chief.’


  Cobb hustled over, following the trail of blood on the ground until he spotted a body slumped against the door. Stepping closer, he saw Hassan’s cold, lifeless face staring up at them. His throat had been cut from ear to ear.

  The wound told them everything they needed to know.

  There was at least one Muharib unaccounted for.

  Maybe more.

  80

  Sunday, November 9

  Mediterranean Sea

  (10 miles north of Mersa Matruh, Egypt)

  Cobb stood at the helm alone, silently staring at the whitecaps that surrounded them. Though the sky was clear and bright, the winds stirred a heavy chop in the water. The yacht pitched and rolled in the waves, breaking the normal serenity of the sea.

  He thought it was a fitting touch.

  It had been a bumpy ride.

  After picking up Sarah in the desert, Cobb had driven to their base camp where Garcia was anxiously awaiting their return. He had packed and stacked their gear in advance of their arrival and only needed to load it into the Humvee before they could leave. They had worked quickly and quietly, all of them hoping to put the oasis behind them, as if that would be enough to make them forget the tragedy.

  Obviously, it did no such thing.

  They eventually made their way north to the Egyptian coast where they transferred everything to the yacht before heading out to sea. The plan was to lie low in international waters for a few days before they figured out their next move – if there was a next move. The truth was that they were keeping to themselves. Not because they were angry at one another; they simply needed some time alone.

  A chance to think. A chance to grieve.

  That ended shortly after noon when Papineau joined Cobb on the bridge.

  Cobb turned to greet him. ‘Did Cyril make it to Athens safely?’

  Papineau nodded. ‘He arrived about an hour ago.’

  With the Muharib stronghold in ruins, Manjani no longer felt the need to hide. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was to make use of whatever days he had left. Between the massacre of his students, the disaster in Alexandria, and Jasmine’s execution, he learned how fleeting time could be. With that in mind, he decided to reestablish contact with his relatives, all of who had presumed him dead.

  Cobb could only imagine how happy his family would be.

  ‘While you’re here,’ Cobb said, ‘I’d like to talk to you about Jasmine. I need to know that her money will make it into her parents’ hands. And not just the payment for our first mission, but all of it: two full shares, tax-free.’

  ‘Yes, of course. The entire amount will be transferred to her family.’

  ‘And they’ll still be brought to America?’

  Papineau nodded. ‘The arrangements have already been made. First class. All expenses paid. The money will be waiting for them when they arrive.’

  Cobb could feel the tension in his shoulders start to ease. Jasmine and her family had been weighing heavily on his mind since the desert. He knew that money wouldn’t make up for the loss of a child, but he was glad to hear that Jasmine’s efforts would not be in vain. Her family would have the life that she wanted them to have.

  ‘Did you tell them what happened?’

  Papineau shook his head. ‘They know nothing, except that she will not be meeting them at the airport. I assumed that you . . .’

  Cobb nodded. ‘I’ll take care of it. Thanks.’

  Per their original agreement, Papineau didn’t actually owe anyone a full share for a failed mission, but in his heart he knew it was the right thing to do, particularly with the guilt that lingered in the back of his mind about Jasmine. He knew that he had failed her and the others by not detailing the violent outcome of Manjani’s expedition when he had briefed them in Florida. If they had been warned about the attack on Egyptian soil, Cobb would have handled things differently in Alexandria.

  His omission had put the team at risk.

  As Papineau stared at the sea in silence, Garcia poked his head through the door and cleared his throat to get their attention.

  ‘Jack,’ he said tentatively, ‘do you have a minute?’

  Cobb nodded. He welcomed a distraction. Anything to take his mind off Jasmine. ‘Of course. What do you need?’

  Garcia lowered his eyes in shame. ‘I know I shouldn’t be working at a time like this. But, you know, it’s who I am, and I needed something to do.’

  Cobb stepped forward and put his hand on Garcia’s shoulder. Unlike Sarah and McNutt, the computer whiz had never encountered death in the field. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he assured them, ‘I’m fine. It’s just, well, I was going through some things on my system, and I noticed something that I can’t explain.’

  ‘What kind of something?’ Cobb asked.

  Garcia looked at him. ‘Can I show you?’

  ‘Of course. Lead the way.’

  * * *

  Cobb and Papineau followed Garcia into his command center and stood in front of the bank of monitors. Each screen was filled with streaming lines of codes, oscillating signal meters, and other images that were beyond their grasp. To Cobb and Papineau, it was hi-tech gibberish – a secret language that only hackers could decipher.

