The Forbidden Tomb (50 page)

If that was the case, why help them win?

It didn’t make any sense.

So Cobb pulled back to the relative safety of a nearby boulder and took a knee. With McNutt watching over him, all he had to do was separate himself from the chaos and keep his distance while the two sides slugged it out in the desert sand. As far as he was concerned, he hoped that the battle dragged on all night because the war was thinning the ranks of both sides and distracting the Muharib from his team’s ultimate goal: sneaking inside and rescuing Jasmine.

Dade barreled through the blackness, convinced that he would be killed by the shadow warriors, cut into pieces by their blades.

The fear didn’t stop until he spotted Sarah ahead.

She rose from her crouch and signaled for him to duck behind a cluster of shrubs. Then she pointed at a raised, round lip in the sand on the other side of the bushes. It looked like a manhole in the middle of the desert.

‘Watch,’ she whispered as she crawled toward him.

A moment later, the lid popped open and five cloaked men emerged from the hole. Dade braced himself for a slaughter, but the lump in his throat disappeared as the warriors ran off toward the battle in the distance.

Once they were gone, he turned to Sarah. ‘What are—’

‘Shhhh,’ she said as she cut him off. ‘Hector?’

‘Hang tight,’ Garcia replied.

* * *

He kept a watchful eye on the surveillance feed from his command center and waited for the perfect moment for Sarah to spring into action.

She was positioned near the closest entry tube to Jasmine’s cell but had been unable to enter because of the steady stream of guards. Though impatient, she knew if she bided her time that an opportunity would present itself.

At least, she hoped so.

They had yet to discover another way into the lair.

Eventually, Garcia saw their chance.

‘Sarah,’ he blurted. ‘Two guards are headed your way!’

* * *

As the guards emerged from the hatch, Sarah shoved Dade from behind the shrub and out into the open. He instinctively cried out in protest, momentarily forgetting the assassins standing no more than fifty feet away.

Responding to his girlish shriek, the guards spun toward the sound and spotted Dade. They instantly raised their swords and rushed in for the kill.

But Sarah struck first.

Using Dade as a diversion, Sarah had circled the bushes in the opposite direction. In their haste to slaughter Dade, they never saw her coming. She moved behind them and dropped them with silenced double-taps to the backs of their heads.

They were dead before they hit the ground.

She turned toward Dade. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘No, you aren’t! Not at all!’

‘Maybe a little,’ she said with a smile.

Dade nodded. ‘Next time you need a diversion, just leave me out of it, okay?’

Sarah shrugged. ‘No promises.’

She hurried over to the fallen warriors and pulled off their tunics. She knew they couldn’t roam through the bunker dressed as they were. They would need to disguise their appearance. ‘Put this on.’

He didn’t argue as he took the tunic, but he still didn’t understand her intentions. ‘Fine, but at least tell me why. What’s the plan?’

Sarah nodded toward the hatch as she got dressed. ‘We’re going in.’

Dade looked at her in confused horror.

He could tell from her face that she was serious.

* * *

Cobb knew what the shadow warriors were capable of. He had seen the shredded remains of their victims in the cisterns, and Manjani had described their handiwork in great detail. A reputation such as theirs did not come easily. It was established over centuries of action and continually reinforced throughout the ages.

Cobb knew their skills were impressive, but not
how
impressive until he saw them in action.

He watched in amazement as the shadow warriors and their ancient weapons bested the horde with machine guns. Though the warriors took casualties – try as they might, they could not deflect automatic fire with narrow, steel blades – it seemed like most of their deaths were selfless acts to protect their brethren by taking out gunmen.

Like kamikazes with swords instead of planes.

Once they had infiltrated a crowd, their every movement was not only graceful, it was calculated. Their angles of attack used friendly fire to aid their cause. By always positioning themselves between their enemies, they ensured that any bullets that missed or passed through their bodies would end up lodged in their opponents.

Combined with their nimble swordplay, it was like watching a ballet of death.

* * *

Kamal had seen Dade run away.

At first he had assumed that the coward was simply running from the fight, too scared to face things like a man, but he quickly convinced himself otherwise. Dade ran with purpose, not fear, accelerating in a straight line. All things considered, Kamal could think of only one justification for his behavior.

Dade wasn’t running
from
someone.

He was running
to
someone.

But who?

Kamal was determined to find out.

* * *

Sarah descended first, leaving Dade to slide the heavy steel covering back into place. The chute was much narrower than it had looked outside. It reminded Sarah of the time she had toured a World War II submarine. The tunnel had that same dimly lit, claustrophobic feel.

She looked up at Dade, and noticed that he had to scrunch his shoulders to keep from banging them off the sides of the tube.

The tunnel was that tight.

When she reached the bottom of the ladder, she had to fight every instinct to go charging through the hallways in search of Jasmine. They needed to move quickly, but they needed to blend in as well. She knew the only reason that Garcia had eyes inside the bunker was because it had been wired for surveillance.

That meant someone else was watching.

* * *

Despite their advanced weaponry, Hassan’s men were losing the battle. Although the goons were seriously outmanned, it was the Muharib’s willingness to sacrifice themselves for the greater good that was the real problem.

The warriors were relentless.

As the cloud cover grew and the moonlight waned, the Muharib were driven by a sense of destiny. They believed that Amun had blessed them with additional darkness – a sign that their actions had pleased their god.

In response, they attacked with renewed vigor, overwhelming their opponents with their superior numbers. Though many on the frontline were gunned down, the surge of humanity quickly enveloped the trespassers. At such close range, the bulky firearms were no match for the agile swordsmen. Skulls were split and organs were spilled as the Muharib sliced their way through the crowd.

The goons continued to fight, but it was only a matter of time.

