The Porus Legacy

by Daniel Leston

  “Only a little bit longer, hon,” he said, “and we’ll know for certain. I can’t imagine what else it could possibly—” He was cut off by a sudden rush of movement. Before his hand could even touch—let alone unsnap—his holstered revolver, he was staring straight into the barrel of a semi-automatic machine pistol.

  “Don’t be so foolish as to even try, Professor Manning.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Of the five men surrounding the pit, it was clear the bearded man with the machine pistol leveled at David’s face was in charge, though the other four likewise had drawn weapons. Professionals all, one of them already held Elizabeth from behind, his hand clamped tight across her mouth, the barrel of a Glock revolver pressed against her temple.

  David knew resistance at this point would only prove disastrous.

  After being relieved of the Beretta, he cautioned Omar with a warning movement of his head not to attempt anything stupid. Now wasn’t the time for any ill-considered bravado. God willing, a genuine opportunity would eventually present itself.

  Until then . . .

  The bearded man now flicked the tip of his machine pistol at the chest.

  “Finish what you’re doing,” he told them. “I want it up and out of there as quickly as possible. No delays!”

  As Omar returned to digging, the man then gave a hand signal into the dark. Lights immediately snapped on well back from where David’s SUV was parked. A couple minutes later a late model military jeep maneuvered across the field and pulled up alongside the pit.

  Its arrival coincided with the now freed chest.

  “Lift it out and place it in the back—and do so carefully.”

  He dropped the tailgate to facilitate the transfer.

  “No tricks, Manning, or your wife will be the first to pay.”

  David and Omar did as they were told.

  The chest’s weight was substantial, yet not so heavy they couldn’t together manage. Once they had it slid inside, the man gestured them back and secured the vehicle’s gate to its upright position.

  “Now give me the keys to your van.”

  David obliged.

  “Search them for cell phones. On my way out I’ll have the truck moved up. Once loaded, you know where to take them.”

  He tossed the keys to the tallest of his henchman.

  “A change in plans for you, Mamoud, but you can handle it. Do what’s needed to finish this.”

  A firm nod.

  David could only watch in helpless frustration as the jeep bearing the chest then navigated out to the road and headed north. Moments later, his SUV likewise pulled away, only this time driving south toward the suburbs of El Quseir.

  The ultimate destination of the former was a complete mystery.

  But not so the latter.

  By the ominous tone of the bearded man’s voice, David knew where his henchman was going—and for what purpose. Where else but to the home of Nazari. If everyone with knowledge of the treasure’s possible existence was to be eliminated, then Karim and Lana would also be high on the purge list. Whoever masterminded this wasn’t taking chances.

  And so far the bastard was succeeding!

  Unless David found a means to thwart this devious plan—and damn quickly!—it would soon be over for all of them. The risk of endangering Elizabeth’s life by acting prematurely was no longer his. That option was gone. No question remained of their silent captors’ deadly intentions. Clean and simple, they were to be driven to some remote site and summarily executed.

  So when and how was he to make a move?

  When push came to shove, he knew he could count on Omar. And for that matter, Elizabeth, as well. At the moment, they appeared in relative stasis, only waiting to take their queue from him.

  Think, damn it!

  Two things were working in his favor. With the bearded man and the one called Mamoud now gone, his odds were greatly enhanced by having just three men to contend with and not five—and unless he was mistaken, it appeared that the remaining men had been somewhat lulled into a sense of complacency by their captives’ apparent docile acceptance of their fate.

  Could the odds be further improved?

  It seemed improbable.

  A battered truck made its way onto the field, the prisoners then loaded into its canvas-covered back, forced at gunpoint to sit on one of two narrow benches along its length. Within Egypt, these old trucks were a familiar sight. It was an old, Russian built GAZ-69, a model David knew was once used for combat support by the military several decades earlier. Due to its relative small size, a great many had long since been converted to civilian use throughout the country.

  David’s wishful desire for better odds now materialized.

  One of the three, armed men unexpectedly chose to go up front with the unseen driver rather than sit guarding their cowed captives. Now there were only two, and David knew his best chance to surprise them was but moments away. When the truck first swung off the road onto the field minutes earlier, he’d seen how the vehicle had lurched and swayed as it navigated across a shallow ditch. To get back up onto the road, it must do so again.

  This would be his one—and perhaps only—opportunity.

  He recognized it was still a huge gamble considering the weapons their two guards held—but he likewise saw no other viable opportunity in the offering as the driver revved the truck’s engine and drove toward the road. It must be now or never. God willing, Omar would react accordingly.

  As the seconds slipped by, David was prepared as the truck hit the ditch and tilted heavily to the right. Launching himself across the bed of the truck, he grabbed the gun hand of his counterpart, slamming his head straight into the man’s shocked face. A profusion of blood spurted from his broken nose. Too stunned to immediately respond, his grasp was much weakened—but not to the point of fully relinquishing his weapon.

  This wasn’t as David hoped—yet he finally gained enough control of the Glock pistol to forcibly angle it into the man’s middle and pull the trigger.

