Here is the latest chapter in my story! I hope everything is good on it- I've been having issues with the format when I upload my chapters to this site. (For that reason I will also be uploading a new version of the chapter Saving Grace, with some minor corrections of paragraph divisions, etc.) Thanks to everyone who reads it!
Alexandria, Egypt Nathan stood at the end of the alley in the shadows gathering in the fading light of the evening, looking across the street at the building on the other side. It was a long building, taking up most of the block it sat on, and three stories tall. It's white stucco face was very plain, broken up only by a few windows and a single door toward the left side. Nate checked his phone again, reviewing the message from Turner. It may be plain, but it was definitely his building.
"Well, Nate" he said to himself, "you found the villain's top secret headquarters, what now?" He frowned. "I guess I could always try the doorbell." Nate began walking down the street. "There you go talking to yourself again, Nate. Always talking to yourself."
On the side of the building there was a fire escape ladder, and next to it, on the top floor, an open window. But the ladder was drawn up and was about twelve feet off the road. Nate kept walking down the front of the adjacent building. It was a low traffic end of town, but he had been surprised that the Watchers' headquarters was within city limits and not off in a remote area. Nate figured that either the local authorities didn't care to investigate Hassan's activities or Hassan had paid them all off.
Around the side of the next building he found an external fire escape stairway going to the top of the, also three-story, building. From there it would just take an easy jump to make it onto the roof. He ran quickly but lightly up the stairs, then stood on the metal rail of the balcony and jumped, grabbing the edge of the roof. Nate pulled himself up and crossed to the other side of the building.
Looking over the knee-high parapet around the edge of the roof, he noticed that the alley between this building and the Watchers' building seemed much wider from up here. He scoped out his landing point on the other side- a flat roof, much like this one, only slightly higher. "It's gonna be a stretch," he murmured to himself, "but I think I can do it." He backed up a few yards. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Nate ran toward the edge of the roof, straining every muscle to get the most power possible behind his take off. With his last step he stepped up onto the parapet, then threw himself over the edge.
Jumps like this never got easier. As he flew through the air he got that familiar, butterflies in the stomach, oh-my-god-am-I-gonna-make-it feeling. Stretching out his arms to their full reach, he caught the edge of the roof on the other side. Then his stomach gave a sickening lurch as his hands slipped on a layer of grit and sand. His left hand slipped completely off before his right hand caught the very edge just before he fell. For a moment he hung on the side of the building by his fingers with nothing but hard pavement and thirty feet of fresh air below him. Reaching out frantically with his other hand, Nate caught the edge and pulled himself to safety.
"Well, Nate, five minutes in and you've already almost fallen and broken your legs," he said to himself. "Great start. Keep it up." He climbed over the edge of the roof onto the ladder and descended to the level of the open window, then carefully leaned over and peeked into it. The room inside was empty, with an open door on the far wall. Nate crawled in through the window as quietly as he could manage, gingerly placing each foot on the cement floor.
Just as he made it entirely inside, someone walked past the door, and Nate's heart skipped a beat. But the person just kept walking past, not paying attention to anything in their peripheral. Nate slowly let out his breath, not even realizing that he had been holding it. He crept over and slipped one eye around the door.
The guard was just rounding the corner in the hallway. Nate dashed silently across the hall and flattened himself against the wall. A bead of sweat stung his eye as it dripped into it. Egypt was hot, and inside the building the air was still and stifling, making the temperature even more unbearable. He ventured another sly look around the corner and watched as the guard paced down the hallway, each step a soft, rhythmic pat on the floor. At the end of the hall he turned abruptly and Nate quickly ducked behind the wall again. Nate slipped his gun out of it's holster and held it close to his chest, listening and counting every footstep as the guard continued his beat back his direction. At just the right moment Nate jumped out and locked his arm around the man's throat, drawing a shocked, choked "Gah!" as he brought him to the floor. Nate kept him pinned until he felt him stop resisting, then drug his body down the hall and into the empty room that he had entered through.
"Don't worry," Nate said as he heaved the thug into the corner. "The girls get all choked up around me too." He stepped out into the hall, shutting the door softly behind him.
Walking down the hallway in the stark light of regularly hung bare lightbulbs, Nate couldn't help but wonder at the austerity of Hassan's interior decorating, or lack thereof. The floor was unfinished concrete, the once-white walls were streaked with dirt and grime and unadorned in any way, and the doors were all steel. Along the ceiling ran a black iron sprinkler line, which had a few leaks in it, adding an ever-present drip,drip,drip noise and a musty smell to the atmosphere. C'mon Hassan, get some houseplants, Nate thought. Maybe an Abba poster or something. Nate slipped through the door at the end of the hall and into another corridor similar to the one he just left. With his eyes peeled and his gun ready he moved stealthily forward.