  Garcia explained what he had been doing. ‘When we first tapped into the security at the bunker, the goal was to pull all the video feeds from their network, so we could see what they saw. To do that, I used a program that selected only what we needed. The criterion was simple: video signals originating from inside the compound. Everything else was filtered out into a digital scrap bin. With only two computers at the camp, I didn’t have the resources to sort and scan all the data, but I do now. Over the last few hours, I’ve been making my way through the trash. Most of it was digital garbage – just like I figured it would be – but then I came across this.’

  Garcia tapped his keyboard, and the monitors switched from unintelligible streams of data to a webcam video of a panoramic desert scene.

  It was so picturesque it looked like a screensaver.

  ‘Pretty scenic, eh?’

  ‘Very,’ Papineau answered. ‘When was this recorded?’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ Cobb said as he studied the image. He knew it had been dark when he had first tapped into the communications shed and the sun hadn’t risen until after the compound was destroyed. ‘This is a live feed.’

  Garcia nodded, glad that Cobb had figured it out on his own. ‘You’re right. It’s a batch signal from an outside source.’

  ‘Define batch,’ Papineau said.

  ‘Eight in total,’ Garcia explained. ‘They cover a complete panorama.’

  With the tap of a button, the main screen was split into a grid of nine boxes. The center block was empty, but the eight perimeter squares combined to offer a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the desert.

  The fact that the ground wasn’t smoldering and the air wasn’t gray with toxic smoke told Cobb that this was not being sent from the bunker site. ‘Where is this?’

  Garcia clicked his mouse, and a map of the Western Desert appeared on one of his screens. A pulsating red dot drew their attention to a spot a few miles from the carnage. ‘It’s coming from right there.’

  Papineau leaned closer, hoping to see something important.

  But all he saw was desert.

  He turned toward Garcia. ‘What are we looking at?’

  ‘Beats me,’ he said. He had stared at the images for several fruitless minutes before he had found the courage to bother Cobb and Papineau. ‘I can enlarge the frame a thousand percent, and it’s still the same damn thing. It’s just sand blowing in the wind. Why the hell would anyone take the time to monitor the barren desert?’

  ‘Bird watching,’ McNutt suggested from the doorway.

  Cobb turned and smiled, appreciative of the levity.

  McNutt made it clear that he wasn’t joking.

  ‘Seriously, chief, I’ve seen this type of setup before.’

  ‘
Bird watching?’ Papineau muttered.

  ‘Not just birds,’ McNutt explained. ‘Alligators, elephants, unicorns – you name it. They put cameras like this in the jungle, so why not the desert? Anywhere there are animals humping, there’s a pervert who wants to watch. Trust me, I’m one of ’em.’

  ‘A pervert or a humping animal?’ Sarah asked as she entered the room.

  Her presence was so surprising that it caught everybody off guard. She had been keeping to herself since their return to the boat, only emerging to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. Other than that, she had stayed in her berth.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded.

  ‘Both,’ McNutt said with a laugh.

  From across the room, Cobb made eye contact with Sarah. No words were said, but a lot was expressed with a simple glance. He knew that she was still devastated over the death of her friends and understood that her humor was nothing more than a brave front for the sake of the team. He also sensed that she was looking for a distraction of any kind, even if that meant making fun of McNutt for an hour or two.

  Meanwhile, Garcia focused on the problem at hand. He pounded furiously on his keyboard until he came across a secured website that seemed to address their needs. Though he couldn’t access the feed itself – the entire site was password-protected, and he didn’t have time to break the encryption with everyone waiting – he was able to read the message on the welcome screen.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this, but it looks like Josh is right.’

  ‘Bird watching?’ Papineau repeated.

  Garcia nodded as he read aloud. ‘The Western Desert Observation Initiative is an ongoing effort to study the unique wildlife of the region . . . yadda yadda yadda . . . in cooperation with the Egyptian Ministry of State for Environmental Affairs . . . blah blah blah . . . rodents, snakes, and birds . . . and so forth.’

  ‘Told ya!’ McNutt bragged. ‘Granola-eating tree huggers are everywhere – even in places without trees. Tell me how that makes sense.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘It doesn’t. Wildlife studies concentrate on specific areas of interest like a nest, a watering hole, maybe a food source. That’s the exact opposite of this. You don’t put cameras in the middle of a giant void unless there’s a reason.’