The Forbidden Tomb

50

The battered Jeep bounced across the sand, jostling the driver and his passenger as they sped toward the remote hut.

Under normal circumstances, the interrogation of a prisoner would have been conducted slowly and methodically. It would have lasted for days, perhaps even weeks, until they were certain that their subject had given up every last detail.

A moment of pain can weaken anyone’s spirit.

But prolonged suffering will shatter even the most hardened of wills.

Unfortunately, things had not gone as expected in Alexandria. At least two of the Americans had escaped the destruction of the cisterns. To make matters worse, the duo had witnessed the abduction of their colleague and had chased the bombers.

The men could no longer afford to let the interrogation drag out.

They needed answers, and they needed them now.

Their intensity grew with each passing mile.

As the camels plodded through the desert, Jasmine’s frustration continued to mount. Seated behind Izri atop the lead animal, she wanted to thrust her heels together and spur the beasts to sprint for all they were worth, but she resisted the urge. She knew this was the pace of life in the Sahara. Here, slow and steady wins the race. Perhaps nowhere else on earth was the proverb more accurate.

Despite her impatience, Jasmine had to acknowledge that their sluggish pace might actually be for the best. She considered the very real possibility that it was safer to keep moving than to stop. Presumably, the ideal places for camps and settlements were known throughout the desert, giving her captors a good place to start looking once they realized that she was missing. While she was appreciative of the Berbers’ rescue efforts, she wondered if they were inadvertently leading her back into the hands of the enemy.

Jasmine leaned forward and spoke to Izri. ‘Please tell me about your village.’

Izri smiled at her improving familiarity with his language and laughed at her description of their community. ‘It is too much to say that we are a village. We are simply a collection of travelers. We move where we must, when we must, as we have done for generations.’

‘But is there a place you call home?’ Jasmine asked.

Izri spread his arms wide. ‘The whole of the Sahara is our place.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Jasmine. ‘This is our home.’

As the Jeep pulled up to the rear of the hut, the men did not notice the disturbed sand near the base of the building. Even if they had, they would have assumed it had been caused by the transport team there earlier. The possibility of their captive’s escape would never have crossed their mind. It wasn’t until they reached the front of the building that they knew something was wrong.

On most days, the desert breeze quickly erases any and all trails through the sand. Footprints and tire tracks alike are routinely swept away by the gusting winds, leaving nothing but a vast, blank canvas. Without these signs, it is nearly impossible to track someone’s movement through the barren terrain.

Unfortunately for Jasmine, the air that day was unusually still.

Standing at the front door, the men stared in surprised horror at the line of smooth indentations that led off into the distance. They could plainly see that these were not the prints of their comrades’ boots, nor were there multiple sets of tracks. This was the trail of a single hiker — one who had been forced to fashion her own footwear.

They rushed inside, hoping against all reason that they were mistaken, that the captive was still secured to the floor in the far room. Instead, their worst fears were realized.

The woman was gone.

Only the shackles remained.

Normally they were the ones who caused panic in their victims, not the other way around. Now it was their turn to face fear. Even though they had yet to take possession of the American, they knew they would be held responsible for her disappearance.

The punishment would be swift and severe.

Their superiors would not tolerate incompetence.

They had to retrieve her before anyone knew she was missing.

As the sun vanished beneath the horizon, Jasmine still could not see the camp, but she had faith that her rescuers knew their way.

‘Is it much farther?’ she asked.

Izri shook his head. ‘Perhaps another hour. Two at most.’

Jasmine noticed that none of the men wore watches or carried timepieces of any kind. She understood that the position of the sun could be used to track the hours during the day, but she wondered how the nomads kept time in the darkness. Ultimately, she let the concern pass. It didn’t matter how long it took to reach their destination, only that they got there. Instead, she asked another question that had been puzzling her.

‘How do you know English?’

Izri smiled. ‘My grandfather teach it to my father. My father teach it to me. Someday, I teach it to my son.’

‘You have children?’

‘Yes. I have—’

His answer was cut short by the shouts of the man bringing up the rear.

Turning to see what had drawn his interest, Jasmine saw him pointing toward a small cloud of dust in the distance. Looking closer, she saw that it wasn’t a natural phenomenon, it was a vehicle: a World War II-era Jeep. She was amazed that such a relic was still operational, especially in the harsh environment of the desert.

As the other two men dismounted to await the newcomers, Jasmine leaned close and whispered to Izri, ‘Do you know who it is?’

Izri smiled. ‘No, but it is not uncommon to meet other travelers. Paths cross all the time. The desert may be vast, but the people who live here are much closer than you may think. There is no need for concern. The Sahara is a friendly place.’

To reinforce his point, Izri turned his camel around and maneuvered it so that they would be the first to greet the new arrivals. He even raised his hand and offered a friendly wave. To his surprise, the Jeep showed no signs of slowing.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

The passenger in the Jeep rose from his seat and swung mightily toward his target. In a flash, the cold steel of his blade sliced through the camel’s neck, cleanly severing its head and killing it instantly. The one-ton animal dropped to the ground, pinning both Izri’s and Jasmine’s legs under its body as it crashed to the sand.

Izri’s companions reached for the archaic rifles that they had tucked in their saddles, but the proximity of the Jeep had startled their camels. It was impossible to retrieve their weapons from the backs of the flailing beasts that were trying to run away. The swordsmen slashed at the men mercilessly, spilling their guts and cleaving muscle from bone. Though Izri’s friends survived the initial attack, they wouldn’t last long.

The driver stopped the Jeep and jumped out with his partner close behind. With a quick thrust, the swordsmen drove their weapons deep into the chests of their victims. Their actions were as coordinated as they were brutal, as if there were some sort of hideous choreography in play. Spines snapped and lungs deflated as the blades were pushed through the defenseless prey, leaving only heaps of lifeless flesh.

Jasmine stared in horror, wondering if she was next.

Instead, the men turned their attention to Izri.

As the assassins closed in, Jasmine strained against the carcass. The sand had prevented her leg from being shattered by the animal’s bulk, but it wasn’t loose enough to allow her to pull free. Try as she might to wiggle out, she was trapped under the fallen camel. No matter how far she stretched, Izri’s rifle lay just beyond her reach.

Izri stared at the men hovering over him. He raised his arms in defense and begged for mercy, the desperation in his voice clearly understood in any language. He knew they had won. He only wished that his life be spared.

In response, the larger of the men grabbed Izri’s hair and yanked his head backwards. With a simple swipe of his blade, the man split Izri’s throat in two. Releasing his grasp, he screamed in triumph as the life literally drained from the nomad’s face.

Jasmine felt her stomach heave as she turned her head, unwilling to watch the horror of his death. A moment later, she felt the quick pinch of a needle piercing her shoulder, followed by a warm sensation as her vision grew hazy and her mind began to swirl.

The last thing she saw was Izri’s lifeless eyes staring up at the heavens.

After that, there was only darkness.