Рыбаченко Олег Павлович : другие произведения.

Cia Fight With The Ussr And Russia

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  • Аннотация:
    How the special services of the United States and other Western countries fought against the USSR and Russia. Secret passages, cunning intrigues, permutations, castling, conspiracies. Particularly interesting is the conspiracy of Mikhail Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin to disintegrate and dismember the USSR. Read the details in this series.
  CIA FIGHT WITH THE USSR AND RUSSIA
  ANNOTATION
  How the special services of the United States and other Western countries fought against the USSR and Russia. Secret passages, cunning intrigues, permutations, castling, conspiracies. Particularly interesting is the conspiracy of Mikhail Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin to disintegrate and dismember the USSR. Read the details in this series.
  CHAPTER FIRST
  
  
  "We are the key elements of The Tempest," Gen. George Gleason told senior CIA official Mark Digby. "But our goals are too vast to achieve them alone." He pointed to a row of monitors on the table in front of them. "Turn them on." .
  
  Digby activated all five monitors with the press of a button. Gleason waited for the new arrivals to realize they were on the air, leaning back in his plush leather chair and enjoying the atmosphere that surrounded him: four massive oak paneled walls, subdued light seeping from under golden lampshades, an entire wall, cluttered with old hardcovers he'd never even looked at, and a huge, imposing writing desk, the centerpiece and workspace of his private home.
  
  Digby coughed. The new members raised their heads.
  
  "Are we ready?" Gleason asked.
  
  Digby jumped straight into the water. "Events in Egypt did not turn out quite the way we had hoped," he said. "And the Sword of Mars has eluded us before. Other players got in our way," he acknowledged. "A SPEAR. Frame cut. Luther. Even the fucking CIA." He chuckled at the joke, made at his own expense. "It was too dangerous, too big a risk. The Tempest has been exposed and some people out there now know we exist."
  
  Five faces returned their own displeased looks to his gaze, among them a judge, a police commissioner, a Wall Street connoisseur, and an aide to the president. The last one spoke first.
  
  "Where does this lead us?"
  
  "Well, Mr. Troy, this poses a challenge for us to overcome. Tempest was created to bring together the greatest weapon known to man - the weapons of the gods - and see if there is a way to use them together, in concert. To date, only one of these known weapons has surfaced. The sword of Mars, which is now in London..."
  
  Gleason leaned forward before Digby could continue. "From now on, gentlemen, we have reached critical mass. Or, in other words, you will understand - we must throw all our efforts into this, relentlessly, dispassionately, even unethically. If you want to win, from now on there are no limits."
  
  Troy nodded. "Do we have a new, updated list of weapons?"
  
  "It's in your mailbox. All twenty of them."
  
  "And Luther? Have we lost Luther?
  
  "At this point in the game," Digby sighed, "we have to assume we did."
  
  The banker and the police commissioner shook their heads in anger. Gleason reminded them of the contingency plan.
  
  "Work in the Syrian camps is in full swing. They have already radicalized hundreds of people, and our mercenaries are training them. Soon we will have an army capable of distracting not only the masses, but the entire police force of the First World. Then we can storm our way to arms."
  
  "Are we strategically prepared for all of these lines of attack?" asked the police commissioner.
  
  "Honestly, no. Not yet. But it won't be for long."
  
  "And all these disavowed, alienated and disordered SWAT teams are out there? How long can we contain it?"
  
  Gleason left Assistant President Troy to answer that question.
  
  "I'm working tirelessly on this, but even I - with the general's help - won't be able to permanently dispel suspicion. Maybe a few weeks."
  
  "Another reason speed has become mandatory," Gleason said. "We can no longer use CIA assets. We were lucky that we prepared something of our own. The camps are viable. Let's start using it."
  
  The general, as best he could, caught the mood of his comrades. He preferred to meet face to face in a place he dubbed the Room. The military was focused on physical confrontation, but he was also forced to admit that modern communications were much faster when it was urgent. It wasn't a case of deciding which of them was deep and which was dangling their toes in the pool. No, they were all up to their ears in it. It became more like a test of courage.
  
  His mind also considered the possibility that one of them might betray him.
  
  "Questions?" he barked.
  
  There wasn't one there. Gleason didn't like it. These people should have been spewing, showering him with all sorts of rhetoric in response. Their silence betrayed their doubts and the fact that they were not fully involved.
  
  Well, that would change.
  
  He glanced at Digby, the only person he could trust. "I think we should call a meeting."
  
  "I agree".
  
  "It will be extremely difficult for me," the presidential aide said negatively. "I'm here juggling a hundred balls."
  
  "Room," Gleason said, ignoring Troy, then gave the time and date. "No excuses, gentlemen. It will be good to catch up."
  
  He did his best to keep the tone of his voice free of malice.
  
  As soon as they agreed to this, Gleason signed the contract. He took the moment to confer with Digby and then double-checked the status of their Syrian terrorist camp with his commanders on the ground. Everything went well and quickly. The weapons of the gods were almost within reach. Gleason knew they could be tracked due to the incredibly rare element in their composition, but the tracking device had to be close to work. This still left them with the problem of getting close.
  
  Not so much the Sword of Mars.
  
  He let a smile grace his rough features while smoothing his fresh stubble. The "mole" he planted in the British government six years ago will finally pay off.
  
  Maybe tonight. Damn it, he wished he had that first weapon in his belt. Figuratively speaking, of course.
  
  Gleason laughed at his own little joke, ignored Digby's gaze, and left the room. Once in the corridor, he took out his mobile and dialed a personal number.
  
  "Hello? I need a whore."
  
  The woman he knew as Madame Masudou sighed in her usual worldly manner. "Another one so soon? Okay, I've got Nightshade here and it's ready to go. She's... exotic."
  
  "I bet," Gleason laughed, and then thought: Nightshade? But his desire got the better of him. "Send her right here."
  
  "Fine. Please give her one hour."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Madame Masuda did not take her eyes off the tall, dark-haired woman sitting in front of her. "I can't say how dangerous it is. He may recognize you."
  
  Lauren Fox bowed her head in agreement. "This is the opportunity I've been waiting for," she said in a cheeky accent. "Do it and let Nightshade live for the last time."
  
  "I can make you up."
  
  "Fine. But make it heavy. We don"t want him to recognize me now, do we?" She laughed, feeling good. Finally, there was a way to help her friends, get close to Gleason, and maybe even find out if the presidential aide was male or female, blocking all of her attempts to contact President Coburn. When Secretary of Defense Kimberly Crowe defected to them, Lauren hoped that her knowledge and experience with Gleason would pay off.
  
  Gleason may or may not have seen her picture when he decided to target SPIR after Peru and then during their trip to Egypt.
  
  But he never saw Nightshade.
  
  It's time to start destroying the pyramid of evil that has risen against them, their reputation and the entire civilized world. She would start at the top.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  Ignoring the ringing of internal alarm bells, Lauren Fox changed into Nightshade. It was a long time ago, but Lauren and Nightshade were alter egos for years, and the traits soon returned. Of course, her "suit" has returned to New York these days, but Madame Masuda could lay her hands on just about anything.
  
  "Skin," Lauren confirmed. "Mostly boots. The outfit can be lacy, I suppose, but not too revealing. I'll need whips and gloves. Good gloves. If I have to touch this scum, I don't want to feel it."
  
  Madame Masuda held up a black object. "Brace yourself?"
  
  "No! I don"t even want to get close to this guy."
  
  Traveling in the car on the way to Gleason, Lauren remembered that time, not so long ago in Peru, when she left the team, returned to Washington and began to find out the truth. It had been a frustrating period - knocking on one closed door after another - but now she sensed a better opportunity. She envisioned the conversation she would need to organize in order to extract all the correct answers.
  
  The car stopped, the big, portly driver half turned in his seat to look at her. "Are you okay, miss?"
  
  He saw only Nightshade, wrapped in a knee-length beige coat. "Yes thank you. The hardest part is meeting them."
  
  "I'll be right here," his voice rumbled deep. "If you need me, you press the button."
  
  Lauren nodded and got out of the car. Gleason took her to a hotel about half a mile from the Capitol building, off the busy street and popular with tourists. The old pervert probably had a contracted messenger who could give him a spare room for an hour or so. Lauren has seen this many times before. Money corrupted in every way imaginable, and people like Gleason in their powerful roles used it to get exactly what they wanted.
  
  Nightshade entered the hotel doors, heading one level down to the elevators, and then pressed the button for the third floor. She walked down the quiet, echoing corridor, then stopped and knocked on the door. Within seconds it was open.
  
  "Come in," he said. "I have less time than I thought. Wife wants to meet me for dinner."
  
  Nightshade stepped inside and closed the door, her thumb hovering over the button that called her driver. Gleason seemed at ease, but he was in a hurry. She didn't see anything dangerous in his body language, but that might change. She threw off her long coat and waited for him to turn around.
  
  "Answer me this first," she said. "If a girl told you she had a whip, would you want her to use it on you, or would you want to use it on her?"
  
  Gleason hesitated, but he was also distracted by her supple body, dressed in stockings, suspenders and skimpy underwear. Finally, he said, "Both?" in a hoarse, questioning voice that told her she was already in control of the room.
  
  "That's right," she said. "Let's start by taking these pants off."
  
  Nightshade stepped into her role, taking control, issuing orders that Gleason certainly appreciated. The dark personality took over, easily pushing her through the first half hour. The action was largely routine until Gleason asked for a role reversal.
  
  Are you fucking making fun of me? No way in the world would she let this pompous, corrupt wedge of humiliated beliefs have any power over her. But this is where Nightshade's personality helped. The game has widened, the stakes have risen, and she has taken him to a higher level of dominance.
  
  She saw a luxurious room, dark red curtains tightly drawn; widescreen TV with low volume tuned to the sports betting channel. She wondered if Gleason would be signed. She noticed a bag sitting on a small round table and a neatly pressed change of clothes. Of course, the items she preferred were a mobile phone and a laptop.
  
  And time.
  
  The main trick was to get away with it, and she had to act while Gleason was still flustered by his immobility. Fortunately, this was Nightshade's last outing. Lauren would never use the identity again. In truth, Nightshade retired some time ago - this latest run-in with her shady past was only to help her friends get through the trouble they were in.
  
  With a flourish, she shoved Gleason's own jockey shorts into his mouth, smiling at the slight confusion that crossed his face. She pulled duct tape from her coat pocket and first taped his mouth, then his wrists and ankles. She made sure all the covers were removed from the bed because she wanted the asshole to be as embarrassed as possible when they found him-assuming he might feel anything but superior. Time was short, so she decided to look for his wallet, jewelry, and any other valuables. She then took away his phone and laptop.
  
  Gleason's eyes bulged and he writhed on the bed. Lauren shook her head, looking at him. "You're not going anywhere, buddy. Keep fighting and you'll tear that white baby skin. If I were you, I would wait with the cleaning tomorrow."
  
  Gleason looked like he was backhanding the mattress he was fighting so hard against.
  
  Lauren cast a sad look between his legs. "And I would seriously consider getting that wrinkled insect between your legs, mate. It has little to do with it."
  
  She then quickly lifted her burden and blew him a kiss. The final humiliation was to remove the "Do Not Disturb" sign from the door and tell her to hang it outside.
  
  "Have a nice evening".
  
  Gleason grunted and yelled at her, every syllable muffled by the gag. Lauren pouted her lips one last time and spoke a few short words to decorate her cover.
  
  "Hey, calm down. You're still getting most of that shit back once I sell it. Business is business and I'm pretty sure I need more cash than you."
  
  The door clicked loudly behind her. She made sure to hang the sign on the doorknob, then headed for the stairs.
  
  Next stop is Shake Shack. Kimberly Crow's contact would meet her there - a man, she assured Lauren, who could hack anything with a circuit board.
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  Deep beneath London, in dank underground caverns, an astonishing amount of work is being done, and not even half of it belongs to known criminals. Drake was surprised when Captain Cambridge of the SAS asked to meet the SPEAR team there, but couldn't think of a better person to help them in their current situation. Cambridge led the SAS team that captured the Sword of Mars and supposedly arranged for it to travel to England. Kimberly Crow had originally arranged the meeting in London to introduce SPIR to a powerful new figure in the British government and rally support for their search for weapons.
  
  The entire team stood waiting at the crossroads of arched tunnels, each leading in an unknown direction. Sounds came from the darkness, and the incessant noise of dripping water soon began to get on their nerves. The walls were black and slippery, dripping damp. Smith and Yorgy stood behind, covering the tunnel they had used, while the others spread out into the small circular space.
  
  "Let's talk about British hospitality." Alicia snorted. "It's not exactly Kensington Gardens."
  
  "It's SAS," Drake reminded her. "Remember?"
  
  "Reminds me of real spy stuff," Kinimaka said gleefully, not even bothering about his wet boots. "You know, authentic, real events."
  
  "Dude, we are spies," Hayden told him. "Real Deal".
  
  "I wouldn't go that far, Hey."
  
  Luther was very visible in a confined space. "How long are we going to wait here guys? I have never been comfortable underground."
  
  "I can understand why." Alicia turned and admired the muscles bulging out of her tight T-shirt. "A person with such abilities should always be seen in broad daylight." She paused. "Or with bedside lighting."
  
  Luther rolled his eyes. "You don't feel them anymore, girl, so don't even ask."
  
  Alicia pouted. "You should know that this only makes me more determined."
  
  Drake nudged her with his elbow. "Really? Did you feel his hands?
  
  "I felt more than his hands, Drakes." Alicia laughed out loud. "But don't worry, you're still my man."
  
  "Oh thanks". Drake knew it was useless to question her. Alicia was just Alicia and she will never change. God help the man who tried to tame her.
  
  Luther leaned in to his ear and whispered, "If it helps, when she touched me, I only got half a tree."
  
  Drake pushed him away with a laugh. "Are you kidding me? I don't need to know. Damn, now I wish we had beaten you and left you in the desert."
  
  "Did you defeat me?" Luther looked surprised, the huge head thrown back. "I think I remember saving and capturing you in that desert, boy."
  
  They heard the sound of footsteps down the tunnel, saving Drake the trouble of answering. He focused on the opening and the team spread out, preparing for the unexpected.
  
  Nothing has come. Instead, Captain Cambridge and another man came out, both standing there looking a little dazed.
  
  "Wow," Cambridge said in a deep baritone. "I didn't know there were so many of you."
  
  "We're a big team," Drake admitted. "Good to see you again, Cambridge. Thank you for your help with nuclear weapons in Ukraine. For a while, we were close to wiping them off the face of the earth."
  
  "Not again," Luther barked. "Sounds like you guys need babysitters."
  
  Cambridge held out a callused hand. "With pleasure. And let me introduce you to Major Bennett, Minister Crow's contact, right here."
  
  Drake shook his head, and then Hayden stepped forward, perhaps feeling a little left out. "And what do you have for us, Major?"
  
  "Just Bennett," the man said. "I'm not an expert here. And I don"t feel like a major there now." His blue eyes darted up to the ceiling. "We have to proceed with caution. I'm afraid we don't know who is associated with this Tempest group and who is not. It's all very...behind the scenes. It's so secret..." He glanced at Hayden and Drake. "If Kimberly hadn't put all her weight and reputation into this, I'd say you're wasting our time."
  
  "Well, thank God for the Americans," breathed Alicia. "At least they make sense."
  
  Bennett blinked at her. "I doubt there is even one Briton in the upper echelons of Tempest," he said. "But there might well be a few minions here. We are still looking for support. So Kimberly is telling me a wild story about seven weapons?"
  
  Drake nodded. "Seven that we know about. I doubt there is any special order for them, but the first one, the Sword of Mars, is at your disposal."
  
  "I'm only privy to so many things," Bennett admitted. "I run the DSF from Whitehall, which, as I'm sure you know, is the organization that oversees all British Special Forces operations. Yes, I have contacts, but I still have to be very careful."
  
  "It's clear. Where is the sword?
  
  "We'll get back to that in a minute. I take it you can trace this weapon?"
  
  "We can do that," Dahl said, nodding his blond head. "We have reconfigured the GPS device to look for the still unnamed material that is part of their structure. It worked."
  
  Drake looked at him across the table. "It means 'yes' in Swedish."
  
  Dahl gave him a sly finger.
  
  "Well, okay," Bennett said. "Then you can track down all seven."
  
  Drake thought he had misheard. "All... seven?"
  
  Cambridge intervened. "I'm afraid the Sword of Mars is missing."
  
  "How long?" Hayden asked.
  
  "A couple of hours," Bennett said defensively. "We got over it all."
  
  "All over this?" Drake repeated. "This sword was our greatest hope. We don't know what they'll do if they find all seven."
  
  "We have to get him back," Dahl said. Tempest has already proven that they don't care about military and civilian life. They need to be stopped."
  
  "Swords should never fall into the wrong hands," Kenzi said from the other side of the room, where she stood off to the side, leaning against the damp wall. "I should have it."
  
  Bennett nodded hesitantly to the Israeli, then turned to everyone. "The operation continues. The City of London and its airports are the most heavily monitored in the world. We'll find the culprit by going back to the moment the sword was stolen. Then we will have a face-to-face match." He glanced at his phone. "The circle of search has already narrowed. It is nothing more than a matter of time."
  
  Drake found it hard to believe the Major's word in light of the recent information. However, the British until this very moment did not know about the significance of this weapon. "Part of it is our fault," he said. "We should have contacted you sooner."
  
  "Thanks, but I'll take a hit to the chin," Bennett said. "Kimberly has just parted ways with Tempest and is living with the feeling that she doesn't know what they'll do with her next. For anyone. There's a lot going on here, gentlemen and ladies."
  
  Alicia rolled her eyes on purpose. "You realize you just eliminated poor old Yorgi, right?"
  
  Bennett opened his mouth to ask her a question, but then his phone rang. Cambridge watched him closely as he checked the screen before answering. Drake watched them both.
  
  "What do you think about it?" he spoke to Hayden with his lips alone.
  
  "It all seems laborious," she said. "We need to shift it into a higher gear. The Tempest clearly have a plan, and Luther wasn't their only fighting dog here."
  
  "Dog?" Luther frowned.
  
  "Yes," Alicia nodded to him. "Rhino" would be more accurate."
  
  "Thank you".
  
  "Oh, anytime."
  
  Drake interrupted their flirting, which he knew stemmed from Alicia's suspicions that Mai had a crush on him. Surprisingly, the Japanese warrior remained silent and calm all this time.
  
  "The fact is this," he said. "We can't touch Tempest yet. They are too well isolated, which I hope Major Bennett and Defense Secretary Crowe will change soon. We are on the cutting edge as usual, but this time we have everything to fight for."
  
  Hayden nodded. "There couldn"t be more."
  
  "Yes," Dahl agreed. "Our freedom. Our today and tomorrow. The storm must be destroyed."
  
  "We're fighting for men and women who don't even know they've been separated," Drake said. "For soldiers who risk everything thinking they have a real support system behind their backs and instead have a kill order." He made a pause. "And that's one more thing. One way or another, somehow, we have to combine these commands. Together, we will become stronger."
  
  "Agreed," Hayden said, looking around. "Karin would be perfect for this. I still don't agree with her decision... But, I think, now she is an example of strength to herself."
  
  "FrameHub really needs to be dismantled." Drake shrugged. "And I assume the US military is after her too. Send the geek to catch the geek. That's what I'm saying."
  
  Luther shifted from foot to foot. "Molokai has some experience in military communications. Nothing fantastic," he admitted, "but I think he could try."
  
  Drake looked towards the side of the hall where the mysterious man was hiding, his face covered up to his nose with a desert scarf, his body covered in countless layers of clothing, protected by a bulletproof vest he never took off, and a large coat.
  
  "We need a base," Hayden told Bennett, but by then the man had already answered the phone. When he finished, he looked at the SPEARS expectantly.
  
  "How about this?" - he said. "We found the assholes who stole the sword. You are ready?"
  
  "Lead on, Major," Drake said. "It's not a business anymore. It's damn personal."
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  The old, abandoned hospital was nestled among several overgrown acres near Muswell Hill. It was a run-down Victorian villa that was once used as an asylum for the mentally ill and heavily addicted. Today it was in decline, like many old buildings in London, with no clear indication of the owner, and no one paid for its maintenance.
  
  Alicia watched from the street with a military scope in her hand. "I don't like it," she said. "Looks creepy."
  