As he neared a door that was ajar he could hear a familiar voice coming from inside, and he pressed himself flat against the wall and listened. Through the cracked-open door he could see Hassan standing with his back to him, looking into a mirror on the wall of what looked to be his office as he combed his hair. Behind him, towards Nate, was a large mahogany desk, at which sat Akil, also with his back to Nate. He was the source of the voice that Nate had heard, as he was addressing his superior in his low, steady rumble.
"...whose report is that the equipment is in good order and ready to be loaded. We will load it on the ship tonight," the big man said.
Hassan carefully positioned the comb on his scalp, then with a couple flicks of his hand he put a part down the middle of his jet black hair. "What about the dynamite?" he asked Akil.
"The dynamite has been stowed on board the Candace, sir."
"Excellent. Few will bother troubling a private sailing yacht, but if anyone should, you will have plenty of funds to sate their curiosity. Are the contacts for the ships ready?"
"There will be trucks waiting in Djibouti prepared to transport the supplies to the location specified," Akil droned in a voice devoid of emotion.
Hassan turned and gave Akil the most ingratiating smile Nate had ever seen, then said, "Fantastic. This is the moment we were born for, Akil. This map," he said, flashing the document taken from Jack Ward's bunker, "will lead us to our prophetic destiny. We have only to act with swiftness, like a lion catching its prey."
Akil fidgeted in his chair. "The men are worried about the American, sir."
Hassan raised an eyebrow. "Lee Turner is a conceited fool, and is of no consequence to us. His inflated opinion of himself will be his own undoing." Turning back to the mirror, Hassan tugged on his collar to flatten it out. "Even the F.B.I. is beginning to tire of him."
"Truly spoken sir," Akil said slowly, "but he is not the American I was thinking of."
Hassan looked at him thoughtfully before responding "Drake has made a valiant effort, but is at his core only a common thief. His good fortune will eventually come to an end. Like Turner, he has not the slightest inkling of the powers he is dealing with. Solomon's secrets can never be discovered by a couple of infidels with delusions of grandeur."
"He did outdo our men in both Sale and in Zanzibar," Akil pointed out.
"That was hardly a representation of our strength." Hassan interjected. "Besides, Akil, do not forget that this battle lies in the hands of the Almighty. He will strengthen us in our quest. Let us remember that those who accomplish much sacrifice much, and not be disheartened by any losses we may have sustained in our crusade."
"Yes sir," Akil said obediently.
Hassan's smile returned to him. "Good. I expect you to leave on the Candace at dawn. Take the good doctor Winters with you, and don't neglect to bring suitable- enforcement."
Akil stood and bowed his head slightly. "As you wish."
Hassan opened the drawer of the desk in front of him, placed Ward's map inside, then shut and locked the drawer. "Now, if all is well, I must go and arrange for my flight." Nate quickly slipped through the next door down the hallway as Hassan and Akil exited the office and shut the door behind them. He listened and waited while their footsteps faded, then he heard a door close in the distance and finally ventured out of his hiding place.
"I've got to get to Winters," he said to himself as he looked in the direction the two had just gone. Quickly he turned and tried the door on Hassan's office. It was, of course, locked. "Shit," he cursed. "I need that map out of there." Thinking quickly, he walked back into the room he had just hidden in and opened the window. Outside was a large, unpaved courtyard in which was an excavator, currently being operated by one of Hassan's thugs. The machine was turned away from Nate, digging a hole into the sandy soil, and two other men stood watching nearby, shovels in hand. A pipe ran horizontally down the side of the building directly beneath the window Nate was in, fastened to the masonry wall with metal brackets, and below that, on the level of the second floor, was a balcony that ran most of the length of the building. Nate gave a cautious glance toward the thugs below, mentally commanding them to not turn around, then climbed out the window. Grabbing the pipe, he softly lowered himself down and began to shimmy along the wall toward Hassan's office, all the while thinking how ridiculously easy he would be to shoot were one of those henchmen to turn and see him.
Soon he was directly beneath the other window, and, pulling himself up slightly and reaching up with one hand, he gently slid the window open just enough that he could reach inside and grab the sill. He then opened it far enough to allow himself to get through, and carefully pulled himself up and into the office. Upon seeing the entirety of the office, instead of simply a 2-inch swath through a partially open door, Nate immediately found himself reconsidering his earlier criticism of Hassan's homemaking, and instead questioning his equity in apportioning funds. Along one wall ran a full length dark walnut bookshelf, amply supplied with every sort of book. Several large portraits graced the walls, and a marble statue of a lion stood in the corner. The mahogany desk was topped with leather, and sat on a floor laid with large granite tiles.
