The Pharaoh's Secret

61

Kurt and Joe pressed against the wreck of the AS-42, which was sitting in two feet of water that was slowly getting deeper. The antitank cannon was useless and Kurt’s Beretta submachine gun was nowhere to be found.

“It doesn’t matter whether you kill us or not,” Kurt shouted. “This place is going to flood and water will be pouring out every hole. That’s going to attract attention. You’re finished, Shakir. Your scheme has failed.”

The first response was laughter. “I’ll find a way to shut the water off and undo what you’ve done,” Shakir replied. “This is no more than an inconvenience.”

“Not true,” Kurt shouted. “I used your computer to send a message to my superiors. By the time you reach the surface, the whole world will know about you and what you’ve done. They’ll know you’re responsible for the drought. They’ll know about Piola and the others who’re doing your bidding and they’ll know that the toxin you’re using to put people to sleep comes from the glands of the African bullfrog. Next time you tell someone you can kill them and bring them back to life, they’re going to laugh!”

A series of shots pinged off the underside of the AS-42 and Kurt knew he’d hit a nerve.

“I’m not sure making the gun-toting lunatic angry is a great idea,” Joe said.

“We’ve got an armored car between us and him,” Kurt said.

“He might be aiming for the gas tank.”

“Good point,” Kurt said. “At least we’re soaking wet if he hits the mark.”

By now, the water was up to Kurt’s hips and rising an inch or two every minute. Kurt considered swimming for cover when he saw something that made him change his mind. Across from them, farther down the chamber, something long, low and green slithered over what remained of its retaining wall.

“We have a new problem,” he said.

Joe had seen it too. “Tough decision,” Joe said. “Get shot or get eaten.”

The water was flooding the entire room, the first place it went was the low point of the crocodile pit.

“You may think you’re going to escape,” Kurt shouted to Shakir, “but you’ll never get past the crocodiles.”

“They’ll be too busy devouring you to bother with me,” Shakir replied. “We’ve got the high ground.”

Kurt looked through a gap in the twisted metal. Shakir was standing on top of a sarcophagus in the center of the room, something lay at his feet.

“You’ll be wet before long,” Kurt said. “But I’ll make you a deal. You and your men go out the access tunnel and we’ll go back and take the elevator. We can kill each other some other time in a drier place.”

Another crocodile came over the wall and then two more. They vanished in the water and Kurt doubted it would be long before they found the overturned vehicle and the two snacks hiding beside it.

“I’ll make you a better deal,” Shakir said. “You and your friend stand up with your hands over your heads and I’ll execute you quickly.”

“How is that a better deal?” Kurt shouted.

“Because the alternative involves you remaining where you are and listening as I put a bullet in each of the Italian woman’s knees before tossing her in the water.”

“You had to ask,” Joe said.

Kurt shook his head in frustration. “At least we know where she ran off to.”

“He’s going to kill me anyway,” Renata shouted. “Just go. Get out. The truth surviving is more important.”

Kurt twisted his body and peered through the mangled front end once again. “He’s standing on one of the sarcophaguses. Renata’s down in front of him. But the RPG came from the other direction. Do you see anyone over there?”

Joe nodded. “There’s someone up on the Sphinx. Must not have another rocket or we’d be toast.”

Kurt glanced at his friend. Joe was bleeding from a gash above his eye and holding his ribs. “We’re not really overburdened with options here, buddy.”

“Nope,” Joe said. “The way I see it, we can fight and die. Surrender and die. Or wait here for the water to rise and drown. If we don’t get eaten alive first.”

As Joe spoke, he pulled the Breda machine gun off of its mount.

“I’m guessing you want to fight,” Kurt said.

“Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “Actually, I’m going to surrender,” he said with a wink of his eye.

Joe’s face registered shock, but Kurt opened his palms and showed Joe the two vials of the Black Mist. One fit neatly in each hand.

“Can you hit the guy on the Sphinx?” Kurt asked.

Joe worked the slide to make sure the Breda wasn’t jammed. “I have ten shells left. I think one of them might have his name on it.”

A gunshot and a scream startled them. “That was only a flesh wound!” Shakir shouted. “The next one will take out her kneecap.”

With a vial in each palm, Kurt put his hands behind his head and got in position to stand.

“Give them the fastball,” Joe said. “Don’t mess around with the slider or the curve.”

Kurt grinned and stood slowly, half expecting to get shot the instant he came out from behind the overturned car.

He straightened up and looked Shakir in the eye. Renata was down on her knees in front of him.

“Your friend as well,” Shakir shouted.

With his hands behind his head as requested, Kurt glanced down at Joe and then back to Shakir. “His leg is broken. He can’t stand.”

“Tell him to hop!”

Joe nodded. He was ready to fire.

“Tell him yourself!” Kurt shouted. He cocked his right arm and hurled the first vial toward the stone sarcophagus Shakir was standing on. It just missed and splashed harmlessly in the water, skipping like a stone.

Shakir watched the projectile fly past and flinched, expecting an explosion. When it didn’t come, he raised his weapon and fired at Kurt.

Kurt had already switched the second vial into his right hand and flung it, sidearm this time. It hit the stone lid of the pharaoh’s coffin right underneath Shakir’s feet. The vial shattered, the contents of the bottle directed upward by the curved edge of the coffin.

Shakir was covered in the Mist and he staggered back, his vision blurring. He knew instantly what had happened, but it mattered little: the Mist was taking him. He fired once more in Kurt’s direction and fell back as the recoil knocked him over and into the water.

At the other end of the wrecked vehicle, Joe had popped up and braced the heavy machine gun on the front fender. He opened fire at the target on the Sphinx. The report of the Breda boomed through the burial chamber like the sound of a cannon.

The soldier in position on the Sphinx pulled back behind the edge of the statue as the first shots flew wide. But the next burst cut into the statue’s flared headdress, punching holes right through it and out the other side.

The soldier realized his mistake too late. The Sphinx was made of plaster and covered with gold leaf and semiprecious stones. The weapon Joe was using fired shells designed to penetrate armor. They blasted through the headdress like they were punching holes in paper.

He dropped to his knees as one of them hit him. The next hit finished him and he fell to the side and slid off the back of the Sphinx. He crashed into the water and came to the surface, floating facedown.