Chapter 75
Ifza
High above the Suez Canal, a lone helicopter hovered in place. Its occupants watched as a full-fledged war broke out. One of the gantry cranes toppled to the ground, crushing everything in its path. Muzzle flashes ignited everywhere like tiny fireflies. The only way Ifza could tell the sides apart was what direction the scurrying ants were traveling. Those moving toward the central building were her men.
From the initial onslaught, Ifza could tell her people were struggling to push forward. Like Zahra Kane, the Scales of Anubis had greatly underestimated Waleed Badawi — namely, the size and skill of his force.
Khaliq’s words, once more, bounced around inside Ifza’s skull.
Don’t fail me again.
If she did, in fact, fail Khaliq again, would her brother — her own flesh and blood — follow through with his implied threat and kill her?
She wasn’t planning on finding out.
A column of ants poured out from a side exit and rushed away from the conflict. Ifza knew it was her prey. She frantically looked for her people, hoping — willing — them to see what she saw. A handful did, but they were swiftly gunned down where they stood. Her team’s muzzle flashes died down as the seconds ticked by.
“Take me down.”
The pilot protested. “But ma’am, I—”
She drew her pistol and pushed it into the insolent man’s temple. She spoke, gritting her teeth hard. “I said, ‘take me down.’”
The pilot nodded and immediately began their descent into the still brewing, though quieting, conflict. If Ifza could get down there and, at the very least, interrupt Zahra’s escape, it might just be enough to watch the woman bleed.
And Ifza Ayad would be the one to make her bleed.
Bullets pinged off the underbelly of the helicopter but did little else besides make an annoying noise. As they neared the ground, Ifza unbuckled. The men sitting across from her did the same.
“Man the door,” she ordered.
They responded in silence, nodding curtly. Both men shouldered their matching rifles, gripping them tightly.
Ifza picked up her own rifle and checked it over. Her weapon was different than the others. Hers had a grenade launcher attachment mounted directly beneath the barrel.
Open with the grenade, then shoot anything that moves.
And she meant anything. Ifza didn’t care if the victims were Waleed’s men or hers. She wouldn’t take the chance of misidentifying anyone and giving them an opening to kill her first.
With ten feet to touch down, Ifza gripped the door handle and pulled. The locking mechanism released, and she slid it open. The helicopter’s interior was met with a cool breeze laced heavily with smoke. Ifza squinted against the noxious haze. It stung her nose and throat, and it made her eyes water. She took aim and applied slight pressure to her rifle’s secondary trigger. But Ifza wasn’t given a chance to enact phase one of her personal assault plan.
A projectile exploded from somewhere within the open doors of the central structure. It was followed by a trail of smoke and was headed straight for Ifza and the helicopter.
“RPG!” the pilot shouted, attempting to climb.
Ifza made the decision to jump, and she did. She fell ten feet and hit the ground, rolling forward as soon as she landed. She made it four strides before the helicopter, as well as the three men aboard it, were obliterated. The Rocket Propelled Grenade had done its job perfectly, exploding dead center inside the rear cargo hold. The impact and detonation tore the aircraft apart bit by bit. Somehow, the rotors functioned long enough to pull the helicopter back toward the water. It only made it halfway before its skids clipped the top of a steel container, sending it rolling onto the ground on the other side in a screech of metal.
Ifza’s left ankle was on fire from the fall. She turned back toward the RPG’s origin and watched as a group of seven armed men poured outside and quickly surrounded her. Her rifle was gone. It laid on the ground where she had landed. All she was armed with was her sidearm and a knife.
She raised her hands in surrender and sneered when a bald, bearded man approached her. It had been years since Ifza had seen him, but she instantly recognized him as Waleed Badawi. He had been a thorn in the Scales of Anubis’ side for years.
Ifza closed her eyes, ready to die.
But she didn’t.
After ten excruciating long seconds, she reopened them, and found Waleed staring at her with the slightest of smiles on his face.
“Bring her!” he shouted.
Four of the seven men rushed Ifza and swiftly apprehended her. She was zip cuffed relieved of her remaining weapons.
Waleed stepped up to Ifza, stopping within a foot of her.
“Unlike you, I am not a cold-blooded killer.”
And with that, Ifza had a thick wool sack slid over her head. She allowed Waleed’s men to march her away to God-knows-where, manhandling her like the prisoner she was. Ifza could have easily tried to fight back, thrashing against her bonds like a feral beast. She didn’t, though. As Waleed had shown her, he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. That intrigued Ifza, but it also concerned her.
What else do you have planned for me? she silently asked.
Based on the echoing sound of footfalls, Ifza could tell she was led inside a large room. She guessed it was the central building of Waleed’s operation. She’d never been inside, so she had no idea where she was being taken. They stopped and waited. A clunk preceded the sting of protesting metal as a door, in need of oil, swung open. Ifza was, again, dragged along, finding steps beneath her feet. Her captors slowed and allowed her to keep her feet underneath her.
Ifza had not expected to be treated with such care. If it were her and her people, they would have simply pushed Ifza along, and if she fell, that would have been that. Ifza would be picked up off the ground, or forced to stand on her own, regardless of any injury sustained from the fall, and forcibly shoved forward to meet some terrible fate.
This didn’t remind Ifza of that.
Several voices spoke up as she was guided along. The cloak and their hushed tones made it impossible to discern what was said, but Ifza figured they were talking about her. A door opened somewhere in front of her. The men on either arm led her in, spun her around, and sat her down on a chair. Through the sack, Ifza could just make out a lone light overhead. The rest of the space was as dark as night, from what she could tell. Her ankles were then shackled to the legs of the chair.
The door shut. She sat in total silence for sixty seconds.
Why leave me alone?
She suddenly realized. It’s because she wasn’t alone…
“I know you are there,” she said, listening carefully.
Soft footsteps picked up somewhere in front of Ifza. They stopped just in front of her. If her legs hadn’t been restrained, she would have been able to lash out with her feet.
The wool sack was torn from Ifza’s head, taking some of her hair along with it. She tried to look up at the man standing over her but was met with a blinding light instead. Ifza had looked directly into the single bulb dangling overhead.
She blinked away the spots in her vision.
“It’s been a long time, Ifza.”
Chapter 76
Baahir
Baahir couldn’t believe what he was seeing. They had only just finished clearing off what he now knew to be a seal around a doorway.
As of now, he had displayed nothing more than indifference. He was hoping Khaliq hadn’t discovered it yet. But Baahir could only play dumb for so long.