The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (29 page)

When
both stopped to reload, foolishly finishing their clips at the same time,
Leather exploded from behind the bloody stump of a corpse, and to the surprise
of the closest man, buried his knife in the man’s neck, then drawing his
sidearm, put two bullets in the final man’s chest, then one in his head just in
case he was wearing body armor.

Leather
continued forward, around the large rock that had concealed his would be
attackers, but found no one else. He dropped to his knees and quickly used the
sand to wash his hands of the blood and innards, then flipped his night vision
goggles down, scanning the area for any heat signatures or movement.

Nothing.

He
crawled to the edge of the ridge and looked down at the camp below. There were
several dim green forms, most likely dying or recently dead men, their body
heat quickly dissipating into the cool night air, and three bright figures,
wandering around the area where the professor had set up his decoy find.

Brilliant
move, Professor!

He
pushed himself to his feet and jogged to the far ridge where his two dead
comrades would be, keeping low the entire time, behind dunes and ridges when possible.
In the darkness of the night, he almost tripped over their bodies. Two of their
killers were dead, and looking to the left he could see the third man about ten
feet away, having rolled down the dune.

He knelt
down, prying the sniper rifle from his dead mate, trying not to look at the
bloody stump where his head once was, the uncivilized bastards beheading him
for no other reason than to show they were as primitive as he thought they
were.

And now
it was time for pay back.

He set
up the weapon, reloaded, and adjusted his sights to target the three remaining
men on the opposite ridge, but not before scanning the area behind him once
again for any surprise guests.

Nothing.

He took
aim at the first target, the one closest to cover, and aiming for his head, the
more difficult and selfish shot, he fired, immediately chambering another round
and acquiring the second target who stood frozen, wondering apparently what to
do.

Let
me help you with that decision.

Leather
fired, removing the man’s head.

Stay
put!

The
third man ran toward the trucks as Leather reloaded. Now that his target was
moving, he checked the urge to remove his head, instead aiming lower and fired,
removing a significant portion of the man’s left shoulder. He dropped, writhing
on the ground. Leather reloaded, then put the man out of his misery, despite
part of him wishing unending pain on one of those responsible for the death of
his mates.

He
scanned the camp and surrounding area again and found no one remaining. Rising,
he strode into the dig site, then into the central tent, dropping on the
nearest cot.

And fell
asleep.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Approaching the University College London Dig
Site

90 minutes later

“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed the pilot over the comm. “It looks like a
warzone down there!”

Dawson
stood up and made his way forward, pushing his head into the cockpit. Before he
could ask what the pilot was so excited over, he saw for himself and gasped,
the beam from the searchlight darting from body to body, nobody moving.

“Is anybody
alive down there?” he asked, his chest tightening as he thought of all those
kids they were there to rescue.

“Nothing’s
moving. Infrared shows only one possible live target in the central tent, but
it’s not moving either. The rest are all long dead or recently dead.”

“Drop us
on the north ridge, right there,” said Dawson, pointing to a level area about
half a mile from the center of the camp. “Do a perimeter sweep and report back
if you find anything.”

“Roger
that,” said the pilot, lowering the chopper as Dawson returned to the rear.

“Suit
up, boys, we’re going in. Looks like we might have one target in the central
tent, the rest are dead. There might be others in the vicinity, so keep your
eyes open. Spock, Atlas, Stucco, you’re with me at the tent, rest of you fan
out, secure the perimeter.”

The
helicopter touched down with a bounce, and one of the flight crew pulled open
the side door. Dawson jumped out, sprinting toward the central tent, the
footfalls behind him telling him his men were in hot pursuit, the sound
spreading out to the sides indicating the perimeter positions being taken. He
reached the central tent, Spock right behind him, the younger Stucco at his
side, probably having to hold back a little to not show up his comrades.

Using
hand signals, Dawson outlined the plan, then flipped down his night vision
goggles, pushing through the outer flap then the inner, his head scanning the
room, coming to rest on a body lying on a cot. Dawson advanced, aiming his
weapon at the armed man’s chest as Spock and Stucco cleared the rest of the
tent, then joined Dawson.

Dawson
flicked his night vision goggles up and turned on a flashlight, shining it at
the man’s face. Stucco kicked the bottom of the cot and the man stirred,
pushing himself up on his elbows, squinting at the flashlight.

“Bloody
hell, can’t a man get a good night’s sleep without being disturbed.”

Dawson
chuckled, recognizing that style bravado anywhere.

“I’m
Sergeant White, United States Military. And you are?”

“Colonel
Cameron Leather, Retired, Special Air Services, and if you’re name’s White,
I’ll wear a Liverpool jersey all next season.”

Dawson
chuckled, lowering his weapon and extending a hand. Leather took it, pulling
himself to his feet, wincing.

“Are you
okay?”

“Ricochet
off the body armor. Probably bruised a rib or two. I’ll live.”

“What
happened here?”

“Mate, it
was pretty crazy shit, as you might say.”

Dawson
then was given the rundown on a group of imposters ordering an evacuation, then
a second group of terrorists, also imposters, who arrived and engaged
everybody. The first group and the professors had fought side by side for a
reason Leather didn’t know as he and his men had bugged out to set up sniper
positions to try and save their charges.

The
students had apparently left earlier and were hopefully safe in Cairo by now,
or soon to be, the professors and their guests, along with one of Leather’s men
and a reporter, were presumably safe having escaped in a commandeered jeep
brought back by two students.

And
everyone else, attackers and allies, were dead.

They
exited the tent, and Red approached, nodding to Leather.

“BD,
we’ve taken photos of all the bodies, at least those with heads.”

“Sorry
about that,” interjected Leather.

