“Sent them back up top after a stern talking-to,” Joe said.
“Do you think they’ll come back?”
Joe looked around. The cavern smelled of smoke from the explosions and gunfire. It was barely lit and rapidly filling with water. “Would you?”
“Not on your life,” Kurt said, climbing in.
“Guessing you didn’t catch up with Renata,” Joe said.
Kurt shook his head. “Got pinned down by these guys. Let’s go find her and get out of here. Otherwise, we’re going to end up swimming for it.”
Joe put his foot on the gas and the Sahariana went forward, pushing a small wave ahead of its bow and leaving a wake behind its stern in the dark. At a low point in the tunnel they almost washed out, but the air intake was high on the frame and they forded the dip and rose up the other side.
“Where is all this water coming from?” Joe asked.
“The Nile,” Kurt replied. “I reversed the pumps. Shakir’s system is now forcing water from the river back into the aquifer at high pressure. I guess it’s bubbling up here.”
“And filling up the dry lakes in Libya and Tunisia,” Joe said.
Kurt grinned. “I’m hoping for geysers in downtown Benghazi.”
They continued forward, passing two bodies floating in the water — Shakir’s men.
“Renata’s been this way,” Kurt guessed.
They continued moving, and farther down the water was halfway up the side of the car.
“Don’t suppose this thing is amphibious?” Kurt asked.
Joe shook his head. “Another foot or two and we’re sunk.”
They rumbled through the tunnel and out into the central burial chamber. “The lab is on the other side,” Kurt said.
Kurt scanned the room as Joe drove them into the open space. No one was in sight, but halfway across a sudden whoosh caught his attention.
From the corner of his eye, Kurt saw a trail of smoke and fire streaking their way. There was no time to react or even shout. The RPG hit several feet in front of them and off to the side. It blasted a giant crater in the flooded floor, mangled the front end of the AS-42 and flipped the vehicle over on its side.
Kurt remained conscious, but his ears were ringing and his head pounding. He found himself in the water.
He looked forward to the driver’s seat. “Are you all right?”
“My legs are pinned,” Joe said. “But I don’t think anything’s broken.”
He was straining, trying to get loose. Kurt put his shoulder against the bent metal of the dashboard and forced it.
Joe came free and landed in the water beside Kurt.
“We’re lucky that missed,” he said in obvious pain. “A direct hit would have killed us.”
“I guess the place isn’t totally abandoned yet,” Kurt said.
“No, it isn’t,” a voice shouted from beyond the wrecked vehicle.
Kurt recognized that voice. It was Shakir’s.
61
Kurt and Joe pressed against the wreck of the AS-42, which was sitting in two feet of water that was slowly getting deeper. The antitank cannon was useless and Kurt’s Beretta submachine gun was nowhere to be found.
“It doesn’t matter whether you kill us or not,” Kurt shouted. “This place is going to flood and water will be pouring out every hole. That’s going to attract attention. You’re finished, Shakir. Your scheme has failed.”
The first response was laughter. “I’ll find a way to shut the water off and undo what you’ve done,” Shakir replied. “This is no more than an inconvenience.”
“Not true,” Kurt shouted. “I used your computer to send a message to my superiors. By the time you reach the surface, the whole world will know about you and what you’ve done. They’ll know you’re responsible for the drought. They’ll know about Piola and the others who’re doing your bidding and they’ll know that the toxin you’re using to put people to sleep comes from the glands of the African bullfrog. Next time you tell someone you can kill them and bring them back to life, they’re going to laugh!”
A series of shots pinged off the underside of the AS-42 and Kurt knew he’d hit a nerve.
“I’m not sure making the gun-toting lunatic angry is a great idea,” Joe said.
“We’ve got an armored car between us and him,” Kurt said.
“He might be aiming for the gas tank.”
“Good point,” Kurt said. “At least we’re soaking wet if he hits the mark.”
By now, the water was up to Kurt’s hips and rising an inch or two every minute. Kurt considered swimming for cover when he saw something that made him change his mind. Across from them, farther down the chamber, something long, low and green slithered over what remained of its retaining wall.
“We have a new problem,” he said.
Joe had seen it too. “Tough decision,” Joe said. “Get shot or get eaten.”
The water was flooding the entire room, the first place it went was the low point of the crocodile pit.
“You may think you’re going to escape,” Kurt shouted to Shakir, “but you’ll never get past the crocodiles.”
“They’ll be too busy devouring you to bother with me,” Shakir replied. “We’ve got the high ground.”
Kurt looked through a gap in the twisted metal. Shakir was standing on top of a sarcophagus in the center of the room, something lay at his feet.
“You’ll be wet before long,” Kurt said. “But I’ll make you a deal. You and your men go out the access tunnel and we’ll go back and take the elevator. We can kill each other some other time in a drier place.”
Another crocodile came over the wall and then two more. They vanished in the water and Kurt doubted it would be long before they found the overturned vehicle and the two snacks hiding beside it.
“I’ll make you a better deal,” Shakir said. “You and your friend stand up with your hands over your heads and I’ll execute you quickly.”
“How is that a better deal?” Kurt shouted.
“Because the alternative involves you remaining where you are and listening as I put a bullet in each of the Italian woman’s knees before tossing her in the water.”
“You had to ask,” Joe said.
Kurt shook his head in frustration. “At least we know where she ran off to.”
“He’s going to kill me anyway,” Renata shouted. “Just go. Get out. The truth surviving is more important.”
Kurt twisted his body and peered through the mangled front end once again. “He’s standing on one of the sarcophaguses. Renata’s down in front of him. But the RPG came from the other direction. Do you see anyone over there?”
Joe nodded. “There’s someone up on the Sphinx. Must not have another rocket or we’d be toast.”
Kurt glanced at his friend. Joe was bleeding from a gash above his eye and holding his ribs. “We’re not really overburdened with options here, buddy.”
“Nope,” Joe said. “The way I see it, we can fight and die. Surrender and die. Or wait here for the water to rise and drown. If we don’t get eaten alive first.”
As Joe spoke, he pulled the Breda machine gun off of its mount.
“I’m guessing you want to fight,” Kurt said.
“Don’t you?”
He shook his head. “Actually, I’m going to surrender,” he said with a wink of his eye.
Joe’s face registered shock, but Kurt opened his palms and showed Joe the two vials of the Black Mist. One fit neatly in each hand.
“Can you hit the guy on the Sphinx?” Kurt asked.
Joe worked the slide to make sure the Breda wasn’t jammed. “I have ten shells left. I think one of them might have his name on it.”
A gunshot and a scream startled them. “That was only a flesh wound!” Shakir shouted. “The next one will take out her kneecap.”
With a vial in each palm, Kurt put his hands behind his head and got in position to stand.