The Pharaoh's Secret

18

Dr. Hagen ran headlong for the fort in the distance, propelled forward by a sense of shock and fear. Things were going from bad to worse. He’d listened in with a bug as Kensington almost told the men from NUMA what he was after. He’d panicked and demanded that the men from Osiris kill the museum curator before he could expose them, which he was fairly certain they had accomplished. But everything since had been a disaster: the pursuit, the crash, losing their guns in the rollover.

“We need help,” Hagen shouted. “Call for assistance.”

Fortunately, the other hit man still had a radio clipped to his belt. He pulled it free, pressed the talk button and kept running.

“Shadow, this is Talon,” he said. “We need extraction.”

“What happened, Talon?” The voice sounded agitated.

“Kensington met with the Americans. He was going to expose us. We had to kill him. Now they’re chasing us.”

“So kill them.”

“We can’t,” he said. “They’re armed.” This was a lie, but the extraction team didn’t need to know that. “We’ve been injured. One man dead. We need to be pulled out.”

Fort Saint Angelo loomed up ahead, its imposing walls lit up a blinding orange by a bank of powerful spotlights. The closer they got to the fort, the brighter the ground around them became. It was like running through Times Square. But they had no choice, safety lay on the other side.

“Well?” Hagen shouted. “What did he say?”

“Shadow, do you copy?”

Silence lingered before the voice came on the line again. “The boat will be in the channel. Deal with your pursuers and then swim for it. Do not fail us. You know what’ll happen if you do.”

Hagen overheard the reply. It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing. He slowed going up the ramp toward the fort. Talon, the man who was supposed to assist him, ran on without waiting. He was in better shape than Hagen. And he didn’t seem to care if Hagen was caught.