The guard was over the gate. Diamondback landed beside him. More men ran along the walkway above the temple. Macy moved faster, knocking people aside in her desperation to reach the exit. There were two white-uniformed members of the Tourist Police at the gate, but they hadn’t yet been alerted to the chase. Come on, move …
Diamondback and the guard were running. The guard shouted to the policemen, who looked around. Some of the tourists did too, stopping to see the cause of the commotion.
A gap opened up. Macy took it, rushing through the gate before either cop could react. By the time one started after her, she was already halfway to the dark alley between the nearest buildings. She raced into the shadows. A junction; she went right, deeper into the maze. Clattering footsteps echoed behind her. Left, right again. Don’t be a dead end, don’t—
A low, narrow gap in one wall just before an intersection. On some wild instinct she squeezed through it. She found herself in a small yard behind a house, faint light coming from a window above. The only other exit was a door into the house itself.
She pressed against the wall, eyes wide in fear as the footsteps drew closer—then passed, slowing at the intersection. More men ran up. Clip-clop. Diamondback. She held her breath. If one of them noticed the little gap …
They ran again, splitting up to follow each of the alleyways. The footsteps quickly faded into the night.
Macy slumped, panting.
She stayed in the yard for almost twenty minutes, waiting until she was absolutely certain nobody was nearby before creeping back through the hole. The alley was empty, silent. Getting her bearings, she headed deeper into the sprawl.
After ten nerve-racking minutes, she reached a small square. Muffled music came from a café on the far side, but all she cared about was the battered yellow box of a pay phone on a pole nearby. Warily watching the street, she fumbled for her remaining change, then made a call.
“Macy? Is that you?” Berkeley sounded even angrier than before.
“Yes,” she said, voice low. “They’re going to rob the Hall of Records! There’s another tunnel, they’re digging—”
He wasn’t listening. “Macy, come back here and turn yourself in to the police right now.”
“What—what do you mean, turn myself in? I haven’t—”
“Dr. Hamdi has agreed not to press charges for assault, but only if you give yourself up and return the piece you took immediately.”
“What piece?” Macy protested, confused. “I didn’t take anything!”
“Macy, Dr. Hamdi and Mr. Gamal both saw you chip a piece off the Sphinx! Do you have any idea how serious that is? People have been sentenced to ten years in jail for less! Running away has just made it worse, but if you come back now, I’ll do what I can to placate the authorities—”
“Look, listen to me!” she cried. “Hamdi’s part of it, and so’s Gamal! Go and look for yourself, there’s—”
“Macy!” barked Berkeley. “Get back to the dig, now, and give yourself up. If you don’t, there’s nothing I can do to help you. Just—”
Macy slammed down the receiver, fear and panic back in full force. What the hell was she going to do? Shaban had sent people to stake out the hotel. She couldn’t even collect her belongings. All she had were the clothes she was wearing and whatever she had in her pockets.
Which wasn’t much. Her camera, a small wad of Egyptian pounds, about a hundred U.S. dollars. At least she still had her passport and credit cards; there was no way she would have left them unattended in her hotel room.
She weighed up her options. Whether she turned herself in or the police caught her, Hamdi and no doubt a parade of others would be ready to testify against her. And if Shaban’s people caught her …
The mere thought set her heart thudding again. They wanted her dead. And even if she got out of Egypt, they would be waiting for her to go home, watching her parents. She couldn’t risk getting them involved.
Then there was Shaban’s plan itself. If he got out with whatever he planned to steal before the IHA team opened the Hall of Records, nobody would even know they had done it, since Berkeley would be seen by millions as the first person to enter the chamber in thousands of years. She had to warn someone. But if Berkeley wouldn’t listen, she had to find someone else—someone more likely to believe her, and convince others to take action.
Macy stepped away from the phone, unconsciously adjusting her ponytail … and that triggered a thought.
She reached back into her pocket. There was something else with her passport: folded pages from a magazine. When she opened them, the face of an attractive woman, red hair in a ponytail much like Macy’s, smiled up at her.
Dr. Nina Wilde. The discoverer of Atlantis, and more. Macy’s inspiration, the woman who had given her the determination to get here in the first place.
And a woman whose claims had been utterly disbelieved … before being proved spectacularly right.
She regarded the picture. It was a long shot. Dr. Wilde was no longer with the IHA after some controversy the previous year. Macy had been disappointed at not getting the chance to meet her. But surely she still had enough influence to help … if she could reach her. As far as she knew, Dr. Wilde was in New York. And Macy was still less than a quarter of a mile from the Sphinx.
The Covenant of Genesis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Bantam Books Mass Market Edition
Copyright © 2009 by Andy McDermott
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in Great Britain by Headline Publishing Group, London, in 2009, and is published by arrangement with Headline Publishing Group.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90683-7
www.bantamdell.com
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Andy McDermott, The Covenant of Genesis_A Novel
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