Heir of Ra (Blood of Ra Book One)

by M. Sasinowski

  Clay gasped. Paul hoped it was from surprise, not a wound.

  “Faster! Faster!” Clay yelled.

  The Porsche’s engine growled under full acceleration when alarms filled the parking garage. Paul gasped, realizing the heavy gate at the end of the aisle was starting to close, threatening to block their escape. Two armed security guards with guns drawn rushed out of the guardhouse.

  Paul’s stomach dropped as the Porsche shot up the exit ramp only feet ahead of the closing gate, the security guards scattering out of the way. The police car swerved hard into the exit isle and shot up the ramp a few car lengths behind them.

  “Nonononono!” Clay shrieked just before the Porsche catapulted out of the parking garage, catching air.

  Paul’s teeth rattled when the Porsche slammed into the street.

  The screeching noise and bright lights barreling at him registered all at once. His eyes bulged when he spotted a huge dump truck sliding toward them, brakes fully locked.

  He was thrown against the side as Alyssa turned the Porsche sharply, bringing it parallel to the street and accelerated hard, an instant before the police car shot out of the ramp behind them—and crashed violently into the dump truck.

  “Hell yeah!” Paul screamed.

  Clay stared at the carnage behind them dumbfounded, dazed.

  “Holy… shit…” he muttered.

  Alyssa glanced into the rearview mirror, taking in the scene behind them.

  “Alyssa,” Paul said.

  She remained silent, her jaw set as the Porsche sped along the street.

  “Alyssa, you can slow down.” Paul tried to keep his voice calm. “Clay, tell her where to go. Grab whatever you need from your place to get the crystal working. We’ll check into a motel tonight when we get out of the city.”

  Clay faced Paul and opened his mouth. Paul’s look silenced any words of protest before Clay could utter them. He turned back and stared at the road ahead.

  “Take the next right and then A-2 East toward Bexley. We will be there in about thirty minutes,” he said, his voice flat.

  Alyssa rested against the front fender of the parked Porsche, peering down the narrow cobblestone street in Bexley as she and Paul waited for Clay. She took a deep breath, savoring the crisp evening air when she heard Paul climb out of the back seat. He stood next to her in silence.

  “That was some incredible driving,” he finally said.

  “It was nothing compared to what you did in the building,” she replied, softly. “You threw yourself at a guy with a gun and saved my life. All of our lives.” She smiled, for the first time in a while. “That was some pretty heroic stuff.”

  Paul didn't reply. He stood surprisingly still. Alyssa saw tiny beads of sweat break out on his forehead. All of the blood seemed to drain from his face. He staggered as the adrenalin rush came to an end as suddenly as it had set in. A wave of nausea overpowered him and he heaved. Abruptly, he turned away, doubled over, and threw up violently.

  “God, I’m sorry. I—” His next words were interrupted by another heave.

  Alyssa spent the next two minutes rubbing his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bush. After he recovered and wiped his mouth with his arm, he turned to her, embarrassed.

  “Some hero, huh?” he said, a tired smile across his face.

  11 Travelodge Dartford, Outside of London

  Alyssa sat next to Paul on the blue and red plaid sofa and stared at the once artsy wallpaper that lined the walls of the sparsely decorated hotel room. How many nights have I spent in rooms like this? She pushed away the thought just as Clay plodded out of the bathroom and placed his backpack and two duffel bags on the small desk in the corner. He stood, facing the faded sunflower painting hanging over the desk. Finally, he turned around, scowling.

  “I don't know where you came from, Alyssa, or what you're hiding that makes some goon want to end you and everybody else around you.” He glowered at her. Alyssa met his gaze wordlessly, chewing her lip.

  “Clay, there's nothing we can do to make you help us,” Paul said. “I can only imagine how cheesed off you are, but if this thing is as big as we think—”

  “Sod off,” Clay sneered and turned. After several long seconds, he sighed dejectedly and faced them again, his eyes damp.

