The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) by J. Robert Kennedy Page A
Authors: J. Robert Kennedy
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toward the horizon where the
flashes had been seen earlier. “When we arrived we saw two men already
departing on horseback, far enough from their original position to tell me that
they had been tipped off we were coming.”
“From
one of us?”
Leather
shook his head.
“Doubt
it, but it is possible one of the helpers isn’t playing for the home team. I’m
guessing however they have other lookouts and simply spotted us leaving.”
“And now
they know we know.”
Leather
nodded.
“Which
is what could make this situation escalate should their intentions be hostile.”
Reading
sighed.
“We have
to assume their intentions aren’t good. If they were just curious, why run?”
“We did
have guns prominently displayed, so we can’t rule out that we just scared them.”
Reading
looked at the sunglasses, his own concerned visage looking back.
“You
don’t sound convinced.”
“No,
sir, not at all. I think the prudent thing to do would be to shut this
operation down until we can ascertain who is watching us.”
Reading
grunted.
“You’ll
never get them to agree to that,” he said, his head nodding toward the pit
where the two professors were working.
Leather’s
face revealed no emotion.
“Agreed.”
“Recommendations?”
“Firm
policy on leaving the camp, I call for some reinforcements—they can be here in
two days—we watch for hostiles, monitor the help, and you try to convince them
it’s time to leave, at least for a little while.”
Reading
wasn’t sure about calling in reinforcements. It would turn the dig into an
armed camp, was bound to attract more attention, and he wasn’t sure they could
win any gunfight should one happen. But this was Islamic Egypt, where what
semblance of law and order it had under the military dictatorship, was now
gone, replaced by near anarchy, with little to no protection for infidels like
the millions of resident Christians, and isolated foreigners.
He
looked at the excited university students, students that reminded him of his
son, a son he would trust would have professors concerned enough to have him
sent home should they be in this situation.
If
only we knew for sure what was going on.
There
was a shout from the pit and he turned to see Acton’s head poke out of the
hole, a huge smile etched across his sand covered face. He was helped to the
ground by several students, one of whom handed him a canteen. He took a drink,
swished out his mouth, then spit the water on the ground. Taking another swig
which he swallowed, he poured much of the remaining water over his face and
head, ridding himself of most of the caked-on sand and sweat.
“What
did you find, Professor?”
Acton
grinned, looking at the gathered students, saying nothing, causing the suspense
to rise amongst the anxious youngsters. Even Reading found his pulse picking up
as he too couldn’t wait to hear the news.
“Perhaps
the greatest find in archeological history.”
“Bigger
than Tut?”
Acton’s
grin stretched even further.
“After
the world reads about this, they’ll be saying, ‘Tut who?’”
Reading’s
shoulders dropped.
We’ll
never get them out of here now.
Valley of the Kings, Egypt
November 25, 1922 AD
It was a disaster. There was no other way to describe it. Basel and
several fellow members of The Brotherhood watch in horror at the activity in
the valley below, powerless to stop it. Word of the discovery of an ancient
tomb, long unknown to all, including The Brotherhood, had reached them only
hours before, and a rushed expedition was assembled, racing to the site on
horseback, but to no avail.
The tomb
had been opened, and desecrated.
If they
had found it themselves, they might have moved it to their secret, and sacred,
valley in the desert, the cave system housing over a dozen fallen Pharaohs and
their treasures, their tombs staged as robberies by generations past of The
Brotherhood.
But this
tomb no one knew about.
They had
over the
flashes had been seen earlier. “When we arrived we saw two men already
departing on horseback, far enough from their original position to tell me that
they had been tipped off we were coming.”
“From
one of us?”
Leather
shook his head.
“Doubt
it, but it is possible one of the helpers isn’t playing for the home team. I’m
guessing however they have other lookouts and simply spotted us leaving.”
“And now
they know we know.”
Leather
nodded.
“Which
is what could make this situation escalate should their intentions be hostile.”
Reading
sighed.
“We have
to assume their intentions aren’t good. If they were just curious, why run?”
“We did
have guns prominently displayed, so we can’t rule out that we just scared them.”
Reading
looked at the sunglasses, his own concerned visage looking back.
“You
don’t sound convinced.”
“No,
sir, not at all. I think the prudent thing to do would be to shut this
operation down until we can ascertain who is watching us.”
Reading
grunted.
“You’ll
never get them to agree to that,” he said, his head nodding toward the pit
where the two professors were working.
Leather’s
face revealed no emotion.
“Agreed.”
“Recommendations?”
“Firm
policy on leaving the camp, I call for some reinforcements—they can be here in
two days—we watch for hostiles, monitor the help, and you try to convince them
it’s time to leave, at least for a little while.”
Reading
wasn’t sure about calling in reinforcements. It would turn the dig into an
armed camp, was bound to attract more attention, and he wasn’t sure they could
win any gunfight should one happen. But this was Islamic Egypt, where what
semblance of law and order it had under the military dictatorship, was now
gone, replaced by near anarchy, with little to no protection for infidels like
the millions of resident Christians, and isolated foreigners.
He
looked at the excited university students, students that reminded him of his
son, a son he would trust would have professors concerned enough to have him
sent home should they be in this situation.
If
only we knew for sure what was going on.
There
was a shout from the pit and he turned to see Acton’s head poke out of the
hole, a huge smile etched across his sand covered face. He was helped to the
ground by several students, one of whom handed him a canteen. He took a drink,
swished out his mouth, then spit the water on the ground. Taking another swig
which he swallowed, he poured much of the remaining water over his face and
head, ridding himself of most of the caked-on sand and sweat.
“What
did you find, Professor?”
Acton
grinned, looking at the gathered students, saying nothing, causing the suspense
to rise amongst the anxious youngsters. Even Reading found his pulse picking up
as he too couldn’t wait to hear the news.
“Perhaps
the greatest find in archeological history.”
“Bigger
than Tut?”
Acton’s
grin stretched even further.
“After
the world reads about this, they’ll be saying, ‘Tut who?’”
Reading’s
shoulders dropped.
We’ll
never get them out of here now.
Valley of the Kings, Egypt
November 25, 1922 AD
It was a disaster. There was no other way to describe it. Basel and
several fellow members of The Brotherhood watch in horror at the activity in
the valley below, powerless to stop it. Word of the discovery of an ancient
tomb, long unknown to all, including The Brotherhood, had reached them only
hours before, and a rushed expedition was assembled, racing to the site on
horseback, but to no avail.
The tomb
had been opened, and desecrated.
If they
had found it themselves, they might have moved it to their secret, and sacred,
valley in the desert, the cave system housing over a dozen fallen Pharaohs and
their treasures, their tombs staged as robberies by generations past of The
Brotherhood.
But this
tomb no one knew about.
They had
over the
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