The Forbidden Tomb

16

The Fools of Alexander.

That’s the derogatory name used by scholars to describe anyone who has wasted time searching for buried treasure in Alexandria. In a city of millions, it seems that everyone — not just historians and archaeologists, but also lawyers, waiters, and hobos — has a theory about Alexander the Great and the location of his golden tomb.

In most parts of the world, people buy lottery tickets.

In Alexandria, they buy shovels.

In recent years, digging has become an epidemic. Once the upper levels of the city had been thoroughly examined, the fools took to the sewers en masse, hoping to find a secret passageway into the ancient depths of the city. Most excavated without permits, often leaving common sense behind as they dug deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

Eventually, something had to give.

It didn’t take an engineer to realize that the city’s core was being compromised by the subterranean plague of treasure hunters, but the government brought in a team of experts to determine how bad it really was. The last thing officials wanted was for the city to fall again. The soldiers of Persia, Rome, and Turkey were one thing, but surely they could defend themselves against a horde of civilians with picks and shovels.

Once they had the proof they needed, the authorities ordered for all digging under Alexandria to cease immediately. In addition, all entrances and passageways that led to the ancient levels of the city were either sealed or locked. Signs posted in every corner of the city made it clear that the underground network of tunnels had been deemed off-limits to anyone but city workers and members of the Ministry of State for Antiquities — the final authority when dealing with anything related to the cultural heritage of Egypt. Only those who understood the structural consequences of digging and those trained in museum sciences were welcome in the ruins. Everyone else would have to be content with the officially sanctioned tours of the city’s ancient tunnels.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough for Cobb.

And it would take more than a sign to keep him out.

It was a typical Friday night in a trendy part of town. The kind of place where locals and tourists gathered every weekend for food and entertainment.

Cobb and Sarah strolled down the block, as if they were early for dinner and had time to kill. Around them, the neighborhood was alive. Car horns were honking, music was playing, and pedestrians filled the sidewalks. As expected, the police presence was high, but they were concentrating on the streets, not the tunnels underneath.

‘You ready?’ Cobb whispered.

McNutt watched them through the window of the Internet café across the street. He had arrived a few minutes earlier with an empty bladder. He knew it would take at least four large coffees for nature to force him from his lookout. If he drank them slowly, it would be more than enough time for Sarah and Cobb to get what they needed.

‘Ready,’ he mumbled.

Garcia monitored all the chatter from the converted radio room on the boat. He was the digital maestro. Not only was he responsible for recording the video feeds, he also controlled who could talk to whom, and when. ‘Remember guys, Josh is there to look and listen. The more he talks, the more this plan falls apart. Don’t forget, he’s sitting alone at a table. We don’t need him talking to himself if it can be avoided.’

‘Like he doesn’t do that already,’ Sarah teased.

‘I heard that,’ McNutt said.

Seated next to Garcia, Jasmine stared at a map of the ancient city on a next-generation computer screen. While it wasn’t the same as the three-dimensional hologram, the software was still rendering an amazingly precise set of images. ‘I’ve got all three of you on the map. The GPS units are relaying your location, loud and clear… Well, not loud. I mean, the units aren’t beeping or anything because that would get annoying, but I can see where you are quite clearly. Well, not really you. Just dots on a screen.’

Garcia winced. ‘For the love of God, what was that?’

‘Sorry. I’m nervous.’

‘Nervous, or drunk?’

‘Nervous!’ she assured him.

‘Good, because we can’t afford to have two drunks on the job.’

‘I heard that, too!’ McNutt growled.

Cobb had been hesitant about the global positioning trackers. He assumed that if Garcia could follow his movement, others might be able to home in on the signal as well. Not that anyone would. After all, they had no reason to believe that they were being followed. Still, Cobb wanted to stay off the radar, not announce where he was.

But Garcia had assured him that his security measures were sound: no one could hack the GPS signal without Garcia knowing it. And if someone tried, he could intercept the attack or shut down the signal before Cobb or Sarah’s position could be traced.

Eventually, Cobb had decided that testing the accuracy of the map outweighed the risks. The odds of encountering the kind of elite hacker who could even identify a GPS signal — much less track it — were ten thousand to one, at best.

That is, if the technology even worked in the depths of the city.

They wouldn’t know for sure until they tried it out.

Prior to the team’s arrival in Alexandria, Cobb and Sarah had searched the district for non-traditional access points to the tunnel system and had found one in the subbasement of an apartment building. It had everything they were looking for: a wide grate to load equipment, ridiculously inadequate security, and virtual privacy.

Cobb cleared his throat. ‘Sarah and I are walking up to the entrance now. We’re in play in three… two… one…’

At zero, Sarah grabbed the doorknob and picked the lock faster than a senior citizen could turn a key. A second later, they were walking into the building.

‘Impressive,’ Cobb whispered.

‘I know,’ Sarah bragged.

They hustled down a flight of stairs and found themselves in a long hallway flanked by storage lockers for the residents. They quickly planted a small, wireless video camera above the lockers and made sure Garcia could see the feed. Then they made their way across the width of the building, silently hoping that none of the tenants was in sudden need of the spare lamps, battered suitcases, or rusted bicycles that cluttered the bins.

Fortunately, on this night, their path was clear.

When they reached the end of the hall, Sarah easily picked the lock on the boiler room door. They slipped inside and locked the door behind them.

‘Holy shit,’ she said as she turned on her flashlight and walked down the stairs. Steam hung in the air like a sauna.

‘What’s wrong?’ Garcia demanded.

‘It feels like Florida in here. Someone get me a towel.’

Cobb smiled as he planted a second camera just inside the door. Not only because her comment was accurate, but because he knew all of that steam needed somewhere to go — and that was why they were there.

The moisture drained into the ancient aqueducts below.

Cobb lifted the iron grate off the large drain in the floor. Sarah lowered herself into the hole first, bracing her body against the walls to control her descent into the tunnels below. Cobb followed her lead, easing the grate back into position as he did.

They dropped to the floor, one after another.

Both prepared for the worst, but they were alone in the darkness.

Cobb clicked on his flashlight and updated his team.

‘We’re in.’

Hundreds of miles away, a warning light flickered.

The moment the grate had been lifted, it had triggered the motion detectors that were actually embedded in the hollow iron. These tiny sensors could not only register vibration, their internal accelerometer could also calculate their orientation. The advanced technology could be used to determine if someone had merely stepped on the grate or if it had been removed entirely.

It was one of many security measures that had been placed throughout the cisterns.

The data collected from these devices was continuously fed to a remote system hidden amongst the rolling dunes of the Sahara where the signals were monitored by a massive computer that displayed real-time information from every corner of the underground labyrinth. If the lower levels of the city were breached in any way, the men who guarded them were instantly alerted.

No one got in or out without their knowledge.

It was the only way to protect their secrets.

With a simple text message, the personnel in the desert notified their contact in Alexandria of the impending threat. If further action was needed, it was his responsibility to ensure that appropriate measures were taken.

His men were always at the ready.

All they needed was a target.