Clive Cussler - Crescent Dawn

“Have your two men stand guard,” she said, glancing at her watch. “It is time we set the explosives, which I wish to detonate at one o’clock.”

She picked up a lantern as the Janissary hoisted up two of the backpacks. Zakkar addressed his two men, then picked up the other pack and a lantern and followed Maria as she disappeared down one of the passageways.

“Destruction of the Dome will unleash a horrific wave of bloodshed,” Sophie whispered to Dirk.

“Silence!” barked the bearded Arab, briefly waving his gun in Sophie’s direction.

His partner, the wounded man named Akais, sat on a nearby rock, cradling his arm. The gunshot had missed any major arteries, and he had stemmed the flow of blood with his keffiyeh , now wrapped tightly around his arm. Though he had walked easily up the hill and into the quarry under his own power, he was now suffering a moderate degree of shock from loss of blood. At times he would glare at Dirk with rage, then his eyes would glaze over into a thousand-mile stare.

Dirk methodically surveyed the quarry, searching for a means of escape that wouldn’t garner a bullet in the back. But there appeared to be few avenues. Staring at the dead Palestinian for a few moments, he took note of the two remaining lanterns. One was lying on the floor near the dead man, some ten feet from his own position. The bearded gunman slowly circled the other lamp, perched on a stone across the cavern.

Dirk caught Sophie’s attention and casually motioned toward the bearded guard. Then he rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, whispering beneath it.

“The lantern… can you turn it off?”

Sophie eyed the lamp and the adjacent guard, then nodded faintly with a determined glare. She then carefully scanned the walls of the cavern, examining every cut and chisel mark that she could make out in the dim light. On a wall beyond the guard, she found what she was looking for, an irregular mark from which to build a story.

She stared at the spot with rapt fascination until the guard caught her gaze and turned to see what she was looking at. Keeping her eyes locked on the wall, she gently rose to her feet and took a step forward.

“Do not move,” the Arab hissed, turning back toward her.

Sophie tried her best to ignore him without getting shot.

“This quarry is two thousand years old, directly beneath the Dome of the Rock,” she murmured. “I think I see a sign of the Prophet over there.”

The guard looked suspiciously at her, then at Dirk. The NUMA engineer gave him the best clueless and uninterested look he could muster. Grabbing the lantern, the Arab backed slowly to the wall, keeping his assault rifle leveled on the pair. Reaching the wall, he took several hasty glances at the carved limestone. A pair of parallel gouges ran lightly across the surface at eye level while a faded mark in charcoal was visible between the cuts. The gunman looked at the mark blankly, then focused on Sophie.

“Yes, that’s it,” she said, taking another tentative step forward. When the gunman didn’t react, she continued walking toward him at a cautious pace.

“Any tricks, and your friend dies first,” the Arab spat, keeping his gun aimed at Dirk. He then turned and yelled at his companion.

“Hassan, stay alert.”

The wounded gunman responded by sluggishly nodding his head.

“Now, show me,” the gunman continued, speaking to Sophie while backing away from the wall.

Sophie crept to the wall and placed a hand on the surface near the cuts and marking. She had seen similar cuts in the walls of Zedekiah’s Cave and knew they were nothing more than the preliminary markings for a limestone slab that for some reason was never cut by the quarrymen. The faded charcoal was likely a numerical marking or placeholder for the unused stone. Yet she played it for much more.

“Like his footprint in the Dome’s sacred rock above, I believe this may be an indication of Muhammad’s departure on the Night Journey,” she said, referring to the visit to heaven atop a winged steed. “I can’t quite make it out under the light, though. May I borrow the lantern?”

She never looked at the guard, instead pretending to be engrossed in the wall carving as she extended a hand out toward him. He reacted instinctively, tentatively passing the lantern while also shifting the muzzle of his rifle in her direction. Grabbing the lantern, Sophie held it up to the wall, her eyes still glued to the charcoal marking.

“See this here,” she said quietly, pointing her free hand at the rock. She then casually let her hand slip to the base of the lantern, where her fingers groped for the power switch. Finding it with her index finger, she clicked the lamp off and froze.

Under the yellow glow of the far lamp, she was still quite visible to the Arab. He started to grunt a command at her, then noticed a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye.

Dirk had quietly been waiting for that moment. The instant Sophie’s lantern went dark, he sprang from the ledge. He knew bullets would follow him immediately, so he took two steps and dove for the light.

He wasn’t to be disappointed. The bearded gunman swung his weapon and fired instantly. But Dirk had already hit the ground, and the bullets whizzed high over his head. Extending an arm as he landed, he grabbed the lantern one-handed. Not bothering to fumble with the switch, he simply slammed the lantern against the ground, smashing the glass panes and bulb.

The cavern plunged into total darkness, which was quickly punctuated by bursts of fiery light from the muzzle of the Arab’s assault rifle. The angered gunman fired several protracted rounds at Dirk, which echoed like thunder through the quarry as bullets ricocheted off the limestone walls.

The fire was aimed at Dirk’s last position, but he had immediately rolled away from the lantern and scurried crablike across the floor toward the entry passage. After crawling twenty feet, he stopped and circled around, groping about the floor with his hands. The firing ceased as he found what he was looking for — the body of the dead Palestinian. Or, more precisely, the pickax that lay near the man’s feet.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the cavern as the odor of gunpowder drifted through the air. The Arab gunman, confident that he had killed Dirk, turned and fired toward the spot where Sophie had been standing moments earlier. But under the glow of the muzzle flash, he saw that she was no longer there.

Running a hand along the wall for guidance, Sophie smartly had run toward and then past the gunman while he was firing at Dirk. When the shooting stopped, she froze, the lantern still clasped in her hand, as she willed her heart to stop beating so loudly.

“Hassan, do you have a light?” the Arab shouted.

The wounded gunman was slowly regaining his senses and rose to his feet unsteadily.

“I am here, by the entrance. Do not shoot this way,” he pleaded in a weak voice.

“The light?” his partner barked.

“It is in my backpack, which I can’t seem to locate,” Akais replied, groping around his feet.

“The others took the backpacks,” replied the other man angrily.

Dirk made the most of the distracting conversation to move in for the kill. Hoisting the pickax over his shoulder, he crept toward the entryway and the voice of the wounded gunman. In his unsteady state, he would be the easiest to take down. With a little luck, Dirk could swap the ax for an assault rifle and shoot the other man before he knew what happened.

As the conversation died, Dirk still stood several feet from the wounded man. He would have to take a blind swing at him, as he couldn’t afford to reveal his position. Halting for a moment, he slid a foot forward silently, then slid again. But even in his diminished state, Akais detected a presence nearby.