The Pharaoh's Secret Read Online Free Page B

hand.
    To Bracko’s surprise, the gunfire was deadly. Ammon Ta had drilled two of the boarders with perfect head shots despite the pitching deck and the difficult angle. His third shot put out one of the spotlights being aimed their way.
    Following the shots, the Egyptian stepped back without haste or wasted motion as a furious hail of automatic fire answered.
    Bracko remained on the deck as incoming fire rattled around the wheelhouse. One bullet grazed his arm. Another shattered a bottle of Sambuca that Bracko kept for good luck. As the liquid spread out on the deck, Bracko considered the ill omen. Three coffee beans contained in the bottle were supposed to herald prosperity, health and happiness, but they were nowhere to be seen.
    Angry now, Bracko slipped his own pistol from a shoulder holster and prepared to fight. He glanced at the Egyptian, who remained on his feet. Based on the man’s demeanor and deadly accuracy, Bracko’s opinion of him quickly changed. He didn’t know who this Egyptian really was, but suddenly figured he was looking at the most lethal man on the ship.
    Good, he thought, at least he’s on our side.
    â€œExcellent shooting,” he called out. “Perhaps I’ve misjudged you.”
    â€œPerhaps I intended you to,” the Egyptian said.
    More gunfire boomed in the dark, this time from the aft section of the ship. In response, Bracko stood and fired out through the shattered window, shooting blindly.
    â€œYou’re wasting ammunition,” the Egyptian said.
    â€œI’m buying us time,” Bracko said.
    â€œTime is on their side,” the Egyptian said. “At least a dozen men have boarded your ship. Perhaps more. There is a third rubber boat nearing the stern.”
    A second exchange of gunfire well aft of their position confirmed what the Egyptian was saying.
    â€œThat’s no good,” Bracko replied. “The weapons locker is on the lower aft deck. If my men can’t get to it or make it back here, we’ll be badly outnumbered.”
    The Egyptian moved to the bulkhead door, opened it a crack and stared down the passageway. “It appears as if that’s already the case.”
    The sound of lumbering footsteps came down the passageway and Bracko readied himself for a fight, but the Egyptian opened the door to let a limping, bleeding crewman stumble through.
    â€œThey’ve taken the lower deck,” the crewman managed.
    â€œWhere are the rifles?”
    The crewman shook his head. “We couldn’t get to them.”
    The man held his stomach where the blood was spreading from a bullet wound. He slumped to the floor and lay there.
    The boarding party was coming forward, shooting anything that got in the way. Bracko left the wheel and tried to help his crewman.
    â€œLeave him,” the Egyptian said. “We need to move.”
    Bracko hated to do it, but he could see it was too late. Furious and wanting to draw blood, Bracko cocked the pistol and stepped to the hatchway. He was ready to go into battle, guns blazing andcome what may, but the Egyptian grabbed him and held him back.
    â€œLet go of me,” Bracko demanded.
    â€œSo you can die uselessly?”
    â€œThey’re murdering my crew. I won’t let that happen without answering.”
    â€œYour crew are meaningless,” Ammon Ta replied coldly. “We have to reach my cargo.”
    Bracko was stunned. “Do you really think you’re going to get out of here with your hash?”
    â€œThose barrels contain something far more potent,” the Egyptian replied. “Potent enough to save your ship from these fools if we can get to it in time. Now, take me to them.”
    As the Egyptian spoke, Bracko noticed an odd intensity in the man’s eyes. Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t lying. “Come on.”
    With the Egyptian behind him, Bracko climbed through the shattered bridge window and jumped to the nearest shipping