"Heh," Nate scoffed, "so much for all your religious values Hassan. You're living in the Taj Mahal compared to the squalor your little compadres deal with." Nate walked around to the other side of the desk and tried the drawer, and found it locked. He picked up a couple of paperclips off the desk and bent them into an improvised lock pick, and within a minute had the drawer open. "Et voila!" he congratulated himself. "Nothing keeps Nate Drake out of drawers- or at least that's what she said." He picked up the map and carefully unfolded it, laughing softly at his own joke. "Well, Hassan, I'd say you won't miss this, but I think I'd be lying." He refolded it and placed it in his pocket, then turned to leave. Pausing mid-stride, Nate looked over at the lion statue in the corner, and found he couldn't resist the thought in his mind. Opening the drawer once more, he pulled out a permanent marker walked over to the lion, and drew a large "L" on it's forehead. Nate stepped back and admired his handiwork, then chuckled and threw the marker aside. "By the time he finds that, I'll be having a drink on my boat."
Nate reached for the doorknob, and then stopped as he noticed a wire running up the side of the casing. "Crap," he muttered, "it's wired." Turning back to the window, he sighed. "I guess it's back the way I came." Once more Nate climbed out the window and onto the pipe, in his mind running a reevaluation of his own morality based on the fact that he entered and exited through windows about as often as he did doors. His shoes scuffed softly on the stucco as he worked his way back across.
When Nate was about halfway between the two windows, the pipe suddenly sagged as one of the metal brackets holding it pulled loose from the wall. "Shit!" Nate cursed as the steel pipe groaned under his weight. Immediately following, the coupling about a foot down the pipe became disconnected, and Nate sung out from the wall on the now unsupported section of pipe he was hanging on. Nate kicked his feet wildly, trying to swing back toward the building, but found himself stuck in mid air, as the pipe continued to sag. Over the roar of the excavator's engine he heard shouts behind him, and knew that in just a second he would feel bullets slamming into his back. He quickly let go, dropping to the balcony below him, and rolled as he hit the concrete. Bullets ricocheted off the building next to him, and Nate dropped to his stomach, pressing himself as flat as possible.
"Of course it had to break on me!" he muttered. Slipping the gun out of his shoulder holster, he reached out over the edge of the balcony and fired blindly in the direction of Hassan's men, eliciting cries of surprise. He heard the engine note of the excavator rise sharply as it revved, then watched in horror as the arm swung around and over him. The bucket swung down, and Nate rolled to the side as the excavator bit hungrily into the concrete balcony, tearing into the metal railing as it did. There was popping and cracking noises as the balcony strained under the force exerted on it, then it caved in huge chunks of concrete that rained down onto the courtyard below. Nate screamed and reached out blindly, barely managing to grab the broken edge of the balcony with one hand, while the excavator bucket plunged down beside him.
More shots chipped the stucco around him. Nate groaned, holding on with all his might to the rough concrete with one hand, then with the other raised his gun and returned fire. Meanwhile the excavator swung to the side and lifted its arm again, and Nate knew it was gearing up for another try at him. As the machine turned suddenly once more, swinging toward him, Nate threw himself off the balcony and caught the edge of the bucket. The cold metal collided hard with him, then threatened to throw him off as the arm stopped its swing abruptly, but Nate held tight and pulled himself up onto the top of the bucket. He began crawling toward the cab, momentarily shielded from bullets by the angle of the excavator's arm. The operator of the machine raised the arm sharply, trying to shake Nate off, but in the process giving him a clean shot at him. Nate fired, and the thug slumped at the controls.
Nate knew his break was running out, as the goons on the ground repositioned to get another shot at him, and another one came running out of the building. He leaped off the excavator onto a pile of dirt and rolled down the side of it, landing near the machine's tracks. Using the machine for cover, Nate continued firing at the henchmen, but they were also behind cover, and outnumbering him three to one. Nate emptied his gun and crouched down to reload. As he loaded a new clip, an idea came to him. A crazy idea. But it just might work.
"'Ana 'astaslim!" he shouted. The gunfire stopped as he cautiously stood up with his hands in the air. "'Ana 'astaslim," he repeated, and threw his gun on the ground. Slowly, carefully, the thugs began to show themselves, firearms trained and ready. Akil appeared from behind a barrel, his head glistening with sweat, and Nate realized that he was the one he had seen run out of the building. He slowly approached Nate, keeping his pistol raised. Stopping about three feet away, he eyed Nate from behind his sunglasses.
"It is not my custom to take prisoners," He said with a snarl, and placed his pistol against Nate's temple. Nate flinched as he wondered if he had just made his worst, and last, mistake. Akil held him in suspense for a moment, then lowered his gun and said with a chuckle, "But for you, my friend, I will make an exception."
Nate gulped, still not convinced he hadn't just made a huge mistake, as the other henchmen closed in around him and bound his hands behind his back.