The Forbidden Tomb (48 page)

In the last fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of Kaleem’s face as he was hauled from the chamber. He wasn’t flushed with panic. His eyes were steely and calm. It was as if he knew his time had come. There were no tears. There were no pleas. He did not beg for his life. He had accepted the inevitable with dignity and grace.

In her heart, she knew that she would never see him again.

* * *

The instant the door slammed behind him, Kaleem rose to his full height. He nodded to his left, then to his right, assuring the guards that he could stand on his own. They instantly released their grasp and backed away.

The charade was finally over.

Waiting in the hallway outside the cell was a fourth man, his robe much more ornate than those of the others. He smiled warmly at Kaleem and offered him a glass of water as reward for a job well done. ‘Are you okay, my son?’

Kaleem looked at the high priest with reverence. Even though they were roughly the same age, Kaleem even went so far as to bow his head as he accepted the drink. ‘Thank you, elder. I am fine.’

The priest placed his hand on Kaleem’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps it is time to choose a younger man for your role. The constant sedation cannot be good for you.’

‘Amun will keep me safe. Of this, I am sure.’

‘Indeed he shall,’ the elder said.

For centuries, the shadow priests had always followed the same routine. Whenever their secrets or landmarks were threatened, they responded decisively by killing all but one of the interlopers who dared to stray too close. The only soul that they spared was the most knowledgeable of the group, the one who seemed to know their history, for this was the best way to learn how the infidels had picked up their scent.

Jasmine was simply the latest in a long line of scholars, tourists, and travelers who had fallen victim to Kaleem’s ruse. Manjani would have fallen for it, too, if he had not managed to escape in the desert before they had a chance to grab him. The only thing that had stopped them was a freak sandstorm that had erased his trail.

The elder continued. ‘What of the girl? Has she told us all she knows?’

Kaleem knew there were cameras and microphones in the ancient cell, but he also knew of Jasmine’s tendency to whisper. ‘I believe she speaks the truth. She knows nothing about the star map or the location of the tomb. We are safe.’

The elder rejoiced when he heard the news.

Amun had protected them once again.

Now only one step remained.

The historian must be killed.

Friday, November
7

Siwa Oasis, Egypt

Establishing a base of operation near enemy terrain takes time – even when someone’s life is on the line. In the case of Cobb’s team, it had taken an entire day to establish a camp near Siwa. Papineau had docked the boat several miles from Alexandria during the early morning, but it was nearly noon before they had secured transportation and had off-loaded everything that they needed for the adventure ahead.

A journey into protected land.

Protected by the priests
and
the government.

At the turn of this century, Egypt declared most of the territory surrounding Siwa, some 7,800 square miles in all, to be a protected area. The distinction limited the amount of development that could be undertaken and at the same time boosted the number of tourists wishing to experience the area’s pristine beauty. Under normal circumstances, Papineau would have gladly greased local palms to ensure that they had the finest accommodations, but such behavior was entirely out of the question on this trip. They wanted to blend in, not stand out, and big-spending foreigners would be noticed.

With that in mind, they avoided the city altogether and set up camp on the outskirts of Siwa. They were not alone. There were hundreds of natives in cloth tents who preferred the old ways of desert caravans to the modern conveniences of hotels. And the government allowed it. As long as campers adhered to the conservative cultural restraints of the area, no one would give them a second look.

Just to be safe, Cobb and McNutt waited until sunset to begin their rekky.

* * *

Cobb dug his foot into the soft, loose sand, watching as the chilly nighttime breeze swept it away. He breathed deep, noticing the faintest tinge of salt that drifted with the wind. Though they were hours from the sea, the vast salt lakes a few miles to the north produced the same scent. Cobb ignored the smell and concentrated on the ground beneath him. He instinctively gauged its texture, calculating what type of footing it offered.

The knowledge that came from an on-site investigation – things like the direction of the wind and the traction of the soil – was why rekkys were so important to him. Any piece of information gained might be the one that saved his ass in an emergency.

