The Forbidden Tomb

81

The decision to forge ahead was an easy one. The team was still reeling from the loss of Jasmine, and Cobb sensed this was a golden opportunity to work through their grief together. He knew that Jasmine’s last thoughts were of Alexander, and while they couldn’t bring her back, they could do something that would honor her sacrifice.

Plus, the evidence was too damn compelling to ignore.

As was his way, Cobb insisted on advanced reconnaissance before allowing his team to return to the Western Desert, but unlike previous rekkys that required boots on the ground, he conducted this one without leaving the boat. With assistance from Garcia, he used images from the spy satellites circling overhead and the live video feed from the surveillance cameras at the site to work out the details of their mission.

On the surface, Cobb’s plan seemed part-suicidal and part-inspired, but he assured the team that it would work if, and only if, they trusted McNutt with their lives. Not surprisingly, the vote was quick and unanimous: all in favor of the scheme. Despite his wacky ways, they knew McNutt was a first-rate soldier who wouldn’t let them down. If he promised that he could protect the team, then they damn well believed it.

After the vote, they spent the next several hours gathering supplies, a process that went smoothly thanks to Papineau’s money and connections.

By dawn, the team was packing their cargo into the back of a desert-modified Land Cruiser. When the storage space proved to be insufficient, they loaded the rest of their gear onto the roof of the 4×4 off-road vehicle while saying their goodbyes to Papineau, who would stay behind on the yacht.

Dressed in desert clothes and local headwear to blend in, they reached the periphery of the site a few hours later and were taken aback by the stark terrain. Though they had studied the video feeds in advance and already knew there were no lakes, rock formations, or geographic features to mark the tomb in this flat stretch of desert, the location was more desolate than they had imagined. There was nothing but sand in all directions.

‘This place sucks,’ Garcia muttered.

‘You say that like sucking is a bad thing,’ McNutt joked.

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘Is it too late to change my vote?’

Cobb nodded. ‘That’s affirmative.’

‘In that case, I’m going to walk the site to get a feel of things.’

‘Before you do,’ he said while handing her a wire cutter, ‘take out the cameras.’

She covered her face and opened her door. ‘With pleasure.’

Once the cameras were offline and the gear was unloaded, McNutt established a defensive perimeter by lining the terrain with rattlers — the same devices that had protected their camp near Siwa. If they worked as intended, the tiny motion detectors would alert him to the presence of the Muharib the moment they approached.

That is, if they approached.

After planting the devices, McNutt climbed to the roof of the SUV and erected a small Mylar canopy that offered a few square feet of shade. Though the fabric kept him relatively cool, he was far more concerned about the glare. He knew that the high-powered spotting scope he had placed on the small tripod next to his rifle would work best in the absence of direct sunlight.

As an added benefit, the others were jealous of his setup.

While they slaved away in the desert sun, he sat on the roof in a folding chair and peered out over the landscape. From his elevated position, he could see for miles in every direction, prepared to eliminate any threat. His lone job was to keep them safe while they searched for the tomb using ground-penetrating radar (GPR).

Gone are the days when most archaeological discoveries were made through trial and error. Instead, modern explorers commonly use GPR to locate ruins and artifacts before the topsoil is even breached. The low-frequency radio waves are transmitted into the ground by a lawn-mower-shaped device, which is pushed back and forth in a grid pattern. Once the radio waves bounce back to the surface, the onboard computer provides data on the depth of the object and the consistency of the soil, as well as an image of the item itself.

Needless to say, it eliminates a lot of the guesswork.

And saves a tremendous amount of time.

The heat and wind of the Sahara certainly presented their challenges, but the dry, sandy soil was almost perfect for this type of radar imaging. In fact, there were few geological materials that could offer a better picture than sand.

Less than thirty minutes into the process, Garcia was still getting a feel for the device when it started to beep like crazy. He assumed he had done something wrong until he looked at the screen and noticed a large object, roughly seven feet underneath the surface. Having little practice with GPR other than a few test runs in Fort Lauderdale, he decided to keep the information to himself until he was certain of his discovery.

Meanwhile, Cobb and Sarah were busy setting up a search grid with laser pointers, stakes, and string. This would allow Garcia to walk back and forth in straight rows while they marked potential discoveries with tiny flags.

A few minutes later, it seemed entirely unnecessary.

Garcia had seen enough. ‘Um, Sarah, I think you can stop.’

‘Why?’ she asked as she hurried to his side. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he assured her. ‘I think we found it.’

Sarah looked at the display and could clearly see the flat, wide stonework that he had noticed. It looked like a cobblestone patio; only each stone was roughly three feet across. The clean, straight layout of the pattern was undeniably man-made.

‘Find out where it ends,’ she said, trying to keep her emotion in check. ‘Maybe it’s just a walkway.’

Garcia glanced around. ‘A walkway to where?’

‘Don’t argue. Just do it.’

After all that had happened, she couldn’t allow herself to get too excited. So far, she hadn’t seen enough to start jumping with joy. The stone certainly wasn’t a natural feature of the desert, but that didn’t mean it was the tomb.

She could hear Jasmine’s voice in her head.

Be thorough.

Don’t jump to conclusions.

Garcia did as he was told, walking in a straight line while intently watching the display. After ten paces, the image hadn’t changed. When he saw the same pattern after twenty-five steps, he wondered if it was the machine, not him, that was making a mistake. He couldn’t imagine something that large being buried beneath him. But still he kept on. Finally, after more than fifty strides, the image disappeared. Backing up slowly, he saw the pattern return to view.

He had found the outer edge.

He shouted back toward the truck. ‘Jack, grab a marker.’

A few moments later, Cobb drove a thin plastic flag into the ground to identify the boundary. ‘What are you guys thinking?’

Neither Garcia nor Sarah was willing to venture a guess.

This was just one wall.

They needed time to map the entire structure.

While Egyptian pyramids were marvels of engineering that rose triumphantly above the ground, Macedonian tombs were decidedly less grandiose. Instead of elaborate complexes like those found in Giza, Alexander’s ancestors were placed below ground in simple stone vaults; their only embellishments were the temple-like pillars that marked their entrance. Despite their differences, each structure had its advantages, the virtues of which could be debated by architectural historians until the end of time.

Not surprisingly — given the way in which the Muharib melded foreign cultures with their own ideals — this structure appeared to exhibit a combination of characteristics. It was buried and flat like Macedonian tombs, with two distinct columns at one end. Yet its considerable size suggested the multi-chambered approach found in Egyptian pyramids.

The only way they would know for sure was to dig.

Garcia studied the layout, then drew an X in the sand. ‘You asked for my best guess, so here it is: we aim directly between the pillars. Even if this isn’t a Macedonian tomb, that has to be our way in. Why else would be it be marked like that?’

Cobb looked at Sarah. ‘What do you think?’

She grabbed a shovel and drove it into the sand. ‘I think we’d better keep moving.’

Cobb nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’

At the moment, Cobb had more on his mind than finding an entrance. He stared to the west as the final, lingering streaks of daylight began to vanish, leaving only the darkness behind. He wondered if the Muharib were out there, watching his every move.

Waiting like vampires in the night.

Driven by their thirst for blood.