Read The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) for Free Online Page A

was directed to
a chair, and brought up to date on events he had had no idea about, and they
chilled him to the bone.
    A
civil war?
    His
thought process was interrupted by a grouping of rocks that seemed out of place
in that they were the only rocks on the entire plateau. He strode toward them,
his eyes scanning the ground, and when he arrived, a quick examination revealed
nothing except one of the stones was invitingly flat.
    He sat
down, removing his canteen from his belt. He took several swigs, then
absentmindedly kicked at the dirt as he swished the last sip around his mouth,
making certain every nook and cranny was moistened.
    His foot
hit something and his heart raced as he dropped to his knees and began digging.
     
     

 
     
     
    Outside Alexandria, Egypt
    22 August, 30 BC
     
    Tarik wept silently, his head turned from his brothers in shame as
he knelt, looking down at the valley below. It was the end of an era, and the
beginning of a new one, and despite the knowledge his Pharaoh, his leader, his
master, his god, was not dead, but merely in another place, living in paradise
above with the other gods, it tore at him inside. For he had loved his Pharaoh,
with all his heart, and had devoted his life to carving the very jewels that
adorned the living god.
    And it
had been he that had arranged delivery of the king cobras to Cleopatra’s
chambers. When he had heard the news that spread throughout the city, then kingdom,
that she had been bitten by a snake and died, he had at first thought the plan
had gone wrong, that her attempt to kill Octavian had been a failure, until he
had heard the full story.
    Suicide.
    Intentional
suicide.
    And when
he had heard the story from the mouth of the very messenger who had visited his
home that fateful night, he realized how her death was a tragedy, but the
method was a celebration. To deny Octavian his prize was the ultimate insult,
the ultimate failure on his part.
    At first
when he heard the story, he had assumed Octavian would take one final act of
vengeance, and have her body torn apart and burned, but instead he had allowed
the traditional burial to proceed with all the honor and dignity a Pharaoh
deserved, save the public displays. She and Antony would be interred with
respect, but that was all.
    Indeed,
Tarik had carved the very necklace that now adorned the fallen divinity in the
sarcophagus that would contain the body, now buried in secret, the unforgivable
sin of robbing the graves of their dead gods far too common. It was an act so
deplorable, so disgusting, that Tarik couldn’t fathom the depths of evil and
depravity that one must have fallen to in order to even contemplate such an
act.
    It was
an act that should be punished by death. Horrible, agonizing, slow death. No
mercy should befall those who would insult their gods, those who would dare
touch the final resting places of their corporeal forms in this world.
    He felt
a rage build in his stomach at the thought of someone stealing from his god,
whom he had worshipped since he was first weaned from his mother’s teat, and
honored with every carving he produced from a little boy. His father, who had
fallen to disease six harvests ago, had taught him the art of sculpture and
metal works, jewelry crafting and precious stone cutting. It was an honorable
trade, a profitable trade, and their family was among the richest in
Alexandria, owning many shops and houses, plus farmland outside the city and
throughout the kingdom.
    His two
brothers, with him today, were as equally devoted to their Pharaoh as he was,
their own passions taking them to the farms the family owned, rather than the
jewelry business. It would be up to Tarik to father a son, and teach him the
trade so the family business could continue.
    He felt
a hand on his shoulder, and he quickly wiped his eyes dry, then rose. His
brother Jabari smiled gently at him, his own cheeks stained from tears. Tarik
grabbed him and hugged him, the two sobbing as their youngest