“It
looks like they’re all in Egyptian military uniforms, but no consistent
patching. I’m guessing they were all in disguise. From the positioning of the
bodies, it looks like two different groups of imposters engaged each other. We
also found two Caucasians on the ridge behind us.” Red looked at Leather. “I’m
guessing they’re yours?”

Leather
nodded.

“Sorry
about that.”

Leather
shook his head. “They died doing what they loved.”

“So no
sign of our students or professors?” asked Dawson.

“Negative,
it looks like they all got away.”

Dawson
pursed his lips.

Thank
God. Now where the hell are they?

He
turned to Leather.

“Any
idea where they might be?”

Leather
pointed to the ridge where the jeep had been hidden.

“I
suggest we pick up their trail over there. We can follow their tracks on foot,
the chopper can go on ahead and hopefully spot them.”

Dawson
nodded.

“It’s as
good a plan as any.”

He
pointed at the trucks. “See if one of these is working.”

Leather
pointed at the trucks near the front of the camp. “Don’t bother with those, we
took them out. This one back here,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder,
“might still be functioning. Needs a tire change though.”

Dawson
jerked his head toward it and Red motioned to Niner to join him. Moments later
the engine roared to life, Red giving the thumbs up Niner began to change the
tire. Dawson stuck his head inside the cabin.

“Red,
you take Colonel Leather and your squad, follow the trail as best you can. My
squad will take the chopper and scout out ahead to see if we can spot them.
It’s been a couple of hours, so they could be anywhere by now, but I’m guessing
they’ll try to stick to the roads so maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Roger
that, BD. Good hunting.”

Dawson
jumped down from the running board and signaled the chopper to power up as the
team split into two squads.

So far
this mission was turning out far simpler than he was used to with this group.

And he’d
be perfectly content if he got through the night without firing a single shot.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Ten miles from the University College London
Dig Site

Everyone was huddled around the front of the jeep, the headlights
providing valuable psychological relief from the reality of their situation.
They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, not certain where they were, and
Laura’s satellite phone had been crushed in her pocket during the attack.

The jeep
had a jerry can of water, and rationing had already begun. Acton knew that Greg
would be doing everything he could from the university to find them, Laura’s
bosses would be doing the same. Reading’s friend Rahim was apparently on his
way, and once the students arrived at the UK Embassy, they would be taking
action as well.

But it
could be days before they’d be found.

Acton
and Reading had already decided they’d walk back to the camp at first light and
see what was going on. Hopefully their attackers would have left already, and
they might be able to salvage a vehicle. Even if they couldn’t, those searching
for them would start at the camp, so being there was the most logical choice.

But that
would have to wait until morning, and would be several hard hours of walking.

Right
now he was more concerned with Chaney. He was still on his cot, wrapped in the
sleeping bag, but the bleeding still hadn’t stopped. It had at least slowed,
but he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

And
there was nothing they could do about it.

They had
no supplies, and Chaney was the only one amongst them with anything beyond
basic first aid training. In the morning they had agreed they would try and
remove the bullet if they could retrieve supplies from the camp, but right now,
in the dark, with nothing but fading headlamps and precious little water, they
were hopeless.

Chaney
stirred, and Acton saw Reading squeeze the man’s hand, the two having been
partners at Scotland Yard for years. Acton felt for him.
It must be like
losing a son.
Chaney was many years Reading’s junior, and Reading had been
mentor to the young man for most of his career. The bond formed would be tight,
like family, like soldiers, and losing someone like this, while on vacation, a
thousand miles away from civilization, was senseless.

“Jim, he
wants to talk to you.”

Acton
looked over, his eyebrows rising a little. He patted Laura on her shoulder as
he rounded the jeep and sat down beside Chaney.

“What is
it, my friend?”

“I have
something I need to tell you,” gasped Chaney, the act of talking apparently
excruciating.

“It can
wait. Help will be here soon. Save your strength.”

Chaney
shook his head.

“No,
it’s the reason I’m here. The Triarii—” He coughed, blood sputtering from his
mouth. Acton wiped it away, exchanging a concerned glance with Reading.

Chaney
sucked in several rather loud breaths, then grabbed Acton by the shoulder,
pulling him down.

“They
have one last favor to ask of you.”

Acton
wanted to tell Chaney to tell the Triarii to go to hell, but there was no time
for that. His friend was dying, of that there was no doubt, and the mere act of
delivering this message was killing him quicker. Better to have the message
delivered without interruption, so the poor man could rest.

“What is
it?”

“You
must see the—” Chaney winced then dropped back into the cot, still. Acton
checked Chaney’s pulse, then felt his chest, and sighed, looking at Reading.

“He’s
just passed out. Probably for the best.”

Reading
was about to say something when Acton held up his finger. He thought he had
heard something, but couldn’t be sure. Laughter from Terrence and Jenny filled
the air.

“Quiet!”
he shouted, cutting off all conversation.

He
cocked an ear, and soon they were all listening. It was faint at first, but
after a few seconds, the sound became unmistakable.

“It’s a
helicopter!” exclaimed Terrence, immediately wincing and grabbing his ribs.

“If
anybody’s got a flashlight, start shining it up!” ordered Acton, who jumped
into the driver’s seat and turned on the flashers and began turning the
headlights on and off.

Leather’s
man, Jeffrey, held up a flashlight, waving it at the night sky as the pounding
of the blades became louder, then suddenly roared over the area as the chopper
came over a nearby ridge, their jeep in an ancient river bed. A searchlight
raced across the desert floor and came to rest on them as they all waved, tears
of joy and relief flowing as the chopper came to rest several hundred feet
away.

Acton
climbed from the jeep, walking toward the chopper with Jeffrey, Laura and Reading,
as half a dozen men jumped out, running toward them. Acton didn’t care who they
were, he just assumed that if they were in a chopper, they were friendlies.