  "The team's permanent shy cat," Mai told Luther and Molokai in the back seat of the transit van. "I once saw her jump into a hole to escape a spider."
  
  "In my defense," Alicia said, still watching, "he had feet the size of my hands."
  
  Hayden's voice crackled over the comms from the van parked in front of their house. "Guys, do you see anything?"
  
  "A rundown asylum," Alicia said. "Left. Are you saying the energy is back?"
  
  "According to Bennett, yes. Nothing official, it doesn't look like they contacted the electric company. But there was a power surge in that house, and all communications are working. This is a healthy house."
  
  "Right. A dozen people could get lost there."
  
  "Are we sure this is the right place?" Dahl asked from a seat next to Drake.
  
  "You heard Bennett. Security cameras showed two of these guys in reverse order, from the moment they killed the soldiers guarding the sword, across London and here. Arrived ninety minutes ago. I have no idea what they have been up to since then."
  
  "Do you play chess?" Kinimaka suggested.
  
  "I doubt it, dude. They are mercenaries."
  
  "Good point. So I'm a spy?
  
  Alicia chose this moment to comment. "Well, I notice the hulk in the front window. Possibly ex-military."
  
  Luther leaned forward. "The Hulk?"
  
  Mai chuckled. "With Alicia? It could mean a lot of things."
  
  "Thug," Alicia confirmed. "I think this confirmation is enough." She tossed the telescopic sight onto the dashboard in front of her. "Can we come in and talk to them now?"
  
  "I thought you said it was creepy," Dahl said.
  
  "Don't worry. I will keep my eyes closed."
  
  Drake opened the door. "Dal, she is with you. The rest, let's go."
  
  The team stepped silently out of their wagons under a leaden gray sky, smelling rain in the afternoon air. Bennett provided weapons and other military supplies, so Drake was armed with an HK MP5, 9mm Sig Sauer, stun grenades, and tear gas canisters. They wore assault suits, fireproof knee and elbow pads, and a bulletproof armored vest designed not only to stop a bullet, but also to absorb its kinetic energy.
  
  Kinimaka and Smith carried protective equipment. Sledgehammer and battering ram, pneumatic tools and explosives. Others carried ladders and ropes.
  
  They were all at large, ready to crash into the old hospital like a thunderclap. Drake jumped over the low wall, landed in the undergrowth, and ran with his head low, his pistol carefully aimed forward. The team was with him, the only sound was the rustle of their boots in the bush. Trees grew here and there, providing a brief shelter, and then they resumed their flight towards the side of the house.
  
  Drake arrived a few seconds later, his back against the brick. Half of the team was supposed to go in from behind, half from the side. Drake waited a minute and then crept under the nearest window, heading towards the wall of the large house. Another window loomed, and then they grouped, preparing to break through. Drake waited for the command "go ahead" from the other team before giving the signal. Instantly, Mai and Dal ran around him, taking aim. He was third and knew that Alicia was behind him.
  
  A dozen targets stood between them and the sword.
  
  A narrow path ran down the side of a house covered with a triangular tiled roof. It ended at the side door. Drake motioned for Smith to come forward, who then rammed through the entrance. Dahl jumped in first, supported by Mai, as the thick door flew off its hinges. They acted loudly and harshly, hoping to take the enemy by surprise and make him make a mistake. Drake found himself inside a narrow kitchen made up mostly of shelves, cabinets and sinks, and then turned left down another narrow passageway and through a much larger kitchen. To the left, a staircase with a red shabby carpet led to the second floor. To the right, more rotten archways led deeper into the house.
  
  "Split up," Dahl shouted.
  
  Alicia chose the house, followed by Kenzi, Yorgi and Molokai, the last man looking terrible, dressed not only in his clothes but also in the SAS suit. Alicia couldn't remember a time when she ran with someone more imposing. They cleared one room, then another, each a small living room still furnished with old sofas and cobweb-covered bookcases that reached the ceiling. Dust-covered old paintings hung on the walls.
  
  "Like someone ran away really fast," Kenzi breathed. "Creepy".
  
  "If this was a horror movie, the original patients would still be here," Molokai intoned. "It's not like I often watch horror movies."
  
  Yorgi couldn't take his eyes off the many potential treasures, though none of them sparkled anymore. The Russian thief seemed to be cataloging the inventory for later.
  
  There was gunfire somewhere in the house. Alicia didn't flinch, just darted as fast as her caution would allow, around the east wall. Now they were approaching the back of the old hospital; she could see the overgrown garden through the windows ahead. Alerted as ever, she saw a patch of shadow spread across the floor from the doorway ahead, and fired instantly through the wood paneling that protected it. There was a wheezing followed by a thud as a body fell in her path, blood pouring from her chest. She vaulted over the dead mass, descended, and saw another figure hiding behind an overturned refrigerator on the right.
  
  You can't do anything today, asshole.
  
  She threw a grenade, then ran in the opposite direction, now down a corridor that ran parallel to the back of the house. A grenade exploded behind her, shrapnel flying everywhere, flames licking the ceiling. A window shattered to their right, the frame buckled, but the fridge itself stopped most of the explosion-well, the fridge and the mercenary, to be honest.
  
  Alicia quickened her pace, stopping along the way to clear the rooms, working with Molokai and Kenzi as Yorgi looked for traces of the sword. Of necessity, it was a quick shock attack, but it would help to take at least a couple of mercenaries alive.
  
  There was another closed door ahead. Alicia saw steam seeping through the slot at the bottom and pulled up sharply.
  
  "Fire?"
  
  "Doesn't smell like fire." Kenzi sniffed the air. "And it's more like steam."
  
  Alicia braced herself, feeling a little overwhelmed, then reached for the brass doorknob. He turned easily, allowing her to open it slightly. The sight outside made the corners of her mouth turn up.
  
  "Interesting," she muttered. "It's a men's shower."
  
  Kenzi shifted from foot to foot. "Is it busy?"
  
  "I will say".
  
  Alicia opened the door wider, inch by inch. The noise of three running showers and blaring rock music from someone's phone drowned out any noise they might make. Alicia slipped through first, then Kenzi, Molokai and Yorgi. In front of them was a makeshift outdoor shower area, six showerheads in a row and a sloping wet floor leading to a drain. Three naked, muscular mercenaries washed and rinsed, completely absorbed. Alicia paused for a moment at the edge of the wet zone.
  
  "Yogi, close your eyes. You are too young to understand this."
  
  "I believe we should attack immediately," Molokai said, still giving Alicia goosebumps in his loose robe-like garb. "While they are busy."
  
  Alicia nodded. "I agree".
  
  "Then why are we waiting?"
  
  "Well... Right now I feel quite relaxed."
  
  Yorgi walked to the edge of the dry floor. "Do you see any weapons?"
  
  Alicia looked at him and gasped. "Are you kidding me?"
  
  Kenzi squatted down. "Best show I've seen in a while."
  
  "I'm still worried about weapons," Yorgey said, looking around the room.
  
  "Trust me," Alicia still didn't take her eyes off the showers, "there's nothing to worry about here."
  
  Molokai aimed his pistol. "Less talking," he said. "Another death."
  
  "Wow," Alicia reached out and grabbed his cloth-covered wrist, noticing a puff of dust rising. "You can't just shoot them. They are naked."
  
  "Do you think they wouldn't shoot us given the same circumstances? They are mercenaries, driven only by money and power. They have no morals. You know it."
  
  "I believe". Alicia nodded. "But don't join them, Molokai. Rise higher and be better."
  
  Now Kensi got up. "I'm all for killing bastards, to be honest."
  
  Alicia looked at her. "I thought you had changed."
  
  "That was yesterday," she said. "Today... I really don't care."
  
  Alicia knew that she was very hurt by Dahl's refusal. "He has a wife and children. You can't ask him to give it up."
  
  "I won't," Kenzi said. "Soon I won"t even be around."
  
  Alicia didn't insist on it. She never liked the Israeli, but she grudgingly admitted that she was a powerful asset to their team. Molokai moved again, and Alicia tightened her grip on his arm.
  
  "Wait," she said. "The guy on the right just dropped his soap."
  
  Seconds passed. Alicia peered more closely, but then the taller one wiped the soap from his eyes and spotted them.
  
  "Hey!" I shouted.
  
  Alicia fired without thinking, blocking Molokai's aim. She couldn't bear to watch the bloody annihilation of three unarmed men, despite their choice of profession. There was an annoyed grunt from behind, and then she was fully tuned in, quickly rushing towards the three naked mercenaries and feeling somewhat surreal.
  
  What I do for my work.
  
  Kenzi was there, clearly eager to be part of the action. The mercenaries stopped expressing shock and discomfort and took up defensive positions. Alicia knew there was simply no point in bouncing off a muscular body, so she fell and slid inside, using the water to smooth her approach. An upward kick as she approached the tallest mercenary, and a leg clipped under his knee caused him to bend forward and fall forward, and then she was behind him. She slammed her elbow into his neck, feeling him stagger.
  
  He turned as she struck again, hitting the ribs. His soaking wet body helped deflect some of the force of her punch. It also helped him get closer. She struck again, a double blow to the sternum. This time he staggered back, tilting his head forward. Alicia kicked him in the stomach from the front. The man dropped to one knee. She attacked, but he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer.
  
  "Damn, man, I don't play like that."
  
  "I won't let go." He squeezed harder, trying to crush her ribs.
  
  "Didn't think you cared."
  
  She used his own slippery body to squeeze through his arms, and then they both rolled on the floor, soaked through.
  
  Kenzi certainly didn't stand on ceremony, using her opponent's nakedness to help herself. The blows she delivered were eloquent and well-placed. However, in his desperation, the mercenary grabbed her by the knees and pressed her to the floor, so that she, too, was in the splashing water. A third mercenary also ducked behind the fighters as Molokai took aim at him.
  
  "Typical mercenary," Molokai intoned. "Yorgi, my friend, go and fetch him."
  
  The Russian thief widened his eyes. "Why can not you?"
  
  "I don't want to get my feet wet."
  
  "Oh, sorry, is this a leper thing?"
  
  "No, it's a matter of sanity. Just lift his head up a bit and I'll do the rest."
  
  "Now I remember. You feel the cold quite strongly, don't you? Well, I think so too. And I don't want to feel any different, thank you. These guys are naked."
  
  "Women don"t seem to care!"
  
  Yorgi shook his head as he looked at the huge man. "You still have a lot to learn about Alicia Miles."
  
  The rain was still pouring down, and the rumbling sounds of guitars could be heard from the mobile phone. Alicia lifted her man by the ankles, knowing she didn't have to do too much to lay him hard on his back. It worked, but she landed on his stomach, a little closer than she'd intended. It was impossible to use force and deliver convincing blows in the midst of such slippery chaos. Her clothes got wet, her shoes filled with water. Perhaps, after all, this idea was not such a good idea.
  
  She used the slippery surface to climb up the top of it, grabbed his head, and pushed it under the rushing showers. He gurgled and struggled; Alicia used her knee to knock the breath out of his body. To her right, Kenzi was fighting her mercenary, and now Alicia saw a third crouched behind her, looking scared.
  
  Molokai?
  
  A man should come with a fucking leash, no matter the mysterious clothes. Alicia held her opponent in place, then heard the squelch of boots as another attacker appeared to her right. It was Yorgi, and he lunged at the third mercenary with what looked like a shard of tiles in his hand. Despite all the incredible, witty quips that this opportunity gave Alicia, she couldn't help but shudder in fear for the Russian.
  
  He was not a fighter and clearly wanted to knock out the third mercenary unconscious, and not kill him. Alicia had to wait an extra second as she saw Yorgi smash the mercenary on the temple, blood spill, and then slumped heavily onto his own coccyx. Air escaped from it; his face turned white. The mercenary jumped back and kicked him in the face. The tile flew off to the side.
  
  Alicia pounded her mercenary with all her might until he stopped moving, then pulled him so that his face was above the water. She saw Kenzi use an interesting hold on her opponent, one hand going under his groin and half way up his back while the other choked him unconscious. Obviously, the girl had some cool tricks in her arsenal. Alicia met the boot of the third mercenary, making sure it hit him hard on the right cheek. Then she carefully got up and moved forward as he fell. By the time he looked up, she was already standing over him.
  
  Yorgi climbed up to her. "Hurry up".
  
  "Are you sure you don"t want to deal with this mammoth?"
  
  "No. I was just saving his life."
  
  "Do you hear it?" Alicia leaned over and punched the mercenary in the face. "He... was... just-" every word meant a blow "-saving... your... life."
  
  The man roared loudly and stood up, spilling water. He lunged at Alicia. She grabbed his shoulders and spun him to the side, but he somehow stopped the slide by planting his back foot firmly and then came again. Alicia elbowed him in the nose, knocking him out, then landed half a dozen more blows. The mercenary fell back each time, bleeding profusely from his nose and forehead.
  
  He lowered his head and attacked again like a bull in a shower stall. She deftly stepped aside as he approached her, grabbed his head and added some momentum from herself. Unable to stop himself, he first smashed his skull against the concrete wall where the showers were, and then groaned, leaning against it, trying not to slip to the floor. Alicia didn't let him show dignity, planting her foot on his ass and pushing until he lost his balance and fell into the flowing water.
  
  She turned her head sharply. Kenzi had strangled her opponent and now stood up, dripping water and soaked to the bone. Alicia stared at her, feeling the liquid ripple off her own body.
  
  "Still think it was a good idea?" Kenzi asked.
  
  "It wasn't my best decision," Alicia admitted. "I think the sight of a human sausage just confuses my brain."
  
  The Molokai met them as they exited the shower, trying to shake off most of the water. Alicia smoothed her hair and Kenzi smoothed her clothes. Yorgi shook the contents out of his boots. They turned to take one last look at the showers.
  
  "Surreal," commented Alicia.
  
  "Waste of time," Molokai said. "Five seconds and I'd be done with them."
  
  "Sometimes," Alicia said, "you just have to try harder."
  
  "And now we're leaving living, capable enemies behind us."
  
  Alicia couldn't help but notice. She took away their mobile phones, clothes and discarded weapons. "I doubt it, my friend."
  
  Molokai ignored her and headed for the exit door, taking a moment to look around the corridor. The horizon was clear, and shots were heard from the far corner of the house.
  
  "We have to go".
  
  "Show the way."
  
  Leaving the mercenaries and that part of the vast hideout behind, the four raced to the side where the other teams were engaged in combat.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  Drake punched through the flimsy woodwork, leaving splinters in his wake, then rolled twice until the hail of bullets temporarily stopped. He was pinned to the ground, but fortunately it was all a red herring. Drake was the bait and Luther was the hook. The only mercenary who aimed at Drake did not see the huge bald-headed behemoth attacking to his left, and paid a hefty price. Luther struck, shattering the bones, and the mercenary was knocked unconscious before he even knew what had happened.
  
  Luther was looking for Drake. "Are you okay?"
  
  The Englishman was already up, shaking his head in disappointment. "Damn it, dude. Come on, let's find the others."
  
  Two minutes later, they were already sneaking up on Mai, Hayden, and Kinimaka from behind. It was the Japanese woman who turned around.
  
  "Did you find out where the sword is?"
  
  "No. Hulk Luther decided to appear instead of him. Knocked out our mercenary to death."
  
  Mai opened her eyes wide as she looked at the big man. "Oh Luther. Really?"
  
  Drake didn't believe it when he saw Luther lower his head. "Yes, sorry, May."
  
  "For heaven's sake," he muttered. "You two talk like a pair of pansies."
  
  Hayden waved his hand to get their full attention. "Directly ahead, another mercenary camped for the night. Pretty soon he'll realize that this hallway is wood-paneled, but he's hired a maid, so I think we've got a few minutes. I think... drums?"
  
  Drake nodded along with everyone else. At that moment, Alicia and her small team arrived and restored their integrity.
  
  "How many?" Kinimaka asked.
  
  "We killed five in total."
  
  "Okay, so our friend and three others are staying here. They must have a sword. Is there anything from the perimeter?"
  
  Hayden checked her connection. "There is no movement outside. The cops surrounded the place and sealed it off."
  
  Drake gazed at Alicia and her crew. "Why the hell are you all wet?"
  
  Alicia shook the drops on him. "Stopped to take a shower."
  
  "So why isn't Molokai wet? And why is Yorgi blushing?"
  
  Alicia stroked the Russian on the cheek. "What happens in the asylum stays in the asylum, right Yogi?"
  
  Drake looked up at Alicia, Kenzi and Yorgi, all three of them soaking wet and sporting fresh bruises. "It must have been a hell of a threesome, guys. Are you ready for more?"
  
  Hayden threw a grenade and covered her ears with her fingers. When the explosion rumbled, they moved quickly, firing hard at the hidden man, but trying to shoot high. When Drake slipped out from behind a sturdy upturned bookcase, he found the mercenary on his back, bleeding from his ears.
  
  "Crap. Folks, it doesn't look good."
  
  Hayden leveled the mercenary as Kinimaka dropped his weapon with a single wave of his hand. She gently leaned him back against the bookcase and let his eyes focus again.
  
  "Can you hear me?"
  
  The mercenary blinked.
  
  "I think impact grenades were a bad idea," Kinimaka commented.
  
  "You think?" Hayden gently patted the man on the cheek. "Speak earlier next time, Mano. This dude is less useful than a carrot."
  
  The man's eyes suddenly cleared and he blinked at Hayden. "What?" I asked.
  
  "Now can you hear me? Oh great."
  
  She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around his face, not too hard, but still making sure he could feel her. "Where are the weapons you guys stole from the British? Sword of Mars."
  
  The mercenary stared at him and then tried to look around. Hayden let him see Kinimaku, Drake, and Luther standing dangerously close, then asked the same question again.
  
  "Last chance, moron," Drake added.
  
  The mercenary kicked him in the legs, but they were cotton, rested his hands on the floor, but found that he had no strength. Finally, he went soft. "Good," he groaned. "Pizza just arrived."
  
  Hayden bit her lip. "I think the explosion must have confused him."
  
  "No no. The pizza guy delivered, so the boss took the boxes to the communications room. To eat. He has a sword."
  
  "Where is the communication room?"
  
  He relayed the information, then Smith and Dahl made him immobile with plastic zippers. "Don't worry, the cops will be here soon." The Swede grinned.
  
  As a team, they slipped into the communications room, wary of traps and wondering when the last three remaining mercenaries would show up. The lunatic asylum loomed heavy over them, its cold, scarred walls bearing the burden of oppressive secrets; its half-closed creaking doors endured in stoic silence all the difficult years when the criminally insane were kept here. Drake imagined that the ghosts of old horrors might still be in the air, watching new intruders gather in the gloom.
  
  He shook it off by stepping on the old boards as carefully as he could, for several reasons.
  
  Hayden stopped as the air filled with a new scent. "We are close."
  
  Drake felt it too. Appetizing aroma of several pepperoni pizzas. A shadow moved ahead. Shouts rose up among the SPEAR team, most hitting the deck while others fell into nearby rooms. The shadow reappeared, this time with a machine gun in hand, growing solid as he peered around the corner.
  
  Shots rang out. Bullets pierced wood, plaster and blocks. Hayden threw another grenade and took advantage of the confusion to rush forward, Kinimaka at her side. It turned into an all-out attack as Dal, Luther, and the Molokai joined him, fighting for position in the corridor. Drake was on his feet and chasing them along with Alicia and Mae.
  
  "The newbies are addicted," Drake muttered.
  
  "May just got her Luther on," Alicia teased.
  
  "Don't be a fool, Taz. You know Drake is the only one for me."
  
  "I'll get him back when he's exhausted, bitch."
  
  "Hey!" I shouted. Drake screamed. "Stop that".
  
  The leaders burst in through the doorway, literally. Dahl and Luther stood shoulder to shoulder, and neither retreated. The wooden frame cracked, shattered into pieces. Dahl took a step ahead, pistol raised, while Drake was just a step behind Luther.
  
  The room was small, almost completely occupied by the center table. The computer desk and monitor were in the same corner, practically inaccessible from behind the desk, with the Skype live screen on. The monitor was blank, but the live light was still blinking.
  
  On the table were six huge pizzas in distinctive colored boxes.
  
  On top of the tallest pizza box was the Sword of Mars.
  
  It's not real now. Drake entertained himself with a fleeting thought as people attacked from both sides. The attack was weak at best, with both men hit by a grenade. Drake didn't blame them. He was some distance away from the explosion and still heard ringing in his ears.
  
