The Alexandria Link

“What are they doing?” Pam asked as he came close.

He had to admit, she looked good in fatigues. “They have a parachute operation to perform.”

“With this cargo? They dropping it out somewhere?”

The plane’s airspeed slowed to 120 knots, if he remembered correctly, and the nose tipped upward.

He slid a Kevlar helmet onto Pam’s head and quickly snapped the neck strap.

“What are you doing?” Confusion flooded her voice.

He adjusted a pair of goggles over her eyes and said, “The rear ramp is down. We all have to do this. Safety precaution.”

He checked her harnesses and made sure all four straps were buckled into the quick-release clamp. He’d already made sure his were fine. He hooked both him and Pam to the static line.

He saw that McCollum was already co

“How can we land with that ramp open,” she yelled.

He faced her. “We’re not.”

He saw the instant of comprehension. “You can’t be serious. You don’t expect me to-”

“It’ll open automatically. Just hang on and enjoy the ride. This chute is a slow one. Designed for first-timers. When you hit the ground it’ll be like a three- or four-foot fall.”

“Cotton, you’re frickin‘ insane. My shoulder still hurts. There’s no way-”

The loadmaster signaled that they’d arrived near the GPS coordinates he’d provided. No time to argue. He simply lifted her from behind and shoved her forward.

She tried to wrestle free. “Cotton, please. I can’t. Please.”

He tossed her off the ramp.

Her scream faded fast.

He knew what she was experiencing. The first fifteen feet were pure free fall, like being weightless, as the static line played itself out. Her heart would feel like it was pounding at the back of her throat. Actually, quite a rush. Then she’d feel a tug as the static line released the parachute from the pack, and he watched as Pam’s streamed out into the morning sky.

Her body jerked as the chute grabbed air.

Less than five seconds and she was floating to the ground.

“She’s going to be pissed,” McCollum said in his ear.

He kept his eyes on her descent.

“Yeah. But I always wanted to do that.”

SIXTY-SEVEN

SABRE HELD ON TO THE RISERS AND ENJOYED THE DRIFT toward the ground. The morning air and the newfangled parachute were making for a slow descent. Malone had told him about the canopies, far different from the ones he recalled from back when you fell like a stone and hoped you didn’t break a leg.

He and Malone had followed Pam out of the transport, which had quickly disappeared into the eastern sky. Whether they made it to ground safely was not the crew’s concern. Their job was done.

He stared down at the unsparing environment.

A vast, flat plain of sand and stone stretched in all directions. He’d heard Alfred Herma

He was maybe a thousand feet from the ground. Pam Malone floated below him, Malone above. The quiet rang in his ears-a stark contrast with the plane’s unabated noise. He remembered the silence from other times he’d jumped. Engine roar fading to a deep nothing. Only the wind could disturb the tranquility, but none stirred today.

A quarter mile east the barren landscape gave way to bleak granite mounds, each with no character, just a heedless jumble of peaks and crags. Was the Library of Alexandria out there? Certainly all signs pointed to that being the case.

He continued to float downward.

Near the base of one of the jagged mounds, maybe a quarter mile away, he spotted the squat of a building. He adjusted the steering lines, angling his trajectory closer to where Pam Malone was about to land. A clear stretch of desert floor. No boulders. Good.

He glanced up and saw Malone follow his lead.

That one might prove more difficult to kill than he’d first thought. But at least he was armed. He’d kept the gun from the monastery, as had Malone, along with spare magazines. When he’d awoken in the church, after being knocked unconscious, his gun was still there. Which he’d found curious.

What had been the point of that attack?

Who cared?

At least he was ready.

MALONE YANKED THE LINES AND DIRECTED HIS DESCENT. THE jumpmaster at the air base in Lisbon had told him that the new chutes were different, and he was right. Slow, smooth ride. They hadn’t been wild about Pam-a novice who wasn’t even going to know she was jumping until it was too late-but since the command to cooperate had come straight from the Pentagon, no one argued.

“Damn you, Cotton,” he heard Pam scream. “Damn you to hell.”

He glanced below.

She was five hundred feet from the ground.

“Just let your legs buckle when you hit,” he called out. “You’re doing fine. The chute will do the work.”

“Screw you,” she yelled back.

“We used to do that. Didn’t work out. Get ready.”

He watched as she hit and skidded into the earth, the chute collapsing behind her. He saw McCollum release his rigger sack, which unraveled before him, then find the ground, staying on his feet.

Malone tightened his steering lines and slowed his descent to nearly a stall. He released his rigger sack and felt his boots scrape the sand.

He, too, finished standing up.

Been awhile since he’d last jumped, but he was glad to know that he could still do it. He released his harness and wiggled free of the straps.

McCollum was doing the same.

Pam still lay on the ground. He walked over, knowing what was coming.

She sprang to her feet. “You sorry son of a bitch. You threw me out of that damn plane.” She was trying to lunge for him but she hadn’t released her harness, the billowing chute acting like an anchor, restricting her movements.

He stayed just out of reach.

“Are you out of your mind?” she yelled. “You never said a frickin‘ word about jumping out of a plane.”

“How did you think we were going to get here?” he calmly asked.

“Ever heard of landing?”

“This is Egyptian territory. Bad enough we had to jump in daylight. But even I thought a night jump cruel.”

Rage filled her blue eyes, an intensity he’d actually never seen before.

“We had to get here so the Israelis didn’t know. Landing would have been impossible. I’m hoping they’re still following that watch of yours, which leads nowhere.”

“You’re a moron, Cotton. An absolute frickin‘ moron. You threw me out of that plane.”

“I did, didn’t I.”

She started to fumble with her harness, trying to release her body from the chute’s hold.

“Pam, are you going to calm down?”

She continued to search for the release clamp, then stopped.

“We had to get here,” he said. “That transport was perfect. We just jumped out along the way; nobody’s the wiser. This is pretty barren territory, less than three people per square mile. It’s doubtful we were seen. Like I said before. You always wanted to know what I did. Okay. Here it is.”

“You should have left me in Portugal.”

“Not a good idea. The Israelis might consider you a loose end. You’re better off disappearing with us.”

“No. You don’t trust me. So I’m better off here where you can watch me.”

“That thought did occur to me, too.”

She was silent for a moment, as if comprehension was dawning. “All right, Cotton,” she said in a surprisingly calm tone. “You’ve made your point. We’re here. In one piece. Now could you get me out of this thing?”