The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (11 page)

“Why?
Why did you do it?” he cried, holding her cheek against his.

“To save
you from having to,” she whispered, raising her hand to touch her husband’s.
“To save my darling husband the pain of having to execute his own wife for her
crimes.”

Fadil’s
eyes poured tears, the clang of a sword on stone going unnoticed as Jabari
killed the king cobra that had been in the basket brought with them for this
very purpose. As Tarik watched, joined quietly by Jabari, his mind reeled with
the duty he had just committed them to. They had already killed two tonight, a
third life was in the process of being claimed, the price for violating the
tomb

He only
prayed that the gods would forgive them their desecration, and grant them the
wisdom, the courage, and the permission, to protect them in the afterlife.

And with
a sigh, Dalila’s last breath echoed through the cave, followed by the heart
wrenching cry of her devoted husband.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack

Acton held his hands up, mentally guiding the rope that held his
most precious treasure, Laura. The rope swung slightly from side to side, but
not too badly and in just another foot or so, he’d be able to touch her boot to
steady her.

“Almost
there,” he called, his voice reassuring, the cavern now well lit, several
powerful LED lanterns passed down via bucket before Laura insisted she be
lowered. He had objected, silently, but realized this was her dig site, and
most other weeks he wouldn’t have been here to object regardless of how he
felt.

This was
their job, to dangle from ropes, climb into caves, brave spiders and snakes,
outsmart ancient booby traps, and battle boredom, the most common enemy of a
dig going badly. But he couldn’t recall a dig where he had been bored. Pick
your site well, do your research, then follow the grid pattern, reevaluating as
you go along.

How
could you ever get bored doing this?

He
grabbed his fiancée and carefully guided her to the floor. With her feet on the
ground, she gave him a kiss, then untied herself, tossing the rope aside.

“I’m
clear!” she called to those above, and immediately the rope was pulled up.

“Hugh!
You wanna come and join us?” asked Acton with a wink to Laura, knowing full
well what the answer would be.

“No,
I’ll coordinate things from up here.”

“Martin?”

“Thought
you’d never bloody ask!”

Moments
later a set of boots appeared, and Acton waited for their friend to be lowered
as Laura began to examine the find. As she circled the large cavern they had
stumbled upon, it was quite obvious that the place had been chosen carefully to
hide a secret so precious, so important, it was clearly never meant to be
found.

But they
had found it.

And he
immediately began to wonder if the Curse of the Pharaoh’s would plague their
dig now that they had.

Suddenly
his nose stung and his eyes watered as he took a boot from Chaney to the head,
cursing himself for not paying attention.

“Sorry,
Professor, didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t
worry about it, my fault,” replied Acton as he guided Chaney to the ground.

Has
the Curse already begun?

He
smiled and shook his head.

If a
boot to the head is the best they can do, I think we’ll be okay.

Nubian Desert, Egypt

30 BC, Five Months After Cleopatra’s Death

The three brothers lay exhausted on the ground, soaked in sweat,
covered in dirt, their clothes nearly in tatters. But they all had smiles on
their faces, staring up at their handiwork. It had taken months of painstaking,
laborious work, but it was done. The first thing they had to accomplish, and it
had been done quickly, was to find a new location, out of the way, hidden from
prying eyes.

That had
turned out to be easy.

Jabari
had discovered a deep crevice on newly purchased land that was easily passable,
yet had probably not seen a visitor in hundreds if not thousands of moons, and
his own explorations had revealed caverns carved into the rock face by whatever
force of the gods had created the crevice in the first place.

A
specific location was chosen, then every night they would journey to the tomb,
load their carts, then transport them to Tarik’s house, where they would then
be carefully packaged by trusted servants, then moved to their new home. No
suspicions were raised as it was their land they were travelling to, and with
no one the wiser, this part of their plan was merely laborious.

But the
third and final part, thought of that first night by Fadil, was the most
difficult.

The
decoy.

They
knew if the tomb was discovered with the bodies of their revered Pharaoh and
her husband missing, a hunt, far and wide, would ensue, and three brothers, out
at all hours of the night, transporting goods to newly acquired land, may be
looked upon with enough suspicion to cause problems.

So Fadil
made a suggestion that Tarik thought beyond his years.

A
brilliant suggestion.

The tomb
could be left emptied, the victim of tomb raiders, but the bodies had to remain
behind. Which was exactly what they did. A funeral had to be held for Dalila,
and Fadil paid to have her embalmed in the traditional way, and with a large
additional payment, the body of one of the slain thieves was also embalmed with
no questions asked, a vague reference to a despised cousin provided.

A lavish
funeral was held, hundreds in attendance, the body of their beloved Dalila
entombed in the family crypt. But when night fell, it and the embalmed body of
the thief were moved to Cleopatra and Antony’s former resting place, and left
for future generations to find.

Tarik
wondered what questions would be raised if those bodies were actually found.
Would they be what they expected, or completely different? Would history be
rewritten, Antony’s legacy of suicide changed to death in battle due to the
sword wound that had cleaved open the man’s head who now took his place?

He knew
the job of those bodies was merely to take the place of their revered
counterparts long enough for memories to forget the months long labors of three
brothers in the night, and if fortunate, long enough for their duties to have
been inherited by the next generation of The Brotherhood.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack

Reading ignored the now organized activity about him, and instead
scanned the horizon for the telltale signs of their observers, but could see
nothing. He walked over to one of the guards providing security for the new
site, his sunglass covered eyes slowly casing the area.

