Page 44 of Tomb of the Sun King

“You will be feeling less flattered if they actually shoot you,” Ellie retorted tersely.

Julian put his fingertips to his temple, looking harried. “I suppose needs must,” he concluded tightly. He flapped a hand at the two Egyptians. “Get on with it, then.”

The scarred man and the bearded one exchanged a confused look.

“Remember what I said a minute ago?” Adam muttered back at Ellie without looking away from the cluster of men by the shaft.

“That bit about the yanking?” Ellie pressed back uncertainly.

“Go on!” Julian ordered impatiently, then huffed out a sigh. “Right. Dashed Arabic. Al-Saboor!” he shouted up the shaft.

“Yes, Amir!” an Egyptian-accented voice called down.

“Tell your cousins to shoot the people in the tomb!” Julian shouted up irritably.

A line of Masri echoed down from the opening to the tomb shaft. The bearded Egyptian pulled a pistol from the sash of his belt as his cousin leveled his rifle.

Adam leapt into the tunnel, landing halfway across Ellie’s lap.

A pair of gunshots thundered into the opening. Clods of loose earth rained down onto her face from the impact of the bullets.

Flipping nimbly onto his back, Adam set his boots to the half-rotted wooden supports to either side of the tunnel mouth.

“Time for that yank,” he informed her—and kicked.

As another gunshot cracked across the silence, the ancient beams exploded into dust—and the mouth of the tunnel collapsed.

??

Eleven

Ellie hauled onAdam as the tunnel caved in around them, dirt pelting down against her face. The dull thunder of another gunshot was nearly lost in the thick rush of falling earth—until the avalanche finally slowed.

She lay on her back with Adam sprawled halfway on top of her. Carefully, she drew in a breath. She was surprised to find that shecouldbreathe.

The splintering pillars of another two-thousand-year-old wooden brace stood to either side of her head. The frame had somehow halted the progress of the collapse—though it creaked ominously above her, sending a little shower of dust down onto her forehead.

Ellie sneezed. At the sound, Neil let out a strangled gurgle of terror from behind her.

In the light of Mr. Al-Ahmed’s lantern, Neil’s face was streaked with dirt, his spectacles sitting crooked on his nose. Beside him, Constance’s curls were coming loose from the precarious bundle of her bun, her white lawn dress marred with mud.

Mr. Al-Ahmed crouched behind them, gazing at the blocked tunnel with wide eyes.

“Wh-what was that?” Neil demanded in choked tones, blinking at the new wall of earth that blocked off the tunnel and buried Adam to his knees.

“Afraid we had to make this a one-way,” Adam replied, attempting to wriggle his foot. “What with the gunshots and all.”

Neil gaped at the wall of dirt. “No, no, no,” he stammered wildly. “You must have heard that wrong. Mr. Forster-Mowbray would never have shot at us.”

“Because he’s your boss?” Adam drawled back.

“Because he’s the official Cairo liaison of the British Athenaeum for Egyptological Studies, and a well-bred gentleman!”

“Well-bred gentlemen do awful things all the time!” Ellie retorted.

“I heard three gunshots, at least,” Constance offered cheerfully. “This is all dreadfully exciting!”

Neil gaped at her with horrified dismay. “Exciting?” he echoed, and then threw up his hands—at least as far as he could within the confines of the tunnel. “Well, why not? Why wouldn’t you think someone shooting at you is exciting? You thought starting a fire in the back garden was exciting, too!”

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