The Pharaoh's Secret (NUMA Files 13) - Page 102

“Ah, yes,” Kurt said. “You and your pumps. Great idea, faking the hydroelectric plant and using it to hide what you’re doing. It won’t work for long, though. Anyone with a brain in their head and a basic engineering background can look at

your hydro channel and see that there’s more water coming out than going in.”

“And yet, no one has ever asked us. And you only just put it together.”

Kurt shrugged. “I said anyone with a brain. There are others out there a lot smarter than I am.”

Shakir motioned for him to move forward. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It will all be over soon. And then the siphoning will stop. And the hydroelectric plant will perform its original function. And no one will ever know it had been otherwise. By then, you’ll be long dead. And Libya, like the rest of North Africa, will be part of my domain.”

Kurt moved forward reluctantly.

“Hands.”

Kurt lowered his hands and put his wrists together. Shakir motioned for Hassan to tie them and Hassan stepped forward, wrapped a zip tie around Kurt’s wrists and pulled it tight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Kurt asked as he was marched through the incubation room.

“Power,” Shakir said. “Stability. Having wielded it for decades and having seen the chaos that a power vacuum brings, I, and others like me, have decided to put things back in order. You should be thankful that your country might prefer dealing with me, and those who answer to me, instead of a bunch of squabbling factions. It will be so much easier to get things done.”

“Things?” Kurt said as they neared the air lock. “Like killing five thousand islanders from Lampedusa? Or letting thousands of Libyans who have nothing to do with you die of thirst or in the violence of another civil war?”

“Lampedusa was an unfortunate accident,” he said. “Unfortunate mostly because it brought you into my world. As for Libya, mass deaths will provide an impetus. The worse it gets, the faster it will be over. But, then, history has always required the shedding of blood,” Shakir gloated. “It’s grease for the wheels of progress.”

They were through the air lock. Several additional guards waited on the other side in their black uniforms. One stepped forward, grabbed Kurt by the wrists, yanked him toward a waiting ATV and threw him in the back. There were two guards in the front seat.

“Take him to the—”

Shakir’s words were drowned out by the engine’s sudden growl as the guard in the driver’s seat turned the key, revved the engine and stomped on the gas.

The tires spun and Kurt was almost thrown off the machine.

The ATV sped down the tunnel, leaving a shocked group behind.

“It’s them!” Kurt heard someone shout.

Gunshots echoed through the cave and sparks flew from the walls as the bullets missed their quarry. Kurt held on and tried to make himself small as the barrage continued until they whipped around the first turn.

He glanced forward, saw Joe and Renata dressed in the uniforms they’d taken from Shakir’s men. Renata had her hair tucked up under a cap.

“How’s that for a rescue?” Joe shouted.

“It’s a heck of a start,” Kurt said as they flew down the tunnel.

And it was only a start. Because a few seconds later the lights from a pair of similar ATVs sped into the tunnel behind them.

“Hang on, boys!” Renata shouted. “I’m about to show them how we drive in the mountains of Italy.”

She had a lead foot and quick hands on the wheel. She took the ATV sliding around one corner, glancing off a wall, and then around another, before they went back onto a long straightaway.

The cars following navigated the turns more carefully and by the time they reached the new tunnel they’d lost substantial ground. The response was gunfire.

Kurt ducked down, but the bumpy ride made aiming an impossible chore. Without an extremely lucky shot, they’d be safe.

“How’d you guys manage it?” Kurt shouted. “I figured you two were long gone.”

“We were changing our clothes when I heard a commotion,” Joe said. “By the time I looked out, that Shakir fellow was giving orders to all these guys in black fatigues. So we just got in line.”

“Genius,” Kurt said. “I guess I owe you another one.”

Tags: Clive Cussler NUMA Files Thriller
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