The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (21 page)

“There’s
more,” came Greg’s voice over the phone.

“More?”

“Much
more. They hit the Eiffel Tower but it’s still standing, and they took out the Christ
the Redeemer statue in Rio.”

Acton’s
heart leapt into his throat as he pictured the mammoth statue of Jesus that
overlooked the mighty Brazilian city.

“My
God!” He quickly related what he had heard, and he joined the group now
choosing to sit in the sand, rather than risk collapsing. “Is there more?”

“It’s
sketchy. There’s random reports of some Hollywood types being targeted,
musicians, and other famous people. This was extremely well organized.”

Greg
continued for a few minutes, but Acton had stopped listening as his mind pieced
together what had happened, and why.

“They’re
targeting idols.”

“What
was that?”

Acton
looked at Laura, gripping her hand. “They’re targeting idols. Everything
they’ve hit is something or someone important to us, that our culture worships
in some way.”

He heard
the dawn of realization in Greg’s voice. “My God, I think you’re right.”

“And
we’re sitting on one of the biggest icons of them all.”

“Jesus,
Jim, you’ve got to get out of there.”

“We’ll
get right on it. I’ll call you back in one hour.”

“Be
safe.”

Acton
ended the call. Laura had already jumped to her feet.

“Okay,
we’re getting out of here,” she said, slapping her hands together. “We’ll grieve
later, but right now, we’re in danger. Pack only what you need to reach Cairo.
That means food and water, pretty much nothing else. Shutdown all of our
equipment, pack up what needs to be protected from the elements, then we’re out
of here in thirty minutes.” She clapped again. “Let’s move!”

The
students scrambled, and Leather motioned for his men to begin packing up their
equipment, then approached the two professors.

“Mum,
one little problem.”

“What’s
that?”

“We
don’t have room enough for everyone. The workers took our transport truck.
We’ve got a jeep and a small lorry. We can fit the students in those, but there
won’t be room for the, shall we say, adults?”

Acton
quickly ran the numbers in his head as he stared at the two vehicles, both
suddenly appearing very small, especially considering they needed to carry ten
hours of food and water as well as gasoline.

He
looked at Laura.

“What do
you think?”

She
frowned, looking at Leather then Reading and Chaney, and finally Acton.

“The
students are our priority.”

“Agreed,”
said Reading. “Get the students out of here now. We’ve called for help and it
should be here by the end of the day. But get the students out of here now.”

“I’m
good with that,” said Chaney.

“Me
too,” replied Acton.

“Should
we arm them?” asked Leather.

“Absolutely
not,” replied Laura. “They’re more likely to get killed if they start
brandishing weapons. Unarmed, well documented. Hopefully they only run into
regular military, or no one at all.”

“Agreed,”
said Acton, turning to Leather. “Have your men make sure the vehicles are
fueled up, get enough water and food on there, plus gas if needed, for the
trip. I want those kids gone by the bottom of the hour.”

Leather
looked to Laura, and Acton smiled slightly as he realized Laura was in effect
the commanding officer here, not him. Laura nodded and Leather snapped to a
brief attention, then joined his men, barking orders.

Acton
turned to Laura, her hand still squeezing his.

“You
okay?”

She
nodded.

“I will
be.” She sighed. “What a mad mad world we live in.”

Acton
put his arm around her.

“And I’m
afraid it may always be this way.”

At
least until Islam has its own Enlightenment.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

“Is everybody in?”

Terrence’s
heart was slamming against his ribcage, and he didn’t do too good a job trying
to hide the fact he was terrified. His hands shook, and it had been some effort
to even start the jeep, his hand unable to grasp the key. It wasn’t until Jenny
had gently placed her hand on his, and with a reassuring smile, guided his hand
to the key.

Her
attentions had calmed him until somebody barked an order from behind, and the
two professors were suddenly at his side.

He
jumped.

“You
know the way?”

“Yes,
mum. There’s pretty much only one way to Cairo, and then we’ve got a map for
the city itself.”

“Straight
to the embassy, got it?”

Terrence
nodded.

“You can
count on me, mum.”

He
didn’t sound very convincing, but if she had any doubts, she hid them well,
instead smiling broadly and giving him a hug, then touching each student on
their head or shoulder, saying goodbye to each. Tears were flowing freely from
the passengers, and he gritted his teeth to block the tears from breaking free
and flowing down his face.

“Take
this,” said Laura, handing Terrence one of the satellite phones. “Check in with
us every hour, speed dial one.”

Terrence
nodded, putting the phone in his pocket.

“Okay,
off you go. We’ll see you in Cairo, hopefully tomorrow.”

Terrence
nodded, not trusting himself to reply verbally, and instead putting the vehicle
in first and popping the clutch as he gave it gas. The vehicle lurched forward
and he managed to keep it from stalling out, quickly giving it more gas then
shifting into second. In his rearview mirror he saw the others all looking back
at the camp as Professor Palmer said goodbye to the second vehicle of students.

A tear
escaped and he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing.

“They’ll
be okay,” said Jenny quietly, leaning toward him. “And you’ll do great.”

He had
always had a thing for Jenny, but had never had the brass to ask her out. And
now here she was, making the first move.

Or
was she?

How was
he supposed to know if she was making her feelings known in a romantic way, or
simply a terrified friend trying to reassure another terrified friend?

The hand
gently caressing his shoulders and back of his neck suggested to him that this
was more than a friendly reassurance. He felt Little Terrence stir.

Are
you daft you little bastard? We might be about to get killed and you decide to
cast an eye on the situation?

He
chuckled to himself, and Jenny looked at him.

“What is
it?” she asked, smiling wryly.

Terrence
blushed.

“Nothing,”
he stammered, then looking at her, smiled. “It’s just—” He stopped, then shook
his head, looking back at the road. “It’s nothing.”

