The seal depicted Anubis and his scales, though instead of the god holding them aloft, he was seated in an oversized, throne-like chair. In one hand were the scales. In the other was the fabled Anubian canopic jar.
Mom’s canopic jar…
The epiphany hit him hard, and it was too hard not to react.
“What is it?” Khaliq asked, eyeing him.
Baahir swallowed. “Do you think the temple really exists?” He hoped the question would distract the psychopath.
It worked.
“Yes, I do.” He tipped his chin at the seal. “What do you make of this?”
Baahir needed to give the man some information. If he delayed for too long, Khaliq would order Ajmal to blow a hole through the priceless remnant. It was bound to happen.
Not yet!
Baahir attempted to explain his hypothesis, trying to stay as vague as possible. “We obviously have Anubis sitting in what could only be a throne, right?” Khaliq nodded. “And he’s holding his scales, as well as our family’s prized canopic jar, the one you destroyed and used to infect an innocent man with a centuries-old virus.”
Khaliq turned his attention from the seal to Baahir. The Egyptologist cleared his throat.
“What else do you have, Dr. Hassan?” Khaliq asked. “A child could decipher that much.”
Baahir’s pulse quicken. “Yes… yes, I was just trying to—”
“To delay.”
Baahir shook his head. “Why would I do that?” Now it was Baahir’s turn to stare down someone. “It’s not like I have anyone rushing here to rescue me, right? I mean, you did say that my sister was dead, after all.”
For a moment, Khaliq’s stoic expression faltered, cracking enough for Baahir to realize that he didn’t know for sure if Zahra was really dead. His eyes returned to the circular seal, and he stepped out onto its face.
It was nearly ten feet across, and hieroglyphs accompanied the striking artwork. The ancient language had been engraved along the edge of the relic, telling of a danger that would meet anyone who ventured too far into the underworld.
Khaliq spoke up next. “Death awaits those who cross this threshold.” He gazed at Baahir. “Or did you forget that I could read hieroglyphs?”
“No, I didn’t forget.” He shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like telling you.”
Ajmal grabbed Baahir by the shirt and jammed a pistol into the underside of his chin. Baahir swallowed, his Adam’s apple bumping the weapon’s muzzle as it rose and fell.
Baahir was past being intimidated. “If you’re going to kill me — just do it already!” He glanced over to Khaliq while still being held. “Your threats mean very little to me.”
But Khaliq didn’t order his execution, which made Baahir smile. “Oh, I see.” He chuckled, gagging a little when Ajmal pushed the pistol’s muzzle deeper. “You’re afraid.”
Khaliq violently ripped Baahir away from Ajmal and threw him into the center of the seal. Baahir hit the seal and rolled a few feet, feeling yet another wound open. This one was a small cut on his ear. It bled slightly and stung but was superficial at best.
“Watch your—”
“Tongue?” Baahir finished. He groaned and dusted himself off as he stood. “How about we blast this thing to pieces, and see if you don’t bring the entire mountain down on your precious temple?” He held out his arms. “Until then, I’m going to go sit down.”
Baahir was over it. He turned and walked away from his captors, hoping he didn’t get shot in the back for his outburst. He doubted Khaliq had ever experienced having anyone speak to him like that before. Khaliq deserved so much more too. But for now, Baahir straightened his posture and marched forward, going as far as pushing through two other men. He decided that he was far enough and sat facing the east, spotting the town he had seen earlier.
Less than a mile away.
“Blow it,” Khaliq said, heading off in the opposite direction.
The two men that Baahir had just pushed his way through joined Ajmal. The trio dug into their respective bags and began setting charges, forgetting about their captor. Baahir looked around and realized that there were no eyes on him.
So, he did the only reasonable thing, and attempted his escape.
Chapter 77
Ifza
“Waleed Badawi, in the flesh,” Ifza said, her voice tinged with malice. “I can’t say I’ve lost sleep over it.”
“Nor have I.” Waleed’s eyes her dark and brooding, but tired.
The two stared one another down, refusing to allow the other to win the battle of wits.
Waleed broke first, but he did so with a sly smile. “Still the fighter, I see. You are very much like your mother, you know?”
“Please,” Ifza scoffed. “You didn’t drag me down here to talk about my family, did you? Because, if you had—”
“You’d already be dead,” Waleed interrupted.
“You said you weren’t a cold-blooded killer.”
Waleed nodded and began to pace back and forth. “I’m not, but you’ve murdered quite a few of my people over the years, some of which have family on my staff. They would love to speak with you after I’m done here.”
“So, you threaten me, and for what? What do you need from me?”
Waleed slowed and turned away from her. “I need you to understand. I need you to look inside of yourself and see that what you and your brother are doing is wrong.” He turned, looking Ifza right in the eyes. “It’s evil.”
“Because we will succeed.”
“Says the woman shackled to a chair.”
“My brother will come for me.”
Waleed’s right eyebrow raised. “Will he?” Ifza didn’t reply. “I know him well, remember. He isn’t the type of man to look back. I’m afraid he has already forgotten you, Ifza. His goal has always been the plague, and you were just a means to that end.”
“Shut up!” Ifza shouted. Her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t felt an emotion other than rage in a long time.
“You know I am right. I can see it in your eyes. It’s etched on your face.”
She seethed, gritting her teeth. “And what does my face say now?”
Waleed’s hard gaze softened. “Regret, sadness,” he stepped forward. “A life wasted attempting to destroy humanity, and all for what, your demented brother’s quest for chaos and ruin.” Ifza pulled at her bonds. “And what happens if you succeed? What happens, Ifza, when you and Khaliq kill off more than half of the world’s population? Will he be satisfied? Or will he have you hunt down every last person — men, women, children — and make them beg for their lives before he has you slit their throats.”
“We…we do what we must.”
Ifza’s voice faltered. This was the first time in years that she had felt unsure of her and her brother’s motives. The care with which she was being shown confused her greatly. These weren’t murderous monsters — Waleed seemed to be quite the opposite.
No! She knew it was a game, a trap.
Ifza sneered and bore daggers into Waleed’s eyes. The older man didn’t waver. His face was still soft and caring. He really did feel sorry for Ifza — for her life — her upbringing.
Waleed turned and slowly walked over to the left-hand wall of the bare room, though, Ifza now saw that it wasn’t as empty as she had originally thought. A small square table sat pushed up against the wall, and resting atop it were a corded phone attached to a landline, and a tiny rectangular box. It was hard to make out, but Ifza deduced that the object was some kind of speaker.
Waleed picked up the receiver.
“Who are you calling?” Ifza asked.