The Forbidden Tomb

51

Despite the powerful engines on the speedboat, Cobb and Sarah were soundly beaten back to the yacht. This had more to do with McNutt’s driving than Cobb’s. Having noticed Garcia’s dislike of the sea, McNutt had pushed the low-horsepower motor of the inflatable raft to its absolute limit while hitting every swell that he could possibly find.

Eventually, two things happened, neither of which was unexpected.

One, Garcia puked all over the raft; and two, by the time the Zodiac had reached its destination, the outboard motor was smoking more than Cheech & Chong.

Cobb and Sarah noted both upon their return.

As they made their way toward the galley to ask what had happened, they heard not only McNutt and Garcia, but a third voice as well. It was an accent that they hadn’t expected, but one that they recognized immediately.

McNutt was the first to see them coming. ‘Look who we found.’

Papineau turned to face them. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’

It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. His mind was occupied with the business at hand, and he wanted to know what they had been doing in his absence. But there was something about his aloofness that rubbed Sarah the wrong way. He had been gone for forty-eight hours — doing God knows what while they were risking their lives for one of their teammates — and he didn’t even have the decency to say hello.

‘It’s great to see you, too,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Did you bring us any souvenirs from the Orient? I hear it’s lovely there this time of year.’

Papineau stared at her but said nothing. He had more than enough reasons to find Jasmine and bring her back safely, but he was adding another one to the list. Sarah had been a firecracker from the very beginning, but it seemed the dislike that Cobb and McNutt felt for him was rubbing off on her. Selfishly, he needed Jasmine to balance the sense of civility — or least provide an alternate target for Sarah’s snide remarks.

Cobb smiled at the exchange. ‘Yes, we had a meeting with a resource that might be able to help us out. How much did they tell you?’

‘Only the basics,’ McNutt assured him. ‘We mentioned Hassan and the citadel, but nothing else. We were waiting for you to explain the rest.’

Papineau didn’t give him the chance. ‘You call that man a resource? What were you thinking? Aziz Zawarhi Hassan is not a resource — he’s a criminal!’

Cobb grimaced. ‘I guess you’ve heard of him—’

‘Of course I’ve heard of him! Did you really think I would bring you to a city without knowing whom and what to avoid? We all have our own ways of prepping a mission. You have your rekkys, and I have the INTERPOL watch-list. Don’t you get it? We’re trying to stay clear of any unnecessary encounters with the police, yet you go off and do business with a well-known crime lord. Explain it to me, Jack, because it sounds like you’ve lost your mind.’

Cobb couldn’t remember seeing Papineau so animated. He wondered if the irritability was merely a symptom of jet lag, or if something had happened during his trip. Either way, he was fairly confident that Papineau wouldn’t give him a straight answer, so he avoided the topic completely and opted to charge ahead.

‘Are you finished?’ Cobb asked calmly.

Papineau fumed at being talked down to; he’d had enough of that with Copeland in California, but instead of lashing out he bit his lip in silence.

‘Yes,’ Cobb admitted, ‘I reached out to Hassan. And yes, he is a criminal. But no, I haven’t lost my mind — I used it. The men we’re looking for aren’t angels. They don’t spend their days thinking up ways to make the world a better place. They’re killers, just like Hassan. If we have any chance of getting close to them, we needed access to that world. Hassan gets us in. And Simon Dade helps us navigate through it.’

Papineau’s eyes bulged in frustration. ‘Dade? Why are we messing around with him? Hasn’t he caused us enough trouble already?’

Sarah couldn’t help herself. She felt obligated to defend Dade — or at the very least, her decision to recommend him. ‘Without Simon, we’d have never made the connection with Hassan. He might have gotten us into this mess, but he’s doing what he can to get us out.’

Papineau shook his head in frustration. ‘The mess in the tunnel had nothing to do with Hassan. It had everything to do with us.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she argued. ‘Hassan’s goons were followed into the tunnels, and we all got caught up in something that—’

‘No we didn’t!’ he shouted, much to their dismay. From the looks on their faces, Papineau quickly realized that his message had come out a lot harsher than he had intended, so he took a deep breath and started again in a much softer tone. ‘No, Sarah, we didn’t. We didn’t get caught up in a turf war between Hassan and his enemies. His goons weren’t followed, we were. The slaughter in the tunnels was designed to stop our search.’

