The Pharaoh's Secret (NUMA Files 13)

“Okay. There’s not a lot of cover here.”

Joe was not wrong. The shelves were either too packed to get into or too sparse to offer any real protection. He glanced over his shoulder at the large aquarium-like tanks and the cannon barrels inside them. It was their only hope. “Time to get wet.”

Joe turned, saw the tank and nodded. They climbed a small ladder on the side of the tank and eased in as gently as possible. As the ripples dissipated, they took a spot behind the first cannon barrel and peered over it like a couple of alligators hiding behind a log in a swamp.

The first group passed by: five men—three with guns, one pushing a dolly and one more who looked to be at their mercy, a pistol aimed at his back. They were all dressed as part of a security team, just as Joe described. They continued on without glancing at the tanks and soon turned down another aisle and vanished.

“They’re obviously here to pick something up,” Kurt whispered.

Before Kurt could say any more, the couple appeared. But instead of joining the others, they moved more cautiously, picking their way down the aisle. Examining things on the shelf.

Kurt could hear their whispers. The back wall of the tank, which was higher than the front, was acting like an echo chamber, collecting and amplifying the sounds.

“I see what you mean about the woman,” Joe whispered.

She was tall and lean and wearing a black evening gown with a side slit. Strangely, she wore flat shoes. She leaned close to one of the shelves.

“Here’s another one,” they heard her say. “But I can’t read the placard. It’s too dark.”

The man in the tux glanced around. “We’re clear for the moment,” he said. “Shade your cell phone light.”

The dim glow of her cell phone came on, half covered by her hand. She studied the placard. “Not what we’re looking for,” she said, sounding frustrated.

The man glanced down the aisle and made what seemed like a wise decision. “Let’s move quickly. I’m not a fan of crowds.”

With silencer-equipped pistols gripped tightly in their hands, the couple moved off.

“Something tells me they’re not with the others,” Kurt said, stating the obvious.

“How many people are robbing this place?” Joe asked.

“Too many,” Kurt said. “This has to be the least secure warehouse in the Western world.”

“And we’re the only ones without weapons,” Joe replied. “A decided disadvantage.”

Kurt could not have agreed more, but something else was nagging at him. “The man in the tux,” he began. “Did his voice sound familiar to you?”

“Vaguely,” Joe said. “Can’t place it.”

“Neither can I,” Kurt said. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I know I’ve heard that voice before.”

The aisle looked clear for a moment. “Should we make a break for it?” Joe asked.

“I don’t think we’d get to the door,” Kurt replied. “We need to scare everyone else away and alert the authorities. The only way I can see doing that is to pull a fire alarm. Did you see one anywhere?”

Joe pointed toward the ceiling. “What about those?”

Kurt looked up. A system of pipes spread across the ceiling like an electrical grid. At various points, protruding nozzles and cone-shaped sensors were marked with glowing green LEDs. They had to be heat or smoke detectors.

“Can you get up there?” Kurt asked.

“You’re talking to the champion of the Saint Ignacio jungle gym challenge,” Joe said.

“I have no idea what that is,” Kurt said. “But I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Trust me,” Joe said. “The scaffolding around the shelves will make it easy.”

With a quick glance down the aisle, Joe climbed out of the tank, eased over to a ladder and began to climb. Once he reached the second level, he picked his way across the shelf and climbed another ladder. He was almost to the ceiling when several shots rang out and all hell broke loose.