The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (24 page)

Laura
frowned.

“We’ll
discuss it later.”

The man
bowed slightly, and if he were wearing traditional Bedouin robes, Acton could
picture him flaring them slightly in respect. Laura turned to Acton.

“Recommendations?”

“Hide
the find, set up a decoy, fortify the camp, kill anything that tries to get
past us, hope our security returns and Reading’s friend Rahim gets here sooner
rather than later.”

Laura
nodded, then looked at the gathered men.

“Then
let’s do it.”

And with
those words, the final battle for Cleopatra and Antony’s resting place was to
begin.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Egyptian Army Checkpoint

Terrence nearly leapt at the phone as it vibrated. Taking a deep
breath, he hit the button to take the call as everyone gathered around to hear.

“Terrence
here.”

“Terrence,
it’s Professor Palmer. Are you okay?”

“Are we
okay?” asked Terrence, incredulity left unhidden. “Of course we’re okay, are
you okay?”

“We are.
Where are you?”

“We’re
at some sort of military checkpoint. Professor, everyone here is dead!”

“Hey!”
piped up the civilian bystander they had found.

“Dead?
What happened?”

“Some
sort of ambush would be my guess. Professor, we saw a second set of vehicles
heading your way, army. They didn’t look friendly.”

“We’ve
heard.”

“What
are you going to do? Will the army evacuate you?”

“They’re
not the army.”

“Who?
The first group or second?”

“Both
from what I understand.” There was a pause. “Listen, the first group claim to
be some sort of brotherhood sworn to protect the tomb of Cleopatra. Now that
they know about the second group, probably on their way here to destroy the
tomb, they’ve decided to stay and defend the site.”

“What
about you and the others?”

“We have
no choice but to stay.”

“Nonsense!”
cried Terrence. “Evacuate with one of their vehicles, get out of their while
you can.”

“Not
possible. They won’t give us one of their vehicles.” There was a pause.
“Listen, Terrence. Don’t worry about us. Your one job is to get those students
to safety. We’ll take care of ourselves.”

Terrence
didn’t say anything.

“Understood?”

“Understood,”
mumbled Terrence.

“Okay,
we’ll check back within thirty minutes. Good luck.”

“Good
luck,” said Terrence, the conversation already ended. He slipped the phone in
his pocket, then marched over to a jeep, one of its rear tires flat, several
holes torn though the upholstery. He looked and smiled when he spotted the keys
in the ignition. He climbed inside and had the engine purring moments later.

“I’m
going to change this tire and go back to the camp, see if I can get the others
out. You lot take the trucks and return to Cairo. We’ll reunite as soon as we
can.”

“But
you’ll get yourself killed!” cried Stephen. “We should stick together; do what
the professor said!”

There
were nods of agreement.

Terrence
shook his head. “No, they have no transportation. If we had a third vehicle,
they would be with us now.” He pointed at the jeep. “We now have a third
vehicle. I’ll go in the back way, and with a little luck, I’ll be able to get
to the camp, load our people in, and get out.”

“I’m
coming with you.”

Terrence
looked at Jenny.

“Not
bloody likely.”

“If you
go, I go. Otherwise, you’re going nowhere.”

Terrence
looked at her, frowning. But inside, he was jubilant. He was terrified, and
having someone with him to share the fear would make his idiotic decision
easier to live with.

“Fine.
Let’s get moving then.”

USS Arleigh Burke, Flight Deck

Dawson pushed the last of his men aboard the MH-60S Knighthawk
helicopter and was about to climb aboard when a figure ran toward them, dressed
head to toe in black.

Kane!

“Care
for some company?” asked Kane as he came to a halt at the side door of the
helicopter.

Dawson
shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

“My
orders say nothing about giving lifts to those who don’t exist, so why the hell
not?”

Kane
grinned and jumped aboard, the parachute he was sporting not going unnoticed by
Dawson. Dawson climbed aboard, closing the door, then signaling the pilot to
lift off.

Dawson
hit the parachute with his hand.

“Don’t trust
our flight crew?”

“Not for
a second!”

Kane
settled back and closed his eyes, as Dawson gave the mission brief.

“We have
an archeological team of mostly British nationals located in southern Egypt. I
think you’re familiar with a few of them.”

Atlas
laughed. “Don’t tell me. Our two favorite professors?”

Dawson
nodded.

“It
would have been kinder if we had killed them in London. The shit they’ve been
through since can’t have been worth it.”

There
was a round of laughter, and Dawson cut it off with a wave of his hand over his
throat.

“Since
my DeLorean is in the shop, changing history isn’t an option, so we’re going in
to provide security until an evac team arrives later tonight.”

“ETA?”
asked Niner.

“Three
hours.”

“Why the
eagerness to get out?”

“They
just discovered Cleopatra’s tomb, probably the biggest archeological find of
all time, and one of the biggest icons in ancient Egyptian history, on the same
damned day a group of nutbars are destroying icons around the world.”

“Ahhh, I
see,” said Niner in an exaggerated oriental accent, his own English perfect
mid-West. “You want I should use brain more, mouth less.”

Atlas
elbowed him, his massive bulk knocking Niner into the lap of Spock who shoved
Niner’s head back at Atlas, Stooges style.

“Settle
in, gentlemen. It’ll be a long ride with a couple of midair refuelings. Let’s
just hope we get there in time.”

Dawson
settled back, looking across at Kane, who appeared to already be in a heavy
sleep.

A spy
with a clear conscience?

Dawson
closed his eyes to rest, his conscience instead replaying the assault from
earlier on the back of his eyelids.

I
definitely need a vacation.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Three miles from University College London Dig
Site

Terrence pulled around the bend, almost inching his way, terrified
he might run into the back of one of the trucks they had seen earlier. It had
been the same routine for the entire return trip. Inch around the blind
corners, then race forward when they had a clear line of sight. It was nerve-racking.
It was slow.

