The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (23 page)

Or
somebody calling to warn us these guys are here to kill us.

“How
many of you are there?” asked the Colonel.

“Just
eight,” replied Laura.

“So
few?”

“Our
students evacuated hours ago.”

It in
fact had been less than an hour, but Acton knew Laura was hoping their
“rescuers” would think they were too far ahead to bother trying to catch. The
Colonel smiled. “Good, I hope they will reach safety soon.”

He
stepped closer and extended his hand. Laura reached forward to take it, then
suddenly grabbed the man by the shirt cuff, ripping it open, revealing a
tattoo.

A tattoo
of a king cobra, coiled around the hieroglyph representing Death.

The
same design as on the inside of Cleopatra’s tomb!

“Who the
bloody hell are you?” exclaimed Reading as they all stared at the tattoo.

The
Colonel simply smiled, continuing to hold Laura’s hand, slowly turning his
wrist up, exposing his lower arm for all to see.

“I am
with The Brotherhood, and your actions here have been blasphemous.”

One of
the “soldiers” yelled something, pointing, causing the Colonel to break his
grip of Laura’s hand, and his eyes to bulge in shock. Acton spun around to see
all four of their security team racing over the ridge and out of sight.

Acton
just hoped the contingency plan Leather had referred to was not to save their
own asses.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Approaching the Egyptian Army Checkpoint

“I’m really worried.”

“I know
you are,” soothed Jenny. “We all are.”

“Why
wouldn’t she answer?”

“Perhaps
they were busy loading the vehicles.”

Terrence
knew he was being patronized, but it still felt good to have someone like Jenny
doing it.

“What’s
that?” asked Stephen, pointing as they rounded a bend.

“Shit!”
exclaimed Terrence, taking his foot off the accelerator and gently applying the
brakes so as not to have a repeat of just a few minutes ago. “What the hell is
that?”

Jenny
stood up and pointed. “Are those bodies?”

Terrence
wasn’t certain, but what was certain is there had been an accident or incident
recently. Several vehicles were smoldering, and nothing seemed to be moving at
what appeared to have been some sort of roadblock. Terrence took his foot off
the brake, easing the clutch up as he gave it some gas, rolling slowly forward,
toward what he didn’t know.

As they
neared it became clear that there were indeed bodies strewn about, and the
stench of at least one burning corpse filled the air. As they rounded the shell
of a vehicle and through what had been the roadblock, Terrence nearly yelped
when he saw a man jump out in front of them, waving his arms.

Terrence
hit the brakes, and the man was at his window within seconds, babbling in
Arabic.

Terrence
shook his head.

“I’m
sorry, I don’t speak Arabic. Do you speak English?”

“A
little.” The man sucked in a breath, then deliberately pronouncing each word,
said, “Get. Me. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.” He smiled. “Understand?”

Terrence
couldn’t help but laugh, as did the rest of the occupants.

“What
happened here?”

“Bad
men, army men, attack. Kill everyone.”

“Why not
you?”

The man
pointed beyond a ridge. “I over there. Bathroom.”

Terrence
looked to where the man was pointing.
Lucky bastard.

“Was it
three trucks?” asked Jenny.

The man
nodded. “Three. Very bad men.” He grabbed Terrence by the shoulder. “Get. Me.
The—”

Terrence
held up his hand, nodding. “I got you. Give me a minute, okay?”

The man
nodded and Terrence pulled out the satellite phone, hitting the speed dial. It
rang several times, then answered, but all he heard was gunfire and shouting.
He put it on speaker so the rest could hear, both vehicles of students
surrounding the phone, listening in horror as their guardians died.

Tears
streaked the faces of them all as they stood helpless to do anything.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Within Sight of University College London Dig
Site

Adel lay on the ground, his chest still heaving from the sprint of
several miles he had just completed. His Imam had requested that he go ahead to
survey the archeologists’ camp before the attack, and what he had seen was of
no comfort. There appeared to be at least two dozen armed Egyptian troops,
along with half a dozen Westerners. Where the students were, he had no idea. He
had run back to the convoy to report this, and had been ordered to return and
report when the troops left.

Three
trips, with a fourth in his future, had left him exhausted and thirsty. Why no
one had thought to bring radios was beyond him, and their cellphones wouldn’t
work out here in the desert. It wasn’t his place to question the wisdom of his
Imam, but sometimes he had to wonder.

And
why the delay?

All over
the world their brothers were sacrificing themselves, willingly, to strike at
the infidels who would prevent the return of the Caliphate, yet here, today,
his Imam and his followers sat, waiting for the enemy to leave? Why? Why not
simply charge in and kill them all, then destroy the blasphemous idols that had
just been discovered?

It
suddenly occurred to him that his Imam had waited in the truck during the
assault on the checkpoint. He hadn’t risked his life at all. Was it because he
was more important than them? It had to be. Adel sighed, satisfying himself
with that explanation, rather than the one that had been nibbling its way
forward in the back of his mind.

He’s
a coward!

There
were no cowards amongst the true believers. A true believer knew what awaited
him on the other side in paradise, in Jannah, if he died in service to Allah.
Seventy two virgins, there to please him for eternity.

I
wonder what women get?

He
shrugged his shoulders.

As
long as I get my virgins, I’m happy.

He
peered through the binoculars, surveying the camp, and nearly jumped up to
shout a warning when he noticed four of those from the camp strolling up an
embankment to the south.

And
that’s when he noticed what appeared to be a pulley system set up.

That
must be where the blasphemous idols are!

Gunfire
erupted and he watched as the four men scrambled over the ridge and out of
range. He felt his heart slam into his chest as nearly half the soldiers ran in
pursuit. Adrenaline surged through his veins, his hands beginning to shake with
liquid courage as he damned his orders from the coward who would claim to be
their better, and instead rose to his feet, Kalashnikov at the ready, and
charged down the hill, unnoticed.

