The Anubis Plague полностью

Khaliq didn’t answer. He simply tipped his head to a hallway that was guarded by a pair of thickly built men. None of the other people had ventured that way. Even a simpleton could tell that it was off limits.

“Come with me.”

Baahir was led through the bearish duo. Neither one of them gave Khaliq or Baahir the time of day. Their solitary focus was on the other people lounging about, not the boss and his personal guest.

The twelve-foot-wide hallway held all sorts of artwork, from paintings to marble busts to historical artifacts. Baahir couldn’t tell if the pieces were originals, or not. He suspected they were authentic, considering who their owner was.

A strip of thick glass was set into the middle of the flooring. Khaliq passed directly over it without fear of it breaking. It overlooked the center of the Pharoah’s Lounge’s main room. From here, Khaliq would be able to keep a watch on his flock. The two men passed a handful of doors on the way to the end of the hall. Baahir figured that the doors led to lavish suites. Why wouldn’t they? Khaliq led him to the end of the corridor, to a single, heavy looking wooden door.

“Dr. Hassan?”

Baahir turned and brought his attention up from the glass floor and spied Khaliq standing in front of the single door. Whatever was behind it would be the culmination of the exquisite ingress.

Guards and all, Baahir thought, glancing back at the pair of coated men.

When Baahir caught up with Khaliq, the extremist pressed his thumb against a small black square set into the door where a handle might have been. A weighty clunk announced the disengagement of a locking mechanism. Baahir wasn’t sure what to expect next. Based on the collection behind him, and the Book of Dead now being in Khaliq’s possession, Baahir guessed there’d be some sort of research laboratory or an impressively stocked library on the other side.

The door opened.

“Oh.” Baahir was saddened to see nothing more than another suite, though it did hold additional treasures.

Khaliq laughed. “Don’t sound so disappointed, Dr. Hassan. Come.”

The Scales of Anubis leader continued across the luxurious space, one Baahir guessed belonged to Khaliq Ayad himself. He spotted a second door and saw that it, too, owned a similar thumb pad. The precautions being taken screamed more than just being her to keep Khaliq safe.

He’s hiding something.

This time, Khaliq reached out and gently pressed his entire hand against the pad. The result was instantaneous. And, instead of the door swinging open on a silent hinge, it slid sideways to reveal a quaint elevator.

“Going down?” Baahir asked eyebrow raised.

Khaliq didn’t reply. He stepped inside the lift and turned back toward the Egyptologist. Baahir entered with extreme caution, passing over the narrow threshold one step at a time. He turned in time to witness the door close. Then, the cramped, metal coffin-like box descended for what Baahir guessed was five or six stories. Khaliq must have registered the confusion Baahir was feeling, so he spoke.

“Shortly after acquiring this place,” Khaliq explained, “we discovered a system of naturally formed caverns directly beneath it, though there had been rumors of their existence. For our cause to come to be, I knew we would need something more than just some hole-in-the-wall base of operations. That’s where my father, and his father before him, had failed. And with the help of a few loyal, very wealthy benefactors, we built this…”

The elevator stopped, and the door slid open.

Baahir gazed at the scene beyond. “Woah.”

At the bottom of an ancient staircase was a workshop bustling with activity. Baahir descended a single stone step and stopped. It took everything within him to avert his eyes away from the basement laboratory. However, the stairs were a wonder in themselves.

“What… how?” he asked, unable to form a coherent question.

Khaliq shrugged. “We do not know. As we dug and cleared rubble, we discovered more. No one knows what this place was originally designed for, but I thought it was as fitting of a location as any for my research center.”

Other than a few souvenirs from her past exploits, Zahra Kane’s house was sterile and simple. It wasn’t at all like her father’s place, like the home she had grown up in. Here, her concrete floors were covered with gray, snap-in faux wood, and the walls were white with black trim.

It was modern, spotless, and boring.

Zahra’s reasoning for the lack of personality in her house was simple: she was never home.

Usually, Dina had a retort whenever she stepped into the model home-quality space.

But today, Dina didn’t say anything. They entered as one, Dina helping her friend along. Zahra didn’t really need the help, but she was too tired to voice her annoyance. She knew Dina was just being nice. If their roles had been reversed, Zahra would have done the same thing for her.

She led Zahra to the square kitchen table.