  Luther and Dahl laid down the two men with ease. Drake relaxed as he looked around at the fallen enemy and the weapons they had come to retrieve. "Well, I'm starting to feel a little out of place."
  
  "Finally," Dahl nodded, "the Yorkshire Bell End sees the glaring truth."
  
  "This is a man from the country of porn with blondes." Drake pushed the Swede aside. "Are we done here?"
  
  Hayden leaned over the pizza boxes and grabbed his sword. "Looks like it wasn't damaged." She turned it over in her hands. "Not that we saw it too well last time."
  
  "We fought a lot of enemies, and Kenzi was armed with a nuclear weapon," Alicia noted.
  
  "Oh yes". Kenzi smiled, fondly remembering. "And since then I haven"t ridden anything like that." She glared at Dahl's back.
  
  "We are fine?" Kinimaka asked. "I neutralized these guys, but some are still missing. And hell, I can barely make a full circle here."
  
  Luther backed over the broken doorframe. "Follow me, big guy. There is not enough room for all of us."
  
  Kinimaka raised his hand. "Wait. We can't let this pizza go to waste." He collected all the boxes.
  
  With the same caution, they left the communication room. Hayden lingered for a few seconds, trying to trace the direct link, but it was already disconnected and she couldn't find anything. "We will ask the British to go deeper into this," she said. "Let's see if they can come up with something."
  
  Drake took possession of the sword, keeping it away from Kenzi, whose eyes glazed over at the sight of it. Drake skipped ahead of the Hawaiian with pizza, noticing that Hayden quickly followed him. It was nice to see the couple trying again. Where would we all be without affection and passion? And more importantly, where would we all be without family?
  
  He studied the crew that had left the house; newbies adding their own distinct personalities to the mix; an ordinary team that fought for civilians and innocents from the very beginning and still fought - despite the ambiguous rupture of their friendship with the US government.
  
  Temporary thing.
  
  May be. But if it was so easy to disavow a team, maybe alienate a few teams, why would they continue to help this government? This administration? Pushing off a SWAT team should be as difficult as getting close to the president.
  
  But, unfortunately, the opposite was true.
  
  Drake noticed that it had begun to rain as he left the asylum and wondered if the sky was crying tears for the damned.
  
  Or was it for all soldiers?
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  The next day the morning was clear and invigorating, the blue skies seemed like a solid dome overhead. Hyde Park was teeming with dog walkers, cyclists and joggers. Luckily it was a fairly large place, and a team of SPEARERS made their way through the shiny grass with morning dew on their boots, meeting Major Bennett and Captain Cambridge on the path that passed the statue of Achilles.
  
  Hayden held the Sword of Mars wrapped in two supermarket bags. Bennett couldn't help but smile when he saw this. "Really?"
  
  Hayden shrugged. "The best we could do in a short amount of time and all the sword packing shops were closed last night."
  
  "Interesting place to meet." Dahl looked at Achilles. "Actual topic".
  
  "We strive to please," Bennett said. "There are also no tourists here at this time of the morning. Now we really have something to talk about..." He paused and picked up two cardboard trays full of steaming hot drinks. Cambridge picked up another one and offered them to everyone.
  
  "Civilized". Luther nodded his thanks.
  
  "Don't get used to it. First things first - Tempest is completely obsessed with collecting all the weapons of the gods. There doesn't seem to be any order to them, no clues as to how to find them. We expect to get close and then use this rare element to pinpoint the location. The point of this summary is to highlight the words 'get closer', which is the problematic part. So what do we know about this weapon?"
  
  Cambridge held up a thick folder. "Most of the generals are here." He waved it back and forth. "Pages full of information about the Sword of Mars and others. Read it." He tossed the paper onto the bench right in front of Hayden.
  
  She stared fearfully at the large folder. "God, man, I haven't read this much since high school."
  
  "Mars was or is the Roman god of war," Bennett said. "Identified with the Greek god Ares. It is now believed that these classical deities were once real people, or perhaps real gods, who walked the earth. Some of them are even identified with the myth of Atlantis and are said to have been kings of Atlantis who were later worshiped by lower races such as the Greeks and Phoenicians and thus their legends turned them into the gods we know today."
  
  "Are you saying that Atlantis is still real?" Smith grumbled.
  
  "Well, no, my friend, but rumors are starting to surface, some new evidence has emerged. Who knows? Maybe another team will take care of it, but we should focus on finding weapons, defeating Tempest and proving your innocence."
  
  Hayden liked the man and the way he articulated his goals quite clearly. She sipped strong black coffee and stood in the sun, letting its warm rays soothe her soul. It was nice to take a moment to feel the sun on my face.
  
  "Mars was the son of Jupiter. He was courageous, he was seething with vitality. The spear of Mars is most associated with it, but the sword is a good second."
  
  "That raises a question," Hayden chimed in as Bennett caught his breath and took a sip of his drink. "If we're scouring the planet for this weapon, presumably under fire, we need a safe place to ship it when we find it. A secure network of contacts so we can send them to you, Major, allowing you to store them with the Crown Jewels or something. We can't carry them all over the world with us."
  
  Bennett nodded. "Yes, we had the same idea. We will provide you with the most modern communication system and have already assigned a special unit to constantly monitor you. Between all of you and them, we should be able to draw weapons without risk."
  
  "Sounds great," Alicia said, and Hayden looked at her. "Any ideas what to do next?"
  
  Her question raised the eyebrows of most of the team, Hayden noted, including Mano. She found her attention briefly focused on her old infatuation. The big Hawaiian was as secure a home as she could ever hope to have, and, unbelievably, was still interested in her. This time, Hayden didn't want to mess things up, so she took her time, didn't create any expectations, and didn't make any promises. There was hope that everything would just fall into place.
  
  Wouldn't that require a period of stability?
  
  Of course, this was not even on the horizon. First, the network of criminals had to be destroyed, a network that had carved its way through the power structures of Washington, DC. His contacts would be impressive, his reach comprehensive. Even here...
  
  "Let's get this over with," she said, grabbing the folder. "We'll sort this out and be ready for the next few weapons. Maybe a little knowledge about the gods will help us find them."
  
  "Well," Bennett held out her hand as she prepared to end the meeting, "we do have an idea as to the location of the next weapon."
  
  She stopped. "You are doing? Why didn't you tell me right away?"
  
  "It seemed best to surprise you." Bennet shrugged. "When there is no path to follow, it is like sticking a pin on a map and going for the nearest one. At first, we chose the Key of Hades simply because it was originally found in the tomb that you all discovered."
  
  "Which of them?" Dahl asked.
  
  "Were there more than one? Ah, well, I guess you have your secrets. Tomb of Odin. The place where you found the bones of Odin."
  
  Hayden briefly remembered the time she first met Drake and his friendly partner Ben Blake, gone but never forgotten. Alicia was working for the other side at the time, and Dahl was an integral part of the Swedish government. Kinimaka was involved in some other mission related to the Blood King. As did Mai, for that matter. Karin was involved too, kidnapped by a lunatic, and Kennedy Moore too - another lost soul.
  
  "It seems like an eternity has passed," Dahl said thoughtfully.
  
  "Yes". Hayden hid her emotions and turned to Bennett. "Please continue".
  
  "The Key of Hades was found along with a number of other items in your Icelandic tomb. Many of these items were removed before the tomb collapsed, or exploded, or whatever happened to it...
  
  "Swords of Babylon," rumbled Kinimaka. "That's what happened to him."
  
  "Okay, well, the Key to Hades is a small object about the size of a large man"s palm. Obviously we don't know what it was made for or why it ended up in Hades' tomb, but we do know it's on the Tempest list. Now, after the key left the tomb under guard, it was sent to a museum in Stockholm for study, and from there it was stolen very quickly."
  
  Drake glared at Dahl. "Typically".
  
  The Swede closed his eyes in pain. "I remember how many archaeologists came and went in those days. I guess not all of them were real."
  
  "It's been a busy, crazy few months. It's always the same. No one knows who is really in charge or who their actual boss is, and then the carrion swoops in to snatch a piece. Money decides, and in this case, they persuaded the Key of Hades, straight from this museum, to fall into the hands of a thief known throughout the world as Aladdin."
  
  Alicia opened her mouth. "Damn it, don't tell me he's real too."
  
  "No, no, just a nickname given to him by some agency somewhere. Aladdin has been known to steal without a trace, a real ghost, but also never properly cleans up breadcrumbs that could lead to his benefactor. He leaves it to them. Some, of course, do not realize or think it is too important, and here we have one such person."
  
  "Do you know who has the key?" Yorgy asked.
  
  "We do, son. He is a shipping tycoon who owns the Gad shipping line and, in particular, the Enlargo yacht."
  
  "One of the largest ever built," added Cambridge.
  
  "Quite." Bennett nodded. "This man, Gordon Demba, has lived aboard the Enlargo for ten years, sailing from port to port. He doesn't cause much trouble, stays away from all major radars, and I'm guessing he has no idea we know about the key."
  
  "Did you send the heavyweights here?" Smith asked.
  
  "Of course not. The key must be taken secretly. We must leave Tempest to guess. And Demba will have his own guards."
  
  Hayden assumed that they would go after the shipping magnate. Smith, of course, hoped for a speedy return to Washington. Lauren hasn't been in contact for a while. She finished her coffee and threw the cup into the trash can.
  
  "Where are we going, Bennett?"
  
  "Pacific Ocean," said the major. "We'll deal with the coordinates later. Are you ready to go?"
  
  "Of course," Hayden said. "But there is a problem. Is it reasonable to look for only one weapon? Wouldn"t that allow Tempest to capture at least a few?"
  
  "We don't have a backup yet," Bennett admitted, and Cambridge nodded in agreement. "We don't know who to trust. Why do you think we're meeting here and not at MI5 or 6 or somewhere closer? I need your men and a couple of hand-picked soldiers that I can rely on."
  
  "Honestly," Hayden said. "We feel the same way and we can always split the team. But let's stay together for now. Is that what... a two-day operation?"
  
  "At most," Bennett agreed. "And it's relatively simple. Inside... out... Demba is not a soldier and does not hire mercenaries."
  
  "We need a thief," Drake pointed to Yorgi, "and a bodyguard. Choose yourself. I think it's done."
  
  "The key to Hell is on that boat," Bennett said. "And the aircraft is equipped with the upgraded GPR device you asked for. It has been calibrated and will look for one specific element that we need. If it doesn't beep, I've sent you on a wild goose chase."
  
  "He will beep," Hayden said. "Have faith."
  
  "Oh, I have faith," Bennett sighed. "But, right now, only in the people I see around me."
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  Flying at full speed into nowhere, Drake remembered the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. Not surprisingly, officially uncharted waters and even islands still existed here. The scale was stunning.
  
  They sat in the back seat of a large Chinook cargo helicopter, forgoing their preferred military alternative due to the size of their group. Alicia complained about the bumpy ride, and Mai reminded her that she usually liked that sort of thing. Kinimaka and Hayden chatted; Smith looked distant and held the phone to his ear; Kenzi and Dal sat at a distance, desperately trying not to stare at each other; Yorgi whiled away the time with Luther and Molokai, the latter wrapping himself tighter in his heavy robes as the cold penetrated the helicopter's fuselage-so it was really business as usual, with Drake watching over them all.
  
  Still no word from Lauren or even Kimberly Crow, so they flew blind with no fresh news about Tempest. Drake wondered how Karin was doing. He didn't expect to hear from her or her team so soon-breaking into FrameHub would be extremely dangerous even for her. The strange bunch of superheroes who fired a missile at Egypt some time ago were clearly out of their minds.
  
  But now she's in training, just like her new friends. And what the hell did she mean when she said, "I'm going to abort my program because of this"?
  
  What were her plans?
  
  The pilot said that two of them should climb into the cockpit. Drake and Hayden got up first, so they trudged confidently along the steel fuselage, listening to their own booming footsteps and the low murmurs of their crew.
  
  Drake glanced sideways at Hayden. "Are you okay?"
  
  "It feels like we've been on this damn road for ten years, Matt," she said. "Always another crisis. I really believe that the world would keep turning without us."
  
  "I'm not entirely sure," he joked, but then became serious. "We are really making a difference. Of course there are other teams, other agencies, all good men and women, but work on it like we've already won it, Hay. We are doing good."
  
  "And who works for us?" Hayden said as they got to the cockpit.
  
  The pilot turned to them so that Drake could say no more, but he knew what she meant. The situation with Washington and the lack of understanding on the part of President Coburn's allies and even the man himself were complex. Of course, with all the missions they had gone through in the last few weeks, the time period seemed much longer than it really was.
  
  Just a few short weeks ago they were safe in Transylvania. Peru and the Incas shortly before, each operation leading directly to the next.
  
  A vagrant with a gun, working full-time for a government that wants to kill me, he thought. This is who I am, who we all are. Description of hellish work.
  
  "Thank you guys," the pilot said in what Drake recognized as a Yorkshire accent. "We have twenty minutes left, so you might want to get ready. Gonna back you up while we float. It shouldn't take too long to get to the deck; we have four lines. "
  
  Drake smirked. "Hey buddy, are you from the country of God himself?"
  
  "Hey, up." The pilot turned with a sincere smile. "Don't yell at me, buddy, that I'm oiled. Where are you from?"
  
  "Ponte," Drake said, pronouncing it "ponte." "You?" I asked.
  
  Cas.
  
  "Hi Dahl!" Drake called back to the hull. "We have a real Yorkshireman here!"
  
  "Oh shit," came the long-suffering reply. "If only we had a semi-intelligent translator."
  
  The pilot glanced over his shoulder, through the cockpit door. "If you want to understand Yorkshire, buddy, go watch the full Monty movie."
  
  Hayden destroyed the mutual solidarity of the northerners. "Are you staying around?"
  
  "I'll stay nearby," the pilot laughed, now all cheerful. "Based on the fuel level, you'll have about..." He made a few cackling noises. "Forty minutes".
  
  "This will give us time to steal the key, clean up after ourselves, and maybe even repaint the boat," Drake said.
  
  "Maybe even a place to catch sharks." Dahl poked his head in and stared at the Yorkshire pilot as if he were studying a new species. "Is this a born slacker?"
  
  "Do you see any other pilots on board, you blond mutt?"
  
  Drake suppressed a laugh. The pilot raised his hand in apology. "Seriously, people, we have ten minutes left."
  
  By the time the pilot signaled again, the crew was lined up at the door with ropes in hand. Drake and Hayden stared out the windows, trying not to let the rolling blue waves hypnotize them. They tested communications and tested weapons. Soon Drake saw the boat of a shipping magnate at sea.
  
  "It's more than I thought," he admitted. "Better work fast, team up and work in pairs. There are many places on board where the guards can hide."
  
  The enlarger was a mix of silver and black panels, the front was sleek like a speedboat, and the stern was a smooth mix of elegant lines. Three decks were visible above the water, but there must have been at least two more under the water.
  
  "Nobody in sight," Hayden said. "A good start".
  
  "Time to take off," the pilot shouted.
  
  Luther opened the door and then Drake, on the other hand, did the same. The lines were dropped, winding around the clear deck. The first two descended with weapons at the ready, covered by those still above. Soon the next batch set off, and then the last, among them Drake and Hayden. Luther touched the deck first, Molokai and Smith a second behind. The soldiers crouched down and surveyed the surroundings. Drake landed softly and heard no noise other than the lapping of waves against the hull and helicopter overhead.
  
  Strange.
  
  Someone should have heard the pattern of the helicopter hovering, if not approaching. The team quickly split up and moved aft and forward. Drake saw polished brass railings, glittering windows, and one cold but unfinished ceramic mug of coffee. He saw an open door, a misplaced pile of rubbish in the corner, a yellow bottle of suntan lotion with an open top.
  
  A small pile of coins, as if someone was counting change.
  
  But no sign of human presence.
  
  Alicia voiced his feelings before he could. "Well, that's fucking creepy."
  
  The boat rocked gently, silently, except for the new arrivals. Drake wondered if they were all hiding downstairs, or if they had all passed out, or...
  
  Do not think. Search.
  
  "The key is probably still there," Hayden said into the earpiece. "Move your asses."
  
  He quickly climbed the stairs to the upper deck, but it was nothing more than a pool surrounded by sun loungers. The second deck was an external observation deck and lounge, bounded by smoked glass windows and a pair of sliding doors. He went through the drawers and cupboard with little hope of finding anything and was not surprised.
  
  "Heading to the main deck," he said over the comm. Alicia, his partner, patted him on the shoulder.
  
  "Are you thinking the same thing as me?"
  
  He was in no mood for a witty reply. All his senses were on alert. "Probably love."
  
  "Fine. Because I am minutes away from leaving the ship."
  
  The communication system came alive. "Thought you all should know this thing drifts," the pilot said. "Not much, but today is a very calm day. Let's see if you guys can drop anchor."
  
  Drake kept walking, trying to ignore the tiny shiver that ran down the length of his spine. Are you drifting? He had seen enough of the boats to know where the control of the electric anchor winch should be located, and found it easily. The sound of the anchor being lowered was too loud on a quiet day, making him and Alicia restless to check the perimeter.
  
  Another transmission: "Scrape on the side of the boat. It looks like something has appeared nearby."
  
  Drake went inside and helped Dahl and May search the furniture and nooks and crannies for any sign of the Key of Hades. Cambridge provided them with a photograph of the original artifact found near the tomb of Odin. Once again, it seemed surreal to him that they were weaving yet another story related to their first mission and the old gods. The Key of Hades was a mediocre item in terms of artifacts, but its name and more likely its size were what made it attractive to thieves and collectors. Big money, little risk. They checked under the sofas and behind the TV, opened all the paperbacks and the thick photo album, but found nothing.
  
  "Below decks," Mai said. "What do you see down there?"
  
  Kinimaka replied. "Crumpled beds. The toothbrush and paste is still attached. Full coffee cups. The staff quarters are clean and empty, as is the kitchen. I believe we have a ghost ship in our hands."
  
  Alicia exhaled sharply. "Do not say that".
  
  "Yes," Luther spoke up, which was surprising for Drake, given the man's poise and frankness. "I remember getting lost somewhere in the desert, in some Taliban-infested hole, and this young soldier with a pierced helmet was walking along the road and told me where all the buried improvised explosive devices were. I survived thanks to him, but it turned out that he was not... I tracked him down later, and it turned out that the guy died three months ago."
  
  Drake felt Alicia flinch next to him. "This is true?"
  
  "Of course it's fucking true. Don't mess with shit you don't understand, boy. And that includes you, Hawaii Five-0."
  
  Kinimaka grumbled. Smith, Yorgi and Molokai searched the lower deck and announced similar finds. No key, no sign of life. Hayden told them they had five minutes to double-check everything and then meet on deck. Drake went to the window to look at all the moving horizons.
  
  "Ghost ship," he whispered aloud. "Where have you all gone?"
  
  "If it had been the Kraken, there would have been more damage," Alicia said with conviction. "So don't worry."
  
  "Thank you darling".
  
  Of course, there were several obvious reasons why a ship might be abandoned these days, and none of them were good. Pirates. Terrorists. Criminal enterprise. Ransom. But he was concerned about the lack of evidence, the feeling that the entire crew had been aborted, surprised. The waters were empty in every direction of the compass; just a blue, wavy ocean.
  
  And that left them with one huge problem.
  
  They quickly packed up, going out to the main deck and climbing up to the prow, where there was room for everyone. The helicopter hovered high, its cables squirming softly in the breeze.
  
  "This is something new for me," Drake was the first to speak.
  
  "Are we giving up the key?" Kinimaka asked, then added, "And the boat?"
  
  "The Nemesis Dagger is next on the list," Yorgi informed them.
  
  "Bullshit, I hate losing," Dahl said. "Someone mentioned that this thing was drifting, right? Pilot - can you trace the path it might have been drifting along?"
  
  "Yes, buddy, I can. But first, you have to tell me - why did the georadar point us to the boat if it wasn"t there?"
  
  Dahl waved at them, checked the batteries, and then tried again. "Residual signal?" he dared to ask. "Or maybe it was here when Bennet ordered the check. Maybe... it was only recently moved."
  
  The pilot reluctantly said, "Maybe."
  
  While the crew waited for him to finish mapping the Magnifier's drift, they stood, trapped in the unnerving atmosphere that lay like a heavy shroud on the empty boat. A few minutes later, the Yorkshireman was on the line again.
  
