Will Adams - The Alexander Cipher

Their flashlights played among these mesmerizing sculptures, creating shadows that stretched and danced and ducked and darted with life after twenty-three hundred years of utter stillness. No one dared speak. For though this was a remarkable find, Elena knew that it wasn't what Philip and Nicolas Dragoumis had come for, it wasn't what they needed for their mission. Either the shield bearers had never made it this far with Alexander's body or someone had been here before them.

"I don't believe this," muttered Nicolas, balling his fist. "I don't fucking believe this. All our work! All our work!" He gave an inarticulate cry of frustration and kicked the rock wall.

Elena ignored his tantrum and crouched down instead by the foothills of the mountain up which Alexander's spirit was ascending. "There's an inscription," she told Dragoumis.

"What does it say?"

She wiped away the dust and held her flashlight at an angle to accentuate the shadows and make it easier to see. " 'Go up into the secret skies, Alexander,' " she translated aloud, " 'while your people here mourn.' "

"There's another one there," said Costis, pointing his flashlight at the base of the relief of the infant Alexander strangling the snakes.

Dragoumis translated this one himself: "You do not know your strength, Alexander. You do not know what or who you are." He glanced doubtfully at Elena. "Does it mean anything to you?"

"It's from the Iliad, isn't it?"

Dragoumis nodded. "They both are. But what are they for?"

Elena went down on her haunches by a third scene, a depiction of fierce fighting. " 'Shield clashed against shield, and spear with spear. The clamor was mighty as the earth turned red with blood.' "

Dragoumis was by the Gordion Knot, he and Costis working their flashlights in tandem, the better to see. " 'Whichever man undoes the knot that fixes this yoke will find himself the Lord of all Asia.' "

" 'Talk not of running, nor of fear,' " said Elena, " 'for I know of neither.' "

They went on around the walls, deciphering the inscriptions. When they were done, Elena looked at Dragoumis. "What do you think?"

"I think we need more-"

A heavy thump reverberated from up the passage at that moment. The floor shook; dust shivered from the walls. Nicolas looked around, then closed his eyes in anger as he realized what it was. "Mohammed," he muttered.

Opportunity had taken Mohammed by surprise. The Greeks, every last one of them, had gone inside the hill. Curiosity had gotten the better of them. He had waited a minute or two, half expecting one or another of them to realize their mistake and come back out. When they didn't, his courage began to mount. If he could block them in, he could go into Siwa and bring back the police. They would all go to jail for years, unable to affect Layla or exact revenge.

His first idea was to ram the mouth of the passage with one of the vehicles, but they were all the wrong shape. He decided instead to reseal the passage with the marble slab, then swamp it beneath sand. He slid the teeth of his hydraulic scoop beneath it and tried to lift it, but it was so heavy, his rear wheels left the ground, his hydraulic mechanism screeched and stalled, and the slab slipped sideways and clapped loudly on the sand. He cursed himself. They were bound to have heard that. Shouts of alarm came from within, so it was too late to back down now. He reversed a little way, then accelerated forward, using momentum to pick up the marble slab. A Greek arrived at the mouth just as it tipped back neatly into its slot. Mohammed felt jubilant as he scooped sand and more sand onto it. He exulted as the pink marble quickly disappeared, imprisoning them all inside. He could hardly believe how simple it had been. Nur was right: she always said that if you faced your demons, you could conquer any-

A muffled burst of gunfire. A second burst.

Mohammed watched numbly as a cone was sucked out of the sand in front of him, as it widened and deepened. A small black hole appeared. A man clambered through. Mohammed swung the scoop at him, but he ducked it easily and aimed his AK-47 at Mohammed's face. Mohammed took his hands off the controls and raised them numbly. A second man crawled out, and a third. He thought of Layla, what would happen to her now, and felt despair. More Greeks scrambled out, like so many rats. Costis opened the cab door, switched off the ignition, and took away the keys. Nicolas appeared, brushing down his sleeves and trousers. He said, "If any of my people knew how to work this machine, you would be dead now. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You have a daughter," he said. "Her life depends upon our goodwill. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You will cooperate?"

"Yes."

He nodded at Costis, who had returned with a pair of handcuffs. He closed one cuff around the steering wheel and the other around Mohammed's left wrist, allowing him enough movement to work the controls but not enough to escape. He added the key to a key ring on his belt. Then he frowned and looked over his shoulder, out over the dunes. It was a moment before Mohammed heard what had distracted him: the faint growl of an engine coming from the direction of Siwa. Costis glanced at Nicolas, who held up his hand for silence. The noise died away momentarily, then returned even louder. Nicolas grimaced with foreboding. It was the early hours of the morning. No one should be out driving in the desert, not unless they had a very specific purpose.

"You want us to check it out?" asked Costis.

"Yes," said Nicolas.

Costis signaled to Leonidas, Bastiaan, Vasileios, and Dimitris to go with him. They grabbed weapons and sprinted for their four-by-fours.

There were old ruts and tire tracks in the sand. Knox used them as a water-skier uses wake, jolting all three of them, so that they bounced in their seats. It was a point of pride for Gaille that she wouldn't remark on it, even though the passenger-side seat belt had broken years ago and Knox had to fling out his arm every so often to hold her in her seat. The Jeep's antique suspension squeaked, squealed, and banged. Knox downshifted, turned, and roared up a dune, straining the old engine the last few yards. As they crested the dune, she could see the now-familiar silhouette of Bir al-Hammam ahead. Then they were on the downslope, taking it at such an oblique angle that the right wheels left the ground for a moment, hanging in space. Knox pinned Gaille in her seat until they bounced back onto all four. She threw him a grin, but then he glanced in the mirror and frowned in obvious concern. Gaille turned to see a four-by-four coming up fast behind them, headlights off, evidently not wanting to give itself away.

"What the hell?" muttered Rick.

"It's those bloody Greeks," said Knox. He raced down a dune, gaining speed to climb its far bank. They flew over the top and bounded down the other side, roaring away along the compact valley sand.

"There's a second one," said Rick, as another four-by-four appeared over the dune to their left, plunging down the bank, forcing Knox into an evasive skid, his wheels throwing up sprays of sand and bringing them almost to a stop. He shifted up through the gears, turning back the way he had come, but the Jeep was no match for the four-by-fours. They gained inexorably, pulling up alongside on either flank, motioning for him to stop. Knox spun hard and cut left, forcing the driver to slam on his brakes. He roared up another dune, but the gradient was steep and the sand soft, and the balding tires lost traction and began to churn.

Knox stopped fighting, let gravity roll them back down, then swung the Jeep around. A four-by-four nosed into his right side so that both his right wheels left the sand. It nudged them again, harder this time, tipping them up onto their side, so that they plowed a short furrow in the sand before crashing onto their roof. Gaille shrieked and threw up her hands to protect her head as Knox tried to hold her in her seat, but the momentum was too much for him, and she smacked the windshield hard.