The Forbidden Tomb

9

Sarah sat at the far end of the bar, alone, sipping what appeared to be her third vodka tonic. To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than a single woman getting a head start on a group of friends who were sure to arrive at any moment. But for those in the know, it was a specific set of protocols that had been established long ago.

She wasn’t in this tavern because she liked the décor or because it was the easiest place to park. Sarah had sought out this particular place because it was a gateway — a monitored location where she could arrange a meeting with a local contact.

Or at least it used to be, many years ago.

After placing her order she had taken a seat on the farthest stool, the one closest to the back door. If she had been given anything other than club soda with a twist of lime, she would have known that the bartender was not aware of her request and the protocols had changed. That would have forced her to make contact through other means.

Fortunately, Sarah’s drink was non-alcoholic.

Now all she had to do was wait.

After nearly an hour, she was tempted to leave because she had told Cobb, who was monitoring the tavern from across the street, that this rendezvous would take no more than thirty minutes, and she imagined his patience was wearing thin. They had agreed that her plan would never work if he sat next to her, but they had never discussed their window of opportunity.

She looked at her watch.

She knew that window was closing.

‘Hey, sugar,’ a voice said from behind. It was spoken in English, with the curious accent of someone who had been raised in the South but educated in New England.

Sarah turned and greeted her companion with a hug. ‘Simon, it’s about damn time. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.’

‘Great to see you, too,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I would’ve made it sooner, but it’s not like I was sitting at home, waiting for you to show up after six years. No, I was out doing some sightseeing today — checking out the local sites like the Citadel of Qaitbay. Great place, interesting view.’

She groaned. ‘How long have you known?’

He smiled. ‘Three days.’

‘You’ve been onto me the entire time?’

‘Yep. You and your muscular friend. Is he your bodyguard?’

‘Of course not! He’s, um, an associate.’

‘Is that a fancy word for boyfriend?’

‘No!’ she said. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. He’s—’

Simon shook his head. ‘Not here.’

She glanced around the room. ‘Are you saying we aren’t safe?’

‘I’m saying a lot has changed since your last visit. You may not want to be seen with me in public.’

Sarah smiled. ‘Oh, now I get it. You have a girlfriend.’

‘No,’ he said, blushing slightly, ‘it’s not that.’

She furrowed her brow. ‘A wife?’

‘Definitely not!’

‘Then what?’

Before he had a chance to explain, a black sedan screeched to a halt in front of the bar. Two large men jumped from the car and stormed toward the front door. It was pretty obvious that they weren’t there to drink.

Simon saw them through the window and cursed. Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the rear exit. There was no time to explain his situation; not if they wanted to live. ‘Like I said, a lot has changed. We gotta go… now!’

The thugs ran through the front door as Sarah and Simon fled out the back.

‘There!’ the first thug shouted in Arabic as he pointed toward their escape. The men gave chase, knocking over tables and chairs as they thundered through the saloon like a herd of buffalo.

Clearly frightened, Simon burst through the rear exit of the bar and sprinted down an alley that reeked of cat piss and garbage. Sarah matched him stride for stride.

‘Where are we going?’ she yelled.

‘Just keep running,’ he shouted.

The exit door flew open behind them as the first thug slammed into it. He was a bear of a man, with muscular arms and fists the size of melons. Remarkably, the second goon was even bigger, as if he had been fed steaks and steroids from the time of his hatching — because there was no way in hell anyone had given birth to him.

He was simply too damn big.

Simon reached the end of the alley and broke sharply to the right, down the busy street. Sarah followed suit, glancing over her shoulder to check out the thugs, who were blessed with less speed than size. Unfortunately, her joy was short-lived. Even on a dead run, she spotted something troubling: the black sedan from the bar was weaving through traffic and heading toward them at a high rate of speed.

‘Shit!’ she screamed as she struggled to grab her gun. It was tucked in her belt underneath her shirt. ‘We have company!’

‘More?’ Simon wasn’t happy with the news. He glanced back and saw the car. It was closing fast. ‘Run faster, Sarah!’

‘Screw you, Simon!’

At that moment, she was tempted to ditch Simon and cut her losses. After all, they were chasing him, not her, and the last thing she needed was to get entangled in someone else’s mess. But a split second before she bailed, she heard the blare of a horn followed by a familiar voice.

‘Sarah,’ Cobb shouted, ‘get in the damn car!’

She turned to see Cobb staring back at her from the driver’s seat of the black sedan. The thugs had abandoned it in front of the bar, no more than twenty feet from Cobb’s position across the street. With the keys inside and the motor running, stealing the car required less effort than hailing a cab.

Plus, there was no need to leave a tip.

Cobb slowed down just enough for her to open the rear passenger door. This time, it was Sarah who grabbed Simon by the arm. Diving into the back, she pulled him inside the car and on top of her. He reached back and pulled the door shut.

Meanwhile, Cobb casually checked the side mirror. He saw the goons emerge from the alley and scan the street for their prey.

They did not look happy.

‘You’re good,’ said Cobb as the second thug punched a wall in anger. It didn’t seem to faze him in the least. ‘But stay low for another minute.’

Sarah nodded as she struggled to catch her breath.

Cobb remained quiet until he stopped at a red light several blocks away. Only then did he lean back and glance at the duo sprawled on the floor. ‘Hey, Sarah?’

‘Yeah, Jack.’

Cobb glared at her. ‘Who’s your friend?’