“Could this get any crazier?” Kilgore asked as the 767’s seatbelt sign flashed off. She unbuckled and climbed wearily to her feet. Despite the long days of stress, Kilgore still exuded a presence of competence and self-assurance. That she’d been in the same clothes for days and had only “freshened up” in the plane’s lavatory didn’t lessen the effect: Reid thought she was the most beautiful woman alive.
He sniffed, well aware of the acrid reek from his own armpits and sweat-impregnated clothing. Following her into the aisle, he reached into the overhead for the small bag containing his notes, camera, laptop, flash cards, and excavation records. All he’d had time to grab on the hurried evacuation from Wadi Kerf.
“You could come,” he had told Yusif as the helicopters spooled up. “With the US military involved, there’s no telling what kind of suspicion you’re going to fall under when your government arrives.”
“No, sahib.” Yusif’s expression tightened. “My people were killed. I must see to them. But, if you could do something for them and me, find out what this is about, and who is behind it. Then, when the time is right, I will seek my own justice.”
And as the helicopters had risen, Yusif had stood alone and defiant while the downwash blasted him with dust.
“You all right?” Major Savage asked as he rose from the seat behind Reid.
“Just thinking about Yusif.”
“Had he come, his government might not have understood. As it is, I’m afraid your friend is in for a very tough time with Egyptian security agents.”
“I’m not sure any of us understand.” Kilgore shouldered her laptop bag with its records. “God, I just want a hot shower, a soft bed, and three days of sleep.”
Savage grunted in weary acknowledgment. “Let’s get the sarcophagi to the Smithsonian, get your data secured, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“What about Skientia?” Reid asked. “It’s their money that opened the Wadi Kerf tomb. I’m still on their payroll, Major. Technically, and professionally, I’m their representative.”
Savage’s expression wasn’t friendly. “Whatever Skientia’s initial motives, it’s created an international incident. And by now the Egyptians know that American forces were involved. Skientia’s in the middle of its own little fur ball.”
With Kilgore leading the way, Reid started down the 767’s aisle. For whatever reason, they’d been given preference in the First Class section, the rest of the leased Delta jet being filled with American service personnel rotating out of the unpleasantness in the Persian Gulf.
“Skientia isn’t my problem, Doctor,” Savage told him. “I don’t know who pulled the trigger on the op, but it was someone with some pretty heavy-duty influence in the Pentagon.”
Reid shot a questioning look at Kilgore, who arched her slim eyebrow in return. He gave her a grin. He was coming to like Kilgore France.
“This way,” Savage told them.
Reid yawned, painfully aware of his exhaustion. The balmy air seemed remarkably humid after Wadi Kerf.
At the bottom of the metal stairs, two large black SUVs were parked just ahead of a Ford delivery van. The drivers came to attention as Savage led the way down and over to the vehicles.
“Ma’am,” one of the drivers said as he opened a rear door for Kilgore.
The driver took their bags as Kilgore and Reid slipped into the back. The door closed with a soft thump. Kilgore’s dark eyes fixed on a distance only she could see. Something about that fragile and vulnerable expression touched him. Every fiber of him wanted to wrap Kilgore France in his arms and never let go.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, giving him a crafty sidelong glance.
“Just that you did well in that tomb.”
“You, too, Reid. It helped. Especially at first when I almost lost it.” She paused. “Somewhere along the line, I misplaced part of myself. Lost the once starry-eyed girl who was carried away with the wonders hidden in anthropology. I grew into that other Dr. Kilgore France: the hard-eyed forensic weapon fighting on the side of truth and justice.”
Her brow knit. “The people at Skientia think it’s real. They knew it was going to be controversial. That’s why they picked us. They wanted experts who couldn’t be dismissed.”
He gave her an appreciative grin. “Whatever you find when we get that sarcophagus open, your final report will stand up to peer review.”
“The only mistake they made? There should have been a handful of Egyptologists, paleopathologists, and forensic anthropologists to buttress each other’s arguments and analyses.”
“That makes me think they’re somewhat out of their league.” Reid frowned. “And there’s the contract hit team to consider. No matter what Skientia believes, someone else went to a great deal of expense and time to hire the goons that murdered Yusif’s men.”
“So, who’s the third party?” She glanced through the window to where Major Savage stood, arms crossed, talking on his cell. The major’s hard eyes were fixed on the caisson as ground personnel carefully slid the first heavy sarcophagus into the van’s rear.
Kilgore thoughtfully added, “Savage is right. It took someone with real clout to deploy a spec ops extraction team that quickly. It had to be Skientia. They were in communication when we were attacked.”
“The dead goons we walked past? Did you get a look at them?”
Her lips pinched. “My visual assessment of the wounds was consistent with the kind of terminal ballistics expected from 5.56 and 7.62 NATO rounds like Savage’s guys carried. But the bloodstains on the ground, the long-dried ones, were often in association with scatters of nine-millimeter brass . . . like the HK subgun that was pointed at us just before the hammer-stone fell on the thug.”
“You saw all that? Just on the walk out?”
“Too many crime scenes in my checkered past.”
He reached out and took her hand on impulse as the driver opened the door and slid behind the wheel. To his delight, she gave him a reassuring squeeze.
The Tahoe roared to life. The driver slipped it in gear, and Reid caught a glimpse as Savage got into the passenger’s seat of the lead vehicle.
Moments later they passed through the security gate and west onto Route 4. Crossing under the 95/495 Beltway, the small detail accelerated onto Pennsylvania Avenue.
“I’ve never been to Washington before.”
She glanced at him thoughtfully. “Really?”
To his amazement she hadn’t pulled her hand from his. Just her touch, her warmth, filled him with an excited contentment.
He said, “They never hosted an archaeological conference here that I wanted to attend.”
“DC’s . . . interesting,” she told him. “Superb restaurants, great hotels, lots to see and do. If there’s time, I’ll . . .”
The delivery truck they were passing veered in front of them. Tires shrieking, it struck the tail of Savage’s lead Tahoe and spun it sideways.
In Reid’s vehicle, the driver’s-side window exploded with a loud pop. A hail of glass blasted the driver and tossed him sideways across the seat. The Chevy slowed and crunched into the rear of the delivery truck. Another car was pulling up alongside.
Mashed as it was against the delivery van’s rear, the SUV had slowed to a crawl. The paralleling vehicle’s door opened. A man dressed in tactical black and wearing a balaclava leaped out, reached through the gaping window, and unlocked the door.
“Hey, what the hell do you . . .”
The pistol the intruder pointed in Reid’s face immediately sent a tickle of butterflies through his gut.
Pulling the door open, the intruder used a knife to sever the driver’s seatbelt; then dragged the groaning man out and dropped him on the pavement.
Reid—staring down the pistol’s black barrel—never saw the second balaclava-masked man who opened the passenger door and climbed in. He, too, leveled a pistol, saying, “Stay right where you are. Both of you.”
The first attacker slid into the driver’s seat. Cranking the wheel, he pulled out around the delivery truck. Major Savage’s Tahoe was on its side, the delivery truck pushing it down the street at ten miles an hour.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kilgore demanded. “Do you know who we are? What you just did?”
“We’re quite familiar with your identity, Dr. France. Yours, too, Dr. Farmer.” Then the passenger lifted a small black radio to his lips. “Vehicles and cargo secure. Targets are both unharmed. We’re beginning the evasive maneuvers now.”
The pistol’s gaping black muzzle seemed to hold Reid’s gaze as though he were a mouse and it a cobra. He barely felt the SUV sway as it lurched hard around a corner. Kilgore’s hand tightened on his in a death grip.