The Pharaoh's Secret (NUMA Files 13)

“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?”