The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (25 page)

Hers had
flowed freely.

She
compressed the letters, along with some housekeeping matters for the museum and
the school, then sent them via satellite to her email account.

She
still held out hope that their attackers, if that’s what they even were, may
change their minds and turn around when they found themselves facing dozens of
men, all armed, all equally willing to die, rather than a bunch of students and
their teachers.

But her
experience with fanatics told her otherwise.

She
sighed and snapped the laptop shut, locking it in its metal case, then wiped
the tears from her eyes as she stepped outside. Dusk had fallen. She could see
a group of men working on the south ridge where the tomb had been found, the
pulley system gone, and to the north, on another ridge, she saw James, Reading
and Chaney returning, the decoy complete.

The
Brotherhood had positioned themselves in the prepared positions her security
team had previously set up, expanding several of them and positioning one of
the trucks to the rear of the camp as a final fallback position and escape
route, which she was certain none of the new arrivals would make use of if it
truly were a suicide mission.

The
gnashing of gears and the sound of an engine echoing across the desert had her
frozen in place for a moment, then rushing toward the secure position near the
center of the camp she, James, Reading and Chaney would occupy, their weapons
already in place with plenty of ammo.

Her
weapon readied, she pulled out the satellite phone as the headlights of the
first truck sliced through the encroaching darkness.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Seventy miles from University College London
Dig Site

Stephen, unlike Terrence, had wasted no time in continuing their
journey. He felt bad for Terrence, even a little proud of the bastard. His
going off to “fight” certainly seemed completely out of character for the
egghead, and it had attracted the gorgeous Jenny.

Perhaps
that’s why he was mad.

He was
jealous.

He had
had his eye on her for over a year, and his advances had been rebuffed, though
politely. She was beautiful, smart, and apparently smitten with Terrence.

Smitten
with Terrence!

It was
ridiculous.

He
growled.

“You
okay?”

It was
Naomi that asked, her perch in the passenger seat once occupied by Jenny giving
her full view of the emotions playing over his face.

He gave
her a quick glance, his eyes glued to the darkening road, the headlights doing
little at this time of the evening.

“Just
frustrated at the situation, that’s all.”

“Worried
about Jenny?”

Am I
that obvious? And shouldn’t I be worried about her, rather than mad at
Terrence?

“Worried
about everybody. I just want to get us all to Cairo, then back to London.
All
of us. What Terrence did was stupid and selfish, and now he’s got Jenny mixed
up in his foolhardiness.”

“It was
her choice.” Naomi slid closer and patted him on his right hand, his fingers
sore from the constant grip. “They’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

She
beamed him a smile that could melt some things and harden others, though Stephen
wasn’t certain he was reading her signals correctly. Most likely her smile was
innocent, and he was just horny from three months in the desert without a
moment of privacy to “read a magazine”.

Damn
I’m pent up!

The
phone ringing in his pocket made him jump and swerve slightly on the road,
protests from the back seat forcing him to apologize. He fished out the phone
as he pulled over to the side of the road, not willing to risk talking and
driving.

“Hello?”

“Stephen?”

“Yes? Is
that you Professor Palmer?”

“Yes it
is. Where’s Terrence?”

Stephen
felt a hint of glee in being able to tell his teacher how Terrence had
disobeyed her orders.
Pathetic. What? Do you expect him to get sent to the
corner with a dunce cap?

“He’s
not here. Umm…” Stephen searched for the words, then realized there was no
getting around the truth. “He and Jenny took a jeep we found at the checkpoint
and came back to evacuate you.” Then he suddenly realized something that had
his heart slamming against his chest. “Aren’t they there yet?”

“No.”
There was a pause and he could hear the professor saying something with the
mouthpiece covered, then an exclamation from what had to be Professor Acton.

He
sounds pissed.

“Listen,
whoever the second group is has arrived. I’ve sent an email to my account that
has some letters and instructions zipped up. Should we not make it, open that
email and follow the instructions, understood?”

Stephen’s
voice cracked as the lump in his throat threatened to burst forth.

“Yes,
mum. I’ll take care of it personally.”

“I know
you will. Hopefully all will go well—” There was a burst of static, then the
distinct sound of gunfire and shouting.

“Professor!
Are you there!” cried Stephen, the second vehicle now emptied, everyone huddled
around the phone. He turned to Naomi. “I can hear gunfire and screams,” he
said, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry out in horror. “Professor!”

“We’re
under attack!” came the voice finally. “Under
no
circumstances are you
to return. Get yourselves to Cairo and the British Embassy. They’ll take care
of you. Good bye.”

The
phone went silent, and Stephen’s head dropped onto the steering wheel, his
shoulders heaving as he sobbed at the horror of what he had just heard. He felt
several sets of hands trying to comfort him, as the others too joined in his
mourning, for in all of their minds, their mentors were already dead.

Somewhere over Egyptian Airspace

A particularly rough bit of turbulence caused the chopper to shake,
rousing Dawson from the stupor he had managed shortly after takeoff. He looked
around and saw most of the men either sleeping or resting, a couple of them
entertaining themselves with their phones or various other electronic devices.

Spock
was reading on his eReader, a device Dawson had just picked up and had to admit
loved. He kicked himself now for leaving it at home, it so new it didn’t yet
occur to him to bring it on missions for the downtime.

He
looked at Kane, still apparently sleeping across from him.

I’d
kill to hear some of his stories.

Dawson once
had a chance to go CIA, but had turned it down. The idea of being a lone wolf
didn’t appeal to him. The army was a family. You counted on each other, you
socialized with each other, you fought and cried with each other. When someone
lost a friend, you all lost a friend. It was a bond that most could never
fathom, and it was something he could never give up.