Or
providing cover while he stared at the female students’ arses.

Who
knew?

It was
one of the reasons he always had a suspect remove their sunglasses before
interrogation. The key were the eyes. You could tell if they were lying,
scared, hiding something.

Or
completely psychotic.

Those
were the ones who sent a chill up your spine. The calm ones, the collected
ones, the ones whose eyes revealed nothing, who could look at a hacked up
corpse as if it were a Christmas dinner.

I
miss it.

It had
been a tough choice to go Interpol, a choice more or less forced on him due to
the incident with the Triarii and the inquiries that had occurred later. He was
too high profile after that, and knew he’d be hounded by his colleagues and by
witnesses, victims and suspects if they recognized him from the newscasts.

Then the
offer had come out of nowhere.

And
after twenty-four long hours of procrastination, he had decided to take it. He
had to admit to himself that certain aspects he enjoyed. The intel he had on
hand was incredible, knowing what was going on around the world, that the
average citizen had no clue of, was at once exhilarating as it was terrifying.
It also allowed him the flexibility to travel almost anywhere in the world, and
on occasion, help out his friends Jim and Laura, who seemed to be magnets for
trouble.

Which
was why the flashes on the horizon had concerned him so much. He knew they were
a foreshadowing of things to come if this pair’s history was any indication.
But what it might mean, who it might be, and what they might do, were
mysteries.

“Any
word?” he asked the man.

“They’re
on their way back. ETA two minutes.”

“Did
they find anything?”

“There
was some chatter. The colonel said he’d fill you in when he returned.”

Reading
nodded, knowing there was no point in pressing the former soldier. He’d obey
his chain of command, and about the only people who could perhaps convince him
otherwise were twenty feet below them, playing in the sand.

That’s
not fair.

He
mentally slapped himself for insulting his friends’ profession as he returned
to the hole. As he watched the pulley system erected by the students in no
time, and the organized effort that was a credit to their teacher, he realized
that these were professionals, doing a serious job, in a deliberate way. There
was a process, there were rules. He could respect that. And though they weren’t
out saving lives as part of their job—that part was merely coincidental—they
were teaching kids, something he could respect, and with the character these
two had displayed over the couple of years he had known them, he couldn’t
imagine two other people he’d want more to mold the hearts and minds of his own
son.

These
are good people.

And he
knew he was lucky to have them in his life. After a near lifetime of seeing the
dark side of society, socializing with fellow cops who only saw that side as
well, they were a welcome relief despite their penchant for getting into
trouble.

Reading
looked over as a jeep pulled up. Former Lieutenant Colonel Leather was
everything his name implied. Well-worn but tough. He exited the jeep and strode
over to Reading.

“Sir,
are the professors available?”

“Negative,
they’re in the pit right now. Is it urgent?”

“It’s
got potential, hard to say.” Leather looked toward the horizon where the
flashes had been seen earlier. “When we arrived we saw two men already
departing on horseback, far enough from their original position to tell me that
they had been tipped off we were coming.”

“From
one of us?”

Leather
shook his head.

“Doubt
it, but it is possible one of the helpers isn’t playing for the home team. I’m
guessing however they have other lookouts and simply spotted us leaving.”

“And now
they know we know.”

Leather
nodded.

“Which
is what could make this situation escalate should their intentions be hostile.”

Reading
sighed.

“We have
to assume their intentions aren’t good. If they were just curious, why run?”

“We did
have guns prominently displayed, so we can’t rule out that we just scared them.”

Reading
looked at the sunglasses, his own concerned visage looking back.

“You
don’t sound convinced.”

“No,
sir, not at all. I think the prudent thing to do would be to shut this
operation down until we can ascertain who is watching us.”

Reading
grunted.

“You’ll
never get them to agree to that,” he said, his head nodding toward the pit
where the two professors were working.

Leather’s
face revealed no emotion.

“Agreed.”

“Recommendations?”

“Firm
policy on leaving the camp, I call for some reinforcements—they can be here in
two days—we watch for hostiles, monitor the help, and you try to convince them
it’s time to leave, at least for a little while.”

Reading
wasn’t sure about calling in reinforcements. It would turn the dig into an
armed camp, was bound to attract more attention, and he wasn’t sure they could
win any gunfight should one happen. But this was Islamic Egypt, where what
semblance of law and order it had under the military dictatorship, was now
gone, replaced by near anarchy, with little to no protection for infidels like
the millions of resident Christians, and isolated foreigners.

He
looked at the excited university students, students that reminded him of his
son, a son he would trust would have professors concerned enough to have him
sent home should they be in this situation.

If
only we knew for sure what was going on.

There
was a shout from the pit and he turned to see Acton’s head poke out of the
hole, a huge smile etched across his sand covered face. He was helped to the
ground by several students, one of whom handed him a canteen. He took a drink,
swished out his mouth, then spit the water on the ground. Taking another swig
which he swallowed, he poured much of the remaining water over his face and
head, ridding himself of most of the caked-on sand and sweat.

“What
did you find, Professor?”

Acton
grinned, looking at the gathered students, saying nothing, causing the suspense
to rise amongst the anxious youngsters. Even Reading found his pulse picking up
as he too couldn’t wait to hear the news.

“Perhaps
the greatest find in archeological history.”

“Bigger
than Tut?”

Acton’s
grin stretched even further.

“After
the world reads about this, they’ll be saying, ‘Tut who?’”

Reading’s
shoulders dropped.

We’ll
never get them out of here now.