  "Must have drifted five to seven miles, assuming you're right, and whatever happened happened this morning. They wouldn't drink coffee at night, right?"
  
  "The beds are made and unmade," Mai pointed out.
  
  "Yeah, so let's winch you all back up and take a short trip."
  
  They left the Magnifier where it was, abandoned and alone, and watched from the windows as the helicopter returned along the ship's route. They were greeted by the desert blue seas, and what at first was a magnificent view has now become dull and a little unsettling.
  
  "No rafts, no lifeboats, no...nothing," Hayden said.
  
  "Could a big storm have blown them away?" Kinimaka considered.
  
  "Nothing according to today's forecast," the pilot said.
  
  "I'm thinking of something more physical," Alicia said. "And with teeth."
  
  "Stop thinking." Mai sighed. "It doesn't work well for you."
  
  "Speaking frisky elf."
  
  Drake ignored their bickering as he watched Luther and Molokai. The two new team members rarely spoke to each other, but exchanged glances and gestures frequently. Obviously, they knew each other inside and out. Drake was under the impression that Luther could easily fit into any team and any situation, while Molokai was always aloof and difficult. The history of their past would be damn interesting.
  
  He returned his attention to the porthole when the pilot informed them that they had arrived at approximately the indicated location. Two minutes later, he called for the people to come forward.
  
  Drake crowded into the cockpit. Through the wide glass window he saw an amazing mass. Surprisingly, because the map on the dashboard did not confirm this.
  
  "This is an island?" I asked.
  
  "Yes, buddy, it is, the unknown."
  
  "Crap". Drake exchanged glances with May, remembering the other uncharted island they had visited and what had happened there.
  
  "Stop," Hayden said. "We need to see its size and check for others."
  
  "Several miles around," said the pilot. "Nothing you can't get around in a couple of hours, and I don't see any other land masses to any horizon. We are pretty much on our own here."
  
  "Strange," Kinimaka said. "It does not help".
  
  Even Molokai wrapped his outer garments tighter.
  
  Dahl aimed his adapted ground-penetrating radar at the island, lowering the helicopter's window as they approached, and now he could make out a small mountain range, probably of volcanic origin, and a few thickets of green trees. Behind the beach lay a valley overgrown with bushes. Dahl turned on the device, and there was no mistaking the sudden red pulse that began flashing in the center of the screen.
  
  "Key," he breathed softly. "It's there."
  
  "Then let us go," Hayden said. "Right there on the beach."
  
  Nobody said a word. They all remembered Enlargo all too well, and with heated imaginations could not help but wonder what kind of unknown hell they might have to go to.
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  The beach was pale, almost white, and belied any sense of illegitimacy. Drake waited, standing in the thick sand, looking up at the line of trees ahead and wondering what kind of escapade awaited them.
  
  Dahl turned on his georadar and studied the signal. "North". He pointed with his hand in the direction of travel. "Dead North"
  
  Alicia studied the line of trees. "Do you have a machete?"
  
  "Oh wait." Kenzi rummaged through the various pockets of her jacket. "Oh no, must have lost it."
  
  Alicia groaned, but Molokai pulled his hand out from under his thick coat, brandishing a three-foot-long, gleaming blade. "Will this work?"
  
  Kenzi practically ran to hug him. "Oh wow, what else do you have under those clothes, dude?"
  
  Alicia tried not to stare at him, but waved her hand towards the trees. "Show the way."
  
  The day was hot, but Molokai showed no sweat or discomfort as he walked along the beach towards the green. The crew spread out, keeping a close eye on any movement and keeping their eyes on the sea. The pilot left his helicopter as safely as he could and joined the crew.
  
  At first, it was difficult to go, because the milk and paved the way. However, it didn't take long to find the gaps between the trees, the machete was removed, and they could easily pass between the thick tree trunks, making their way through the vegetation layer. The air under the branches was heavy and the sunlight intermittent. A wave of heat washed over them. They roamed right and left, always on the lookout, but they came across nothing suspicious and no footprints.
  
  "May be as uninhabited as it looks," Kinimaka said, trying to wriggle out of the bush. "May be we-"
  
  "Barking up the wrong tree?" Drake asked. "Yes, may be. But Gizmo Dahl says no."
  
  The red impulse was constantly pounding a few miles ahead of their position, judging by the size of the island.
  
  "This key of Hades," Luther asked as they walked. "What is it, exactly?"
  
  "It's the key to the underworld," Hayden said, brushing her hair back as the heat intensified. "It opens locked doors that lead to hell."
  
  "Crap". Luther shook his head. "Like we need it in our lives."
  
  "I don't think it means anything to Tempest," Drake shared his thoughts. "They're just putting together a list of known weapons."
  
  "Looks like it," Hayden agreed. "But for now I reserve the right to judge."
  
  Gradually, the density of trees decreased, and the land began to slope. They came out into a small field where the ground dropped evenly into an incredibly green valley a mile long and a mile wide. The slopes sloped sharply - the far side was almost a cliff - and there was no visible structure in sight.
  
  "So," Hayden said thoughtfully. "To the valley? Or around?
  
  "Bad place." Molokai stared ahead. "There is no cover, and all around are high hills. I do not like it".
  
  "I must agree," Luther said. "Easy prey and all."
  
  "No structures of any kind," Dahl said. "But that doesn't mean there's nothing there. And GPR says the key is to..." He again pointed straight north with his hand. "Right at the start of the valley."
  
  "You are sure?" Smith asked. "Or is it on top of a cliff above a valley?" Because, man, it makes a huge difference when we go."
  
  Drake saw that Smith had made a good point. The only way to reach the cliff was to go around the top of the valley and overcome a series of jagged boulders, while to the end of the valley one could simply continue on one's way.
  
  "Let's split up," he said. "What are your preferences?"
  
  Opinions were expressed, but the team soon became divided. Drake and Dahl took their time scanning the entire area for movement, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Soon they began to descend into the valley.
  
  Alicia voiced their every thought. "I don't like it," she said. "Maybe it"s the drifting boat that gives me goosebumps, but then this deserted island? And I can't stop thinking..."
  
  "Are we being watched?" Drake finished. "Yes, I understand that too."
  
  "If that's the case," Dahl said. "They are very good. Here, among us, there is a whole world of experience."
  
  As the Swede's words rumbled ominously behind them, the team continued, watching their steps as they approached the valley floor, feeling the soft loam under their boots. Drake was the first to see the damp ground ahead, and then the huge, fresh cut in the ground. He slowed down, feeling something terrible.
  
  "Oh my God," Mai breathed out, then stopped dead in her tracks.
  
  In front of them lay a mass grave, dug deep and filled with dead bodies. Drake saw about a dozen, most of them shot, but at least two were hit by grenades. The sight was as horrifying as what he saw, and made him stare intently at the end of the valley. The smell was ripe, almost unbearable, making even hardened soldiers breath only through their mouths.
  
  Dahl connected to the communicator, relaying their findings to the rest of the team. Hayden asked if it was the ship's crew.
  
  "I think yes". Dahl walked around the perimeter of the grave. "I see several white uniforms on men and women. Also, a man in a suit and an older woman. Best guess? These are our missing people and one of those bodies is Gordon Demba."
  
  "Understood," Hayden said, and hung up.
  
  The team raised their weapons as they passed the grave to the accompaniment of flies and insects. Nobody said a word. They crouched, now more aware of the lack of cover and the complete absence of movement anywhere within their line of sight.
  
  "The signal is still good," Dahl said. "In the same place".
  
  "Did you see the bodies?" May said. "They took off everything except their clothes. No decorations. No watch, no rings. Whoever did this also robbed them."
  
  Drake saw a stretch three feet in front of his boots and raised his hand. It was a thin strand of cord that twisted in a light breeze and blended into the floor. What gave him away was his uniform straightness when all the ground around him was arbitrary. Crouching down, he studied his style and discovered the trap.
  
  A claymore as old as the hills and covered in grass.
  
  "Soldier?" Dahl took a risk.
  
  "It's getting weirder and weirder," Drake said.
  
  "It could be any innate criminal enterprise," Hayden said over the link when they alerted her. "We take it firmly."
  
  Drake moved towards the slopes, where cover was easier to find. Dahl knelt down and scanned the end of the valley through field glasses, now only half a mile away. After a minute, he chuckled.
  
  "Now we know what we are looking for," he said. "Easier."
  
  Drake took the binoculars and focused on. He saw a soldier's hideout, a camouflaged lair where a sniper could lie in wait for a target, sometimes for days at a time.
  
  "He dug in well," said the Yorkshireman. "Seriously, I can't even see him."
  
  "Might be a decoy-" Hayden began over the comm, but then suddenly stopped as the shrill howl of a bullet echoed through the valley.
  
  Drake ducked instinctively, checking himself for holes even though he knew the bullet should have hit by now. Alive then, now. The whole team announced their status. All was good.
  
  "Any idea where it came from?" Dahl asked.
  
  "I have no idea," Drake said. "But we have to split up right now."
  
  They separated and slowly crawled from cover to cover. Two more bullets were fired, one kicking up dirt next to Alicia's elbow, and the other flying towards the perimeter of the valley, where it tore off pieces from a fallen branch.
  
  "Large caliber," said Kinimaka, hiding behind a branch.
  
  "No movement at all," Dahl said. "We also need to be vigilant. Think of some distant mountain."
  
  Kenzi whistled. "Good call. He could give orders on his damn phone."
  
  Drake scanned the area once more, realizing that too much scrutiny was little better than none at all. If you stare at a patch of grass long enough, it will eventually move. Equally, he would also begin to blend in with his surroundings. At the top, Hayden's team was pushing off the edge and aiming for the rock. At the bottom, they began to climb the slope that led to the shelter and the place that Dahl's retro-GPR pointed them to.
  
  Drake breathed deeply, wiping sweat from his forehead. Mai and Luther covered their rear. Finally, Drake spotted a camouflaged rifle inside a skin that appeared to be mounted on a hinge. He quickly relayed the news and then spotted a second hideout.
  
  "We have to stop," he said. "There's a reason this guy doesn't blow us to pieces."
  
  "The key is right here," Dahl said. "Inside that first hiding place." He took a deep breath. "Who's with me?"
  
  "No," Hayden said quickly. "We don't know what the hell is going on."
  
  "We don't need it," Dahl said. "Anyone ready for a quick run?"
  
  Drake saw the Mad Swede come to life and realized that he could not be stopped. It is better to follow on the heels than to watch the catastrophe unfold without being able to influence it. Alicia was there, and then Mai and Luther, ready to charge.
  
  Dahl didn't wait another moment. He dashed up the last section of the valley, straight for cover, and then dashed down as the muzzle of the gun turned toward him. Bullets flew out, deafeningly loud at such close range, but Dahl was below their trajectory, and the rest were nearby. The Swede quickly crawled up, ducked under the cannon and tore it off its mounts. Drake saw the remote control and turned it off. Luther took the pistol, checking its cartridges. Dal had already searched the cache.
  
  "Duffel bags," he said. "Army issue. Full of crew stuff. It looks like he stripped them of their wealth and then executed them by hiding the goods here. The bastard could have a dozen of these all over the place, I guess."
  
  Drake had his eye on the second hide, but Alicia and Luther were already there, deactivating their rifle. Alicia picked up another bag filled to the brim with items.
  
  "I don't know exactly what that is," Drake relayed this over the communicator. "But that's not good."
  
  "We scanned the valley and slopes," Hayden said. "No more skins, but nothing human either. Did you find the key?
  
  Dahl sat awkwardly, still carrying his bag. "He killed all these people."
  
  "He?" Hayden said. "What makes you think it's only one 'he'?"
  
  "Sniper stuff," Dahl said. "They usually work alone. The fact that we were not attacked indicates the small number of the enemy. I guess one or two."
  
  "But how could one person make all these people leave the ship?"
  
  "Easy," Drake replied. "If he is a trained soldier. Brute force and aggression would have gone a long way, and he might have taken someone hostage. Someone important - maybe an old woman. He brought them here and then killed them."
  
  "But why?"
  
  A pained grimace froze on Dahl's face as he sorted through the contents of the sports bag. From there they got bracelets and rings, as well as a couple of watches, but at last, at the bottom of the bag, he found the item they were looking for.
  
  "This is all?" Alicia asked. "I expected more".
  
  Dahl pointed the ground penetrating radar at the key and watched it light up. The key was black, inlaid with stripes of gold and notches at various intervals. The shoulder was high and double-spiked, the cuts complex and serrated along its entire length. Even the tip was bizarre, tapering to the point where the cloven hoof was drawn back to the pommel. Dahl handled him carefully, not wanting to cut himself.
  
  "Ah, listen here," Hayden said over the link. "We found something up here."
  
  Drake's heart sank in anticipation of new bodies. "What?" I asked.
  
  "A cave well hidden. The guys are now examining it, but it's safe to say that it belongs to our sniper. Up here is a huge armory of weapons. Army uniform, combat vest. Camouflage jacket. Backpacks, cases for rifles. Name it yourself."
  
  "So it's safe to say that this man was a soldier," Mai said.
  
  "Yes," Kinimaka said. "There are even medals here. Two ACMs, these are at least medals for the Afghan campaign. We could have a war hero."
  
  Mai's tone became stern. "Whoever he was, he's a killer now. And we will treat him accordingly. Do we already have a position?"
  
  Smith reacted instantly. "I tracked the last few shots. He dug in somewhere on the other side of the valley. I can't pinpoint it exactly, but it has elevation and scenic views, all the benefits. It will be a group fuck no matter how you look at it."
  
  "Maybe not," Dahl said. "I have a plan".
  
  Drake shuddered and glanced at Alicia and May. "Is there any way to talk you out of this, mate?"
  
  "You haven't heard this yet."
  
  "I know, but when you said you had a plan, I knew we were in deep shit."
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  "Am I the only one who wonders why this guy is here?" Drake asked.
  
  "Deserts are all over the world," Alicia replied. "And so do the heroes of war who cannot cope."
  
  "Two opposite ends of the spectrum are right here," Drake said.
  
  "Don't judge anyone, Drake," May said. "You must know this, my friend. Smile and accept people for who they are, even if you don't like it, because there can be pain in their eyes that you could never imagine."
  
  Drake bowed his head, accepting a slight reprimand. In truth, this situation was different, but many people could barely contain their demons, and there were things much worse than getting shot.
  
  "Not happy," he said peevishly.
  
  "Well, that's because Dal chose you as bait."
  
  "Yes, and why is that? I think he was secretly mocking sarni sausages."
  
  Alicia rolled her eyes. "Don't be mean. If Dahl eats with pleasure, it's because of that Kenzi bitch."
  
  "Are you two still not getting along?" Mai asked sweetly. "It's funny how you take every second woman as a challenge, Taz."
  
  "Not you, Little Elf. You are not so much a challenge as an experiment."
  
  Mai tensed, clenching her fists. Drake stepped between them. "Stop it," he said. "Get used to the fact that our situation is awkward and move on. And besides, I'm more worried about getting between the two of you than about being a decoy."
  
  "That's good to hear," Dahl said over the link. "Because it's time to leave."
  
  Drake stared at the women, then shook his head. "Damn connection."
  
  Alicia looked like she didn't care, and Mai had already gotten down to business. The trio waited inside the hideout, waiting for the moment to leave. It happened quickly as Dahl and Luther pelted the edge of the valley with bullets. Drake lunged forward and to the right, lowering his head and keeping his center of gravity low. The sniper only had time to fire one desperate shot, a bullet whizzing past Drake's left before Molokai and Kinimaka opened fire from somewhere else, using a cache they had found in a hidden cave.
  
  Bullets whistled down the hillside near where the sniper lay, huge tufts of grass and clods of dirt shot several feet into the air. Drake reached the far slope and rushed up, jumping from hill to hill. The Molokai and Luther continued to fire, and then Hayden's voice barked loudly in their ears.
  
  "Get out of the cave! Come out of hiding! Get out now."
  
  It was expected. They couldn't be sure the sniper hadn't mined his stuff, so they played it safe and left. They rounded the edge of the valley towards Drake. The Yorkshireman climbed to the top of the slope, finding a flat area where the sniper could be anywhere from thirty paces ahead of him to a hundred paces. So far, he hasn't seen anything.
  
  Cunning.
  
  Alicia and Mai jumped out of hiding and headed for the bottom of the valley, one watching while the other fired. They were Drake's best hope of staying alive.
  
  He kept moving at speed, pistol drawn in case he needed to adjust quickly. From left to right, the terrain looked the same. It was a surprise to him when the flat earth itself shifted ten meters in front of him, and he realized what he had to do.
  
  He dug himself a cover, and then a small tunnel to the edge of the valley, from where he can see everything. Resourceful.
  
  This would be the fall of man. And it wasn't a takeover mission. They didn't have time; there were other weapons there, and the slain souls of the Magnifiers, damn it, wouldn't mind. Drake pulled two grenades from his belt and launched them into the air.
  
  "Attention," he told the team and rolled to the ground.
  
  Two explosions and a significant displacement of the earth followed. Drake saw a figure caught in a wave of earth that surged down the slope. He was on his feet before the upwelling reached its climax, hurtling toward the edge of the valley, showered in falling mud. Others stood on the edge and to the lee of the valley. Alicia and Mai rushed towards the explosion.
  
  Drake went downstairs. The torn earth lay everywhere, in heaps and flowing streams. In the midst of it all, a figure covered in earth and wearing a camouflage uniform struggled. Drake grabbed him, spotted his weapon, and tossed him aside before lifting the man upright.
  
  The fist hit him in the nose, causing him to reel. He did not expect that a person who had just been blown up and fell from a height of five meters would be so agile. He waved his gun, but the man ignored it, going too far to care. Drake could only see the whites of his eyes as he jumped, but he heard Alicia's gun go off. The bullet hit the man in the ribs, sending him to the ground. Drake aimed between the eyes.
  
  "Lie down, buddy. Do you have friends there?"
  
  A heavy wheeze was all he got in response. However, everything indicated that this man was a loner - from the only size and style of clothes, dishes and old photographs that they found in the cave, to the only weapon they were shot with. Alicia and May came up and stared down at him.
  
  "What is your name?" asked the Englishwoman.
  
  Mai leaned over and put her hand on the bullet wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Her face betrayed the knowledge in her brain. When Hayden and the others ran up, she shook her head.
  
  "I... I..." The sniper seemed to be trying to make an effort to sit up.
  
  "What is this?" I asked. Mai supported him with her body.
  
  "George... McLean..." he said, writhing in pain. SBS. I'm glad you came."
  
  Drake felt surprised. "How the hell did you end up here?"
  
  But McLean was fading away. Mai held him as the life left his body, but he managed to speak a few more words. "What I saw... I had to leave. It... changed me. No help. Came here... and stayed."
  
  The body went limp; Mai let him fall to the floor. The team looked at him and averted their eyes, thinking about all the war crimes and the sins of the instigators of the war. It's hard to feel sorry for a killer, but perhaps they could feel sorry for the man he was before he was sent to a distant battlefield.
  
  "Let's go," Hayden said. "Back to the helicopter."
  
  "What about the bodies?" Mai asked, referring to the Enlargo team.
  
  "We will of course announce it," Hayden said. "But right now we have to return the key to Cambridge."
  
  The network they created included a hand-picked SAS team and several contacts located around the world. SPIR would hand over the artifact to the SAS, who would then send one person to put it in the hands of an intermediary, a person with the resources to send the artifact back to the UK, where Cambridge would store it in a secret location. The members of the network were very practical - and knew each other, friends from a long time ago. As Cambridge said, a small network of confidants, some of whose relationships date back to their school days, was the most appropriate and useful thing he could offer them.
  
  The pilot launched the helicopter as the crew boarded. Drake could see the tension on everyone's faces. Yes, they received the prize today, but were left with conflicting emotions from what they saw and heard. As the helicopter took off and the island began to move away, Luther went to his pack and pulled out a bottle of rum.
  
  "I think we all need it."
  
  As they were heading to meet with the SAS team, Hayden tried to distract her colleagues by talking about the weapons of the gods and what significance, if any, they might have. She pulled out the Key of Hades and turned it over and over in her hands.
  
  "You know what gets me?" Alicia answered shortly. "Obviously this thing is key and made to go with something. I mean, what could it be?"
  
  "Something that Hades wanted to keep a secret," Kenzi said. "Unlike you and your feelings."
  
  Yorgi intervened before Alicia could react. "Incredibly difficult key. I doubt even I could open the lock it fits."
  