  “My father’s Porsche is totally buggered… probably going to lose my internship… Oh, and some nutter is LARPing Agent 47 on my arse!”

  Alyssa and Paul remained silent, regarding him without blinking.

  “You really think this thing is from ten thousand years in the past?” Clay asked.

  Alyssa nodded. “My father is dying. It’s the only hope I’ve got for trying to help him.”

  Clay seemed to ponder her words, the conflict plain in his face when his eyes crinkled with some inner gaiety, and he shook his head in disbelief. He put up his hands in a gesture of resignation.

  “Only hope for a foxy girl… You do know that’s every geek’s dream, right?” He almost smirked. “All right, Leia, just promise me, no secrets. You will level with me and tell me everything you know.”

  Alyssa exhaled loudly. “No secrets,” she said.

  Thirty minutes later, they sat on the floor around the coffee table. Clay was digesting Alyssa’s words.

  “So, let me get this straight,” he rubbed his brow. “Fifty years ago, this guy, Chaplain—oh, who also happens to be your grandfather—claims to have found proof of some room under the Sphinx that could prove once and for all when the statue was built, right?”

  Alyssa nodded.

  “His colleagues discredit him, the Egyptians hate him because his ideas are insulting to them, and the whole world pretty much thinks he went kook, so he gets cranky and hides for the rest of his life.”

  “That’s essentially it, in a nutshell.”

  “And in all that time, nobody bothered to check whether your grandfather was right and this supposed room under the Sphinx was actually there?” Clay asked.

  “It’s not that simple,” Alyssa replied. “The Egyptians consider the Sphinx, the pyramids, and the grounds around them their greatest national treasures. Not to mention that for thousands of years grave robbers have plundered archaeological sites without the slightest regard for their historical value.”

  Clay nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose. Why would they even think about allowing a dig around the symbols of their greatest pride based on shaky evidence gathered by yet another western Egyptologist trying to make a name for himself?”

  “Exactly,” Alyssa said. “What did they have to gain? The best-case scenario for them was that he was wrong, in which case they would have desecrated the site for no reason. And God forbid if he was actually right, disproving a belief they’ve revered for thousands of years.”

  Paul cut in. “So how did your dad get permission to move forward with the dig?”

  Alyssa shrugged. “I think it was as big a surprise to him as it was to everybody else.”

  “So your dad and his team go in,” Clay went on. “He finds something that he thinks holds the key to the age of the Sphinx and the origin of its creation. You and Oxford boy nick it from the storage room. And now all you need me to do is figure out how to interface with this doofer… built with ten thousand-year-old technology that we don’t have today.”

  “Can you do it?” Alyssa asked.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here, I guess.” He looked over his gear. “You’d have to be as loony as your grandpa to even think that we have a shot at making this work. But we’ve made it this far, right? I think I brought everything I need from the lab and my place.”

  He pulled out a large box from his backpack. “This is a titanium sapphire laser. It’s a micropulse LIDAR.” He noticed their quizzical looks. “Light Detection And Ranging,” he explained. “It’s basically a laser with a bunch of mirrors and cameras. It’s used to produce 3D scans of objects and insides of buildings. I should be able to rig up the lasers to shoot into the crystal and collect
the reflected light into the CCDs—”

  “What’s a CCD?” Alyssa asked.

  He reached into the duffel bag and handed her a silver antistatic bag with a rectangular wafer inside. “Don’t touch the shiny part,” he said. “Charge-Coupled Device. Basically, just a fancy name for light collector. Same thing the camera in your phone uses to convert the images into data.”

  “Okay, cool… so… um…” Alyssa looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “I should be able to collect the images and stream them into the VR headgear as we scan the crystal with the laser. I have no idea whether it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot.”

  Paul nodded slowly. “That’s bloody ace, Clay,” he said.

  “It will be if it works,” Clay replied. “It’ll take a while to hook it all up and calibrate it. We’ll still have a problem with the crystal heating up, so we won’t be able to hit it for too long at a time, but we’ll start with the lowest beam intensity.”