Cobb and McNutt scanned the area through their night-vision goggles. They had already sidestepped dozens of guards on roving patrols during their steady approach through miles of surrounding desert, but they knew there were plenty more out there. So far, the men they had encountered had disguised themselves as groups of nomadic traders and Bedouins, but there was no reason to believe that there weren’t lone assassins waiting to ambush them in the night. Fortunately, even the shadow men’s finely honed ability to see in the dark was no match for next-generation military optics.

When Cobb and McNutt arrived at their destination, they could finally see what all of those men were protecting. Everywhere they looked, there were telltale signs of a structure buried beneath their feet. Ductwork popped up from the ground in an irregular pattern, allowing fresh oxygen to be pulled in while poisonous carbon monoxide was vented out into the atmosphere. There was even a trio of massive condensers capable of pulling moisture from the air. With the addition of a microbial filter, these giant dehumidifiers could be used to produce drinking water from the arid winds of the Sahara.

And above it all hung the canopies of camouflage tarps and netting.

To the average observer, the efforts for concealment looked unfinished and haphazard. But Cobb and McNutt knew that the disguises only needed to fool people at a distance. Whoever had taken these measures was only concerned with protecting the site from an aerial view. The guards took care of the rest. No one foolish enough to actually visit the site had ever made it back to describe what had been found.

Cobb and McNutt had every intention of becoming the first.

Cobb broke radio silence to verify that everyone was ready. ‘One minute to target,’ he whispered. ‘Status?’

Sarah answered from the makeshift command center that Garcia had assembled in their tent. ‘Bored beyond belief.’

Cobb knew her crankiness was because of him: he had refused her request to join their rekky. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her skills – she had more than proven her worth over the last few months – he simply didn’t think there was a need for her on this operation. This wasn’t an infiltration. This was reconnaissance. Despite her incessant lobbying to get in the game, Cobb had sat her on the bench.

‘Hector, you with me?’ Cobb asked.

‘Ready when you are,’ Garcia replied.

‘Okay. We’re moving in.’

While the others listened in, Cobb and McNutt made their way toward their target, a low, flat shed where Garcia believed they would find the communications system that serviced the underground bunker. If they could hack into the network, they would have access to the entire facility.

They scurried across the sand while keeping a watchful eye for tripwires and IEDs, but neither expected to encounter any. Between the harsh climate and the terrain, few people ventured this far from the safety of Siwa. The brutality of the desert coupled with rumors of deadly boogeymen meant that uninvited guests were seldom, if ever, an issue.

When they reached the shed, they ducked low and glanced in all directions, searching for any sign that their movement had drawn attention. Eventually, McNutt looked at Cobb and shook his head. There were no signs of life or detection.

They had made it inside the guarded perimeter.

They were standing in the eye of the storm.

McNutt let the others know. ‘At primary.’

Cobb lifted a hatch on the side of the enclosure, giving him access to the circuitry inside. He crawled into the shed and slithered through the tangled web of cables, searching for the clues that Garcia had explained to him earlier. Once he found them, he was sure that Garcia was right: this was the nerve center of the compound.

‘Target confirmed,’ Cobb whispered. ‘Please advise.’

Garcia walked Cobb through the process of linking his equipment to the system that they had found. And even though Cobb was a layman compared to Garcia, it took him less than five minutes to install the hardware.

Back at the tent, Garcia smiled when his monitors came to life. By physically hacking the signal, he now had access to everything on the network. ‘Nicely done, sir.’

‘We’re good?’ Cobb asked.

‘GoldenEye is live. I repeat: GoldenEye is live.’

Cobb ignored the movie reference and focused on what really mattered. He wanted a preliminary report on the facility. ‘Anything we need to know?’

Garcia grimaced. ‘It will take me a while to sort through all of the data feeds, but I can tell you one thing for sure: the bunker is a hell of a lot bigger than we thought.’