  "I could," Molokai said, raising a grenade. "My ugly friend here never fails."
  
  Then Luther's mysterious brother got up and threw off his coat. Drake couldn't help but stare, he had never seen the man so relaxed before. The cloak rattled, presumably from a weapon, and emitted constant puffs of dust. Molokai threw him into a corner. Underneath, he wore a flak jacket over a camouflage jacket, the straps of which were stuffed with all sorts of weapons and survival gear. As he unfolded the scarves covering his face, Drake allowed his eyes to wander.
  
  "Leprosy is curable," Molokai told the entire team. "Combination drug therapy is used. I was lucky because the disease was detected at an early stage and quickly cured. But I still have some damage, ulcers."
  
  Drake understood that the man's words would probably be a one-time offer to the team. Just something to appease natural curiosity. The right side of Molokai's face was a mass of small bumps that gave the skin the appearance of scales that extended from the jawline to the edge of the eyebrow. There was no horrible ugliness, no shapeless mass. Molokai carefully rolled up the scarf and patted it, setting it aside. Another cloud of dust rose into the air.
  
  "We really need to put you in the washer dryer," commented Alicia. "All of you".
  
  "I am only human," Molokai said quietly. "In case you're interested."
  
  Drake suggested that he was referring to the air of mystery he maintained around him, and to be honest, he was really interested in the man's history. Perhaps another time.
  
  Hayden held the key high. "Our second weapon," she said. "But we can't just expect to find more. Tragedy aside, this job was easy and took way too long. There are still five weapons left."
  
  "Do we know what and where?" Dahl asked as he carefully checked his weapons.
  
  "Here is the Dagger of Nemesis and the Chain of Aphrodite. The waters of Neptune and the Flail of Anubis. And the Vulcan Forge. Whitehall - the place in London where the DSF is based and from where they manage all the special forces teams - uses contacts around the world to trace weapons twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Our advantage here is quite large - since we know that all weapons were stolen at some point, and that is how they survived the destruction of the tombs."
  
  "And it's a shame that none of the gods were stolen," said Luther. "I would love to compare bone structure." He tensed his trunk-like muscles in his arms.
  
  "In fact". Dahl raised a finger. "One of the gods has been stolen. Skeleton Kali. Do you remember? Kali was the goddess of death. A man named Russell Cayman became obsessed with her. He stole her skeleton and hasn't been heard from since."
  
  "It's a total mess," Molokai said. "Indeed. You couldn't write this stuff."
  
  "No, that's interesting," Luther admitted. "I would hunt down this lunatic."
  
  "Yes, me too." Molokai nodded. "Just for pre-battle chatter."
  
  Drake listened to Molokai say more words than he had spoken since they met. It didn't last long, they both fell into thoughtful silence as quickly as they spoke. Hayden continued her description of the search for weapons in Whitehall.
  
  "Nothing they do is transparent," she said. "It has to be trick after trick, that's why it takes so long. Tempest has moles all over the place and there is definitely someone in the British government, maybe MI5 or even DSF. Only Cambridge and Bennett know the true goals."
  
  Then Hayden received the message, looked surprised, and spent a few minutes digesting it. Drake guessed it was something sharp, from the narrowed eyes and the deep sternness in her face. She spoke in expectant silence.
  
  "I just got a message from Kimberly Crow who finally got word from Lauren. It seems... ah, it seems that Nightshade was instrumental in orchestrating the theft of General Gleason's personal computer. Lauren is fine, and the computer has come up with at least one piece of information. We have the location of the meeting point in Tempest's chamber of secrets. Now Lauren will try to get information to President Coburn."
  
  "Nightshade?" I asked. Luther asked.
  
  "Doesn't matter," Smith said.
  
  "It really raises the stakes," Drake said. "This is also another clear call to move."
  
  "My thoughts too," Hayden said.
  
  "What did you mean?" Luther asked.
  
  "Split the team," Hayden said. "Who is with me and who is with Drake?"
  
  There were long moments of banter during which Alicia waited for May to decide and Kenzi waited for Dal to choose. Smith asked about Lauren, but Hayden literally couldn't tell him anything.
  
  "She's all right," repeated the former CIA agent. "Just hang on to it."
  
  It took a few moments before Drake said the obvious. "This all seems a little premature, don"t we need to find two objects?"
  
  "That's right," Hayden said. "And we do. Whitehall identified two weapons at the same time, tracking the chain of crimes. One in the States and the other in Greece. Say goodbye people, because we're going to hit the ground running without delay."
  
  "And fight," Mai said.
  
  "Yeah, and that," Hayden said. "The storm will be everywhere and in this one too."
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  Hayden's team quietly returned to the United States.
  
  The dialogue with Whitehall grew tense every minute. Every hour was precious, and it took several hours to fly from an uncharted island to the coast of America.
  
  The Tempest is getting bolder," Cambridge told her.
  
  "Do they have mercenaries in America?" Hayden asked apprehensively.
  
  "Not mercenaries," Cambridge said with more concern. "I'm afraid our sources are using the word 'terrorist'."
  
  Hayden was shocked to the core. "How?"
  
  "Not sure yet. Tempest could hire them, use them, or even create them. Don't forget, they had been planning this for a year, and when the top-secret methods failed, they changed everything. This is their last game and they may feel cornered, but they will stop at nothing to gain an advantage."
  
  "Do you have friends in America who can help us?"
  
  "We have friends everywhere who can help you. We also have enemies. So far, Tempest's plan appears to be to cover up events in which weapons are stolen using terrorist cells. This information comes from a trusted source in their outlying organization, from someone embedded in Syria where the cells are being trained."
  
  "And now we've crossed the American border," Hayden said. "It's a big place, mate."
  
  "Yes, yes, I understand what you are talking about. Do you have a laptop handy?"
  
  Hayden pointed to the zipper bag and waited for Kinimaka to bring it to her. Nodding her thanks, she launched it. "Ready".
  
  Cambridge gave her a link to go, and then several passwords working in tandem. Soon, a clear image flashed showing a standard interrogation room with white walls and a plastic table. A man sat on either side of the table, but only one wore a prisoner's uniform.
  
  "Tell us everything, and you may be left out of the medium security zone," the man said. "I'm sure you would prefer the minimum?"
  
  "I'm just an archaeologist," the man whined, his balding head tossing up and down, tears welling up in frightened eyes. "I didn't want this to happen."
  
  "Right". The interviewer coughed. "But you profited from stealing, right?"
  
  "Yes, but-"
  
  "Don't hang noodles on my ears," the interviewer barked. "This is a one-time offer, Theodore. If you talk, you will get a maximum of two years with a minimum guarantee. Choke and the weight of our office will fall on you," he paused. "May even get a high..."
  
  "Good, everything is fine". Theodore couldn't take it anymore. "People already asked me yesterday. That's why I got the hell out of there. They were more convincing than you, threatening to cut off the pieces and mail them back to me in the next few months."
  
  "Describe them," the interviewer asked. "Figures, faces. Any names. All."
  
  Theodore did as he was told and then returned to the main topic. "Dagger of Nemesis," he said. "This is from a huge German tomb I was working on. It's about, oh, six inches long." He showed the measurements using his fingertips. "And the perfect obsidian color. There are no reflections here. And yet, even now, it is as sharp as a woodcutter's axe. I don't know what ancient civilization made weapons like this, but they knew exactly what they were doing."
  
  "You don't believe in the 'gods were once real' theory?"
  
  "I see his virtues," Theodore said. "Generation after generation worshiped real, living, powerful people, after which the less developed, lazier races simply adopted the old stories, turning the main characters into gods. Honestly, this makes sense. But I cannot go one step further and believe that these gods had powers. Any kind."
  
  "Okay, got it. Please continue".
  
  "The dagger is unique, certainly priceless. One of the most indispensable items the world has ever discovered, but...
  
  The interviewer couldn't help but interrupt, to Hayden's annoyance. "Then why did you steal it and sell it to a member of the public?"
  
  "Money". Theodore shrugged. "I had gambling debts. Two children. A wife who was beyond our means. I think it was the easy way forward." He lowered his head.
  
  "Who did you sell it to?"
  
  "Joseph Berry," Theodore said. "Oilman from Dallas".
  
  Kinimaka peered over her shoulder. "I heard about this guy."
  
  The interviewer confirmed the name, and soon Cambridge was back on the protected line. "This man, Joseph Berry, lives less than three hours by helicopter west of Dallas. We have all his addresses and contacts, as we speak, there are more and more of them. I suggest you go there right now."
  
  The Tempest is one day ahead of us," Hayden said.
  
  "It seems so. I'm now activating all contacts in Texas. Be ready Miss Jay and I will have more information for you soon."
  
  Hayden gave their destination, suggesting they were about two hours from Dallas itself. The rest depended on where Joseph Berry's house was and where he was right now. She studied her companions-Mano, Yorgi, Molokai, Dahl, and Smith. More than enough muscle to take down Berry and take on Tempest. Of course, she had no idea what the new terrorist approach would look like, but speed, prowess and vast experience would help them cope, she was sure of it.
  
  Theodore Brakski, an archaeologist in the interrogation room, was captured in Stockholm by a small cell linked to the British SAS. It was sad to see that they were a day late, otherwise they might have taken him away. Hayden thought it might be a good idea even now, but then Cambridge got back in touch, ruining her thought process.
  
  "Apparently Mr. Berry is rich. He works as a troubleshooter for a very large oil company and often stays in Dallas for weeks at a time. We're using credit card details and security cameras to track him down right now, but his online presence shows he was at home in Arizona just a few hours ago. He bought a last minute economy train ticket to Dallas, and right now I'm watching him get on the train with his backpack about an hour ago. While we are talking, he is on this train."
  
  Hayden thought it through. "So this rich guy buys a cheap ticket to Dallas and gets on board with one backpack. Is he running away?
  
  "Maybe he got wind of Theodore's arrest. Maybe he knows about Tempest and runs to Dallas to get his more powerful possessions before disappearing forever."
  
  "Well, let's ask the guy politely," Hayden said. "Let's get to that train."
  
  "How are things with the second GPR device?" - Asked Cambridge.
  
  Yorgi held up the black box. "Technically it's not ground penetrating radar," he said. "But Dahl left detailed instructions. It's a cross between a GPS and a long range metal detector. But we are not looking here for the most precious metals in the world - not rhodium, extremely rare and valuable, or platinum, gold or iridium. We are looking for an unknown element, and we can only calibrate it by taking readings from an object that contains the same one. Therefore, these shavings I took from the Key of Hades."
  
  Smith shifted uncomfortably. "Was that a wise move?"
  
  Yorgi shrugged. "We'll see."
  
  Hayden glared at Yorgi. The young Russian has become more distant over the past few weeks since he told them the story of his past and why he murdered his parents in cold blood. Hayden knew something was brewing there. Something that resurrected the retelling of a fairy tale. Yorgi still needed completion, and Hayden could only think of one way he could achieve it.
  
  "Get us on the path of this train," she told the pilot. "We are ready to come back here."
  
  Cambridge's voice suddenly came to life. "Damn it, we have a big problem. Local authorities report that terrorists have hijacked a train and hostages have been taken..."
  
  Hayden closed her eyes. Was it already too late?
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  "What exactly are we looking at?" Hayden asked Cambridge.
  
  "This is bad. Terrorists threaten to drive the train to Dallas Union Station and blow it up. They have hundreds of hostages on board who they will kill if the authorities try to stop them. Double-edged sword. If you didn"t know it by now, then this is what we call deep shit, people."
  
  "Details?" Asked Kinimaka, always an inquisitive agent.
  
  "Eight hostages, all with bombs. Possibly suicide vests. Our man, Joseph Berry, should be in the third car in front. There are eight cars, so I'm guessing there's one terrorist for every car. But this is just a guess." He sighed. "I hate to think that this is all the work of Tempest."
  
  "Sounds like it could be," Hayden said. "They had a whole day to prepare this terrorist cell, for starters. Enough time to make plans. They steal the dagger and let the train burn down. Cover the theft with a crime. It won't be the first time."
  
  "Why not have a Berry snack at home?" Smith asked.
  
  "I don't know," Hayden admitted. "Time? Astonishment? Other questions. Maybe they failed and the train is their punishment. Cambridge, are they rerouting the train?"
  
  "They will not. There are hundreds of hostages on board and they don't want to risk it."
  
  "So they let him straight into Dallas?"
  
  "They are working on it."
  
  "Change direction?" Molokai suggested.
  
  "Trains can be tracked from any mobile phone," Hayden said. "The terrorists should have known."
  
  "Dead man's switch?"
  
  "Impossible without killing the driver."
  
  "Murder switch?"
  
  "Again, stopping the train would alert the terrorists. Hostages are an element of risk. Cambridge, tell me, did the terrorists make any demands?"
  
  "Only what they will do in due time."
  
  "They're looking for a dagger," Hayden said. "They should be. Pilot, how close are we to this damn train?"
  
  "Just arrived."
  
  The helicopter flew over the railroad tracks and then turned back, trying to follow a wide line of rusting rails. Still flying high, but with its nose down, it approached the tail end of the speeding train.
  
  Shots were fired from below. Two bullets clattered off the metal structures of the helicopter, causing the pilot to swerve to the side. He retreated to a safer distance, but Hayden and the others could still see everything they needed to see.
  
  "We can't wait," Molokai said with a soft growl.
  
  "Oh my God". Kinimaka gripped a portion of the bulkhead so tightly that it buckled.
  
  Hayden saw one passenger shot and pushed out of the window, then another was pushed alive through the door. Others were herded onto the roof. It wasn't a hostage situation. It was a terrifying battlefield.
  
  "Dagger or not, we must act," she said. "Get us there now and don't play the fool. We need to get on that train."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  Aphrodite's chain gave them trouble.
  
  Drake turned his head as Alicia fell face down next to him. "Are you okay?"
  
  "No, I'm fucking dead."
  
  "And it's all? Then stop whining and get on with it."
  
  Alicia lifted her head, blood smeared across the wrinkles that crossed her forehead. "What the hell happened?"
  
  "I think we got hit."
  
  "You are doing? Wow, Drakes, you have some serious ESP going on there."
  
  "What bullshit is that?"
  
  "Carefully!"
  
  Drake ducked as debris exploded around them. "Where are we?"
  
  "Greece".
  
  "Funny."
  
  "Glyfada. This is a beach resort."
  
  "Yes, I know that, love, but where the hell are we?"
  
  Alicia sighed. "Damn, dude, I have no idea."
  
  "We've been hit by a storm."
  
  "There was that report..."
  
  "Yes, yes, the Tempest is around, I know. But Hayden said they were training terrorists, not using mercenaries."
  
  "Maybe they do both."
  
  "May be".
  
  At that moment, Kenzi and May crawled closer. "The street is too narrow," said the Japanese woman. "We can't move without being targeted."
  
  "Well, if we stay here, we'll be easy prey," said Alicia.
  
  "Where is Luther?" Drake asked.
  
  "Behind an inverted Bentley. Do you see?
  
  "Oh yes, I see him. He is OK?"
  
  "I hope so," Mai said quickly, then changed her tone. "I don't see any blood."
  
  "Oh, good rescue." Kenzi laughed. "No".
  
  "Where are they?" I asked. Drake asked.
  
  "It would have been easier if the link hadn't been disabled," May said. "I spotted one there with a semi-automatic engine." She pointed. "Third floor of this building, and another one with a gun there on the first floor. He pins Luther to the ground."
  
  "Tall buildings on either side, narrow road in the middle," Drake said. "Does not bode well. Are there others?
  
  "I think so," Alicia said. "I heard four different guns firing."
  
  "Me too," Kenzi said with a nod of respect. "Correct solution".
  
  The silence that hung in the street was broken by another burst, preceded by a hail of rubble that splattered their shoulders and backs, and the screams of fleeing pedestrians. The windows are broken. The car alarms began their incessant howl.
  
  "We still have our weapons," Mai pointed out.
  
  "They really pressed us," Drake said. "Where does this damn archaeologist live?"
  
  "One block from here," Mai reminded him.
  
  "Are we sure it's him?" Kenzi asked. "I wouldn't want to go through this fight and then find out we got the wrong person."
  
  "Whitehall struggled with it," Drake admitted. "They were unable to determine where the archaeologist in question passed on the information. There is also no money trail. Turns out he kept it. Right here in Greece. Adrian Doukas keeps the Chain of Aphrodite in his house."
  
  "Crazy, huh?" Kenzi muttered.
  
  "It takes a man to know one," Alicia said, shifting her posture.
  
  "I think there's a bit of madness in all relic hunters."
  
  "All Relic Hunters?" Drake asked. "Do you know others?"
  
  "I know all the best of them. It was my business."
  
  Bullets shook the Bentley that was covering Luther, but the big man shifted slightly to the right, now ducking under the engine block, barely moving. His gaze shifted to them.
  
  Drake waved his hand. "Great job with the car, mate. I've never seen anyone flip a Bentley before."
  
  "Ideas?" The roar frightened at least one remaining civilian into leaving their hiding place.
  
  "Retreat," Mai said. "We don't have to fight every battle. That is life. Go".
  
  "Every second we wait, our archaeologist friend might decide it's time to run," Kenzi said.
  
  "He has no way of knowing we're coming for him," Drake said. "But I think Tempest could get ahead of us on this one. May is right. Work above all else. Is everyone ready?"
  
  While they obeyed, he communicated their intentions to Luther. Alicia watched the proceedings with some surprise.
  
  "If I was sitting in that car, I would have thought you were asking me what kind of pizza I wanted to order."
  
  "Then we are lucky that this is a real soldier," Mai said. "He's ready".
  
  "Do you want to blow him a cute kiss first, Sprite?" Alicia teased.
  
  Silence was the answer.
  
  Drake stretched the muscles that had stayed in the same position for so long. "Okay, ready to go."
  
  And then, actions spoke louder than words.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake was the first to get out of hiding, opening fire on the shooter on the third floor. Mai rolled on the ground. Aiming her pistol at the first floor, she fired to distract her shooter. Kenzi ran back down the street, hiding behind another car. Luther rushed out from behind the Bentley's hideout past them all to join her. Seconds later he had another car, a small Seat Ibiza lying on its side.
  
  "He flips his vehicles on their side very quickly," commented Alicia. "I wonder if he behaves like this with his women."
  
  Mai rolled back into cover, and Drake ducked. Together they endured another round of aggressive firefight, reloading their weapons in anticipation. They exchanged one look, and then Alicia rolled out, Drake got up, firing, and Mai ran up to Luther. Kenzi was already running away to the next hiding place, a deep alcove that formed the shop's doorway.
  
  The next moment, three runners came out and opened covering fire so that Drake and Alicia could join them. By this time they had pinpointed the location of all four riflemen and were bombarding their hideouts with heavy fire. Kenzi stepped out of the niche and found another car, then drove to the end of the street, the others taking turns following her. Their guns were never idle, bullets were constantly flying at enemies.
  
  When Kensi reached the corner, she fired a hail of shots and soon they were everywhere, safe as long as they were, stuffing their guns into their pockets and rushing headlong down the next parallel street. The archaeologist, at least, was in danger. It took only a minute to get to his street, and much less time to get his address. Steps led up to his front door. Drake ran into them as he ran and kicked at the white plating, splintering it into splinters. A moment later, Luther arrived and tore it off its hinges.
  
  "Nice," Drake said. "Well done, I loosened it for you, otherwise your leg would have been torn off."
  
  "Yeah, thanks dude."
  
  Luther kept knocking as he made his way to the narrow stairs leading to Dukas' apartment on the ground floor. They knew that this man lived alone. They knew that he was an independent archaeologist. They knew that he was currently working part-time at a small local museum and that he was sixty-two years old.
  
  Less than two hours ago, a local contact saw him enter his apartment with a takeaway breakfast of coffee and bagels.
  
  Drake reached the first floor corridor, saw another set of stairs at the far end, and thought, hell, there could be two exits. There is no time for that now. He supported Luther when he broke through Dukas's door without any warning. The door resisted a little, so the big soldier simply ripped it off its hinges and threw it a few feet up the corridor.
  
  "It works". Alicia watched as the door bounced slowly to a stop.
  
  "It resisted," Luther growled. "And like everything else, it's lost."
  
  Drake pushed him into the apartment, the team fanning out as they entered. A quick search revealed that it was empty and that the Chain of Aphrodite was not there.
  
  "Crap". Drake stopped. "All this for nothing, damn it."
  