  “Paul wasn’t exaggerating when he said you could do anything,” Alyssa said.

  “I have my moments, no?” Clay gave her a crooked, boyish grin. “Now if you two will excuse me, I have some work to do.” He put his earbuds in and turned to his equipment. He looked over his shoulder. “Please don’t interrupt unless that nutter is banging on the door,” he said and hunched over his gear.

  Alyssa shook her head. “Things sure came a long way since Bill Nye.”

  “Who?” Paul asked.

  “Bill Nye,” Alyssa repeated. “The Science Guy?”

  Paul gave her a blank stare.

  “Come on, seriously?” Alyssa exhaled theatrically. “He was my first crush.”

  “Ah,” Paul replied. “Mine was Princess Zelda.”

  It was Alyssa’s turn to look perplexed.

  “Princess Zelda. You know… Zelda, Warcraft, Skyrim. Computer games?”

  Alyssa stood up. “A computer did beat me at chess once,” she said, “but it was no match for me at kickboxing.”

  Paul stared at her for a moment then laughed. “I believe I’m detecting a pattern here. Should I be worried?”

  “You should be safe—as long as you don’t jam on me,” she said. “But I may go ninja on your phone if it rings in the middle of the night.”

  Before Paul had a chance to reply, she strolled to the bed and put the pillow against the headboard then sat down. She rested her back against the pillow and stretched her neck. Paul went to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of water. He opened it and handed it to Alyssa then sat next to her, his back against the headboard.

  “Where'd you learn to drive like that?” he asked.

  “The parking garage?” She smiled self-consciously. “That was nothing.”

  “Come on, that was a lot more than just pushing pedal to the metal.”

  “A dig in Masada,” she said after a while. “A misunderstanding with the local authorities required a quick getaway.” She chuckled. “I crashed our truck. Kade—my dad—and I spent two weeks in a detention facility before the U.S. consulate finally bailed us out. When we got home, he insisted on tactical driving lessons for me. He wasn’t satisfied until I could do a four-wheel drift and J-turn on a dime… blindfolded.”

  Paul laughed. “Why do you call him Kade?”

  Alyssa took a long sip and regarded Paul in silence. Finally, she spoke.

  “After my mom… after she died and we moved to Cairo, he kind of freaked. He was a wreck, completely obsessed.”

  “The Hall of Records?” Paul asked.

  Alyssa nodded. “He drowned himself in work and I was left to take care of him. Before long, I was organizing the trips, helping to coordinate the digs.” She sighed. “We became associates. I don’t even remember when I started calling him by his first name. It felt natural, I guess.”

  “You never tried convincing him to stop?”

  “There was only one way he would. It may have been naïve, but I had hoped that when he found it, it would provide some kind of closure… for both of us. I had hoped that somehow I’d get my father back and we could salvage whatever was left of our family.”

  Paul swallowed. “How did your mom die?”

  Alyssa’s face darkened as locked up memories awoke, gnawing their way to the surface. “It’s my turn,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You asked your questions, now it’s my turn.” She gave him a playful smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and moved closer to him.

  “So what’s your story, Mr. Paul Matthews? How did you end up an intern at the World Health Organization?”

  Paul grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Single child. Semi-proud offspring of a career diplomat.” He chuckled wistfully. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in the same country twice. Science has been the only constant in my life… my escape. I should've realized I had problems when my imaginary playmates wouldn't play with me.”

  Alyssa laughed. “You turned out fine, just a little twitchy, that’s all.”

  “My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps. Naturally, I’m doing the opposite… I suppose we both want to make a difference in the world. His weapons are statecraft and negotiation. I prefer lab coats and pipettes.” He snickered. “I think he’s still hoping I’ll switch my major from biochem to global governance and diplomacy.”

  Alyssa looked at him with heavy eyelids. He smiled. “Nothing like my riveting life story to remind you how sleepy you are, huh?” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you try to get some rest?” he said softly. “You look completely exhausted.”

