“My god.” Boris stared at the weapon in wide-eyed wonder. “If we’d been in the middle of the passageway instead of plastered on the sides, that thing would have skewered us.”
“But it didn’t.”
“That was meant to kill whomever was here.”
Before Lourds could reply, a series of clicks sounded. Without any warning at all, the section of the passageway they lay on yawned open, and they slid forward.
Frantically, Lourds tried to grab any purchase he could find, even closing his hand on the spear for a moment. But it snapped even as he reached for Boris, and he slid off into the abyss with the other man.
One of them—Lourds wasn’t sure which—screamed.
7
32 Miles Southwest of Herat
Herat Province
Afghanistan
June 18, 2012
Squatting in front of the passageway and holding a high-intensity lantern, Layla Teneen watched in disbelief as the bottom dropped out from under Lourds and Boris. The two screamed, but their cries didn’t last very long, indicating that the fall probably wasn’t high enough to break their necks but was sufficient to knock the air from their lungs. Layla had almost cried out herself, but she’d simply been too stunned, and the moment was gone before she knew it.
An instant later, she heard Boris speaking painfully. “Thomas, I think my leg is broken.”
“Hang on, Boris. Let me get the flashlight.”
Layla sighed. “Idiots.” Since she’d taken over the directorship, she’d learned she could count on some archeologist—or master’s student—being too brave or not resourceful enough. It was maddening. She looked over her shoulder at Fitrat. “Captain, we’re going to need some rope.”
“Here, Boris. I’ve got the flashlight. Just a moment and I’ll—” Lourds stopped speaking.
Layla’s imagination played havoc with her. One thing was certain: whoever climbed into the passageway wasn’t supposed to survive. The fall was supposed to take care of a body.
“Boris.” Lourds spoke more quietly, and the faint voice barely reached Layla’s ears. “Do you see that?”
***
Dmitry sat on the other side of the cave beside Chizkov.
The young lieutenant gazed at the dead men. “Did you...did you kill them?”
Dmitry shrugged. “I did. If they had killed me, I would not be here for you to ask me questions, would I?”
In the reflected glow of the flashlights in the hands of the Afghan soldiers, Chizkov looked pale and younger than ever. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
Studying his young protégé, Dmitry waved to the dead men. “Does this bother you?”
The Afghan soldiers gave the corpses no more attention. They were attendant upon their commanding officer and the dig director.
Chizkov started to shake his head in reply to Dmitry’s question, then he stopped. “Yes, this bothers me. I am not used to this.”
“In the SVR, you may need to get used to such things. This is a sad revelation, but times in Mother Russia are not very restful. In addition to the Chechen terrorists, we are starting to attract Islamic extremists as well.”
“I know. My father is a politician. He worked to keep me out of the army and to get me someplace safe.” Chizkov looked embarrassed. “I was willing to be in the regular army, and to go to fight in Chechnya if I needed to.”
“Chechnya is no place for you, Lieutenant.”
Chizkov bristled at that. “I am not afraid, Major Dolgov.”
“Perhaps you should address me in such a manner again. In case one of the soldiers did not hear you.”
Face flushing, Chizkov looked away. “I am sorry.”
Dmitry patted the young man’s arm like he would his own son. “It is all right. You did well. You went and got help.”
“You didn’t need it.”
“No, as it turns out, I did not. But those two in that passage, Glukov and Lourds, they may yet need help that I was unprepared to give.” Dmitry looked at Chizkov again. “And when I said that you did not belong in Chechnya, I only meant that no one should have to fight that kind of war. It is a very terrible thing.”
Chizkov was quiet for a moment. “We are found out.”
“As liars? Yes, that is true. But not as spies.”
“What else will these people think of us?”
Dmitry shrugged. “We are not here spying on them. That is something.”
“My father says President Nevsky is very interested in Professor Glukov’s work.”
“This I know. But I do not know why. Did your father happen to tell you that?”
“No.”
“When we get back to Mother Russia, perhaps you might find out.”
“Why? Won’t we be off this assignment by then?”
“Possibly. But it is still a curious matter, Josef. I would not mind knowing the