Jenny
said nothing, then suddenly leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Terrence
flushed crimson, Little Terrence demanded to see what was going on, and there
were giggles from the back seat.

“Would
you two get a room?”

“Hey,
eyes on the road!”

“Can I
have a kiss too?”

Jenny
pulled away and turned to their four friends crammed in the back seat.

“Grow
up!” she yelled in mock anger.

There
was more laughter than somebody yelled, “Look!”

Terrence
didn’t need to look to see what was being pointed at, he had already spotted it
and jerked the wheel to the right, taking them off the road and moments later
behind a massive rock outcropping. He stood up in his seat and sighed in relief
when he saw the second vehicle pull up beside him, both engines immediately
cut.

“What is
it? What’s going on?” asked Jenny.

“I saw
what looked like army vehicles coming down the road.”

“Did
they see us?”

“I don’t
know. They were at an angle to us, so they’d have to have been looking our way
to spot us.”

The grinding
of gears and the roar of several engines cut off the conversation. Everybody
ducked, and Terrence sucked in his breath, holding it as if trying to quiet a
heart he was certain the world could hear pounding.

The
sounds grew closer, and he felt Jenny gripping his arm. He clasped his hand
over hers, and listened. The roar of the engines seemed to fill the area, and
suddenly the rock they were hiding behind seemed small. He looked back the way
they had come and his heart leapt into his throat.

The
tire tracks!

There
was no way they could miss those. But would they make the connection as to what
they were? Or worse, how new they were?

But
there was no change in the engines, no evidence they were slowing down, and
within minutes, the sounds were gone, and they were all breathing easier.

“What
should we do?” asked Jenny.

Terrence
thought for a minute, his mind a jumble. If they were army, were they “good”
army? He had heard the army could be pretty much trusted by foreigners in
Egypt, it was the police you needed to worry about. Could they be there to
evacuate them? Evacuation by the military would be far safer than driving by
themselves.

But what
if they weren’t “good” military? What if they were there to loot the camp or
worse, kill everyone in some mad religious fervor? What if they weren’t
military at all?

“We have
to go back,” said Terrence.

“Are you
daft!” exclaimed half the back seat.

“If
they’re here to evacuate us, then it’s safer to go with them.”

“And
what if they’re not?”

“Then we
should help the others.”

“How?”
asked Jenny, far gentler than the others.

“We
might be able to warn them, or get them in the jeep and off to safety.” He
turned to the backseat. “You get out here and stay with the truck.”

“But
there isn’t room!” protested Stephen, the second oldest in the group.

“We’ll
leave most of the water and food. If we’re not back in one hour, jam yourselves
into that truck and go. It will be uncomfortable, but you’ll be alive. We’ll
try to catch up if we manage to get the others. If it’s a proper evacuation,
then the army will radio ahead to have you stopped, and you’ll be safe. If it
isn’t, then you know it wasn’t an evacuation, and we’re all probably dead.”

Jenny
grabbed his arm tightly.

“I’m
going with you.”

Terrence
shook his head.

“No,
it’s too dangerous.”

“If it’s
too dangerous for me, then it’s too dangerous for you.”

Terrence
frowned, then smiled, fishing the phone from his pocket. “I completely forgot I
had this!”

There
were groans from the jam packed truck as they began to pile out, Terrence hitting
speed dial #1. He pressed the phone to his ear and after a few moments, heard
the voice mail message. He hurriedly tried it again, and again was sent to
voicemail.

He
flipped the phone closed, looking at Jenny.

“What’s
wrong?” she asked.

“They’re
not answering.”

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Laura smiled and waved at a departing camera crew calling for a
shot, then ducked into her tent. She paused a moment between the double doors,
already beginning to feel the cool air that awaited her on the other side.

They’re
vultures!

She had
never liked the press. Beyond interviews related to her position as the head of
archeology at the British Museum, her first real exposure was when her brother
died on a dig site in Jordan. Normally it wouldn’t garner much attention, but
he had been silly rich from selling his Internet startup, that it had created a
sensation for several days in the tabloids, then died off when the next
celebrity’s boob popped out in public.

She
hated the British press.

It was
so uncivilized, so tacky, so brazen. But the readers seemed to love it,
otherwise the papers wouldn’t sell. Though James didn’t have much respect for
his press back home, at least those that engaged in the methods used by most
British newspapers were not considered mainstream press—they were rags or cable
shows that nobody respected.

But in
the UK?

She
shook her head, wishing those that were just leaving had room for everyone but
they didn’t, and they had all agreed it was all or none. She pushed through the
second door and into the chilled interior of the tent, spotting Reading propped
up rather indecently.

She cleared
her throat.

He
nearly hit the floor.

“Didn’t
see you there,” he mumbled, straightening himself out. He nodded at the air
conditioner. “I was just cooling off.”

“I see.”
She pointed with her chin at the satellite phone. “Any luck?”

Reading
nodded. “Rahim and his men won’t be here until tonight. Probably four hours,
maybe more. He said they’re going as fast as they can, but there’re roadblocks
and livestock slowing them down.”

“Livestock?”

Reading
shrugged.

“Egypt.”

Laura
chewed on her cheek for a moment, then they both jumped as the phone rang.
Reading flipped it open.

“Hello?”

He
listened for a moment then held it out for Laura.

“It’s
for you.”

Nubian Desert, Egypt, Five miles from the University College London
Dig Site

Terrence hadn’t recognized the copper’s voice at first, but once he
realized he hadn’t misdialed, he managed a weak request for Professor Palmer,
and moments later was relieved to hear her voice.

“This is
Professor Palmer.”

“Professor,
this is Terrence.”

“Terrence,
are you okay?”