  "We better move," Alicia said. "Or prepare a warm welcome for the Tempest boys."
  
  "Maybe they already were," Kenzi said.
  
  "Nah, they would have blown this place to pieces."
  
  "Agreed," Drake said. "And you see there? Leftovers from Dukas' breakfast. I think he left this place of his own free will."
  
  "Hello". Luther went to the phone and turned on the answering machine, playing the last message. It was a brief request for Dukas to help spend an extra few hours at the museum that day.
  
  Drake shook his head. "It's never easy, is it?"
  
  "Maybe that's just what we need," May said. "Turn off the answering machine and then let's go to the museum. I hope we get this person to join us."
  
  Drake glared at her. "You should have said that, right? We will now have a fight on our hands."
  
  Luther grinned as he deleted all messages, huge numbers threatening to shatter the plastic with every push. "Music for my ears".
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  Hayden held on, every muscle tensed as the helicopter spun from side to side, trying to dodge the erratic fire. The train raced down the tracks below them, a menacing, destructive metal titan that was frighteningly close to spinning out of control. The bullets bounced off the body of the helicopter, despite the agility of the pilot, and one window was shattered. In truth, the helicopter's presence had distracted the terrorists from their bloody deeds, but Hayden knew it wouldn't be for long.
  
  "They won't blow up this train," she said, "until they find the dagger. Get us there."
  
  The pilot dived. The terrorists shouted at them, brandishing their weapons and tossing captives from one person to another. When the prisoner objected or resisted, they threw him off the roof of the speeding train, laughing at the same time.
  
  "Let me lie down," Molokai growled murderously. "You don't know this, but my main job was to be a sniper, just like the man on the island. It's another reason why I wear all this shit; I'm used to it ". All this time he shifted from foot to foot, getting comfortable, building his blow.
  
  The terrorists screamed and waved away the helicopter. Hayden could only see their eyes over brightly colored scarves, their faces were hidden, and they were wearing loose jackets. It was difficult to determine their gender, let alone identify their faces. As one terrorist knelt down and pointed a Beretta at their cockpit, Luther opened fire. His shot hit the terrorist high in the forehead, without hitting the bulletproof vest, and released a stream of blood. The man instantly tumbled backwards, his gun flew off to the side, and then the body fell off the roof of the train. His companion looked dazed, then turned and ran, throwing his pistol into the air and leaving the prisoner behind.
  
  Hayden listened to the chatter.
  
  "This train is roaring toward Dallas!" - enthusiastically told his loyal followers a reporter-lover of sensations.
  
  "The authorities are gathering," said another. "I'm trying to come up with a plan to stop this train on its tracks as the minutes go by."
  
  "Passengers talk about terrorists in flak jackets, with guns and knives," someone else said. "Photos from the train are flooding social media. Terrorists don't seem to care. The challenge has been issued, and now America must watch helplessly as what happens to the train, its passengers and crew, and the city of Dallas."
  
  Through quieter channels, Cambridge reported unemotionally: "The ideas put forward range from the ludicrous to the extreme. Someone is trying to talk them into derailing the train."
  
  Hayden shook her head sadly. "Did they mention us?"
  
  "Right now, you're barely in their line of sight, but someone's ordered them to get those damn idiot reporters out of the airspace. You don't have much time."
  
  "We are ready to go. Can you help us?"
  
  "Whitehall has as many channels running as possible. Video surveillance on the train, Wi-Fi connection of the helicopter, TV broadcasts, uploading photos and videos to social networks, and much more. You just have to act fast before the suits ruin everything."
  
  Hayden again ordered the pilot to dive into the top of the speeding train and watched the helicopter's skids come closer and closer. The team prepared in the standard manner and then wrapped their arms around something solid to prepare for the coming strike.
  
  "Can you put this thing on top of a moving train?" Molokai asked.
  
  "I don't know, buddy, but I'm willing to try."
  
  "It's inspiring."
  
  Hayden closed her eyes for a moment as the helicopter swooped down towards the train and then slammed into its unyielding surface.
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  They found the archaeologist, Adrian Dukas, without much trouble, but offered no challenge. First, they wanted to scout the area. The civilian jackets they threw over their military gear to help blend in with the crowd shouldn't have been scrutinized, but the meager door guards bordered on the absurd. The five of them spent twenty minutes scouring the hallways, exits, and various floors before assigning Luther to guard duty and Mai to Dukas.
  
  Much of their attentiveness and discretion was due to the ongoing terrorist situation in Texas. Hayden was a big part of it and Drake didn't want something of that magnitude to happen here. The Athens National Museum of History was recently hit hard and Greece didn't need another one.
  
  It took Luther seven minutes to report his arrival.
  
  "Everything is clean here. I double checked the perimeter. Although it will be difficult even for me to keep track of all three entry points. I could use help."
  
  Drake wondered if he had any hope in May and sent Kenzi away. Then he and Alicia walked down the brightly lit hallway to where Dukas worked. Mai sat on a bench outside the room, reading a pamphlet. She stood up as they passed.
  
  "He speaks English," she said. "I heard him tell a story to a tourist."
  
  This is exactly what they expected. Such well-traveled archaeologists usually spoke English, at least tolerably well.
  
  "We are American agents," Drake said to Dukas for simplicity, his mind focused on a dozen pressing issues at the moment.
  
  "So it's you?" Doukas looked at them intently. "You don"t look like that and don"t sound like that."
  
  Drake recognized Alicia and May. "Yes, you got it right. Bad start. Look, let me get straight to the point. You are in danger. We are here to help. The problem is, we need the Chain of Aphrodite to make this happen."
  
  Dukas stared intently, trying not to show any emotion on his face. "I have no idea what you mean."
  
  "Tomb of the Gods," Drake said quickly. "It was destroyed, but not before a few archaeologists like you recovered some smaller, more collectible items. Well, someone found out. And that someone wants to get it. All of them. They will gladly kill you and a hundred others just to get one of them."
  
  Dukas looked scared, but still uncooperative. "If that were true in any way, I would go to jail."
  
  "Look, buddy, we're not here to arrest you. Just tell us where the chain is and then disappear. Like I said, people will come to kill you."
  
  Alicia then unzipped her jacket, smoothing out the pleats to show Dukas her weapon. May followed suit. The archaeologist swallowed hard.
  
  "I heard... I heard it from another person, third-hand actually..." He paused.
  
  "I can take it," Drake said generously. "Please hurry up."
  
  "I heard that the handcuffs they put out in the old gun cabinet are not handcuffs at all. This is a chain. Some questioned this, but nothing stuck. And they are always there when the old man wants to inspect or clean them." He smiled. "I don't know how it got there."
  
  Drake glanced sideways at the man. It was a defense, he guessed, but hardly one that would stand up to the evidence. However, it was not for him to decide.
  
  "Where is the closet, please?" Mai asked, as always politely.
  
  "In the very next room, my dear. A little to the left."
  
  They didn't need him anymore, but Drake hesitated. "You must come with us," he said. "Or run and hide."
  
  "This is an old museum," the man said. "I know one place."
  
  "Fantastic. Go there now."
  
  Drake followed May and Alicia into the next room, immediately noticing the large glass cabinet mounted on the far wall. In addition to brass trim and fittings, it had two wide, ornate gold straps down the center and was supported by a dark oak bookcase full of hardcover books with obscure titles.
  
  Drake stared at the glass case. "Do you see this?"
  
  "Are you as blind as an American?" The old man's voice came from over his shoulder. "It's right in front of you."
  
  Drake grimaced. "So you decided to stay, right?"
  
  "I helped start it all," said the old man. "I want to help finish this too. I have the key to this belt."
  
  While it was working, Drake decided to use it. "Maybe you can help, mate. What can you tell us about this weapon?"
  
  Dukas inserted the key and turned it. "Weapon? This Aphrodite, she was the embodiment of love, beauty and the pleasure of procreation. Facts that are somewhat distorted by the knowledge that we know that she was created from sea foam produced by the genitals of Uranus. There is a fact that, if I were Aphrodite, I might have ordered an edit. Ironically, despite her beauty, grace, sex drive, and intelligence, most of the other gods feared her. You know why?"
  
  Drake watched as the man spoke and pulled the heavy gold straps aside. Alicia raised her hand as if answering a teacher's question.
  
  "She had a dungeon?"
  
  "As far as I know, no, and I have been studying Aphrodite since my early twenties. They were afraid of her, because her beauty could lead to conflict and war, since many acted as rivals for her favor. It looks like gods and people. Aphrodite had many lovers."
  
  Mai patted Alicia on the shoulder. "Does she remind you of anyone?"
  
  Alicia looked thoughtful. "Kenzie? No, your sister?
  
  Drake became more and more convinced that he was the acting intermediary. "Let's listen to a good man," he said. "Perhaps we can learn something."
  
  "Born near Paphos, Cyprus, she was sometimes said to be belligerent, married frequently, committed adultery, and was vain. She is the main figure in the legend of the Trojan War."
  
  "And where does this chain fit in?" Alicia asked.
  
  Dukas gave her a wise smile. "After everything I just said, do you really need to ask?"
  
  Alicia blinked in surprise at his gaze. "Are you kidding? Do you believe this is Aphrodite's sexy chain or something like that?"
  
  "Sex is the oldest form of pleasure." Dukas opened the closet wide, sliding the doors aside before pulling out something between a short sword and a shield. "Here, feel it. The links are very light, but surprisingly difficult to break."
  
  Drake stepped back as Alicia looked suspiciously at the item Ducas had taken from the closet. "Sounds like you're speaking from your own experience."
  
  "Ah, that would be eloquent."
  
  Alicia stared at May, who stared back, trying not to show any emotion. None of them reached for the chain. Drake looked around at dozens of hard black obsidian links, enough to encircle a man's body at least four times, but there was nothing unusual about the chains. In fact, the only special thing about it was that it was found inside the tomb of a god.
  
  "It's easy to see how they eluded attention," Drake said as he took the chain. "Now, let's get out of here before those baboons get here ready to pull the trigger."
  
  "It's not a weapon," Alicia muttered. "It's just a chain."
  
  "Hey, GPR confirms it. They contain a rare element. This is what we are looking for."
  
  Leaving the room, they looked out the window, hoping to see Kenzi or Luther. Drake was startled to see Luther standing on the roof of a car and firing a pistol in each hand right and left, destroying his enemies.
  
  "This guy is so old school, he's bloody Butch Cassidy."
  
  Mai walked towards the door. "He needs help."
  
  Drake threw the chain around his neck, since there was nowhere to put it, and pulled out a pistol. Together they walked out of the museum and onto its grounds, two dirt paths winding around the central fountain and statue. The parking lot at the far end was where Luther did his work, and they could hear it here too.
  
  Drake saw the scene unfolding as he ran closer. Luther blocked the entrance to the museum with his own car and pinned the few remaining mercenaries to the ground with constant fire. By no means the best plan, but then it was Luther.
  
  "We are here!" Drake screamed to escape the bullet. "Where are they?" I asked.
  
  "And get your stupid ass out of there!" Alicia screamed.
  
  Luther slid down the side of the car, continuing to fire. "I have two on the right, two on the left," he shouted out the makes and models of cars, but Drake could clearly see the vehicles that had been hit by bullets.
  
  "Kenzie?" I asked.
  
  "Attached behind the fountain. Didn't you see her?"
  
  "No, no, where-"
  
  Just then, Kenzi climbed the wall and jumped into the parking lot behind the two mercenaries. She was on top of them in seconds, holding one by the throat and trying to fight off the other. Alicia and Mai knelt down and took aim, but could not fire for fear of hitting the Israeli.
  
  Kenzi strangled the first man unconscious, but was unable to stop the second from attacking her. Hitting her in the ribs with his boot, he then landed a knee strike right on the side of her head. Since there was nowhere to go, she took a blow to the ear, smashing her face against the side of the car.
  
  She fell on her back, flattened, moaning.
  
  The mercenary took aim at her from top to bottom. Kenzi kicked him, hitting him in the shin. However, neither Alicia nor May were able to get a proper shot; the vehicle was an SUV and the figures were largely hidden. Kenzi struggled, but the blow to the head stunned her, and the constant blows to the mercenary's shins were too weak to bother him.
  
  Looking down at her, he pulled the trigger.
  
  The moment before the shot rang out, the mercenary jerked back, his head thrown back from the bullet Alicia fired into his skull. Risking everything, she rushed to the car, finding herself in the line of fire, and, rolling over the side, rose with a pistol in her hands.
  
  Mercenary fell. Kenzi nodded in relief.
  
  This left Drake and Luther to cover Alicia's escape and try to take out the other two mercenaries. Several shots were fired, but then Luther got bored and climbed into the car he was standing on.
  
  "I don't have time for this," he growled.
  
  Drake threw the chain right around his neck and jumped to the side as Luther started the car's engine, causing it to squeal, then pulled away with tires screeching and collided head-on with another car. The mercenaries staggered back, away from cover. Drake finished them off with two bullets.
  
  "Just in time". Luther slammed the car door, then scanned the parking lot. "We are ready?"
  
  "Yes, we have a chain."
  
  "Well, I didn't think it was a lei around your neck, man."
  
  They quickly left the area, realizing that Hayden's team was under fire and several more weapons were still there. This was just the beginning.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  "Speed is our ally," Hayden said. "The terrorists won't pull the trigger until they find the Nemesis Dagger. Maybe even to Dallas, where there will be more people, more cover. Oh, and give those bastards the same favor they offer to all the people on that train."
  
  She jumped out of the helicopter, slamming her boots on the roof of a moving train. She staggered at first, then regained her balance, suddenly aware of the rushing air current and the rapidly moving terrain to her left and right.
  
  "Are you okay?" she called, approaching the only prisoner left behind. The man was trembling, sitting with his back to her, the severity of the trauma he had experienced was already haunting his eyes. Hayden handed it back to Dahl, Smith, and Molokai, down the line, past Yorga, and back to the helicopter. It was the safest place for him right now. In the end, he did not dare to climb onto the moving helicopter, so Kinimaka simply leaned over and pulled him up.
  
  Hayden moved on top of the train. The steel was slippery, but her boots held up. A row of lights swept past to the left, a row of houses to the right. Her eyes were already dry from the gusty wind. She walked to the edge of the car, seeing the adjoining rusty railroad tracks flickering from the side like an endless writhing snake, and hearing nothing but the roar of the train.
  
  Leaning down, crouching, she balanced on her fingertips and peered over the edge. A face appeared. The terrorist, whom she saw running away, hid in ambush. In addition to the body armor, he had a knife with which he poked her in the face. Hayden felt the metal cut through her jacket at the shoulder and instinctively rolled over, catching herself at the last moment before falling off the train.
  
  She gripped the front edge of the top of the carriage, using her fingertips to stab, but with no other option to hold on.
  
  Dahl called out, standing over her and peering down. He got the man's attention, giving Hayden precious extra moments. The knife flashed once, twice, Dahl dodged both attacks. On the third lunge, the Swede reached for the wrist, grabbed it and simply lifted the attacker up. He came screaming and kicking. Dahl tossed him back along the train, right at Molokai's feet.
  
  Hayden felt one hand loosen and screamed.
  
  Dahl threw himself over her, pressing her against the top of the train with his weight.
  
  The Molokai followed Hayden's previous advice and kicked the terrorist hard until he rolled off the top of the train screaming, falling, tumbling, akimbo, before hitting the side wall of a passing counter. Cambridge was already secretly informing his contacts about his final resting place.
  
  Hayden couldn't breathe, crushed by Dalem. She didn't care, since that was all that was keeping her from nose-diving off the top of the train. The wind whistled beside her as she wondered how long Dahl could hold his body on top of her as the train sped down the winding expressway into downtown Dallas.
  
  Someone grabbed her by the ankles and then Dahl's weight was transferred. She looked back and saw Molokai dragging her to safety.
  
  There was no time for evaluations.
  
  "Six left," Hayden said. "Let's go down there."
  
  "The six we know about," Kinimaka reminded everyone. "People going for the dagger may be dressed in civilian clothes."
  
  Hayden was the first to return to the edge of the train, he was never frightened by anything. She remembered being shot in the back during the night of the Blood King's vengeance, an act that only strengthened another layer of iron over her already unbending will.
  
  They descended into the space between the cars, feeling grateful for the sudden end to the terrible shaking. They knew that the last car would be empty and that in the middle of the car in front of them was a terrorist with a Smith and Wesson, a military blade, body armor and a hand grenade, according to extensive Cambridge records.
  
  "Quick and sure," Hayden said. "Who has the best shot?"
  
  Dahl slid past her. "I'm surprised you have to-"
  
  "I believe," Molokai said. "Sniper".
  
  Dahl blinked, ignoring Molokai in his opinion.
  
  Hayden pushed the Swede. "No time, just do it!"
  
  Molokai crouched down, put his hand on the hilt, and nodded to Dahl. A second later, the Swede was ready and nodded back. Molokai pushed open the door, Dahl stepped inside and took aim at the terrorist with the trigger.
  
  The forehead was straight, the features of the shocked face were frozen for just a moment, the true awareness of his terrible fate was suddenly very clearly reflected on his face.
  
  Dahl fired. The terrorist's head leaned back, blood spattered nearby people and side windows. The man fell dead in the aisle, no longer moving. Heads turned to the new arrivals as screams rang out.
  
  Dahl shouted, blocking them all. "Shut up! Go to the end of the train. To the end and then hold onto something. Close the doors. Forward! Now!"
  
  They parted as passengers passed by, many of them nodding their thanks. Hayden knew that even if she begged or ordered them to stay away from social media, she had no chance of agreeing. Some people just couldn't help themselves, even if it put their lives at risk.
  
  Now the carriage was empty. Hayden walked quickly along it, knowing that even if the terrorists could make contact, they couldn't be sure of the insurgents' exact location. Of course, it depended on the intelligence of the guy in the next car.
  
  He was looking through the glass, looking straight at them.
  
  Dal didn't hesitate, just rushed like a wild animal, shoulder-first at the connecting door. She didn't stand a chance, her hinges were broken; and the terrorist on the other side too. Both flew back, and a pistol and a hand grenade flew into the air.
  
  Dahl collapsed face down on the door, crushing the terrorist from below. Molokai pulled Hayden aside as he ignored the gun and rushed headlong to catch the falling grenade. She quickly came to her senses to see that the pistol had unfortunately landed next to the terrorist's grasping hand.
  
  Molokai caught a grenade. Hayden raised his gun.
  
  Dahl got up with the heavy door in his hand and hit the terrorist twice with it until all movement stopped.
  
  Hayden stared at the end of the car.
  
  "Wait," she told everyone. "Don't move until we say, then run to the end of the train."
  
  There is no point in repeating the same mistake twice.
  
  She mentally counted out the carriages as they approached the next one. Number four was next, and the dagger was identified as number two. It must have been five minutes since they put their boots on the top of the train. The next terrorist fired at them, causing an explosion of screams and the sound of breaking glass. Molokai stood firm even as a second bullet grazed the scarf covering the lower part of his face, aiming at his attacker, then calmly pulled the trigger and killed the man.
  
  They rushed forward again. More passengers were sent in a panic, running to the back of the train. Hayden's ears were filled with Cambridge, saying that the city of Dallas was already visible on the horizon.
  
  She didn't need to hear anything else.
  
  Minutes passed. Hayden went to the third car in front and saw a terrible fight going on. Some of the passengers rebelled against their tormentor in an attempt to disarm him. They crowded around him, trying their best to lash out, doing their best to defend themselves, hopefully limiting his own ability to hurt and maim. Two lay bleeding on the floor, and the other leaned back in the seat, and the woman covered him with her body. She, too, was injured.
  
  "This is a bastard-"
  
  The rest of Hayden's sentence was drowned out in a snarl of hate as she stalked down the aisle, wading between the fighters, grabbing the terrorist's head by the hair and lifting it up until she could look into the whites of his eyes. Then she put her Glock to the spot at the bridge of his nose.
  
  "Enjoy Hell"
  
  She ended the fight with a bullet. People were falling everywhere. She took them back. Kinimaka, Yorgi, and Smith took care of them, guiding them to the back of the carriage, then knelt down to tend to the wounded. Hayden knew they were now standing in front of the bus where their target, Joseph Berry, the Dallas oilman, was supposed to be. A broken window to her left drew her attention, and she remembered how, not so long ago, terrorists threw people off a speeding train.
  
