The Alexander Cipher Page 0,2

cried out in anguish and rage, and he fell to his knees on the sand.

When his anger finally cooled, Kelonymus was a different man, a man of purpose. Fixed and certain. He had betrayed his oath to these men once already, but he wouldn’t betray it again. Together in life, together in death. Yes. He owed them that much, whatever it took.

Chapter One

The Ras Mohammed Reefs, Sinai, Egypt

DANIEL KNOX was dozing happily on the bow of the dive boat when the girl came to stand with deliberate provocation, blocking the afternoon sun. He opened his eyes and looked up a little warily, because Max had made it clear that she was Hassan al-Assyuti’s for the day, and Hassan had a proud and thoroughly warranted reputation for violence, especially against anyone who dared tread on his turf. “Yes?” Knox asked.

“So are you really a Bedouin?” she gushed. “I mean that guy Max said like you were a Bedouin, but I mean you don’t look it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you kind of look it, I mean your complexion and your hair and eyebrows, but—”

It was no surprise she’d caught Hassan’s eye, thought Knox, as she rambled on. He was a sucker for young blondes, and this one had a charming smile and startling turquoise eyes, as well as an attractive complexion, with its smattering of pale freckles and pinkish hints of acne, and a slender figure perfectly showcased by her lime-green and lemon-yellow bikini. “My father’s mother was Bedouin,” he said to help her out of her labyrinth. “That’s all.”

“Wow! A Bedouin gran!” She took this as an invitation to sit. “What was she like?”

Knox pushed himself up onto an elbow, squinting from the sunlight. “She died before I was born.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A damp blond lock fell onto her cheek. She swept her hair back with both hands, holding it there in a makeshift ponytail so that her chest jutted out at him. “Were you brought up here, then? In the desert?”

He looked around. They were on the deck of Max Strati’s dive boat, tethered to a fixed mooring way out in the Red Sea. “Desert?” he asked.

“Tch!” She slapped him playfully on the chest. “You know what I mean!”

“I’m American,” he said.

“I like your tattoo.” She traced a fingertip over the blue-and-gold sixteen-pointed star on his right biceps. “What is it?”

“The Star of Vergina,” answered Knox. “A symbol of the Argeads.”

“The who?”

“The old royal family of Macedonia.”

“What? You mean like Alexander the Great?”

“Very good.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You a fan, then? I always heard he was just a drunken brute.”

“Then you heard wrong.”

She smiled, pleased to be put down. “Go on, then. Tell me.”

Knox frowned. Where did you even start with a man like Alexander? “He was besieging this town called Multan,” he told her. “This was towards the end of his campaigns. His men were fed up with fighting; they just wanted to go home. But Alexander wasn’t having that. He was first up the battlements. The defenders pushed away all the assault ladders except his, stranding him up there alone. Any normal man would have leaped for safety, right? You know what Alexander did?”

“What?”

“He jumped down inside the walls. All on his own. It was the one sure way to make his men come after him. And they did, too. They tore the citadel apart to save him, and they only just got to him in time. The wounds he took that day probably contributed to his eventual death, but they added to his legend, too. He used to boast that he carried scars on every part of his body—except his back.”

She laughed. “He sounds like a psycho.”

“Different times,” said Knox. “You know, when he captured the mother of the Persian emperor, he put her under his personal protection. After he died, she was so upset, she starved herself to death—not when her own son died, mind, but when Alexander died. You don’t do that for a psychopath.”

“Huh,” she said. It was clear that she’d had enough talk of Alexander. She rose onto her knees, placed her left palm flat on the deck on the far side of Knox, then reached across him for the red-and-white icebox. She threw off its lid and tested each of the bottles and cans inside for coldness, taking her time, her breasts swinging free within her dangling bikini-top as she did so, the nipples pink as rose petals. Knox’s mouth felt a little dry suddenly—knowing you were being worked