Jacob burst into motion. He leapt up and forward to get to the intersection first. If he could, he’d be able to use the corner for cover while the terrorists would be exposed in the hallway. If he couldn’t, the roles would be reversed and he and Jana would be dead in a matter of seconds.
The sound of splashing just around the corner told him he wasn’t going to make it.
“Take cover!”
He shouted this as he dove into the water.
That probably saved his life, because the next moment one of the terrorists came around the corner and opened up. Even underwater he heard the rapid fire of the automatic pistol as clear as day.
Jana’s dead. After all the CIA put her through and now I’ve gotten her killed.
Rage rose up in him like lava spewing from a volcano. He kicked off from the floor, swimming underwater with powerful strokes, ignoring the ache in his shoulder.
He collided with the terrorist, wrapped his arms around his legs and, planting his own feet, rose up, lifting the man up with him and tossing him in what he hoped was the direction of his buddies.
Before he even had time to wipe his eyes, he fired three shots blind, then leapt backwards.
His back collided with the wall, bringing down a shower of rock fragments from the ceiling. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand and, in the two seconds before the water streaming down his face obscured his vision again, saw one man disappear below the surface and another man leaning against the opposite wall, clutching his bloody abdomen.
Jacob had ended up at one corner of the intersection, not quite being able to see down the passageway where the remaining terrorists stood. He backpedaled as another one rounded the corner, gun at the ready.
A shot to the head took the guy out.
Someone shouted something in Arabic that he couldn’t catch over the ringing in his ears. A moment later, all of the Arabs’ flashlights went out, plunging the labyrinth into darkness. Jacob’s own flashlight had fallen into the water and, not being waterproof, had shorted out. The same must have happened to Jana’s.
He heard splashing. It sounded like the terrorists running away.
Jacob stepped forward, heart beating fast, his gun leveled and his free hand groping for the wall.
A rush of water below him. He felt strong arms wrap around his middle, and then felt himself get lifted up. One of the members of The Sword of the Righteous was using Jacob’s own trick against him.
I hate a fast-learning enemy, Jacob thought as he got flung against the wall, smacking his head.
The impact brought another cascade of stones down. One must have hit his invisible opponent, because his grip loosened.
That’s all the opening Jacob needed. He brought the heel of his palm up, aiming for where he guessed the man’s chin to be.
Almost guessed right. Instead he felt it connect with the soft tissue of the guy’s nose.
There’s an urban legend that if you hit the nose just right it will drive the bone right through the brain and kill your opponent. He had learned in basic training that this is false. The nose doesn’t have a bone, it has much softer cartilage which simply crumples with enough impact.
Still, it’s enough to stun a man, enough for Jacob to grab this particular man, knee him in the stomach, and push him under the water.
Jacob dove down too, getting him in a chokehold and keeping only his own head above water. He wouldn’t put it past one of these crazies to blindly open up with a machine gun. That would probably bring the whole damn ceiling down but hey, at least the idiot would get his 72 virgins.
The man he had in a chokehold struggled, but Jacob kept him down, his powerful arm keeping the terrorist’s neck in a vice grip. The guy scrabbled at Jacob’s arm, couldn’t pull it away, and got smart.
He went for Jacob’s balls.
Jacob felt the guy grabbed for them, miss, and get his inner thigh. The terrorist got a good handful on his second try. Jacob hissed in pain and twisted his hips to pull away.
Big mistake. A pain that heralded at least a week’s abstinence shot through his midsection. He gasped and toppled over, his head going under. Still he kept the terrorist in a chokehold as the man made desperate attempts to wriggle free.
Those attempts grew weaker and weaker. Jacob got his head and gun above the surface again and heard splashing coming from both directions.
Damn, were this asshole’s friends zeroing in on him?
The splashing grew louder as his opponent’s struggles grew weaker and finally stopped altogether. The sound came mostly from his right, the direction he had come, assuming he hadn’t become completely disoriented. And it sounded close.
Giving the man he held underwater a final squeeze to the neck, he let him go, trailing his fingers along his back to make sure he sank to the bottom and didn’t suddenly try to get away. No. He was dead.
Jacob leveled his gun in the direction he had heard the splashing, eyes straining at the utter blackness. It sounded distant now. They were moving away? Or was that a second person moving through the water?
“Now!” came a distant shout in Arabic that echoed like the cry of a spirit through the subterranean chambers. There was a soft splash near him. Jacob adjusted his aim, still not sure he was on target.
A source of light came on in the direction he had come. It was faint, the shine illuminating the passageway but not revealing the source, which appeared to be around the corner in the central chamber. He saw no one between him and it. So what had that other splash been? Unless that dark circle low in the water …
… he had no time for that now, because an instant later the second source flashed on, focused right on him.
It came from the corridor where he had seen the terrorists.
A shot blared through the confined space. Jacob was already dodging. He felt the heat of the bullet as it passed by his head to smack into the funerary slab of the grave behind him. It was followed by a rush of water and suddenly two dark figures descended on him.
Jacob brought up his gun but his hand got knocked to the side and his shot buried itself in the ceiling, bringing down several stones.
It would have been nice if they had fallen on the terrorists’ heads, but Jacob Snow had never been a lucky man. He felt his wrist clamped in an iron grip, his gun forced to the side as a fist slammed into his face.
His attackers were silhouettes, illuminated by a third man with a flashlight just behind. The light glared in Jacob’s eyes, but he could still see the gleam of a knife in the second man’s hand.
That knife moved in for the kill.
Jacob pulled back and to the right, and the knife missed him by inches. The man who had him in his grip clamped down on his shoulder with his free hand, trying to immobilize him so his partner could gut him.
Jacob rammed his fist into the man’s armpit, dislocating his shoulder and making him let go. The knife slashed at him; Jacob, forced to back away again, tripped over some submerged rubble and fell into the water with a splash.
He kicked away to get some distance, then rose to fire.
The knifeman was right on him. Jacob put three bullets into his gut, then a fourth into the other man’s head. That brought another cascade of dust and small stones from the ceiling.
A light glared on him from the other direction. Jacob was caught like a deer between the headlights of two oncoming cars.
Jacob plunged into the water as a fusillade of shots sought him out. He felt a shift in the current, perhaps from a heavy stone getting dropped from the ceiling.
Damn. If this keeps up we’re all going to get buried.
He stayed underwater, keeping himself submerged by holding onto a heavy stone resting on the floor. The lights shone around the area he had been, the beams diffused by the dust swirling in the water. He stayed still, hoping not to be seen.
His lungs began to burn as the lights continued to seek him out. Then they began to withdraw.
A trick? His lungs wouldn’t allow him to wait any more. He hadn’t been able to get a breath before diving. Jacob moved a bit to the right and brought his head above water. He blinked the water away, trying desperately to see.
“Did we get him?” a man’s voice asked in Arabic.
“Get off me!” a woman shouted in Arabic. That was Jana’s voice! How the hell had she survived?
“Shut up,” the same voice snapped. “You have the professor?”
“Yes,” a second male voice said.
Jacob brought up his gun. He had shifted until he was right in the intersection, keeping his head low. Two flashlight beams cut paths through the darkness, but they had withdrawn several yards down their respective hallways. Jacob hoped that with the rippling water and crazy shadows from the wavering beams that they wouldn’t spot him.
“There!”
Jacob dove under the water again as a second fusillade hammered away around him. He felt a strong displacement of water and a shaking all around him that even underwater he could hear as an ominous rumble.
The whole corridor sounded like it was collapsing, and the terrorists had both the German Egyptologist and Jana.