Seven Ancient Wonders - Matthew Reilly [125]
In the Land Cruiser with them was the boy, Alexander, and safely in a large steel trunk, one Piece of the Golden Capstone: the Artemis Piece, recently removed from the main altar of St Peter’s Basilica.
On the runway, two desert-camouflaged Humvees sped out from the cargo hold of the first Hercules and skidded to twin halts beside the Lear jet—the jet that held the Pieces.
A line of troopers emerged from the Lear, guarding a smaller group of men who carried among them five Samsonite cases of varying sizes. These men started loading the Samsonite cases onto the rear tray of a third Humvee—a black one—that had just arrived.
The Pieces.
The Europeans sprang their trap—in a kind of surreal unearthly silence.
They leapt from the shadows—French and German commandos—black-clad ghosts wearing night-vision goggles and running with sub-machine guns pressed to their shoulders, the muzzles of those guns spitting forth silenced tongues of deadly fire.
The American troops at the Lear never stood a chance.
They fell in a hail of blood and bullets, dropping to the tarmac. Likewise all the drivers of the Humvees: they were ripped to shreds by the charging French and German commandos.
It was over in minutes.
As various ‘Clear!’ signals were given, del Piero drove out onto the runway.
He joined the European troops gathered around the black Humvee parked beside the Lear.
With a smile of supreme satisfaction, he strode over to the Humvee’s rear tray, opened it, and unclasped the lock on the nearest Samsonite case—
—to discover that it was filled with worthless bricks and a single Post-it note:
Careful, Father del Piero.
Don’t let any blood get on you.
Judah.
Del Piero’s eyes went wide.
He whirled around—
—just as an absolutely devastating burst of co-ordinated sniper fire whistled all around him—sizzling and popping past his ears— and in a single terrifying instant, every one of the ten troopers standing around him was hit by separate sniper rounds, their heads all exploding in simultaneous bursts of red, their bodies crumpling like rag dolls.
Only del Piero was unhit. Only he remained standing. The burst of fire had been so well-aimed, so well-co-ordinated that this was clearly deliberate.
Blood, bone and brain matter had sprayed everywhere, splattering all over del Piero’s face.
At which moment, the 1,000-strong American force that had been lying in wait in the mudbrick houses and sewers of Luxor behind the European ambush force moved in.
They were merciless, ruthless—as ruthless as the Europeans had been to the Americans. Even those European troops who surrendered were executed where they stood.
None were left alive—except for del Piero and the four other people who were inside his Land Cruiser:
Wizard, Zoe, Fuzzy and the boy, Alexander.
It was at this time that the real American air convoy arrived at Luxor.
The first one had been a decoy, its men expendable: live bait to draw out the waiting European force.
Now with the airport secured, Judah arrived in a second Lear jet, flanked by a couple of F-15s and tailed by no less than six massive Hercules cargo planes.
The air convoy landed, one plane after the other, their landing lights blazing through the clear night air.
Judah’s Lear swung to a halt beside the first ‘decoy’ Lear. . .
. . . where del Piero still stood like a thief caught with his hands in the till, covered now by American CIEF troops and surrounded by the bloodied corpses of his own men.
Judah just strolled casually out of his private jet, appraised del Piero coldly, before nodding at the blood on the priest’s face.
‘Father del Piero. My old teacher. It’s good to see you again. You didn’t heed my warning. I told you to be careful about the flying blood.’
Del Piero said nothing.
Just then, a figure appeared behind Judah: an old, old man, gnarled and hunched. He had a bare blotch-speckled scalp and wore a leather coat and thick Coke-bottle glasses that obscured his evil little eyes.
Judah said,