  Only then did the dying man fully let go.

  Beside David, Omar had also leaped to the attack.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t doing anywhere near as well. After just seconds of frantic wrestling with his much bigger adversary, he’d already been overpowered. Straddling Omar, the fellow was about to put a bullet into his chest—and this before David could effectively spin and fire.

  What saved Omar took everyone by complete surprise.

  They heard the sound of three rapid shots apparently exploding the side window in the truck’s cab, shattering glass and eliciting a scream of pain so distracting to Omar’s executioner that the fellow hesitated a split second longer than intended. Before he could employ his weapon, the already revved-up truck suddenly sped forward, lurching out of control across the road and rolling onto its side in the parallel ditch.

  With everyone thrown off his feet, David was the first to recover his equilibrium. Dazed, he yet managed to bring down his confused adversary, firing off two quick shots before the man could again take aim at Omar. Though the first one missed its mark, the second struck high in the throat, proving instantly fatal.

  Outside, the gunfire continued unabated, staccato bursts of back and forth shots that eventually ceased and went unanswered.

  What the hell was happening!

  After a period of dead silence, David heard cautious footsteps approach the rear of the tipped truck. Unsure what to expect, he steadied his arm on his knee and aimed at the dangling flap of canvas.

  “Professor Manning—?”

  The voice was tentative, somehow vaguely familiar.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  Then it came to David.

  “Ammar?”

  The flap was held open, revealing the concerned face of Rashidi’s security chief. In his hand was a machine pistol, doubtless the source of the attack on the truck’s cab.

  David shook his head in bewilderment as he then helped Omar and El
izabeth to their feet. Beyond a few bruises, thankfully both appeared uninjured.

  “Those two men up front?” he asked.

  “Both dead, sir. I—I regret taking so long to act, but circumstances made it very difficult. I saw them follow you from the hotel and suspected they were up to no good. By the time I realized what was happening, they’d already surrounded you. When you three were placed in the back of the truck I figured any further delay on my part would only—”

  “Don’t apologize, my friend.” Seeing Elizabeth’s cell phone, he picked it up, knowing it would shortly be needed. “So it was Ahmed who sent you down here?”

  Ammar nodded.

  “He was concerned about your safety after your last phone call. Though you never requested any backup, he found your theory about those killings in Cairo disturbing enough to warrant sending me here.”

  “Thank God for that. I take it you saw the man drive south with our van about ten minutes ago?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, we’ve still got some unfinished work tonight.” Keeping the Glock, he handed the found Beretta back over to Omar, and then turned back to Ammar. “Where’s your vehicle parked? We’re going to need it.”

  “Not far, sir. You know where the man went?”

  “I’m afraid so—and he’s got to be stopped!”

  * * * *

  At David’s instruction, Elizabeth repeatedly rang Karim’s number as Ammar drove, but got no answer beyond voice mail. “He must’ve turned his cell off for the night,” she finally said. “What should I do?”

  “Try Lana’s phone.”

  After several rings, Karim’s daughter answered, her voice groggy.

  Elizabeth immediately handed the phone over to David.

  “Lana, it’s David. Listen very carefully. Is there a room in your house that can be locked or bolted from the inside? Anyplace! Maybe a bathroom? A bedroom?”

  “I—I don’t understand why—”

  “Answer my question!”

  She paused to think.

  “My father’s bedroom can be locked from the inside, though he never has occasion to—”

  “Is it on the first or second floor?”

  “Second,” she replied. “Mine as well. David, please explain—you’re starting to frighten me!”

  “Good. Do exactly as I tell you! Go to his bedroom and lock the door. Even prop a heavy chair under the doorknob if one’s available. And take your cell phone so we can continue talking. We’re just a few minutes away. Maybe less. And for Christ’s sake don’t open the door to anyone until we get there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a man who means you both serious harm may already be inside the house. Now please hurry!”

  He gave the phone back to Elizabeth.

  A minute later, David had Ammar kill the headlights as they approached the darkened Nazari home. Answering his worst fears, his empty SUV was parked beside Lana’s familiar jeep.

  It told him the one called Mamoud had already gained entrance.

  “Elizabeth, stay with the car and keep Lana on the phone. Make sure she’s done what I said. Tell her we’re here and what we’re doing. Omar and I will go in the front. Ammar, you slip around back and watch the rear door. But whatever you do, don’t go in! I’m counting on you being a barrier between him and Elizabeth if he the tries to make a run for it. If he does, nail him! No hesitation!”

  “I understand, sir.”

  The three men exited the car, cautious to make no noise.

  “Please be careful, David.”

  “Count on it.”

  Once he calculated Ammar was in position, he and Omar moved forward, finding the front door slightly ajar. Either it had been jimmied or never locked in the first place. Probably the latter, he thought as they slipped inside. At this point, it didn’t matter one way or the other.

  They were initially met with complete silence.

  But it didn’t last.

  Above them now came a woman’s scream, followed by a staccato burst of sustained gunfire—far too rapid to come from a standard revolver.

