Unfortunately, the feeling wouldn’t last.
It would quickly turn to fear.
The guard who had slapped her came in first. As he moved toward her, she instinctively retreated to the rear corner of the cell, the farthest point that her chain would allow. Rather than give chase, the guard simply stared at her — as if his only purpose was to ensure that she did not intervene in what was about to happen next.
Jasmine watched in confusion as five more guards entered the room. Each carried a long, slender rod that bowed across his shoulders. The rods were weighted down on both ends by heavy oil lamps that dangled from metal hooks. The additional flames filled the room with an abundance of light and scented smoke.
Not ready for the glare, she shielded her eyes with her hands.
Behind the torchbearers came two more men whose sturdy physiques stretched the fabric of their tunics. Their muscles bulged as they strained to carry a cylindrical stone slab into the ancient cell. They carefully set the ancient relic in the center of the floor before they took their place among the others.
Together, the group formed a ring around the stone.
Finally, the high priest entered the room. Dressed in an ornate cloak, he had a regal air about him that was oddly comforting, as if he knew the secrets of the universe and would be willing to share them for the betterment of mankind.
Jasmine breathed in the smoke and irrationally filled with hope.
Perhaps he was there to explain it all.
Her imprisonment. Their history.
Maybe even the tomb itself.
Despite his size, or perhaps because of it, Kamal found himself alone in the dark. As he lumbered through the desert, he searched the ground for Dade’s trail and eventually found something much more interesting than footprints.
Kamal literally stumbled across two dead shadow warriors, their blades still clutched in their hands. He initially thought that they had been casualties of the firefight — wounded men who had tried to seek refuge — but he knew that didn’t make sense.
Injured Muharib would not retreat.
They would fearlessly fight to the death.
Leaning close, Kamal could see that they had been killed efficiently. He also knew that no one who had made the trip from Alexandria — including Dade — would have been able to shoot four rounds so accurately. When it came to shooting, his colleagues relied on the quantity of their ammunition over the quality of their aim.
The marksmanship meant that Dade was not alone.
Kamal crouched low, at least for him, and scanned the darkness for signs of trouble. The shrubbery to his left hid no threats, but he wasn’t as sure about the odd ring of cement that he suddenly noticed. He approached it cautiously, his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at whoever or whatever emerged from the hole.
Instead, he found it sealed by a heavy metal plate.
Sliding back the cover, Kamal reached two important conclusions.
This underground compound was the home of the warriors.
And he was way too big to fit down the chute.
Sarah had always been a tomboy. Even as a child she had been tall and lanky, with an athletic frame built more for basketball than beauty pageants. Not that she ever minded. She was perfectly happy with a physique that matched her psyche. While most of her female classmates were doing their nails, she just wanted to be one of the guys.
Many years later, she finally had her chance.
With the loose-fitting tunic draped over her body and a hood draped over her head, Sarah looked the part of a Muharib warrior. As long she kept her face hidden from view, she and Dade could move through the underground hallways without drawing attention. Once they had reached Jasmine’s cell, the plan was to put her in a tunic and carry her, as if she had been injured in the battle above.
In truth, the only reason Dade was there was to help carry Jasmine to the surface.
Prior to the mission, Sarah had memorized the map of the complex. She knew exactly which turns to make to ensure the shortest path to Jasmine’s cell. If all went according to plan, Garcia would only inform her of the Muharib’s movements; the rest would be up to her. Unfortunately, things went to hell almost immediately.
‘Sarah,’ Garcia said, ‘something’s happening. A bunch of guards just went into her cell. I think they’re going to interrogate her.’
The priest gazed upon the stone slab in the center of the room. Reverence filled his eyes as he basked in its glory. ‘Do you know what this is?’
Jasmine shook her head, surprised by his query.
He had posed it in English, not Arabic.
‘This is from the original temple of Amun. It was broken from a pillar two millennia ago, but we have found a home for it here — safely protected within our walls. It is a sacred relic, having borne witness to great acts of honor and adoration.’
Turning his attention to Jasmine, the priest sat on the flat piece of rock. He ran his hands along its smooth sides, as if touching it could summon unearthly power.
‘Tell me, what does Alexander mean to you?’
She swallowed hard. ‘He was the greatest conqueror the world has ever known.’
The priest shook his head, disappointed with her response. ‘You know him only by his mortal acts. But he is so much more. You see him as flesh and bone. But his spirit is everlasting. He is heralded as the vanquisher of all who opposed him, yet you deny the very reason for his success.’ He leaned closer. ‘You cannot defeat a god.’
He closed his eyes, taking a moment to acknowledge the importance of the man he and his followers had deified over two thousand years ago. When he opened them again, his tone was that of a lecturer, not a preacher.
‘The Vatican. Mecca. The Western Wall. What do these sites have in common? To invade these places is to encroach upon holy ground. Doing so would draw the wrath of millions of followers — each of them eager to see justice done to those who dared to desecrate their faith. Do these numbers alone give credence to their outrage?’
‘I… I don’t understand.’
‘Why are the large fellowships of Catholicism, Islam, and Judaism able to profess their concept of god without ridicule, yet you insult our beliefs? Why should we be disrespected in such ways?’
Jasmine pleaded. ‘Whatever I’ve done, I meant you no harm.’
‘Harm?’ the elder mocked. ‘You seek the tomb of our righteous son, the progeny of Amun himself, yet you claim to be without blame? It is that ignorance that threatens our way of life. You yearn for riches and glory in your attempt to find his body. You call yourselves “scholars”, “explorers”, and “historians”, but you are really just thieves in the night. You and your ilk think nothing of disturbing our sacred grounds — all in the name of what? Science? History? Treasure? Tell me, how do you justify your disrespect of our master and your obvious contempt for his followers?’
He waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming.
The more Garcia listened, the more confused he became.
The interrogator appeared to be more intent on delivering information than extracting it. Not only that, but he seemed to pay no heed to the battle happening above. His voice and demeanor were calm and collected, his actions not rushed in any way. Even with the enemy at his doorstep, he did not exhibit one degree of panic.
His lack of fear was disturbing.
The entire scene was unsettling.
Garcia knew that something was wrong.
76
Garcia had been so caught up in the events in Jasmine’s cell that he had almost forgotten about Sarah and Dade. By the time he noticed the four shadow warriors moving toward their location, it was almost too late.
He kept his tone relaxed, knowing that a sudden reaction from Sarah would alert anyone watching the camera feeds from inside the bunker.