Within a minute, the distant echoes of boots striking ancient stone became distinct.
Not one pair but several.
Their voices followed soon after, yelling rapid orders through the underground passages in Persian, growing louder with every second until Don could distinguish individual footsteps from the overlapping rhythm.
He pressed himself against the wall just outside the chamber entrance, remaining perfectly still.
The torch stands lining the corridor offered little light, leaving much of the wall swallowed by darkness.
His attire blended almost completely with the shadows.
The first three guards rushed around the corner.
Their attention snapped immediately toward the body lying near the chamber housing the sarcophagus.
One crouched instinctively.
"There—!"
The other two hurried forward, stepping right past Don's position without ever looking toward the wall.
Don didn't move. Not yet.
The third man, however, slowed near the entrance.
