The Alexander Cipher Page 0,112

it’s time to bring him home,” he said.

IT WAS EASY ENOUGH taking the coffin lid out to the container truck. That was just a function of exertion and time. The coffin itself, however, was another matter altogether. It was far too heavy for them to lift, so they slung ropes around it to lower it carefully down the pyramid, using sand as a lubricant on the steps and the passage floor, dragging it behind them, all pulling together, even Knox and the girl, though they got only a foot or so with every heave. They brought it finally to the passage mouth, already turned into a ramp by the sand Mohammed had dumped. They tied a thick rope to the tow bar of a four-by-four and tried to tow it out, but the vehicle’s wheels spun uselessly. They brought in the second four-by-four, and all heaved together and finally managed to haul it to the truck.

Getting it up into the container was even more problematic. Mohammed tried to lift it with the hydraulic arm of his digger but only tipped himself forward. In the end it was Philip Dragoumis who suggested the solution: Mohammed dug a trench in the sand in front of the coffin; then the truck reversed into it, so that the mouth of the container was below the coffin. They plugged the intervening gap with sand, then dragged the coffin in until it was over the front axle, as stable as they could make it.

Nicolas wiped his brow, well pleased, then looked over to his father for approval. But his father only gestured toward the east, where the sun was already beginning to show on the horizon. Nicolas nodded. Perhaps one day they might come back for all the other treasures inside the hill. For the moment, though, they had what they needed, and it wouldn’t pay to be greedy.

NO ONE NOTICED when Elena slipped away from the container and walked across to the four-by-fours to collect her bag. She had bought her gun last night by the simple expedient of flagging down the first taxi she saw in Cairo and thrusting cash at its driver until he realized she was serious. The cabbie had begun a relay of telephone calls, and two hours later, a dealer had shown her his collection. She knew the one she wanted before he even picked it up. It was black and chunky, and just looking at it gave her confidence. When she pointed it out to him, he nodded keenly. A shrewd choice, he had enthused: the Walther P99, a semiautomatic with two clips. After explaining how it was put together, he had taken her out into the alleys of the City of the Dead and shown her how the safety catch worked, and she pumped four bullets into a wall. It had given her a warm glow in her belly, the same warm glow she got now as she took it in her hand.

Three lives to take. Then her blood debt would finally be settled.

She turned around to see Mohammed reburying the mouth of the tomb beneath sand. Knox and Gaille were being herded by Nicolas, Leonidas, and Bastiaan to the four-by-fours, while the other Greeks were sitting on the back of the container, smoking well-earned cigarettes. Costis and Dragoumis were standing together, watching benignly. Costis had an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, but he looked relaxed, not expecting trouble.

Elena couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. She walked toward them, the Walther hidden behind her back. The men turned when they saw her coming. Dragoumis frowned, as though puzzled by her expression. “Yes?” he asked.

She took Costis first, pulling the trigger even as she was raising the gun. The round punctured his rib cage. The recoil kicked up her hand, so that the second round tore through his upper chest beneath his throat, flinging him onto his back. Her sense of time and space distended. To her left, men yelled in panic and scrambled for their weapons. She paid them no heed. She felt strangely invulnerable, protected by destiny. Costis was making strange high, keening sounds. He raised his head to look down at his punctured front, then tried to hold his hands over himself. She stepped astride him, aimed at his nose, and fired once more. The bullet tore through the ridge above his eye, and his head slumped lifelessly to the sand.

She turned to Dragoumis. His face was white. He seemed frozen. She walked up to