  Damn!

  “He’s got a machine pistol!” he warned Omar—and locating the light switches for the front hall and ground floor he snapped them on. Since they now knew the location of the man, he hoped this would force him to abandon his mission and endeavor to escape.

  Which he immediately did!

  Scrambling headlong down the staircase, the man sent a sweeping spray of bullets to clear his way, effectively chewing out a ragged line across the carpeted floor and up the plaster walls.

  But his desperate effort was to no avail, for both men below were already crouched and waiting for him.

  Their four returning shots were well placed and almost simultaneous.

  Omar put two into the man’s middle. David’s struck higher; one in the upper chest, the second impacting under the eye, snapping his head back. The man they knew only as Mamoud was already dead as his crumpling body tumbled down the last few steps to the floor.

  Hearing Lana’s near-hysterical cries, they raced upstairs. The first door they came across showed the result of concentrated bullets focused around the lock and doorknob. Visible inside through the broken wood was what was once a solid chair, its heavy frame still jammed in place.

  “Lana, it’s me, David. Pull the chair away.”

  It was Karim who responded.

  “She’s been hurt,” he said, jerking the obstacle aside. “They look minor—but she’s bleeding and needs attention.”

  His diagnosis proved accurate.

  Once Ammar and Elizabeth were admitted into the house, Elizabeth calmed Lana down, taking her into the bathroom to attend to her injuries. Beneath a long smear of blood on the young woman’s forearm was the worst of them, a shallow wound that wasn’t the result of a bullet, but instead from being impacted by a flying section of the shattered door. Likewise there were additional superficial cuts across her cheek and shoulder.

  As Elizabeth began seeking antiseptic and bandages, David used the opportunity to pull a shaken Karim back into the bedroom. In David’s opinion, tonight’s events had long since overtaken any further need for tact.

  Not only was the treasure gone to parts unknown, but five men were dead!

  He wanted—needed!—definitive answers. Answers he was now convinced only Karim could supply!

  If his lingering suspicions proved false, then so be it . . .

  But he didn’t believe he was wrong. Far from it.

  “Don’t you think it’s about time you fess up to your involvement in all of this, Karim?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Surely you can’t be serious!” exclaimed Omar after hearing David’s startling statement. “How could you think for a moment that Karim has any involvement in this? Why, both he and his daughter just came within seconds of themselves being killed by that—”

  “All the more reason for him to now start telling the truth, don’t you think?” David turned back to Karim. “So what’s it to be? If this hasn’t finally convinced you that you’ve been double-crossed by your partner, then what’s it going to take?”

  A stunned Karim blinked, his face frozen by the blunt accusation.

  “Partner—?” he said. “I—I don’t understand wha—”

  “Of course, you do. My big regret is it’s taken me until now to put all the pieces in place. My failure almost cost us our lives. Do I have to tell you the particulars of how we found the treasure tonight? Or did you already know it’s now in the hands of your partner? If you expected he’d share, you couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  Karim had no immediate response.

  “I must admit,” David continued, “all the clues were right in front of me and I somehow missed them. I can tick them off, if you wish.” He saw the rising anger in Omar’s eyes, yet also noted a hesitant curiosity, the look of someone being torn between two people he trusted implicitly. “In retrospect, there’s no other logical explanatio
n to account for how your partner got all the information he needed to pull this off. You were supplying it to him on almost a daily basis, right?”

  Omar stared over at the older man, puzzled by his lack of reaction.

  “Tell him he’s wrong, Karim!”

  “He can’t, Omar, because it’s all true. If you think on it, how else could his partner have known what we were seeking so early on in the game? Look how fast he moved against Abdel Khafaghi and his people. He was onto us even before our arrival in El Quseir.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Isn’t it? Remember, we were still back in Cairo when you told Karim over the phone our purpose for coming here. I’m guessing your description of the pearl necklace given to me by Haleem—not to mention the legend of the Porus Legacy—had to have struck a very familiar and promising chord with him. After all, four years ago you two were working alongside Rashidi on the excavation of Alexander’s tomb, weren’t you? Thus he would’ve been there when the original one was found and removed.”

  David paused, his eyes focusing again on Karim.

  “I said ‘familiar chord’ for good reason. I can only imagine what a total shock that must’ve been for you, seeing an ancient artifact come to light almost identical to the one you first laid eyes on well over forty years ago. You were but a child when you and your friend broke into Shadid’s home that fateful night and found it. I figure you were no more than—what?—twelve or thirteen at the time?”

  “No, I—you’re wrong about—”

  “I don’t think so. Omar and I both saw how upset you became when we entered Shadid’s abandoned house. You never went past the veranda—like you couldn’t bring yourself to set foot inside the main room. You were also the first one to leave. So, why was that, Karim? Too many unpleasant memories in there? It’s probable you and your partner had no intention of killing Shadid. I can easily believe that was the case. But unfortunately you were caught in the act of robbery and it developed otherwise. Was that how it went down?”

  In the ensuing silence, Omar shook his head, still not ready to alter his overall opinion.