It was a slaughter in every sense of the word.

Sensing that his window was closing, Kamal slipped off into the darkness, leaving the others to fend for themselves. Despite Hassan’s order that Dade was not to be harmed, Kamal intended to make the American pay for his betrayal.

Dade was out there, somewhere in the night.

Kamal would not stop until he had been punished.

* * *

Hassan stood beside his car and watched the massacre through night-vision binoculars. Though it wasn’t the same as being there, he could see well enough to know how the fight would end. He cursed his men for not rising to the challenge, then cursed himself for not bringing more men.

People were expendable.

Opportunities were not.

Hassan lowered the device. ‘They have failed me.’

Realizing his defeat, Hassan smashed the expensive lenses against the nearest Humvee in frustrated disappointment. ‘A hundred rounds of ammo each, and still they are beaten by men with swords . . . Swords! They insult me with their incompetence.’

He folded his hands behind his head and looked skyward, sucking in the cool night air in an attempt to calm down. ‘Come, Awad. It’s time to go home.’

In response, the bodyguard drew the long, curved blade he had hidden under his jacket. He had been embedded as a spy in Hassan’s camp for years. His job was to keep an eye on the tunnels that ran under the gangster’s territory and to notify his brethren in the Muharib if anyone breached the wall of the underground temple.

Ultimately, he was the one who had sounded the alarm in Alexandria.

He had given the order to attack Hassan’s men.

He had given the order to abduct Jasmine.

And he had given the order to blow up the temple.

Now he had one more loose end to deal with.

If Hassan had seen it coming, he would have recognized the blade immediately. It was the same weapon that he had just belittled. The same weapon that had just cut through his squad of goons. Now he was about to understand its power.

In a flash, Awad’s blade swept across Hassan’s throat.

Blood gushed from the wound as he slumped to the ground.

Awad stood over his boss and sneered: ‘I
am
home.’

Jasmine didn’t know how long it had been since Kaleem had been dragged from their cell. Her face no longer ached, so she guessed it had been at least a few hours since she had been struck by the guard. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she was sure of one thing: the waiting was intolerable.

So much so, she actually felt relief when the door swung open.

Unfortunately, the feeling wouldn’t last.

It would quickly turn to fear.

The guard who had slapped her came in first. As he moved toward her, she instinctively retreated to the rear corner of the cell, the farthest point that her chain would allow. Rather than give chase, the guard simply stared at her – as if his only purpose was to ensure that she did not intervene in what was about to happen next.

Jasmine watched in confusion as five more guards entered the room. Each carried a long, slender rod that bowed across his shoulders. The rods were weighted down on both ends by heavy oil lamps that dangled from metal hooks. The additional flames filled the room with an abundance of light and scented smoke.

Not ready for the glare, she shielded her eyes with her hands.

Behind the torchbearers came two more men whose sturdy physiques stretched the fabric of their tunics. Their muscles bulged as they strained to carry a cylindrical stone slab into the ancient cell. They carefully set the ancient relic in the center of the floor before they took their place among the others.

Together, the group formed a ring around the stone.

Finally, the high priest entered the room. Dressed in an ornate cloak, he had a regal air about him that was oddly comforting, as if he knew the secrets of the universe and would be willing to share them for the betterment of mankind.

Jasmine breathed in the smoke and irrationally filled with hope.

Perhaps he was there to explain it all.

Her imprisonment. Their history.

Maybe even the tomb itself.

* * *

Despite his size, or perhaps because of it, Kamal found himself alone in the dark. As he lumbered through the desert, he searched the ground for Dade’s trail and eventually found something much more interesting than footprints.

Kamal literally stumbled across two dead shadow warriors, their blades still clutched in their hands. He initially thought that they had been casualties of the firefight – wounded men who had tried to seek refuge – but he knew that didn’t make sense.

Injured Muharib would not retreat.

They would fearlessly fight to the death.

Leaning close, Kamal could see that they had been killed efficiently. He also knew that no one who had made the trip from Alexandria – including Dade – would have been able to shoot four rounds so accurately. When it came to shooting, his colleagues relied on the quantity of their ammunition over the quality of their aim.

The marksmanship meant that Dade was not alone.

Kamal crouched low, at least for him, and scanned the darkness for signs of trouble. The shrubbery to his left hid no threats, but he wasn’t as sure about the odd ring of cement that he suddenly noticed. He approached it cautiously, his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at whoever or whatever emerged from the hole.

Instead, he found it sealed by a heavy metal plate.

Sliding back the cover, Kamal reached two important conclusions.

This underground compound was the home of the warriors.

And he was way too big to fit down the chute.

* * *

Sarah had always been a tomboy. Even as a child she had been tall and lanky, with an athletic frame built more for basketball than beauty pageants. Not that she ever minded. She was perfectly happy with a physique that matched her psyche. While most of her female classmates were doing their nails, she just wanted to be one of the guys.

Many years later, she finally had her chance.

With the loose-fitting tunic draped over her body and a hood draped over her head, Sarah looked the part of a Muharib warrior. As long she kept her face hidden from view, she and Dade could move through the underground hallways without drawing attention. Once they had reached Jasmine’s cell, the plan was to put her in a tunic and carry her, as if she had been injured in the battle above.

In truth, the only reason Dade was there was to help carry Jasmine to the surface.

Prior to the mission, Sarah had memorized the map of the complex. She knew exactly which turns to make to ensure the shortest path to Jasmine’s cell. If all went according to plan, Garcia would only inform her of the Muharib’s movements; the rest would be up to her. Unfortunately, things went to hell almost immediately.

‘Sarah,’ Garcia said, ‘something’s happening. A bunch of guards just went into her cell. I think they’re going to interrogate her.’

* * *