  Alyssa sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture and too tired to argue. She nestled against his shoulder and looked up at him, her deep brown eyes revealing a hint of optimism for the first time since they met.

  “You know, I don’t care that you’re twitchy, or that you honked all over the bushes when it was all over. You were incredible when it mattered.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you. I will never forget what you did for me today.”

  Within a few moments her breathing slowed and she fell asleep. Paul remained awake for a long time, staring at Clay’s back, hunched over the table. Paul closed his eyes and listened to Alyssa’s slow and steady breathing, while he relived the most terrifying and exhilarating day of his life. The sun was beginning to rise when his head gently fell against Alyssa’s hair and he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  William Drake sat at the intricately carved writing desk, his fists clenched, and stared at the young woman in front of him. Her slim body seemed even more delicate as she stood between the pair of ornate wing chairs that sat on the hand-woven rug in the middle of the dimly lit room. He tightened his jaw, trying in vain to stop the spasms of the muscle in his cheek.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said, his voice strained. “We had our best London asset pitted against three kids.”

  Tasha Mendeva regarded him in silence and swallowed. She forced her head up, meeting his glare.

  “Yet somehow, those pathetic nerds not only got away with the item from the site—” he took a deep breath—“but they sent our well-paid man to the hospital.”

  She slowly nodded.

  “And we don’t know where they are.” His voice was as tense as a violin string ready to snap.

  She shook her head.

  Drake screamed and swept his hand across the desk, strewing its contents across the room.

  Tasha cringed imperceptibly, but stood motionless, her head held high, focused on Drake’s heaving chest.

  Drake breathed loudly through his nose, his nostrils flaring. Gradually his breathing slowed. He ran his hand through his slicked-back black curls.

  Silently, Tasha crossed the wood-paneled room to the small bar and filled a glass halfway with single malt whiskey. She returned to the desk and set it in front of Drake.

  She leaned toward him. “I would have poured it for you before I gave you the news, but I knew it would go
to waste,” she said, a sultry smirk on her lips.

  Drake silently picked up the glass, took a slow sip and allowed the liquid to settle onto his tongue as he moved it around his mouth. After a moment, he swallowed it and looked up at her. She put her hands around his head.

  “We have Kade Morgan’s blood,” she said softly. “We will succeed.”

  He pulled her closer and brought his palm to her cheek, his fingertips skimming the outline of her face. “I cannot fail,” he said. “I have sacrificed too much for this.”

  “We will find them,” she said. “We’re monitoring their phones and credit cards, even their email accounts.” She moved her lips close to his, the pupils in her violet eyes growing. “They can’t stay hidden forever.”

  “Wake up, sleepyheads! Time for the exciting part!”

  Alyssa jerked up. She blinked as her eyes adjusted.

  Clay stood in front of her, still wearing the same white button-down shirt and faded jeans, a can of Mountain Dew in one hand. The dark circles under his eyes were new, but he sported a big grin. He held up a can to her face.

  “Red Bull?”

  Alyssa grimaced. “No thanks… I’m good.”

  Paul sat up groggily next to her and grabbed the can. “Cheers, mate.”

  Alyssa shot Paul a glance. His hair was disheveled and he looked scruffier than she remembered. He gave her a sleepy smile.

  “How was your nap?” he asked.

  “Too short to remember.”

  “Good to know you were working hard, too,” Clay snickered. He held up the crystal. “Ready to see what we’re up against?”

  They jumped out of bed and followed him to the table. On it, the LIDAR was hooked up to one of Clay’s laptops. The VR headset was connected to the other computer. Several neatly crimped cables ran between the LIDAR, the headset and the two computers.

  Clay pushed a button on the LIDAR and a small panel slid open. “I replaced the rotating mirror assembly from the LIDAR with a mount for the crystal,” he said and placed the crystal inside. He tapped the laptop next to it. “This one drives the LIDAR. I can control the orientation of the crystal and the frequency and amplitude of the laser pulse with it.” He pointed to the other computer. “The signals from the CCDs are fed into the second laptop and then streamed to the VR gear.”