Read Online The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) by J. Robert Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. Robert Kennedy
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on an equally dark canvas
that was his soul.
My
own brother!
He
couldn’t believe it. As soon as he had realized who it was, he had sent Shakir
and Kontar off, hoping his shopkeeper Kontar hadn’t spotted her, and if he had,
hadn’t recognized her. But there was no doubting who she was. He had seen her
face a thousand times, had seen it laugh, had seen it smile, had seen it admire
the jewelry worn by others richer than him, had seen the envy in those green
eyes.
Footsteps
behind him echoed across the marble and stone, but he didn’t look. He
recognized the step. It was his brother Jabari, whom he had sent for
immediately upon arriving home.
“Brother,
what is it? Your messenger said it was urgent!”
Jabari
walked down several of the steps, then turned to face his eldest brother. Tarik
didn’t say anything, instead pointing at a nearby table where the necklace sat.
Jabari stepped over to look.
“Why,
isn’t this the necklace you crafted for our Pharaoh?” asked Jabari, his voice
barely a whisper, as his hand reached out, tracing the jewels without touching,
the object revered the moment it had graced the skin of their beloved
Cleopatra.
“Yes, it
is.”
“But
where, how, I mean—” Jabari stopped, unable to find the words, then sat down in
a nearby chair, grabbing his hair. “Why do you have it? How? We’ve been
guarding the burial site. It should be impossible!”
“Yes, it
should be, unless…”
Tarik
let the statement drift, waiting for Jabari to come to his own conclusions.
“Unless
what?” demanded Jabari. “Unless…” And he too let his voice drift as his jaw
dropped. “Unless one of our own has betrayed us!” he hissed, looking about. “Do
you know who?”
Tarik
nodded. “The answer lies in who had the necklace.”
Jabari
rose then took a knee at Tarik’s feet, looking up at him as they both kept
their voices low lest the servants be listening.
“One of
my shopkeepers, Kontar, was approached by a petty thief, a pickpocket, with the
necklace yesterday. He brought it to me as he recognized it, then we
apprehended the thief, a wretched old creature named Shakir—very skilled, very
old. He pointed out the woman from whom he had stolen it.”
“Did you
have her arrested?”
Tarik
shook his head.
“No.”
“Why
not?”
“It was
Dalila, Fadil’s wife.”
Tarik
felt his stomach flip as he said the words, the very idea of it still not
having sunk in, and he could see the horror on his younger brother’s face as he
too processed what he had just heard. It was simply too fantastic to believe,
that their own family, their own brother, could be involved.
“Are we
sure it’s him?”
Tarik
looked at his brother. “Of course, what other explanation could there be? She’s
his wife, how else would she have obtained it?”
Jabari
covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking for several moments,
then he sucked in a deep breath and looked up at his brother, tears streaking
down his cheeks.
“You
realize what this means?”
Tarik
knew exactly what it meant, which was why he had been sick since the moment he
had seen her face in the market. Desecration of a god’s tomb was sacrilege. It
was an unforgivable sin.
And
there was only one punishment for it.
Death.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site
Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack
Lt. Colonel Cameron Leather expertly guided the jeep down the road
to what some might call the main motorway. He didn’t. It was a strip of
pavement that was at times barely visible due to drifting sand. But that didn’t
matter, he wasn’t going to the road. He cranked the wheel to the right, gunning
the engine as he crested a hill, sending the butterflies in his stomach into
action, that feeling of near weightlessness he loved so much as the upward
g-force equaled with that of Mother Nature herself, then the jolt as the jeep
came crashing back to the ground.
I
love this shit!
He
that was his soul.
My
own brother!
He
couldn’t believe it. As soon as he had realized who it was, he had sent Shakir
and Kontar off, hoping his shopkeeper Kontar hadn’t spotted her, and if he had,
hadn’t recognized her. But there was no doubting who she was. He had seen her
face a thousand times, had seen it laugh, had seen it smile, had seen it admire
the jewelry worn by others richer than him, had seen the envy in those green
eyes.
Footsteps
behind him echoed across the marble and stone, but he didn’t look. He
recognized the step. It was his brother Jabari, whom he had sent for
immediately upon arriving home.
“Brother,
what is it? Your messenger said it was urgent!”
Jabari
walked down several of the steps, then turned to face his eldest brother. Tarik
didn’t say anything, instead pointing at a nearby table where the necklace sat.
Jabari stepped over to look.
“Why,
isn’t this the necklace you crafted for our Pharaoh?” asked Jabari, his voice
barely a whisper, as his hand reached out, tracing the jewels without touching,
the object revered the moment it had graced the skin of their beloved
Cleopatra.
“Yes, it
is.”
“But
where, how, I mean—” Jabari stopped, unable to find the words, then sat down in
a nearby chair, grabbing his hair. “Why do you have it? How? We’ve been
guarding the burial site. It should be impossible!”
“Yes, it
should be, unless…”
Tarik
let the statement drift, waiting for Jabari to come to his own conclusions.
“Unless
what?” demanded Jabari. “Unless…” And he too let his voice drift as his jaw
dropped. “Unless one of our own has betrayed us!” he hissed, looking about. “Do
you know who?”
Tarik
nodded. “The answer lies in who had the necklace.”
Jabari
rose then took a knee at Tarik’s feet, looking up at him as they both kept
their voices low lest the servants be listening.
“One of
my shopkeepers, Kontar, was approached by a petty thief, a pickpocket, with the
necklace yesterday. He brought it to me as he recognized it, then we
apprehended the thief, a wretched old creature named Shakir—very skilled, very
old. He pointed out the woman from whom he had stolen it.”
“Did you
have her arrested?”
Tarik
shook his head.
“No.”
“Why
not?”
“It was
Dalila, Fadil’s wife.”
Tarik
felt his stomach flip as he said the words, the very idea of it still not
having sunk in, and he could see the horror on his younger brother’s face as he
too processed what he had just heard. It was simply too fantastic to believe,
that their own family, their own brother, could be involved.
“Are we
sure it’s him?”
Tarik
looked at his brother. “Of course, what other explanation could there be? She’s
his wife, how else would she have obtained it?”
Jabari
covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking for several moments,
then he sucked in a deep breath and looked up at his brother, tears streaking
down his cheeks.
“You
realize what this means?”
Tarik
knew exactly what it meant, which was why he had been sick since the moment he
had seen her face in the market. Desecration of a god’s tomb was sacrilege. It
was an unforgivable sin.
And
there was only one punishment for it.
Death.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site
Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack
Lt. Colonel Cameron Leather expertly guided the jeep down the road
to what some might call the main motorway. He didn’t. It was a strip of
pavement that was at times barely visible due to drifting sand. But that didn’t
matter, he wasn’t going to the road. He cranked the wheel to the right, gunning
the engine as he crested a hill, sending the butterflies in his stomach into
action, that feeling of near weightlessness he loved so much as the upward
g-force equaled with that of Mother Nature herself, then the jolt as the jeep
came crashing back to the ground.
I
love this shit!
He
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