Bravo
Team was his life, and he couldn’t imagine doing a one man op, knowing that
after it was done, the next op would be one man as well, with no one to talk to
about it, no one to celebrate its success with.

And no
one to watch your back.

But Kane
had been different. A bit of a loner from what he remembered. He had been
consumed by 9/11, signed up to fight those responsible. Dawson remembered
during training the young man seemed like he was on a mission to secure the
country himself.

There
was a slight smile on Kane’s face.

He
seems happy.

But
Dawson knew
he
wouldn’t be. When he had been approached, he had turned
them down cold, refusing to even sign the non-disclosure agreement that would
tell him what job he was being offered. For he had known already. When two
suits approach you in a parking lot, flash Company credentials, and ask you to
come with them, you say no.

Especially
when you know you can kick their asses.

They had
insisted, and when he had said, “You’re here to offer me a job in Special Ops,
right? Well I’m not interested,” they had quickly backed off. He never heard
from them again after he told Colonel Clancy, his boss, about the incident, and
told him in no uncertain terms to get them to back off.

But Kane
had apparently jumped at it the first chance he got.

One of
the flight crew entered their compartment, hunched over as he made his way
toward him. He gave Dawson a nod, then shook Kane by the shoulder.

Kane
immediately awoke, looking up.

“It’s
time, sir.”

Kane
nodded then rose as the crewman turned and to Dawson’s surprise, opened the
side door. Wind whipped through the cabin, waking the rest, and Kane stood up,
checking his equipment and chute. Dawson rose, and spun Kane around, checking
the chute himself, then smacking him on the back.

“Tired
of our company?” he asked.

Kane
smiled. “Consider me the first salvo in America’s retaliation.” He winked then stepped
out the door without a moment’s hesitation. The crewmember closed the door as
Dawson sat down and glanced at his watch. He did a quick calculation in his
head.

Somewhere
near Cairo?

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Just outside University College London Dig
Site

Terrence felt like they were inching forward, but no one was
complaining. Leather had refused to let him put on his headlights, and at first
he had wondered why, then realized they must be extremely close to the camp.
Any light in this environment would be seen for miles, and the element of
surprise was obviously critical to any plan Leather may have.

He just
hoped that plan included him and Jenny surviving the night.

And it
was night, or almost. Dusk had settled firmly in, and the stars were making
their appearances, crisp and white against an unblemished night sky free of
clouds and pollution.

It was
one of his favorite things about the desert, and he found himself some nights
lying out under the stars, staring up for hours at a view this city boy had
never experienced until his first archeological dig with Professor Palmer.

A dig
that had ended in tragedy. He had been a freshman, an eager, promising archeologist
according to a letter the Professor had shown him years later. First years
weren’t allowed on expeditions, but an exception had been made for him as the
professor had apparently taken a liking to him.

It had
been thrilling, exciting, terrifying and in the end, deadly.

They
were in Jordan, working on a well-established dig site with students and
professionals from all around the world, when on their second last day, there
was a cave in that nearly killed him. He was buried alive, nearly out of breath
when he had felt hands on his ankles, pulling at him. He had wiggled his body,
and within minutes was freed, greeted by none other than Professor Palmer’s
brother, who made sure he was okay, then sent him toward the surface as he clawed
desperately at the rocks in search of another student.

The
final collapse was massive. And unsurvivable.

He felt
his chest tighten at the memory. Professor Palmer’s scream had been heart
wrenching, a sound he had never forgotten, and the only time he could recall
ever seeing true grief, true horror, in his life. It was nothing he hoped to
ever see again, to hear again, the one experience enough. Part of him had
wondered if she blamed him for her brother dying. After all, if he hadn’t
rescued him, and stayed to search the rubble for others, he would be alive
today.

But his
mind was set at ease over the years as she continued to mentor him, continued
to invite him on her expeditions, and continued to confide in him, sometimes
talking of her brother, sometimes of her work, as she would an old friend.

Until
Professor Acton had come along. Terrence had to admit he had been jealous at
first, her attentions turned to this new man in their lives, his boyish fantasy
of he and her together dashed. But he quickly realized that his fantasies were
just that, and he was pleased to see the Professor so happy these past couple
of years.

And
Professor Acton had turned out to be one of the coolest men he had ever met, a
father figure to them all when needed, and a blast around the campfire, his
stories legendary.

“Stop
here and turn off the engine. Leave the keys in the ignition.”

Leather’s
voice cut through his reverie, snapping him back to the horror of the moment. He
stopped the jeep and did as he was told, the security team exiting, he and
Jenny climbing out, following them as they walked into the darkness. Jenny took
his hand and squeezed. He returned the silent comfort, and wondered just what
he had gotten them into.

That’s
when the gunfire began.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Colonel Soliman looked across the camp at the Westerners on the
other ridge setting up the decoy, and nodded with approval. They appeared to be
done, beginning their return to the camp. He looked back at his own men who had
returned the thick canvas over the crevice, then repositioned the rocks. They
were now smoothing out the sand, removing any evidence of the tomb.

The
sound of approaching trucks, and the beams of headlights had him sprinting back
toward the camp, shouting at his men to follow before they were seen. As he hit
the valley floor the first truck had already come to a halt, the second and
third pulling up beside it as men began to jump out from the backs, spreading
to the left and right, their weapons trained on the camp, but the near complete
darkness would be to everyone’s disadvantage.

There
appeared to him to be three trucks, each with a dozen men, the headlights
slicing across the camp, revealing little, everyone within the beams huddled
behind their reinforced positions. The man he had killed earlier had no radio,
only a cellphone that didn’t work here. He wondered if there had been others
that reported their strength.