Martin H. Greenberg by Lord of the Fantastic Stories in Honor of Roger Zelazny

Author:Lord of the Fantastic, Stories in Honor of Roger Zelazny
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-08-16T22:31:40+00:00

* * * *

They buried the dead man in a shallow grave, using a couple of shovels that they found in the outer chamber of the tomb, piling rocks on top. "Rest in peace," Bradley said. "You poor evil little son of a bitch." He wiped his forehead with his hand. The heat was incredible. "Let's get out of this sun,"

he said. "Back to the tomb."

Back in the outer chamber, he tossed his shovel into a comer and sat down on a crate. He took off his cap and hoisted the water bottle and poured the contents over his head. "Needed that," he said. "I'll go get a refill in a minute."

"Don't bother," Jesse told him. "There's a big plastic jug of water over here, nearly full." He was poking around in a clutter of odds and ends by the front wall. "You can save your flashlight, too." He picked up a big battery lantern and switched it on.

"Sons of bitches made themselves at home, didn't they?" Bradley clicked his flashlight off. "Ninekiiler, I'm about to commit a major breach of security. But the situa-tion's pretty unusual, and there's no way to keep you out of it, so you'd better know the score."

He leaned back against the wall, his head resting just beneath a painting of an archer taking aim from a horse-drawn chariot. "Does the name Nolan mean anything to you?''

"Isn't he the American . . . renegade, I guess you'd say, supposed to be working for the Libyans? Running some kind of commando operation?"

Jesse sat down on the floor next to the entrance. "I heard a few rumors, nothing solid. They say he's hiring pilots."

"Yes. Quite a few Americans are working for Gadhafi now," Bradley said, "fliers mostly, young soldier-of-for-tune types gone bad. But Nolan is an entirely different, higher-level breed of turncoat. It's not easy to impress people in this part of the world when it comes to terrorism, sabotage, and assassination, but Nolan is right up there with the best native talent. The Colonel values his services very highly."

A circuit closed in Jesse's head. "So that's what this business was all about. Archaeology hell, you were hunt-ing Nolan."

"A preliminary reconnaissance," Bradley said. "Word was he had something going on in this area. You wouldn't have been involved in any real action."

"Nice to know this was such a safe job," Jesse said dryly. "Why not just let the Egyptians do it?" Another realization hit him. "That's right, I remember what I heard. Nolan's a rogue CIA officer, isn't he? You guys want him out of the way without any international embarrassment.''

"That, of course, I couldn't tell you," Bradley said calmly. "Your need to know extends only to the immedi-ate situation."

He picked up one of the AK-47s from the open box. "Sooner or later, somebody is going to show up here. Too much to hope that it'll be Nolan himself, but at least it'll be somebody from his outfit. If the odds aren't too bad, and we make the right moves, we'll have a handle on Nolan and a ride out of here.

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