Sarah stared. ‘What do you mean?’

He took another deep breath. ‘Seven months ago, a group of archaeologists disappeared in the Sahara while on a search similar to our own.’

Before anyone could react, Cobb held up his hand demanding silence. He wanted to know where Papineau was going with this information before they mentioned what they had learned about the Muharib.

‘Where did this happen?’ Cobb demanded.

‘Two hundred miles southwest of Cairo,’ Papineau said. ‘Near some godforsaken village that doesn’t even have a name.’

Cobb knew there was more to come. ‘Go on.’

Papineau continued, eager to share the details he had put together during his return flight. ‘The group consisted of eleven people: ten graduate students and the team leader, a Greek professor named Cyril Manjani. He financed the entire expedition on his own.’

Cobb rubbed his chin in thought. Knowing little about archaeological digs, he wondered if self-financing was common. ‘An expedition for what?’

‘According to my source, Manjani was obsessed with ancient kings. He had spent his entire academic career mapping the discovered tombs and theorizing as to where the others could still be found. He used to drone on and on about Akhenaten, Smenkhkare, and other missing pharaohs, convinced that he would someday find them.’

‘Did he mention Alexander?’ Sarah asked.

Papineau shook his head. ‘Not that we know of, but any scholar in that field would be well aware of the mystery surrounding Alexander’s tomb.’

McNutt didn’t care about theories or assumptions. He wanted facts. ‘What happened to the team?’

Papineau grimaced. ‘That’s where things get interesting. A month after their arrival, two representatives from the Ministry of State for Antiquities were dispatched to check up on the endeavor. They were to verify the activities of Manjani’s team and to ensure that all the rules and regulations of the ministry were being followed. But when they arrived, they found little more than an abandoned site. Not ransacked or ravaged — abandoned. Their tents and other equipment were undisturbed. Their supply of fresh water was untouched. But there wasn’t a soul to be seen.’

‘That’s it? They just disappeared?’ McNutt demanded.

‘Officially, yes. The area had been hit by a series of sandstorms, and the authorities speculate that the group got confused and simply walked off into the desert. Apparently such things are fairly common in the Sahara. People get turned around, and they simply vanish. The windswept sands literally rip them to pieces or bury them alive. Either way, survivors are seldom found.’

Cobb was waiting for the other half of the explanation; the important half, as far as he was concerned. ‘What about unofficially?’

‘Six months ago, one of his friends swears that he received a phone call from a man that sounded a lot like Manjani. The connection was bad, and the caller was rambling, but he remembers the man saying something about demons that simply appeared in the night. Manjani — if it was Manjani — said that he watched his team get barbarically slaughtered. He said they were dragged from their tents and then cut to pieces. And when the bloodbath was over, the demons disappeared.’

Sarah looked at Cobb. ‘Who does that sound like?’

Cobb nodded in agreement. ‘Does your source believe Manjani is still alive?’

‘He does,’ Papineau replied. ‘But he has no idea where he’s hiding.’

Cobb looked at Garcia. ‘Hector, add that to your to-do list. I can’t imagine he’d be stupid enough to use his real identity if he’s trying to stay lost, but check it out anyway. Credit cards, cell phones — you know the drill.’

Garcia was already taking notes on his tablet. ‘Where should I start?’

‘When they’re in trouble, most people run to what they know best. Start with Greece, then work your way out from there.’

McNutt furrowed his brow. ‘Jack, I’m not following. Shouldn’t we be focusing our efforts on the Muharib? How does a missing professor help us find Jasmine?’

Papineau was confused as well. ‘I’m sorry. The Muharib?’

Cobb answered McNutt first. ‘Honestly, Josh, I’m not sure how he fits into this mess, but my gut tells me that he does.’

McNutt nodded. ‘That’s good enough for me.’

Papineau didn’t like being ignored. ‘Again, who are the Muharib?’

Cobb turned and faced him. ‘If my hunch is correct, they’re the demons that killed Manjani’s team and kidnapped Jasmine.’