  It is true that the terrorists wore the cloak of pure evil, but what about the people who created them? What about the people who recruited and trained them? She has always put the day-to-day well-being of the civilian population at the top of her list and has sought to harm the people who threatened them - be it a dastardly terrorist or a powerful and vicious figurehead.
  
  She carefully sat down at the door to the next car and peered through the dirty glass.
  
  It was a scene from Hell.
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  The terrorist stood on the seat, a head taller than the passengers he forced to stand around him. With one hand he held the woman by the hair, with the other he put the gun to her temple. She was sobbing, her face was covered in blood. Those around her were either trembling or crying or trying to look strong. He could point a gun at them in just a few seconds.
  
  "Do you see Berry?" Kinimaka asked. "This must be a red herring."
  
  "Can't see him," Hayden said. "But you're right. He is there, inside. They haven"t had a chance to pick up the dagger from the train yet."
  
  "And the dagger may not be with Berry anymore," Molokai said. "I'll deal with it." He pulled a rifle from under his spacious overcoat.
  
  "No". Dahl put his hand on the man's wrist before he brought it up to the terrorist's view. "That asshole already has half the weight of the trigger loaded. Even a point-blank bullet can cause a reflex reaction. He needs to be treated differently."
  
  Smith stepped forward, hands raised. "Then deal with it."
  
  He walked to the door, opening it slightly. Hayden followed suit, and the others spread out in a similar manner. Dahl stepped back to the broken window and quickly perched on the sill, his head out, looking down at the gusts of wind.
  
  Crazy, he thought.
  
  But necessary. He grabbed the top edge of the window and pulled himself out, holding onto the sill with his fingertips and ankles. Then he put his feet on the windowsill, bent his powerful legs and jumped onto the roof of the train. A gust of air shook him and the train as it raced toward its destination. From here, Dahl could see buildings approaching: warehouses, residences, and shopping malls. In the sky, he could see several helicopters and a spot in the air high above, a potential fighter.
  
  Oh, bullshit.
  
  Would they?
  
  Cambridge had to convey valuable information, but everything depended on the ability and disposition of the person in charge. It may even depend on the suit at the top of the chain. He believed in President Coburn's ability to do the right thing-hell, they fought together during the Blood King's attack on DC-but he didn't believe that some people would let Coburn speak.
  
  Tempest would have designed it all, down to the smallest detail.
  
  Who was holding the dagger?
  
  Dahl rolled his body over the top, rolled over and stopped on the roof of the train. He sat up, exposing his body to the wind. He walked forward the number of steps that would have brought him face to face with the terrorist. He glanced over the side of the train.
  
  Rails and gravel piled past; behind them the railroad banked. Cambridge was silent on the call. Hayden whispered that it was now or never.
  
  It became a planned strike. At the heart of it all was the knowledge that the terrorist didn't really want to kill the woman he was holding in his arms-at least not yet. She was his greatest asset. Everything about Hayden and Dahl's workouts suggested that he would falter. Dahl grabbed the side of the train with one hand, the edge of the window with the other, and cautiously, but not quickly, climbed down.
  
  The movement caught the terrorist's attention, made him turn his head. This movement pulled the barrel of the gun away from the woman for a split second.
  
  Hayden broke a window in a small box, which set off the alarm.
  
  And nothing happened.
  
  "Oh no",
  
  The terrorist began to turn towards them, but Molokai and Smith were already in full flight. They jumped over the backs of the seats and jumped over the terrified passengers, hitting the terrorist at chest level and throwing him off the seat and onto the floor. The gun fired, the bullet went through the roof without harm. Smith took back his hand grenade while Molokai broke all the bones in his throat. They kept his arms down as he died and then quickly disabled his body armor.
  
  Hayden took control of the situation. "Step aside," she called out to the mostly confused passengers. "Right now!"
  
  Kinimaka and Smith stood in their seats, shielding the passengers with their own weapons. There was no time for explanations; this would increase the overall danger. Molokai dragged Dahl inside and then they all watched with their weapons at the ready.
  
  Hayden took off her backpack and pulled out a ground-penetrating radar device. The view outside the windows changed from fields to buildings.
  
  We're entering Dallas, she thought. And there is still at least one terrorist holding a bomb on this train.
  
  What should we do?
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  Drake yanked the chain off his neck as the car sped away. The museum was safe, the old man was in hiding, and the mercenaries were sent. Not a bad few hours of work, if he said so himself.
  
  "Wait," Alicia said. "What is this?" I asked.
  
  "What is what?" He was never sure if she was going to make a joke about him.
  
  "Your hands, Drakes. Look at your hands."
  
  "They're bloody black and bright," he drawled. "My mom would have killed me."
  
  "It's not dirt."
  
  She was right. For that matter, it looked like charcoal dust, possibly covered in poor quality black paint. The thought that came to him made his heart jump. "Damn, that's not Aphrodite's fucking chain."
  
  "No," Mai said, staring at his hands and then at the chain links that had begun to peel off and reveal the silver underneath. "This old man - Dukas - deceived us."
  
  "Bastard," Drake swore. "But then, why should we expect anything else from a thief? Kenzi, take us back there."
  
  "We'll never find him," Mai said.
  
  "Oh, I think we could," Kenzi said, looking ahead through the windshield.
  
  Drake focused. Doukas, even now, was running through the parking lot towards the farthest lane. There was panic on his face, his gait becoming clumsy due to his slight limp and age. When he got to the front of the old gray Nissan, Kenzi turned her car about an inch from his knees.
  
  Drake opened his door and went out. "Get in."
  
  His tone allowed no objections. Ducas was practically dragged into the back seat and squeezed between Alicia and Drake. Kenzi reversed and then turned the steering wheel toward the exit.
  
  On their way stood three mercenaries, the remnants of the former force.
  
  "Where did these guys come from?" Luther asked.
  
  "Probably searching the museum." Drake told it the way he saw it, but who really knew? "Doesn't matter. Kill them".
  
  Mai slammed her fist on the handle of her own door and let it swing open. "These assholes make me fucking sick."
  
  Alicia made a sound of shock as she stared after the Japanese woman. "What happened to little Miss Proper Pants?"
  
  "She's fucking sick." Drake opened his own door. "Are you not listening?"
  
  Mai fired instantly, without waiting for any ceremony or aggression from the mercenaries. Its purpose was not in doubt: the first bullet pierced someone's shoulder blade and turned him around, the second blew off his elbow, and the third shattered his knee. The mercenaries fell, weapons clanging to the ground. Mai's pace didn't slow as she moved towards them, closing the gap, firing deadly shots. One mercenary groped for his weapon, took it away, and fell dead on top of it. The other crawled away, aiming at the gap between the parked cars, but died a few seconds later when Mai opened fire.
  
  The latter raised both hands in the air.
  
  Mai finished him off before he could even try to betray her trust.
  
  Drake took a deep breath as he balanced on the side of the car, his gun pointed at him. Mai turned away from the dead and headed back inside. Drake followed him. Luther in the passenger seat coughed politely.
  
  "Great job."
  
  Mai ignored the American and turned to Dukas. "This is what we do to our enemies, bastard. Do you want to be our enemy?"
  
  Doukas shook his head, trembling. "No. No. I-"
  
  "Save it," Mai growled, now looking into each other's eyes. "What the hell are you up to, old man?"
  
  Kenzi took the opportunity to get them moving, avoiding the bodies and heading for the exit. Traffic in this relatively small Greek town was sparse and the sidewalks were quiet. Sirens wailed in response to the recent shooting, but no one has approached the museum yet. They should have assumed that the police would have been brought to Dukas's apartment.
  
  Kenzi carefully got out of the noise.
  
  Mai pressed the muzzle of her gun against Dukas's chin. "Speak, old man. You're putting us all in further danger. It"s already unforgivable, but if you tell everything now, I might even let you live."
  
  Dukas couldn't stop shaking when he finally confessed everything.
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  
  The ground-penetrating radar screeched, signaling that the dagger was nearby. Hayden wondered if it was hard enough to pinpoint the exact location. The little red dot flashed faster as downtown Dallas approached. Cambridge's voice filled her ears, telling them they had twenty minutes to pull this off. The only reason they haven't been canceled so far is because they have now defused seven of the eight bombs with no loss of life. No one outside the train would risk their careers betting on such odds by sending in a strike team.
  
  We can't risk the train.
  
  "Molokai, Smith, finish off the last terrorist."
  
  She watched them approach the end of the car, then turned her attention to the nervous passengers. One by one, she sent them past her position, GPR in one hand and Glock in the other. Kinimaka stood next to her, and Dal, Yorgi and Luther opposite.
  
  And then she recognized the identity of their enemy: a woman with slicked-back brown hair sweating at the temples, dressed in a loose overcoat and moving with her head down. She pointed at the woman to Dahl and Luther, then raised her gun.
  
  "Stop!"
  
  Someone screamed. Heads flew to the sides. Hayden didn't expect the woman to attack, but she also didn't expect her to fall to her knees and wail.
  
  "No, no, no... I can"t, I just can"t..."
  
  She dropped her coat from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Hayden almost expected to see body armor, but the woman was wearing only a plain white blouse. Nemesis' dagger fell to the floor, and Hayden looked at it for the first time.
  
  The dagger, about fourteen inches long, with a viciously serrated blade, radiated no brilliance despite the bright streaks of light falling on it from above. The dense black surface absorbed everything. The handle was about the size of a man and had ribs along its entire length, and when Hayden aimed GPR at it, the device went berserk.
  
  Nice to know.
  
  The fallen woman sobbed, her face on the floor. Hayden raised her head. "What is this?" I asked.
  
  "They have my husband. Made me get on the train. I had to jump when it slowed down and then make my way to a phone booth on Ross Avenue." She nodded at the dagger. "With the help of this".
  
  Hayden lowered her head for a moment. The evil of men... and women... should never be underestimated.
  
  "Sit still," she said, then opened the comm. "Cambridge? Seated representative?
  
  "More convincing information from Crowe and Lauren gleaned from the General's computer, but we'll discuss that later. This is your last chance, Hayden. They literally point their weapons at anyone throughout the last route. They are on the ground, crammed into the windows of the second and third floors. They are on the rooftops. You have... four minutes."
  
  Hayden yelled at Yorgi to run straight to the back of the train to force the passengers to lie down. She raced with Dahl and Luther to the front car to see what the hell was going on with Molokai and Smith.
  
  The last terrorist stared at him with huge eyes, a terrifying gleam of extreme fanaticism on his face. He tied one person to the headrest of the seat and forced him to hold on tightly to the grenade.
  
  A grenade from which the check had already been pulled out.
  
  The terrorist knelt on the seat behind him, the gun pointed at the rest of the passengers who were lined up in front, some on their knees. Smith and Molokai were halfway to the altar.
  
  No options.
  
  Hayden slipped into the carriage unnoticed, knowing she was supposed to be there. The rest followed him. The terrorist immediately saw them, but knew that he had an advantage.
  
  "I will kill everyone," he said.
  
  "Oh, I know you will," Hayden replied. Because you're a crazy little asshole. She turned to the prisoner holding a live grenade: "What's your name, buddy?"
  
  "Mark. Mark Starzynski."
  
  "Do you have children, Mark?"
  
  "Yes I want to. Two".
  
  "Well, Mark, you're holding on to this piece of iron like it's gold, a winning lottery ticket, and your children's future rolled into one. Got it?"
  
  "Yeah, that's right, I figured it out."
  
  Fine. What's up, moron?"
  
  The terrorist narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his gun.
  
  "Yes, you are a moron. You're looking at me, not these poor people. Only me. Do you want to know why?"
  
  "You crazy bitch."
  
  "Well, that's what you're right about today. I killed all your crazy buddies. I gave orders. I pulled the trigger. How do you like it?"
  
  Two minutes, Cambridge said in her mind.
  
  There was genuine fear in Kinimaki's voice. "There are a lot of passengers here who are made to stand," he hissed. "At the front. And the team too. Pass it on."
  
  "Ah, hell, I'll try, but they're already dark."
  
  An ominous phrase that no one wanted to hear. Hayden glared at the terrorist in front of her.
  
  "I sent all their worthless lives to shitty hell and spit on their vile corpses. What do you think of that, you moron?"
  
  "Back!" shouted the terrorist. "You leave now, or I will kill everyone!"
  
  "You already said that." Hayden came within arm's length. "How about you stop being such a fucking coward and point a gun at me?"
  
  "I'll blow your head off! You will stay!"
  
  Cambridge whispered, "Thirty seconds!"
  
  Hayden leaned forward and hissed, "Boo."
  
  The terrorist yelped and pointed his gun at her. Before he could even half-deploy the weapon, Dal and the Molokai slammed bullets into his chest, above his flak jacket. Hayden didn't look. Out of the corner of her eye , she saw Mark Starzynski shaking violently, and she reached out to support the hand holding the grenade.
  
  "Now you're safe."
  
  Turning to Cambridge, she said: "All is clear."
  
  The train rumbled on, minutes from Dallas Union Station. Hayden ordered everyone on the entire train to lie down and hoped with everything she held dear that Cambridge had managed to get the message across to everyone.
  
  Dahl pressed the emergency brake and the train began to squeal, the wheels screeching as it came to a quick stop. Hayden slid forward. Dal hung and broke the nearest window.
  
  "We're not waiting," he said when the train finally stopped. "The bureaucracy would put an end to this whole mission."
  
  He was right. Hayden straightened her body and told Cambridge everything she knew about a woman with a captive husband.
  
  "Try to help them."
  
  "Will be done".
  
  Not knowing where the shooters were, but knowing they had no choice, they trusted contacts in Cambridge and got off the train.
  
  Already rushing headlong to the next mission.
  
  
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  
  They never stopped running.
  
  It was in their blood, in their heart and soul. The mission, the world, and those they fought against demanded it, and they always rose to the challenge.
  
  In the darkness of a luxurious minivan, in the back of an empty, unlit parking lot, they pulled up after many hours of travel. Finally, they were able to rest, but the updates continued to come, without ceasing, keeping the mission at maximum speed.
  
  Cambridge described the aftermath of the events in Dallas. "An incredible result," he told them. "Only the raucous morons who missed the theoretical glory question it at all. And which we can handle. Do you still have the dagger?"
  
  "Are your people close?"
  
  "Yeah. My people are on their way, so we can feed this back over the net. Back to England and the key to Hades. This will be the third weapon at our disposal, including the Sword of Mars."
  
  "Didn"t others get Aphrodite"s Chain?"
  
  "Ah, they're still working on it, to be honest."
  
  Smith chuckled at this. "Not cool".
  
  "Yes, they ran into a few obstacles in Greece. But no one was hurt, so we are doing well."
  
  "Earlier, you mentioned getting some important information from Crowe and Lauren," Hayden reminded him.
  
  "Certainly. Whoever they used to dig into General Gleason's laptop found something important. It appears that the list of weapons acquired by Secretary Crowe was by no means definitive. There is one more..."
  
  Hayden sensed that the bad news wasn't quite over yet. "And what?" I asked.
  
  "It's quite a bit longer. We've counted at least seventeen weapons so far, with the potential for more. But it does explain why we run into Tempest at every armory, and why some of their crew are mercenaries and some are terrorists. It also explains why they set up terrorist training camps."
  
  "They are pulled very thin," Smith said. "We'll get it."
  
  "Like Marmite on toast," Cambridge said. "It also helps explain why they're not too worried about losing all the weapons we get."
  
  "Working with a big list," Dahl said. "Without a doubt, they still get the majority."
  
  "Quite right. I see items from the earliest list of gods to the oldest - the Thorns of Erebus and the River Styx. The largest, the Ishtar Gate, is spoken of as 'virtually unattainable' and 'infinitely desired'. But there are many more."
  
  "Some of that," Dahl said. "It doesn't look like they were taken from any tomb."
  
  "Well, that's the last we know at the moment," Cambridge said. "Not only weapons were found in the tombs. Maps were also found."
  
  Hayden leaned back in her chair, taking stock. "Are you saying that we are defeated? Even before we start?"
  
  "Of course not," Cambridge snorted. "We are taking them apart and we are close to exposing Tempest. We will work on it, you work on the weapons."
  
  "Nemesis," Dahl said then. "What is the significance of her dagger?"
  
  "She was the god of retribution, the wife of Zeus himself. Apparently, she gave birth to Helen of Troy. Her father was Erebus. A winged goddess with a dagger, she is ruthless divine justice, a true avenger for crimes. Using her scales or counting stick, she decided the fate of both mortals and gods, and rode a chariot drawn by griffins. She is credited with bringing Narcissus the greatest grief of his life by leading him to a pool where he saw his reflection in the water and fell in love with it. In the end, this is what killed him, as he could not bring himself to turn away from the beauty of his reflection."
  
  "You know," Dahl said, "I have the same problem. Anything else?"
  
  "Something like this," Cambridge said. "For now".
  
  "Okay, then what-"
  
  "Oh, except for one thing."
  
  Hayden sensed that this might not be good. "Cambridge?"
  
  "Sorry, just received information. Several American powers know that you are in the country now. I, of course, concealed your identities on the train. But they will succumb to the pressure of the powerful Tempest members and start hunting you."
  
  "Do we need to leave the country immediately?"
  
  "I'm afraid you understand."
  
  Hayden started the car. "We're leaving now," she said. "As long as the darkness lasts. Just point us in the direction of a friendly airstrip."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  
  Drake didn't listen to the old man until they reached a quiet destination, parked the car, and sat down on concrete benches at the edge of a small park. The swing moved back and forth in the distance, and the happy sounds of children playing came like gentle blessings in the warm currents of air. Mai, more cool now, and Luther, who had volunteered to watch the perimeter, split up and wandered away. Drake watched them both walk away with a significant question in his heart.
  
  What I feel?
  
  The place he was in now, with Alicia, was not created by him. Basically, it belonged to Mei. And maybe it was a chance for her to start over. Luther too.
  
  Alicia interrupted his musings by deciding to play team talkers. "Let's hear a pathetic confession, Dukas, every bit. Remember that my faith in you will help you survive."
  
  The old man placed a hand on each temple and studied the ground beneath his feet. "I purchased the chain, as you said, from an old tomb. I escaped unnoticed, at the cost of my own teeth. I felt happy. Brought the chain to my house and then started wondering what the hell to do with it."
  
  "You didn"t steal for profit?" Drake asked.
  
  "That didn't even cross my mind."
  
  "Weird," Kenzi whispered. "I have it all the time."
  
  "I kept it and didn't let it out of my sight and, like probably all aspiring thieves, got so paranoid that I had to do something about it. I thought - what would be the best place to hide it? This question overlapped with the memory of my old enemy, conjuring up the perfect place."
  
  "Old enemy?" Kenzi asked.
  
  "Yes Yes. Lars German. He's the police commissioner here."
  
  Drake double checked. "Will you come again?"
  
  "You heard right, sir. He's the police commissioner and my childhood antagonist. This man was a bully."
  
  Drake didn't like where this was going. "Dukas-how the hell is your enemy, the police commissioner, connected to the location of the Chain of Aphrodite?"
  
  "That's where things get tricky," Doukas admitted. "I realized long ago that the chain does not work from metal detectors. As well as half of the scientists working in these tombs. I wrapped them in bubble wrap and duct tape, then came up with a plan to break into the station. I took them right in. I pretended to meet with Herman to bury the hatchet, and after a cup of coffee I excused myself and went to the toilet. I left it hidden right there by my enemy because can you think of a better place to hide it?"
  
  Drake had to admit that Ducas' plan was on the verge of being foolproof, but he was furious with the old man. Time passed, and they were already risking their lives. Now they were told that the chain was hidden in some old police station?
  
  "Is he still active?" Alicia asked.
  
  "Yes, yes, I"m afraid so. Although not terrible."
  
  "Not terrible? What does it mean?"
  
  Alicia glared at Drake. The Yorkshireman stood up and kicked the overgrown grass at the foot of the bench. "Does anyone else know?"
  
  He expected a negative answer and received it.
  
  "On the one hand, it doesn't look like a difficult target," said Alicia. "But on the other hand, what will be our response if the cops put up a fight?"
  
  Drake looked sadly at the gray sky. "The answer will be as easy as possible," he said. "But we have to get this chain and it has to happen tonight. The Burya could be combing this entire city right now with a ground penetrating radar like ours. We have no time."
  
  Kenzi narrowed her eyes then. "Hey, why did our ground penetrating radar decide that the chain in the museum is real?" she asked.
  
