Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

“We’re here,” he said.

She shook sleep from her brain and perked up. “We’re landing?”

“We’re here,” he said again over the engine roar.

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours.”

She stood from the bench, her parachute still strapped to her back. The C130 bumped and ground its way through the morning air. “How long till we land?”

“We’re getting out of here shortly. Did you eat?”

She shook her head. “No way. My stomach was in my throat. But it’s finally calmed down.”

“Drink some water.” He motioned at the holder.

She opened the bottle and gulped a few swallows. “This thing is like riding in a boxcar.”

He smiled. “Good way of putting it.”

“You used to fly on these?”

“All the time.”

“Your job was tough.”

That was the first time he’d ever heard a concession about his former profession. “I asked for it.”

“I’m only beginning to understand. I’m still freaked out about that bugged watch. Stupid me actually thought the man liked me.”

“Maybe he did.”

“Right. He used me, Cotton.”

The admission seemed to hurt. “Using people is part of this business.” He paused, then added, “Not a part I ever liked.”

She drank more water. “I used you, Cotton.”

She was right. She had.

“I should have told you about Gary. But I didn’t. So who am I to judge anybody?”

Now was not the time to have this discussion. But he saw that she was bothered by all that had happened. “Don’t sweat it. Let’s finish this. Then we’ll talk about it.”

“I’m not sweating it. Just wanted you to know how I felt.”

That was a first, too.

At the rear of the plane, an annoying whining accompanied the rear ramp opening. A gust of air rushed into the cargo area.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“They have some chores. Remember, we’re just along for the ride. Walk back that way and stop where the loadmaster is standing.”

“Why?”

“Because they asked us to. I’m coming with you.”

“How’s our friend?” she asked.

“Nosy. We both need to keep an eye on him.”

He watched as she headed aft. He then crossed to the opposite bulkhead and said to McCollum, “Time to go.”

He’d noticed McCollum had watched their talk.

“She know?”

“Not yet.”

“A bit cruel, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not if you knew her.”

McCollum shook his head. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Actually, that’s real good advice.”

He saw that his message had struck home. “Sure thing, Malone. I’m just the guy who saved your hide.”

“Which is why you’re here.”

“So generous of you, considering I have the quest.”

He gathered up the rigger sack in which he’d stuffed what George Haddad had left for him and the book on St. Jerome. They’d retrieved them from the airport before leaving Lisbon. He clipped the bundle to his chest. “And here’s what I’ve got. So we’re even.”

McCollum clipped a pack to his chest, too. Supplies they might need. Water, rations, GPS locator. According to the map, a village lay about three miles from where they were headed. If nothing was found they could walk there and find a way twenty miles south to where there was an airport, near Moses Mountain and the St. Catherine’s monastery, both popular tourist attractions.

They donned goggles and helmets, then walked aft.

“What are they doing?” Pam asked as he came close.

He had to admit, she looked good in fatigues. “They have a parachute operation to perform.”

“With this cargo? They dropping it out somewhere?”

The plane’s airspeed slowed to 120 knots, if he remembered correctly, and the nose tipped upward.

He slid a Kevlar helmet onto Pam’s head and quickly snapped the neck strap.

“What are you doing?” Confusion flooded her voice.

He adjusted a pair of goggles over her eyes and said, “The rear ramp is down. We all have to do this. Safety precaution.”

He checked her harnesses and made sure all four straps were buckled into the quick-release clamp. He’d already made sure his were fine. He hooked both him and Pam to the static line.

He saw that McCollum was already connected.

“How can we land with that ramp open,” she yelled.

He faced her. “We’re not.”

He saw the instant of comprehension. “You can’t be serious. You don’t expect me to-”

“It’ll open automatically. Just hang on and enjoy the ride. This chute is a slow one. Designed for first-timers. When you hit the ground it’ll be like a three- or four-foot fall.”

“Cotton, you’re frickin‘ insane. My shoulder still hurts. There’s no way-”

The loadmaster signaled that they’d arrived near the GPS coordinates he’d provided. No time to argue. He simply lifted her from behind and shoved her forward.

She tried to wrestle free. “Cotton, please. I can’t. Please.”

He tossed her off the ramp.

Her scream faded fast.

He knew what she was experiencing. The first fifteen feet were pure free fall, like being weightless, as the static line played itself out. Her heart would feel like it was pounding at the back of her throat. Actually, quite a rush. Then she’d feel a tug as the static line released the parachute from the pack, and he watched as Pam’s streamed out into the morning sky.

Her body jerked as the chute grabbed air.

Less than five seconds and she was floating to the ground.

“She’s going to be pissed,” McCollum said in his ear.

He kept his eyes on her descent.

“Yeah. But I always wanted to do that.”

SABRE HELD ON TO THE RISERS AND ENJOYED THE DRIFT toward the ground. The morning air and the newfangled parachute were making for a slow descent. Malone had told him about the canopies, far different from the ones he recalled from back when you fell like a stone and hoped you didn’t break a leg.

He and Malone had followed Pam out of the transport, which had quickly disappeared into the eastern sky. Whether they made it to ground safely was not the crew’s concern. Their job was done.

He stared down at the unsparing environment.

A vast, flat plain of sand and stone stretched in all directions. He’d heard Alfred Hermann speak of the southern Sinai. Supposedly the holiest desert on the planet. A harbinger of civilization. The link between Africa and Asia. But battle-scarred. The most besieged territory in the world. Syrians, Hittites, Assyrians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Crusaders, Turks, the French, the English, Egyptians, and the Israelis had all invaded. He’d listened many times as Hermann rambled on about the region’s importance. Now he was about to experience it firsthand.

He was maybe a thousand feet from the ground. Pam Malone floated below him, Malone above. The quiet rang in his ears-a stark contrast with the plane’s unabated noise. He remembered the silence from other times he’d jumped. Engine roar fading to a deep nothing. Only the wind could disturb the tranquility, but none stirred today.

A quarter mile east the barren landscape gave way to bleak granite mounds, each with no character, just a heedless jumble of peaks and crags. Was the Library of Alexandria out there? Certainly all signs pointed to that being the case.

He continued to float downward.

Near the base of one of the jagged mounds, maybe a quarter mile away, he spotted the squat of a building. He adjusted the steering lines, angling his trajectory closer to where Pam Malone was about to land. A clear stretch of desert floor. No boulders. Good.

He glanced up and saw Malone follow his lead.