I do
this in your name, Allah, please reward me should I die!

“Allahu Akbar!”

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Acton was still staring at the ridge where their supposed security
team had fled, debating whether or not he hoped the men chasing him were
successful or not, when the all too familiar scream of “Allahu Akbar” rang out
from behind him. He spun around to see a man charging over a dune and rushing
toward them, his weapon belching lead. Several of the imposters dropped, two
crying out in pain, the third silent, the hole in his head explaining why.

The
“colonel”, if he could be called that, raised his weapon and calmly fired,
dropping the man less than fifty feet from the first truck. He continued to
writhe on the ground, his shouts of “God is great” in Arabic muted, but
continuous. Several of the imposters rushed over to him, the first kicking his
weapon away, the rest aiming their weapons at his chest as the colonel
approached.

Acton,
unable to resist, and unhindered by the preoccupied force, walked over to see
who the man was. His uniform matched the others, but his weapon seemed old and
well-worn, suggesting he too was an imposter.

He
muttered something while glaring at Acton, and the colonel looked over his
shoulder at the archeologist.

“What
did he say?” asked Acton.

“He said
‘many more are coming’.”

Acton
shuddered.

“Who is
he?”

“I don’t
know. He’s not army.”

“Neither
are you.”

It was
Laura, now standing by his side, who challenged the man with the hypocrisy of
his statement.

The man
nodded. “You are correct, neither are we.” He pointed at the man who began to
shake on the ground, then stop breathing with a gurgle, the hole in his stomach
finally doing its job. “But if there are more like him coming, then like the
proverb said, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ And we must become friends,
if we stand a chance.”

“Why
would we help you?” asked Acton, exasperated at this sudden turn. “And who the
hell
are
you?”

The
colonel motioned for the body to be moved away, then he led Acton and Laura
back toward the camp, where Chaney and Reading were standing with the lone
reporter. The colonel pointed at the reporter.

“You
are?”

“Naser
Khattab. Al Ahram newspaper, Cairo.”

The
colonel nodded. “I know you. I’ve read your work. It is very good.” He leaned
in. “At times.”

Naser
stammered, not sure what to say to the qualified compliment.

“Umm,
thank you?”

“You will
report nothing of what I say, or I shall have you killed.”

Before Naser
could respond, the colonel turned to Laura.

“You
have discovered the tomb of Cleopatra.”

“Yes.
And Antony.”

The man
nodded toward the pulley on the ridge to the south.

“Over
there.”

“Yes.”

“And
what are your intentions?”

“To
document the find, and should the Supreme Council of Antiquities wish it,
remove the artifacts so they can be shown to the world.”

“Are you
not aware that it is blasphemous to touch the tomb of a pharaoh?”

“I understand
that there are those in the past who held those beliefs.”

“In the
past?” The colonel seemed slightly exasperated at this. “I can assure you it is
true in the present as well.”

“By
some, I’ll grant you. However I think a proper, respectful cataloging of the
find should satisfy even those people.”

The
colonel seemed to pause a moment, then looked at the four Westerners.

“I am
happy to see I was right about you. Your intentions are good, your motivations
are good, only your ignorance is at fault here. Which is why I did not order
your immediate execution.”

Acton
instinctively placed his shoulder ahead of his fiancée.

“And
again, we ask, who are you?”

“I am Mohammad
Soliman, Eldest of The Brotherhood.”

“The
Brotherhood?”

“We are
the male descendants of a family sworn to protect the tomb of Cleopatra, and of
other Pharaohs, from blasphemers who would desecrate their final resting
places.”

Acton
squinted slightly.
Another two thousand year old organization?
If he
didn’t know of several others, he’d be inclined to dismiss the man’s claims,
but with the knowledge he had gleaned over the years, nothing surprised him
anymore.

“So
you’re not a colonel in the army?” asked Reading.

“Actually,
I was. Recently retired. I find the uniform and title come in handy at times.”

“How
many are you?” asked Acton.

“Enough.”

“But
didn’t you desecrate the remains yourself?”

Acton
cringed at Laura’s question.

Don’t
antagonize the man with the gun, Dear!

The man
nodded, a slight smile of respect emerging from the corners of his mouth.

“Indeed
we did, but from necessity. The founders of our group discovered Queen
Cleopatra’s tomb violated within mere weeks of it being sealed. We took matters
into our own hands and moved her tomb here, onto lands my family once owned
millennia ago. We have kept her secret ever since.”

“You
mentioned others.” This time it was Reading who had been paying attention.

“We have
moved several tombs into the area. At least our ancestors had. We merely guard
those already moved from people looting them.”

“And why
are you here?”

“To
evacuate you.”

“Why?”

The
colonel motioned at the corpse now resting behind a nearby boulder.

“Because
of fanatics like him.”

“And why
should we help you?”

“You
have no other choice.”

“How’s
that?”

“We
possess the only vehicles, and they leave with us. You may walk across the
Nubian Desert of course, this after all is, or rather
was
, a free
country.”

Several
of his men chuckled, then one pointed. They all turned to see the men who had
left in pursuit of the SAS guard returning, empty handed. There was a quick
exchange in Arabic, and Laura translated under her breath.

“They
got away.”

It was
Reading who quietly asked the question on all their minds. “But where did they
go? Were they saving their own hides, or positioning to save ours?”

The
colonel returned.

“What is
your decision?”

Laura
looked from man to man, each nodding in turn, then looked at the colonel.

“We
stay, but this is my camp, and our dig site has to be respected.”

“Of
course.”

“And when
this is all over, we are allowed to document the find.”

“Of
that, I can make no promises.”