It had
kept them alive so far.

But for
all he knew, the “bad guys” were already at the dig, killing everyone.

He
pressed a little harder on the accelerator then slammed his breaks on as Jenny
screamed, a man having stepped out from behind a large boulder, a weapon
pointed directly at their windshield. As the vehicle skidded to a halt, two
more men appeared, rushing toward the jeep before Terrence could react. Terrence
pushed on the accelerator and was about to pop the clutch when a gun barrel was
pressed against his temple.

“Please
shut off the engine, Mr. Mitchell.”

Terrence’s
eyebrows shot up as he did what he was told. With the engine quiet, the gun was
removed from his head, and his head spun around to see Colonel Leather staring
down at him, weapon now draped across his chest.

“What
are you doing here?” asked Leather, the frown that seemed permanently etched on
his face a little deeper than Terrence remembered.

“We’re
coming to rescue you guys!”

As soon
as it was out of Terrence’s mouth he regretted it. It sounded as stupid as it
was futile, and his shoulders sank. And Leather’s frown seemed to ease slightly
but never quite make it into a smile.

The
others however had no problem chuckling.

“Hey,
he’s here, isn’t he?” snapped Jenny, putting her arm around Terrence’s
shoulders.

This
elicited the hint of a smile from half of Leather’s mouth.

“Indeed
he is.” He twirled his hand around his head and jumped in the back of the jeep.
“We’ve got wheels, gents.” The rest piled in or jumped on the back bumper.
Leather pointed ahead, between the front seats. “Half a mile ahead, take a
left. We’ll come around the back of the camp.”

Terrence
started the engine and they jerked forward, his nerves getting the better of
his shifting abilities, then after one false start, they were moving again.

“What
are you doing here?” asked Jenny. “Why aren’t you at the camp with the others?”

“Once we
knew they weren’t Egyptian Army, we beat it, holed up in a blind I had set up a
few weeks ago, then when the coast was clear, left one sniper and made our way
to the road to scout it. There’s a second set of troops just ahead, about one
mile, just sitting there. We’re not sure if they’re with the first group that
arrived or not.”

“I don’t
think they are,” said Terrence as he turned off the road as indicated by
Leather. “We saw two distinct groups of trucks heading toward the dig site, and
came upon an army checkpoint where everyone had been killed.”

“So we
have at least one group of hostiles, perhaps two.”

“Red
Leader, this is Red Two, come in, over.”

Leather
grabbed the mike off his hip and activated it.

“Red
Two, Red Leader, go ahead, over.”

“An
unknown hostile showed up, was taken out by the previous arrivals, and now it
appears it’s all hugs and kisses between our people and the new arrivals. They’re
working together to fortify the camp by the looks of it, over.”

“Interesting,”
muttered Leather. He activated his mike. “Hold position, ETA five minutes, over
and out.”

“So what
does that mean?” asked Terrence as they rounded a rock outcropping, revealing a
smooth level surface devoid of any hiding places for about one mile. He pressed
a little harder on the accelerator.

“It
means that things aren’t exactly as they seem.”

Jenny
turned to look at Leather.

“Is that
good?”

Terrence
watched Leather shrug in the rearview mirror.

“Rarely.”

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Three miles from University College London Dig
Site

Imam Khalil tried to hide his impatience. He knew his men were
beginning to wonder why they were waiting, and why they hadn’t simply attacked
like they had at the checkpoint. The answer was something he wasn’t proud of.

He was
never supposed to be here.

It was a
rash decision to come with his men, for it put him at risk. The original
mission these men were supposed to be on was an attack on the pyramids,
something with a very small likelihood of success. But the Cleopatra mission?
There was every indication they could succeed, and some of them would survive,
as there was no one left around to kill, or be killed by, once finished with
the students and their teachers.

An easy,
survivable attack, despite it being a suicide mission, like all the others. If
anyone were to survive the initial attack, their orders were simple.

Keep
killing until killed.

When
they had encountered the checkpoint, its elimination was a routine matter. They
outnumbered the outpost three to one, and had the element of surprise. Minimal
risk, so he had simply remained in his truck, and prayed he wasn’t hit by a
stray bullet.

But when
they neared their final destination, he realized what they were walking into
was a complete unknown. What if the army had arrived first? What if they had
security? Police? He had ordered the convoy to halt, and sent a man ahead to
perform a recon.

Which
led to the unfortunate discovery they had no communications equipment.

But then
no one was supposed to survive, and no coordination should be needed. This was
a simple head on assault. Kill everything in sight.

When
word had returned of approximately two dozen army personnel, his heart had
leapt into his throat. His initial instinct was to order the convoy back to
Cairo, but he could think of no way to actually give the order without losing
face.

But now
with their recon volunteer overdue, and dusk beginning to fall, a decision had
to be made, and there was only one decision that could be made.

He
barked his order at the driver, and the engine fired up to cheers from the
back.

Khalil
closed his eyes, and prayed to Allah he survived the rest of the day.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Laura had been hidden away in their tent, furiously working on her
computer from the moment they had decided to make a stand. She wasn’t
self-centered enough to believe she could do the work the men outside were
doing. She simply wasn’t physically strong enough. And she had no problem with
that.

So she
did something else that she felt was completely necessary, then forced each of
her three remaining comrades to do the same.

Write a
letter home.

Chaney
took less than five minutes, but emerged from the tent teary eyed, Reading took
even less time, his face stoic but flushed. James took longer, as she expected,
he being so close to his parents, and if she knew him, he’d write her a letter,
and his students.

He
showed no shame of having red eyes when he emerged fifteen minutes later.