The Forbidden Tomb (26 page)

Ironically, their break
was
a trail.

At the end of the alley, they found torn chunks of rubber. Just beyond that, a scorched line had been burned onto the pavement. It started near the alleyway and haphazardly meandered down the street into the distance.

Cobb had seen similar markings before. He knew the rubber was a tire that had been torn from its wheel and that the ambulance was now riding on a rim. It was the grinding of metal on asphalt that had left the scarring. The zigzag pattern in the road meant the driver had never experienced losing a tire and was having trouble with the lack of stability.

More importantly, it meant they could follow the kidnappers.

Cobb and McNutt tore down the street in pursuit, their eyes pinned to the trail that led the way. Like the spark at the end of a fuse, they would inevitably reach the end. And when they did, they expected fireworks.

Not only had the missing tire made the ambulance hard to drive, but it had severely limited its speed. Only a few blocks from where they had first picked up the trail, they found the disabled vehicle stranded in the roadway.

Cobb and McNutt dismounted their bikes and approached on foot, using parked cars, garbage cans, and lampposts as cover. Neither liked the situation as they sensed they were charging into an ambush, but each accepted it was a chance that they had to take if they hoped to get to Jasmine and the bombers before the police arrived.

‘Cover me,’ Cobb said as they ducked behind an SUV less than twenty feet from the ambulance. ‘If they rigged the van to blow, you’ll be safer here.’

‘Screw safe,’ McNutt growled. ‘I want blood.’

‘You can get it from
here
. Now cover me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Cobb took a deep breath and sprinted toward the ambulance, ready to return fire, but there was no sign of the man in black, the medic, or the driver. Still, he knew he wasn’t out of danger. There were a thousand different ways for the bombers to rig the rear doors. He realized any action he took from here on in might be his last.

Still, he had to know.

He carefully pulled the latch, hoping that the next sound he heard was a simple click rather than the deafening roar of a bomb followed by the singing of angels.

Instead the door swung open, revealing nothing.

The ambulance was empty.

Garcia was relieved to be back on the yacht. He had viewed his time on the speedboat as a necessary evil. Not only did it take him away from the gadgets and gizmos of his command center – the only things that helped him feel connected to the world – he simply wasn’t comfortable on the open water.

Never had been, never would be.

It wasn’t just because moisture was the mortal enemy of electronics. It had far deeper roots than that. His uneasiness had developed long before he had written his first lines of code. Even as a young boy, swimming in anything but a shallow pool had felt unsafe, no matter what his parents said to comfort him. He knew when he was out of his element, and he preferred the constant steadiness of the land to the uncertainty of the sea.

He had swallowed his fear to rescue Sarah.

But not enough to actually dive in the water.

Thankfully, Papineau had jumped in and saved the day.

Garcia was deeply troubled by his indecision but he didn’t have time to worry about it now. The only thing that mattered was his current task.

His search would start with the video footage recorded on Jasmine’s hard drive. That is, if he could salvage what was left of it. To speed the drying process, he took apart Jasmine’s and Sarah’s flashlights and spread out the waterlogged parts on a lint-free pad on his desk. To aid the recovery process, he dipped the memory cards in a vat of fresh water before he placed them in a natural desiccant to pull moisture from the circuitry.

‘How’s it going?’ Papineau asked as he entered the room, freshly showered and wearing a different suit than before – one that wasn’t wet. He glanced over Garcia’s shoulder and tried to figure out what he was doing. ‘Is that rice?’

‘Yep,’ Garcia said as he placed the last few components in a paper bag and added several cups of uncooked rice. ‘I would have preferred packets of silicon dioxide – it’s a gel that sucks up moisture like a sponge and has a lot less dust than grain – but time is the most important factor when rescuing data. The clock was ticking, so I had to act fast.’

‘Let me guess,’ Papineau said as he considered the scene. ‘You didn’t anticipate a need for silica packets, but we had rice in the pantry.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And the vat?’

‘Filled with your finest spring water.’ He pointed to several empty bottles in a nearby bin. ‘I used the liquid to bathe the parts before I started the drying process. Otherwise, the salt crystals from the seawater would have messed with the circuitry.’