Saturday, November
8

It was well after midnight by the time Cobb and McNutt reached their camp on the outskirts of Siwa, but they knew no one would be sleeping. It wasn’t caffeine that would be keeping them awake, it was the surge of adrenalin that all of them felt now they were back in the field. It was a good thing, too, for each of them had duties to tend to in their effort to rescue Jasmine.

Having already survived one massacre, Manjani had no intention of pressing his luck a second time. He opted to stay on the yacht with Papineau, who would be piloting the boat across the Mediterranean toward Siwa. If Cobb, McNutt, and Sarah failed to accomplish their goals – if they were captured, killed, or otherwise defeated by the shadow warriors – it would be up to Papineau to send in reinforcements.

Unless, of course, he decided to cut bait and run.

He had put one team together. He could always do it again.

In his mobile command center, Garcia pored over the streams of information that he was receiving from the hacked communication lines, while Sarah kept a watchful eye through a narrow slit in the tent for any unexpected visitors.

She glanced away to check on Garcia. ‘How’s it going?’

Garcia shook his head in agitation. ‘It’s fine! But this isn’t exactly ideal, you know. I’ve got exabytes of data to comb through, and just two computers. That’s like telling a chef to cook a fifty-course meal with only a pot and a pan.’

‘First, settle down. I wasn’t criticizing; I just asked how things were going. And second, don’t mention food. I’m freakin’ starving.’

‘I’m just saying that I’m working as fast as I can.’

Garcia wasn’t exaggerating. If he’d had access to the array of technology at his home, the expensive gear back in Fort Lauderdale, or even the full complement of devices on the yacht, he could have made short work of the information he was pulling from the enemy’s network. But with limited equipment in a tent in the desert, the process would take considerably longer. Even with his backup laptop pressed into service, it would still take hours to sort through all of the raw feeds streaming through the system.

‘And I’m sorry if—’

‘Shhhh,’ she demanded. ‘Someone’s coming.’

She wrapped her fingers around the grip of her pistol as she glanced at her phone. The program she was running was linked to several motion-detectors that McNutt had buried in the sand around the tent before he had left. The tiny capsules, filled with drops of mercury, were known as
rattlers
because they would rattle under the pressure of a foot hitting the ground. According to the sensors, someone was approaching.

Sarah was a split second from ordering Garcia to turn off his computers and to grab a rifle when they heard a familiar voice in their ears.

‘Stand down. It’s just us,’ Cobb said.

‘Copy that,’ she said, relieved.

A minute later McNutt emerged from the blackness of the open desert and stepped into the tent. ‘Honey, I’m home. What’s for dinner?’

Cobb entered a moment later. He skipped the pleasantries and cut right to the chase. ‘Have you found anything useful?’

‘Sure,’ Garcia answered. ‘At least I think so.’

‘Show me,’ Cobb ordered as he took off his gear.

Garcia tapped his keyboard, and the single image on the screen instantly split into a grid. Each of the eight squares offered a different feed from one of the cameras inside the bunker. He waited for Cobb to gulp down some water before he started his briefing.

‘There are hundreds of camera angles being routed through the system. It looks like every inch of the place is accounted for. Not the best news if you’re trying sneak in without being seen, but pretty damn useful if you’re trying to map the structure.’

He punched in a different command, and the screen switched from video feeds to an unfinished architectural rendering.

‘What am I looking at?’ Cobb asked.

‘By analyzing all the footage and matching where the angle of one shot intersects with the next, I was able to piece together a rough schematic of the bunker’s layout.’

Cobb was impressed. ‘Is that everything?’

Garcia shook his head. ‘Like I said, there are hundreds of angles to look through. I still haven’t seen them all.’ He pointed to the map. ‘That was drawn by the computer. I just had to choose the right parameters to tell it what to look for as it scanned through the feeds. As you can see, it’s still compiling. That’s why the map’s unfinished. It will keep adding details as it continuously analyzes the incoming feeds.’

Cobb stared at the map, appreciating the advantage it gave them. If they could get inside, they would know their way around. ‘Nice job, Hector. Really nice.’