But it was not to be.
The sentries made that known as they pried the duo apart.
Jasmine raised her head and pleaded for forgiveness for whatever they had done wrong, but all that did was piss them off. In response, the nearest guard delivered a backhand to the side of her face. The vicious blow sent her reeling across the floor. He charged forward and screamed at her in no uncertain terms that interference of any kind would be punished with violence.
Chained to the wall, she knew it didn’t make sense to fight back.
Now wasn’t the time to escape.
Meanwhile, Kaleem was pinned to the ground as they removed his leg irons. A minute later, they dragged his frail body toward the exit.
In the last fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of Kaleem’s face as he was hauled from the chamber. He wasn’t flushed with panic. His eyes were steely and calm. It was as if he knew his time had come. There were no tears. There were no pleas. He did not beg for his life. He had accepted the inevitable with dignity and grace.
In her heart, she knew that she would never see him again.
The instant the door slammed behind him, Kaleem rose to his full height. He nodded to his left, then to his right, assuring the guards that he could stand on his own. They instantly released their grasp and backed away.
The charade was finally over.
Waiting in the hallway outside the cell was a fourth man, his robe much more ornate than those of the others. He smiled warmly at Kaleem and offered him a glass of water as reward for a job well done. ‘Are you okay, my son?’
Kaleem looked at the high priest with reverence. Even though they were roughly the same age, Kaleem even went so far as to bow his head as he accepted the drink. ‘Thank you, elder. I am fine.’
The priest placed his hand on Kaleem’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps it is time to choose a younger man for your role. The constant sedation cannot be good for you.’
‘Amun will keep me safe. Of this, I am sure.’
‘Indeed he shall,’ the elder said.
For centuries, the shadow priests had always followed the same routine. Whenever their secrets or landmarks were threatened, they responded decisively by killing all but one of the interlopers who dared to stray too close. The only soul that they spared was the most knowledgeable of the group, the one who seemed to know their history, for this was the best way to learn how the infidels had picked up their scent.
Jasmine was simply the latest in a long line of scholars, tourists, and travelers who had fallen victim to Kaleem’s ruse. Manjani would have fallen for it, too, if he had not managed to escape in the desert before they had a chance to grab him. The only thing that had stopped them was a freak sandstorm that had erased his trail.
The elder continued. ‘What of the girl? Has she told us all she knows?’
Kaleem knew there were cameras and microphones in the ancient cell, but he also knew of Jasmine’s tendency to whisper. ‘I believe she speaks the truth. She knows nothing about the star map or the location of the tomb. We are safe.’
The elder rejoiced when he heard the news.
Amun had protected them once again.
Now only one step remained.
The historian must be killed.
71
Establishing a base of operation near enemy terrain takes time — even when someone’s life is on the line. In the case of Cobb’s team, it had taken an entire day to establish a camp near Siwa. Papineau had docked the boat several miles from Alexandria during the early morning, but it was nearly noon before they had secured transportation and had off-loaded everything that they needed for the adventure ahead.
A journey into protected land.
Protected by the priests and the government.
At the turn of this century, Egypt declared most of the territory surrounding Siwa, some 7,800 square miles in all, to be a protected area. The distinction limited the amount of development that could be undertaken and at the same time boosted the number of tourists wishing to experience the area’s pristine beauty. Under normal circumstances, Papineau would have gladly greased local palms to ensure that they had the finest accommodations, but such behavior was entirely out of the question on this trip. They wanted to blend in, not stand out, and big-spending foreigners would be noticed.
With that in mind, they avoided the city altogether and set up camp on the outskirts of Siwa. They were not alone. There were hundreds of natives in cloth tents who preferred the old ways of desert caravans to the modern conveniences of hotels. And the government allowed it. As long as campers adhered to the conservative cultural restraints of the area, no one would give them a second look.
Just to be safe, Cobb and McNutt waited until sunset to begin their rekky.
Cobb dug his foot into the soft, loose sand, watching as the chilly nighttime breeze swept it away. He breathed deep, noticing the faintest tinge of salt that drifted with the wind. Though they were hours from the sea, the vast salt lakes a few miles to the north produced the same scent. Cobb ignored the smell and concentrated on the ground beneath him. He instinctively gauged its texture, calculating what type of footing it offered.
The knowledge that came from an on-site investigation — things like the direction of the wind and the traction of the soil — was why rekkys were so important to him. Any piece of information gained might be the one that saved his ass in an emergency.
Cobb and McNutt scanned the area through their night-vision goggles. They had already sidestepped dozens of guards on roving patrols during their steady approach through miles of surrounding desert, but they knew there were plenty more out there. So far, the men they had encountered had disguised themselves as groups of nomadic traders and Bedouins, but there was no reason to believe that there weren’t lone assassins waiting to ambush them in the night. Fortunately, even the shadow men’s finely honed ability to see in the dark was no match for next-generation military optics.
When Cobb and McNutt arrived at their destination, they could finally see what all of those men were protecting. Everywhere they looked, there were telltale signs of a structure buried beneath their feet. Ductwork popped up from the ground in an irregular pattern, allowing fresh oxygen to be pulled in while poisonous carbon monoxide was vented out into the atmosphere. There was even a trio of massive condensers capable of pulling moisture from the air. With the addition of a microbial filter, these giant dehumidifiers could be used to produce drinking water from the arid winds of the Sahara.
And above it all hung the canopies of camouflage tarps and netting.
To the average observer, the efforts for concealment looked unfinished and haphazard. But Cobb and McNutt knew that the disguises only needed to fool people at a distance. Whoever had taken these measures was only concerned with protecting the site from an aerial view. The guards took care of the rest. No one foolish enough to actually visit the site had ever made it back to describe what had been found.
Cobb and McNutt had every intention of becoming the first.
Cobb broke radio silence to verify that everyone was ready. ‘One minute to target,’ he whispered. ‘Status?’
Sarah answered from the makeshift command center that Garcia had assembled in their tent. ‘Bored beyond belief.’
Cobb knew her crankiness was because of him: he had refused her request to join their rekky. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her skills — she had more than proven her worth over the last few months — he simply didn’t think there was a need for her on this operation. This wasn’t an infiltration. This was reconnaissance. Despite her incessant lobbying to get in the game, Cobb had sat her on the bench.