The Forbidden Tomb

71

Establishing a base of operation near enemy terrain takes time — even when someone’s life is on the line. In the case of Cobb’s team, it had taken an entire day to establish a camp near Siwa. Papineau had docked the boat several miles from Alexandria during the early morning, but it was nearly noon before they had secured transportation and had off-loaded everything that they needed for the adventure ahead.

A journey into protected land.

Protected by the priests and the government.

At the turn of this century, Egypt declared most of the territory surrounding Siwa, some 7,800 square miles in all, to be a protected area. The distinction limited the amount of development that could be undertaken and at the same time boosted the number of tourists wishing to experience the area’s pristine beauty. Under normal circumstances, Papineau would have gladly greased local palms to ensure that they had the finest accommodations, but such behavior was entirely out of the question on this trip. They wanted to blend in, not stand out, and big-spending foreigners would be noticed.

With that in mind, they avoided the city altogether and set up camp on the outskirts of Siwa. They were not alone. There were hundreds of natives in cloth tents who preferred the old ways of desert caravans to the modern conveniences of hotels. And the government allowed it. As long as campers adhered to the conservative cultural restraints of the area, no one would give them a second look.

Just to be safe, Cobb and McNutt waited until sunset to begin their rekky.

Cobb dug his foot into the soft, loose sand, watching as the chilly nighttime breeze swept it away. He breathed deep, noticing the faintest tinge of salt that drifted with the wind. Though they were hours from the sea, the vast salt lakes a few miles to the north produced the same scent. Cobb ignored the smell and concentrated on the ground beneath him. He instinctively gauged its texture, calculating what type of footing it offered.

The knowledge that came from an on-site investigation — things like the direction of the wind and the traction of the soil — was why rekkys were so important to him. Any piece of information gained might be the one that saved his ass in an emergency.

Cobb and McNutt scanned the area through their night-vision goggles. They had already sidestepped dozens of guards on roving patrols during their steady approach through miles of surrounding desert, but they knew there were plenty more out there. So far, the men they had encountered had disguised themselves as groups of nomadic traders and Bedouins, but there was no reason to believe that there weren’t lone assassins waiting to ambush them in the night. Fortunately, even the shadow men’s finely honed ability to see in the dark was no match for next-generation military optics.

When Cobb and McNutt arrived at their destination, they could finally see what all of those men were protecting. Everywhere they looked, there were telltale signs of a structure buried beneath their feet. Ductwork popped up from the ground in an irregular pattern, allowing fresh oxygen to be pulled in while poisonous carbon monoxide was vented out into the atmosphere. There was even a trio of massive condensers capable of pulling moisture from the air. With the addition of a microbial filter, these giant dehumidifiers could be used to produce drinking water from the arid winds of the Sahara.

And above it all hung the canopies of camouflage tarps and netting.

To the average observer, the efforts for concealment looked unfinished and haphazard. But Cobb and McNutt knew that the disguises only needed to fool people at a distance. Whoever had taken these measures was only concerned with protecting the site from an aerial view. The guards took care of the rest. No one foolish enough to actually visit the site had ever made it back to describe what had been found.

Cobb and McNutt had every intention of becoming the first.

Cobb broke radio silence to verify that everyone was ready. ‘One minute to target,’ he whispered. ‘Status?’

Sarah answered from the makeshift command center that Garcia had assembled in their tent. ‘Bored beyond belief.’

Cobb knew her crankiness was because of him: he had refused her request to join their rekky. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her skills — she had more than proven her worth over the last few months — he simply didn’t think there was a need for her on this operation. This wasn’t an infiltration. This was reconnaissance. Despite her incessant lobbying to get in the game, Cobb had sat her on the bench.

‘Hector, you with me?’ Cobb asked.

‘Ready when you are,’ Garcia replied.

‘Okay. We’re moving in.’

While the others listened in, Cobb and McNutt made their way toward their target, a low, flat shed where Garcia believed they would find the communications system that serviced the underground bunker. If they could hack into the network, they would have access to the entire facility.

They scurried across the sand while keeping a watchful eye for tripwires and IEDs, but neither expected to encounter any. Between the harsh climate and the terrain, few people ventured this far from the safety of Siwa. The brutality of the desert coupled with rumors of deadly boogeymen meant that uninvited guests were seldom, if ever, an issue.

When they reached the shed, they ducked low and glanced in all directions, searching for any sign that their movement had drawn attention. Eventually, McNutt looked at Cobb and shook his head. There were no signs of life or detection.

They had made it inside the guarded perimeter.

They were standing in the eye of the storm.

McNutt let the others know. ‘At primary.’

Cobb lifted a hatch on the side of the enclosure, giving him access to the circuitry inside. He crawled into the shed and slithered through the tangled web of cables, searching for the clues that Garcia had explained to him earlier. Once he found them, he was sure that Garcia was right: this was the nerve center of the compound.

‘Target confirmed,’ Cobb whispered. ‘Please advise.’

Garcia walked Cobb through the process of linking his equipment to the system that they had found. And even though Cobb was a layman compared to Garcia, it took him less than five minutes to install the hardware.

Back at the tent, Garcia smiled when his monitors came to life. By physically hacking the signal, he now had access to everything on the network. ‘Nicely done, sir.’

‘We’re good?’ Cobb asked.

‘GoldenEye is live. I repeat: GoldenEye is live.’

Cobb ignored the movie reference and focused on what really mattered. He wanted a preliminary report on the facility. ‘Anything we need to know?’

Garcia grimaced. ‘It will take me a while to sort through all of the data feeds, but I can tell you one thing for sure: the bunker is a hell of a lot bigger than we thought.’