Papineau shook his head. He had authorized an unlimited budget for the best equipment that money could buy, and Garcia was retrieving key data with rice and water. ‘What do you think: can you undo the damage?’

Garcia nodded. ‘Once the water’s been sucked away, the drive from Sarah’s flashlight should give us something to work with. There might be a few bad sectors that were damaged beyond repair, but I’m fairly confident we’ll be okay.’

‘And Jasmine’s?’

‘Yeah, well, that’s a different story. Her flashlight was basically destroyed. The drive didn’t just get wet, it got smashed. That means there’s a far greater chance that her data will be unrecoverable. We’ll have to wait and see.’

‘Keep me posted.’

‘And you?’

Papineau arched an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’

Garcia pointed to the row of small monitors that he had set up for Papineau. It allowed him to watch several satellite feeds of the various international news networks simultaneously. ‘Anything on the blast?’

Papineau nodded. ‘The explosion is being covered around the world, as I expected. The BBC and CNN are withholding their speculation until they see a report from Nile TV here in Egypt, and that won’t happen until Nile gets a preliminary finding from the Deputy Minister of Special Police. Al Jazeera is calling it a natural disaster. The Chinese are saying it’s an act of terrorism. And the North Korean government has labeled it proof that the Egyptians now have a tactical nuclear device.’

Garcia shook his head and laughed. ‘That they used against their own people? That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘I mention North Korea, and you expect the story to make sense?’

‘Well, I—’

Garcia stopped abruptly and stared at the video feed from the security camera that he had installed on an outside rail. The camera pointed down the dock, allowing him to see anyone approaching the boat from shore. In this case, he spotted two battered men as they opened the gate and made their way toward the yacht. They were covered in so much filth and blood that they were virtually unrecognizable.

‘What’s wrong?’ Papineau demanded.

Garcia glanced at him, then back at the screen. ‘I’m not sure if anything’s wrong. Two men are coming this way, but . . .’

‘But what?’

‘I think . . .’ Garcia didn’t want to create false hope until he knew for sure, so he waited to make his pronouncement until the last possible moment. ‘Oh my God! It’s Jack and Josh! They’re here – and alive!’

‘They’re here?’

‘And alive!’

Garcia and Papineau rushed down the stairs and met Cobb and McNutt in the galley below. Both soldiers were exhausted and covered in grime.

Garcia wanted to hug them both, but he sensed they weren’t in the mood so he kept his distance and said the only thing he could think of: ‘Welcome back.’

McNutt nodded his appreciation as Cobb rummaged through the refrigerator for two bottles of water. He tossed the first to McNutt and chugged the second himself.

When his thirst had been quenched, Cobb finally spoke. ‘We lost Jasmine. She’s been taken by the bombers.’

‘Taken?’ Papineau blurted. ‘Why would they take Jasmine?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cobb admitted. ‘But they had plenty of opportunities to kill her and they didn’t. In fact, they did the exact opposite. They saved her life by taking her.’

Garcia stared at him. ‘Jack, you keep saying
they
. Who are
they
?’

Cobb shrugged and handed his cell phone to Garcia. ‘I was hoping you could tell me.’

‘Pictures?’ Garcia asked.

Cobb nodded as he tipped back another bottle of water.

‘We documented as much as we could,’ McNutt explained. ‘They used an ambulance to get away from the blast. It was empty by the time we caught up to it. You should find enough to give you a make and model, as well as images of the plates and the vehicle identification number. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stick around. We only had a few seconds before the police arrived.’

Papineau grimaced. ‘The police? Do they know about Jasmine?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t see how they could,’ McNutt answered.

He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good. Let’s keep it that way. Meanwhile, I’ll reach out to some of my contacts and try to get a sense of things. If they’re after money, I’ll do everything I can to negotiate her release.’

Cobb nodded but said nothing.

‘In the meantime, what else can you tell me?’

Cobb wasn’t in the mood to talk, but he knew he had to fill in the rest of his team so they could get to work. ‘There were maybe a dozen guys. All dressed in black, all armed with blades. They were experienced and well trained. They knew exactly what they were doing. They got in and out of the cisterns without us noticing. They eliminated everyone they encountered, and they erased their presence with a series of explosives.’

