“What was that all about?” Zahra asked, thumbing over at her pilot.
“N — nothing,” Ali said, shaking his head. “She’s an intense one, isn’t she?”
Zahra grinned. “You did something to piss her off, didn’t you?” She snickered. “Whatever it was, you should consider yourself lucky. Cork has a really big foot.”
Ali swallowed. “Yes, so she tells me.”
High above the Suez Canal, a lone helicopter hovered in place. Its occupants watched as a full-fledged war broke out. One of the gantry cranes toppled to the ground, crushing everything in its path. Muzzle flashes ignited everywhere like tiny fireflies. The only way Ifza could tell the sides apart was what direction the scurrying ants were traveling. Those moving toward the central building were her men.
From the initial onslaught, Ifza could tell her people were struggling to push forward. Like Zahra Kane, the Scales of Anubis had greatly underestimated Waleed Badawi — namely, the size and skill of his force.
Khaliq’s words, once more, bounced around inside Ifza’s skull.
If she did, in fact, fail Khaliq again, would her brother — her own flesh and blood — follow through with his implied threat and kill her?
She wasn’t planning on finding out.
A column of ants poured out from a side exit and rushed away from the conflict. Ifza knew it was her prey. She frantically looked for her people, hoping — willing — them to see what she saw. A handful did, but they were swiftly gunned down where they stood. Her team’s muzzle flashes died down as the seconds ticked by.
“Take me down.”
The pilot protested. “But ma’am, I—”
She drew her pistol and pushed it into the insolent man’s temple. She spoke, gritting her teeth hard. “I said, ‘take me down.’”
The pilot nodded and immediately began their descent into the still brewing, though quieting, conflict. If Ifza could get down there and, at the very least, interrupt Zahra’s escape, it might just be enough to watch the woman bleed.
And Ifza Ayad would be the one to make her bleed.
Bullets pinged off the underbelly of the helicopter but did little else besides make an annoying noise. As they neared the ground, Ifza unbuckled. The men sitting across from her did the same.
“Man the door,” she ordered.
They responded in silence, nodding curtly. Both men shouldered their matching rifles, gripping them tightly.
Ifza picked up her own rifle and checked it over. Her weapon was different than the others. Hers had a grenade launcher attachment mounted directly beneath the barrel.
And she meant
With ten feet to touch down, Ifza gripped the door handle and pulled. The locking mechanism released, and she slid it open. The helicopter’s interior was met with a cool breeze laced heavily with smoke. Ifza squinted against the noxious haze. It stung her nose and throat, and it made her eyes water. She took aim and applied slight pressure to her rifle’s secondary trigger. But Ifza wasn’t given a chance to enact phase one of her personal assault plan.
A projectile exploded from somewhere within the open doors of the central structure. It was followed by a trail of smoke and was headed straight for Ifza and the helicopter.
“RPG!” the pilot shouted, attempting to climb.
Ifza made the decision to jump, and she did. She fell ten feet and hit the ground, rolling forward as soon as she landed. She made it four strides before the helicopter, as well as the three men aboard it, were obliterated. The Rocket Propelled Grenade had done its job perfectly, exploding dead center inside the rear cargo hold. The impact and detonation tore the aircraft apart bit by bit. Somehow, the rotors functioned long enough to pull the helicopter back toward the water. It only made it halfway before its skids clipped the top of a steel container, sending it rolling onto the ground on the other side in a screech of metal.
Ifza’s left ankle was on fire from the fall. She turned back toward the RPG’s origin and watched as a group of seven armed men poured outside and quickly surrounded her. Her rifle was gone. It laid on the ground where she had landed. All she was armed with was her sidearm and a knife.
She raised her hands in surrender and sneered when a bald, bearded man approached her. It had been years since Ifza had seen him, but she instantly recognized him as Waleed Badawi. He had been a thorn in the Scales of Anubis’ side for years.
Ifza closed her eyes, ready to die.
But she didn’t.
After ten excruciating long seconds, she reopened them, and found Waleed staring at her with the slightest of smiles on his face.
“Bring her!” he shouted.