‘Except for the ambulance,’ Garcia blurted. He could see that Cobb and McNutt had been through hell, and he was trying to boost their spirits. ‘It’s a good place to start.’

Papineau stroked his chin in thought. ‘Back up for a moment. You said they eliminated everyone that they found in the tunnels? You mean they
weren’t
working in tandem with the men from the boiler room?’

‘Working with
them?’ McNutt laughed at the suggestion. ‘Not a chance. They sliced those bastards like deli meat. No way they were playing on the same team.’

Cobb glanced at Papineau and could see the wheels turning in his head. The news was more than unexpected; it was baffling. Cobb was oddly comforted by Papineau’s confusion. Cobb didn’t like secrets on his team, and it appeared that the Frenchman didn’t know any more about the men in the tunnel than he did.

Cobb would dig into the matter later on, but for now, there were more important things to worry about. ‘What about Sarah?’

Papineau lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘She’s resting.’

‘Are you positive?’ McNutt demanded.

‘Yes. I’m sure.’

McNutt took a deep breath and tried to contain his emotions. Given his presumption that Sarah had been crushed in the explosion, McNutt was certain that Papineau was doing his best to soften the confirmation of her death. It never occurred to him to take the news literally. ‘Has anyone called her family?’

‘Of course not. Why would we do that?’ Garcia wondered.

‘Why?’ McNutt growled, as his face turned bright red. ‘Because that’s what you do when someone’s
resting –
you notify their next of kin!’

Earlier it had been Garcia’s poor choice of words that had led to Sarah’s confusion. This time fault fell on Papineau’s shoulders. Garcia was so thrilled to have company in the team’s doghouse that he started to laugh uncontrollably.

Which, of course, made McNutt even angrier.

‘And now you’re laughing! You cold, heartless, son of a bitch! What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a video game! We can’t just hit the restart button and bring Sarah back from the dead.’

‘Dead?’ Papineau bristled at the suggestion. ‘Sarah isn’t dead. She’s asleep in her berth. Who said anything about her being dead?’

‘You did! You said she was resting! I thought you meant: RIP.’

Despite the tragedy of the day, or maybe because of it, Papineau started to laugh as well. ‘Josh, you’re a Marine, not a two-year-old. If someone dies, I’ll say they died. I won’t say they’re resting – and I won’t say they’re living on a farm upstate.’

‘Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!’ McNutt blurted as he struggled to make sense of things. ‘You’re telling me that Sarah is
alive
, but my dog is
dead
?’

‘Your dog?’ Papineau asked.

McNutt nodded glumly. ‘My parents sent him upstate when I was seven. Despicable people, those two. Obviously a pair of liars.’

‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.’

McNutt shrugged. ‘Oh well, at least Sarah’s alive.’

‘Wow,’ Sarah said as she appeared in the ship’s kitchen from a back hallway, ‘try not to sound so glum when you say that.’

McNutt’s face filled with joy as he sprinted across the room and lifted her in a giant bear hug. ‘Oh my God! I’m so happy to see you! And you smell so clean!’

Sarah appreciated the affection, but she could have done without the hug and the layer of filth that now covered her clothes. ‘Josh, put me down.’

But McNutt didn’t stop. He simply swung her back and forth like the clapper inside a bell. ‘Seriously, you smell
really
good. I’m tempted to lick your face like Sparky used to do.’

‘Don’t you dare! Josh, put – me – down! Now!’

McNutt laughed as he lowered her to floor.

Sarah took a step back and dusted herself off before she truly studied Cobb and McNutt. At that moment, she realized that nearly drowning might have been the easy way out because the guys looked like they had finished their shifts at a coalmine before they had decided to run a marathon through Chernobyl.

Their clothes were grimy and stained with sweat. Dried blood covered McNutt’s arm and matted Cobb’s hair. Their hands had been scraped raw when they dug through the shattered rock, and their eyes were bloodshot from the smoke of the burning crater.

All in all, she had seen healthier-looking zombies.

Sarah pushed her freshly washed hair over her ears and smiled. ‘I guess they buried the lead about getting me out in time. Sorry about that.’