  Drake shook his head, looking at Dukas. "I have an idea about this," he said. "Why don't you tell them, mate?"
  
  "I scraped the pieces off the chain," he admitted. "Added some scrapings of paint, charcoal and water. It made good pasta. You see, I still wanted the chain. Couldn't help it. So I kept a small part of the links."
  
  "Weird," Kenzi glared at him.
  
  Drake called May and Luther and then gave them the bad news. The team got together to make a plan.
  
  "Too bad we don't have Yorga," Drake said. "The kid will make a great burglar."
  
  "He was a burglar," said Alicia, "who was caught."
  
  "Not because of his profession," Drake said. "It was something else."
  
  "Yes, I know. Family. He must go back there."
  
  "I could do the job," Kenzi said. "I have done similar operations before. But I would feel safer with someone like Dahl behind me."
  
  "This is a completely different operation," Alicia said bluntly. "It's called doggystyle. Let the adults talk, bitch."
  
  "I really love cat fights." Luther looked away from the two of them. "Have you two ever done this?"
  
  "Once or twice," Alicia replied. "Almost as many times as your girlfriend and me."
  
  "My girl..." Luther raised his hand. "Yes, stop. I am not part of your little life experiment and never plan to be. I have a job, a calling, and as soon as this mess with Tempest is over, I will immediately return to it."
  
  Mai didn't look happy. Alicia saw this, but decided to leave it at that. This team already had too many broken hearts. Kenzi came close to Drake.
  
  "Do you want me to do this?"
  
  "Not alone, Kenzi. You shouldn't take that risk. We'll all go in together, including Dukas who's here. Let me tell you this, buddy, if you're still lying, I'm going to put you in one of those night cells, right through the damn bars."
  
  "IM telling you the truth".
  
  "Move out and get ready," he said. "We perform just after midnight."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  
  With no easy choice, they chose the most direct of several problematic ones. A riot on the other side of the city would have distracted the bulk of the night force, and before looking for a chain, they needed to get a few stun guns. Luther was sent to organize the riots.
  
  Everyone else went to the police station.
  
  Drake stood in the darkest shadow, silent, cold, as midnight passed. At this speed, we'll have to storm the damn place.
  
  It was already a long delay, just waiting for an opportunity. At first, they were lucky - within sight of the back gate of the police station there was a patch of greenery. They were able to determine ballpark figures, comings and goings, even civic activism. Luther's diversion could happen any minute.
  
  Alicia stretched. "I'm bored".
  
  "But you're still luckier than us," Kenzi told her. "Because we have to look at you."
  
  "Oh, you hurt me." Alicia clutched her heart and doubled over.
  
  "Not yet," Kenzi muttered, turning away.
  
  Mai looked at them and then shook her head. "Please, someone give me a stun gun."
  
  Drake counted down the seconds, watching the silent Dookas. Luther's diversion was supposed to have taken place a few minutes ago, but due to the lack of active communication, they remained in the dark for the time being. Luther would probably be too busy to reach them on his cell phone. Drake saw the police van pull away from the police station, lights flashing on their plot of land as it turned onto the road. The team squatted behind old tree trunks and thick hedgerows, hidden on all sides. Darkness fell again, leaving the crew to wonder.
  
  "Wait," May said. "It sounds promising".
  
  The Japanese woman's hearing was as sharp as it could be. Drake heard a noise a few seconds later, the sound of an approaching van.
  
  Alicia saw it first. "We begin".
  
  They came out of hiding, moving quickly and as discreetly as they could to the back gate of the police station. As the white wagon approached, they were out of sight behind the pillars that supported the gates on each side.
  
  A low buzzing sound signaled that the gate was being opened by remote control. Drake waited for the van to pull in, drove down the ramp into the station, and then slipped past the slowly closing gate, following him down the slope. Alicia and May were right behind him, supported by Kenzi. They quickly dissipated into the accumulated darkness between the parked cars and hoped that the person studying the CCTV footage covering this quiet, small, secluded police station had missed those last few seconds.
  
  "Silence is golden," Mai said. "Go".
  
  At that moment the van returned, followed by two police cars. The gates parted with a creak, and both cars pulled out. Drake nodded happily.
  
  "That must be Luther."
  
  "Perfect".
  
  Coming out of hiding, Drake found himself praying for good luck and moved towards the back doors of the police station. Unusual feeling at the beginning of the mission, but this undertaking was completely different. Quite a bit had to go wrong to turn it into an absolute disaster.
  
  The building had two rear doors - the first with a single opening, which Drake assumed led to a cage that held a small number of people, and the second with sliding double doors. A well-placed explosive charge destroyed the doors, allowing them to push the frames apart. May slipped in first.
  
  The desk sergeant walked around the wooden counter he had fallen on, pistol in hand. The man's hand was trembling, and his eyes were wide open. Mai rolled over, took cover behind the table, and then silently jumped on top of it. She watched the sergeant crawl under her, seized the moment, and then sank onto his back. In one move, she disarmed him, pocketed the gun, and unhooked his stun gun.
  
  "Done," she said aloud, making him immobile before zipping up his arms and legs.
  
  "Masks". Drake ran his own across his face before the security cameras could see them.
  
  A second policeman entered the room with a questioning expression on his face. The explosion was deliberately quiet, powerful enough to crack the glass and make a sound like a hundred different sounds. By the time the man realized the intruders were breaking in, Mai spun back across the deck, tucked his upper body between her legs and rolled him onto his back. Before he could catch his breath, she zipped up and gagged him.
  
  "Come on, Sprite," Alicia complained. "I feel unwanted here."
  
  Mai dragged the second policeman to the first one. "Finally. She will get it."
  
  Kenzi entered the station, renouncing the luxury of a mask. Her words: "I'm already in the system, and this could help save the reputation, you know?" didn't exactly reassure Drake, but it certainly wasn't official that she was currently with Team SPEAR, so perhaps identifying her would actually help avert suspicion.
  
  It was estimated that Drake had at least three more policemen to deal with. He saw a corridor to the left and, looking along it, noticed a row of cameras. A voice called out inquiringly, but he ignored it. They found and used the keyboard to move further into the building. Beyond the waiting area, they found several more rooms with closed doors. Mai pierced the first one. Drake heard an exasperated exclamation, and then a muffled scream. So, it was three by May. Not to be outdone, Alicia and Kenzi infiltrated the next two rooms, leaving Drake standing in the hallway.
  
  He rushed to help, saw Kensi leaning over, already aiming the taser at her target, who was pouring coffee from his coffee maker. Deciding she was fine, he moved on to Alicia and saw her bending the man's elbow to bring him into position for a light electric shock.
  
  Who feels left out now?
  
  "Is that all of them?" Doukas asked.
  
  "It must be. Take me to the men's room, quickly."
  
  Not the kind of offer he'd ever imagined to ask a man.
  
  The old man pushed past, then stopped at the end of the corridor. Drake didn't see the toilet sign, but Doukas stared at the closed door on the right.
  
  "This is his office. My badass. Do you think he could be inside and I could borrow a stun gun?"
  
  Drake considered all bullies to be cowards and kept the memory of the boy from his school days; the boy who stole his lunch money and bullied him for a year. Somehow he doubted the boy would try it now.
  
  Hence: coward.
  
  "Of course," Drake said. With a quick movement, he turned the doorknob and opened the door. The police commissioner sat with his feet propped up on the table, one hand tapping lazily on his laptop while the other poured alcohol into a glass studded with diamonds. As Drake lunged at him, he spilled his drink, choked on the liquid, and fell off his chair. Drake dragged him around the table and handed Dukas a stun gun.
  
  "One".
  
  The mask lifted around Doukas' lips, he was so happy. Drake watched the electroshock and then looked up as the others entered the room.
  
  "Couldn"t handle it alone?" Alicia asked in a hushed voice.
  
  "Yes". He remembered to be careful what he said. "It's complicated".
  
  "Oh, I get it," Alicia said. "I really want".
  
  As soon as the police commissioner was tied up, they went to the toilet area. Doukas pointed to the right stall, which Drake climbed up to remove the paneled roof and search for a bubble wrap full of chain links. At first his searching fingers found nothing, but he knew it couldn't go far. A change of direction, and he found it, a medium weight bundle that tensed his biceps as he lifted it up and handed it to Alicia. Once they were done, they ignored its contents in order to hurry up before other cops showed up.
  
  Drake hurried to the back doors, walking past the people they'd already tied up and checking on their health. Everyone was fine and, with the exception of the commissioner, they also apologized. As they headed for freedom, a nightmarish sound split the air.
  
  Explosion. Drake fell to the ground. The building shook. Somewhere nearby, glass shattered, and debris fell to the floor. Loud voices could be heard as the noise of the explosion subsided.
  
  "Here! Now!"
  
  "I don't like breaking into the police station, bro. Just the opposite."
  
  "Stop your damn whining and move on. The bloodhound squeals like a pig in heat."
  
  "Speaking of pigs, when can I shoot one of those bastards?" New voice.
  
  Drake stopped. There was a chance they could slip away unnoticed. "I think the enemy has just arrived."
  
  "Tracked the chain," Alicia said. "We must act quickly."
  
  "What are you waiting for?" Kenzi growled. "Forward!"
  
  "I don't-" Mai began.
  
  "We can't," Drake said. "They will kill these cops or at least hurt them. They are helpless. I cannot let this happen."
  
  Alicia stopped mid-step. "You are right".
  
  Kenzi looked at them like they were crazy. "Exit," she breathed, "right there."
  
  "Then use it." Drake ducked around the corner as footsteps sounded down the bifurcating corridor. A quick count showed that there were five of them. Drake missed the first and then hit the second, assuming the first would turn soon anyway. The second bounced off the far wall and knocked out everyone who was pounding behind him. People sprawled face forward, weapons fell. Those who wore scarves over their faces lost them. Fingers were broken, curses were vomited. Drake fell among them.
  
  Kenzi raced past Mai to grab the first man, grabbing his gun as he tried to level it and lifting it up to the ceiling. It became a metal bar between them, rolling back and forth. With his free hand, the mercenary drew the knife from its sheath, but that was exactly what Kenzi wanted.
  
  She smiled. "Thank you man."
  
  In the middle of the blow, he turned pale. Kenzi grabbed her wrist and let it past her, twirling viciously and catching the blade as it fell to the floor. The mercenary roared as his fingers snapped. Kenzi tossed the knife into the air by the blade, then waited for the handle to fall back into her hand.
  
  The mercenary's eyes followed the weapon.
  
  She caught him and plunged him right under the ribs. All strength left his body. She stepped back and watched him fall, now holding his gun.
  
  Drake kicked with elbows and knees and worked his way through the fight. Every weapon he found, he returned to Mai. Alicia was with him, crawling among the fallen men, the narrow corridor giving them little room to work. It was more like a hellish deathmatch; a close, claustrophobic fight in which everyone was huddled together.
  
  Drake rolled off the body and found a leg wrapped around his neck, which he removed with a touch of his stun gun, but he knew the charge was low. He rolled back, got up, elbowing the seated man in the face, then leaned his whole body on the other. Alicia showed no mercy, electrocuting everyone to the most easily accessible parts of the body using her boots and a knife she pulled from a man's sheath.
  
  Mai hung two pistols on her shoulders, another behind her back, and the fourth held at head level. At the end of the corridor, a shadow shrouded in light, she was a vision-not least because her modest, slender figure belied the fact that she boasted such a collection of weapons. But the shadow bit.
  
  The new mercenary walked through the ruined facade of the police station, his semi-automatic Mauser clearing the way. Mai didn't let him fire, just instantly opened fire with her own weapon and watched as the figure bounced off the back wall into a lifeless rag doll without even noticing its killer.
  
  Another squatted down next to him, surveying the scene. Mai also shot him. Drake realized that he had disarmed most of the men and crawled back the way he had come, dragging Alicia by the elbow.
  
  "It's time to go".
  
  "But it won't take them long to recover."
  
  "Long enough". Drake patted his ears. "Listen".
  
  Sirens wailed in the distance.
  
  They got to Mai and Kenzi; Japanese woman handing out weapons. Drake took one last look at the bound policeman, saw that everything was in order, and almost rushed on. But the look of the desk sergeant stopped him - fear, a slight shake of the head, a deliberate widening of the eyes.
  
  Without hesitation, he fired at the rear doors. With a groan, a figure fell, followed by another mercenary, whom he shot through the chest. Nodding to the policeman, he placed the gun on the floor.
  
  "Thank you," he said.
  
  The rest did the same, realizing that the weapons were of little use to them now. Dukas had the chain, but now Kensi took it off him and hurried him out through the back parking lot of the station back to the gate. Drake used the same keyboard as before, and then they squeezed in.
  
  They ran to the left between the buildings and headed back to the waiting car.
  
  Meet Luther.
  
  And get the hell out of town.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  
  Drake's heart sank when he heard that Hayden and the others were on the run, desperate to escape America before they were caught. Even Secretary Crowe and Lauren, who were relatively close, couldn't help them. Lauren's attempts to meet with President Coburn continued to be blocked, and Crowe was forced into hiding. At the moment, they were only able to pull on hidden, invisible threads, trying to change something.
  
  Similarly, on the run, while driving down a road somewhere in Greece, Drake's team checked Aphrodite's chain and then dropped off Doukas. Drake called Whitehall.
  
  "We're sitting in a rented C-class Mercedes, driving down the B road through what seems to be a flat purgatory, to be honest. I have no idea where we are."
  
  Alicia pointed to the satellite navigation. "It's said right here."
  
  "That's right, but I'm so angry that I can't bother to look. Cambridge, can you track us?"
  
  "I triangulated your phone right now. We'll take the chain. Just keep going."
  
  "How do these bastards keep following us, mate?"
  
  Cambridge was quick to respond. "It's not you, it's the law of convergent averages. It is a world wide web of facts and details stacked against you. They have tools to track weapons that are better than ours. Crowe discovered that there are far more weapons than we initially thought, more than twice as many. Tempest has a wide network using terrorists and mercenaries. The chain gives us four weapons and I'm willing to bet they have twice as many. They jump around the world from job to job. One of the biggest problems is this terrorist camp. We don't know where it is, and Tempest will have a small army pretty soon."
  
  "It's clear". Drake assessed the mood of the people in the car. Still tense, they lived every moment, knowing that they were fugitives and that Tempest had ordered the destruction on their heads. Of course, they were capricious. Of course they were on edge. But more than a dozen other isolated SWAT teams were there too, living under threat every day.
  
  "What can you tell us about the chain?" Alicia asked. "Dukas seemed to think it was Aphrodite's sex toy."
  
  Cambridge snorted. "By all accounts, she was a bit of a whore, but I doubt she needed to resort to chains. It was made for her and given as a gift by a potential suitor, something about it symbolizes what his heart felt every time he saw her."
  
  Alicia choked. "Yeah, the Drakes say that all the time."
  
  Cambridge continued: "It was not so easy. Aphrodite, of course, was married, and as her adultery continued, her husband grew wiser. She became bolder. The only way men could court her was by sending gifts, the more sincere, the more likely they were to have a midnight date."
  
  The length of the chain seemed light to Drake as he held it in his hands. The small links and thin metal made it suitable for all hands.
  
  "That makes more sense," he said. "It wouldn't even stop Alicia, and she's a weakling."
  
  The Englishwoman made him groan with a punch to the shoulder, no doubt leaving a new bruise. "Add this to your assortment," she said.
  
  "While we wait for the collection," Luther said. "We are losing time. Where are we heading next, Dartmoor?"
  
  Drake knew it was a nickname referring to Cambridge's SAS past and smiled.
  
  "Well, we also have it in our hands. The next weapon that we know of in your vicinity is also in Greece, and you are heading straight for it."
  
  "We? This is cool. What is this?"
  
  "We have a problem with this-" Cambridge waited for the chorus of moans to die down and "again." "Sorry, no one said it would be easy. Greek city and we have a very good idea of where it is."
  
  Drake scratched his stubble. "I guess there is a 'but.'"
  
  "Tell me a day when he will be gone. But... a man named Matthäus has it."
  
  "Somehow it doesn't bring to my mind the image of an aging archaeologist," Luther said.
  
  "This is wrong. Matthäus and Dukas don't even live in the same universe. Matthäus is a criminal who runs a nightclub in a city area closed to the police, a particularly cruel type. He knows that the artifact is being sought and has surrounded himself with a small army. To be honest, the army is business as usual for him."
  
  "There must be a story about how he became the owner of the artifact." There was interest in Kenzi's voice.
  
  Alicia leaned over to Drake and retorted in a monosyllable, "She hopes she didn't sell it to him."
  
  Kenzi turned around with a serious face. "Honestly, I've been wondering for a while now if I've come across any of these artifacts along the way. Doubtful, but..." She shrugged.
  
  "You didn't sell it to Matthäus," Cambridge said. "He killed an entire line of succession before it passed to him."
  
  Drake would like this news to surprise him, but it didn't. "So his father bought it?"
  
  "A father for a big brother for him, yes. Black market. Perhaps even bought at the last bazaar of Ramses. Do you remember this?
  
  "Oh yeah. A lot of shit happened that day. Could you send us all the information you have about Matthäus and his nightclub?"
  
  "I'm on the road. Matthäus's father bought it at the last market, and then hid it at home for some time. One day Matthäus saw him and lusted after him, and then he brought him home to this damn nightclub. This is a four-story building, and we believe Matthäus has apartments located on the top two floors. And I mean, a real, luxurious abode. None of your cheap shit. Underground garage, dedicated elevator, the usual things criminals love. No doubt a lot of disposable bodyguards. There really is a lot to do here for you, Drake."
  
  The Yorkshireman rolled his eyes. "I wonder if the Tempest are abusing their work. We save the hardest for last."
  
  "Probably," Cambridge confirmed. "Perhaps they are waiting for their terrorist camp to be fully online."
  
  Mai straightened up in her seat. "And that's something else we can't let happen."
  
  "Were you able to contact any of the other teams that were left to fend for themselves?" Luther asked.
  
  "Continuing," Cambridge replied. "You can imagine the logistical challenges of approaching a entrenched, overcautious SWAT team in enemy territory. Let's just say we're working hard on it."
  
  Luther tapped the satellite navigation screen. "We are approaching Thessaloniki, guys. Where is this nightclub located?"
  
  Cambridge gave out the coordinates, which Luther entered into the vehicle's navigation system. "Twenty-three minutes," he said. "We must find a hotel nearby."
  
  "Not too close," Mai said. "In case you're all wrong and Tempest is already here."
  
  "Not a problem," Alicia said. "We will kill anyone who gets in our way."
  
  "That's not always the answer," Mai said stubbornly.
  
  "It suits me," Alicia said. "They would have done as much or worse to us. And besides, there is still a demon in my soul that needs to be appeased."
  
  "From birth," Mai muttered.
  
  "Hi," Alicia said. "You have to admit that I'm better than I was before."
  
  Mai winced. "Similarly, a predator is better off when he cuts his diet down to one meal a day."
  
  "A?" I asked.
  
  "It's still a carnivore and it's still only happy when it's eating."
  
  "Are you saying that I"m only happy when I fight scumbags? It is not true".
  
  Mai gave her a long look and then turned away. Alicia looked deeply thoughtful. Drake decided it was best to ignore them both and watched the wet city streets rush past through the rain-spattered windshield.
  
  "Hotel". He pointed. "Let"s check in and make a plan."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  
  "The place looks clean," Luther said as he surveyed the nightclub's exterior and surroundings through field glasses.
  
  Alicia shook her head sadly. "Poor Luther has never been to a nightclub," she said. "He thinks they're clean."
  
  "No, I didn't mean-"
  
  Drake watched the building from a different angle. It was wide and squat on a piece of land between two diagonally running streets, somewhere near the center of Thessaloniki, in a tourist area. Four concrete steps led up to the front doors, which were black and now tightly closed. Outside, there were billboards advertising events and hours of operation. All windows were opaque, some on the first floor were covered with inscriptions. Drake could see a distinct difference between the lower and upper floors - the last one obviously had a lot of money spent, including decorative balconies, a roof garden, and, he imagined, much more besides that. The stonework was filthy and unwashed, confirming Alicia's experience of a slovenly interior.
  
  Luther paraphrased. "No clear signs of enemies," he said. "Storm, or something else."
  
  "Agreed," Drake said. "When does this place open?"
  
  "According to the website," Kenzi said. "Today at nine o'clock."
  
  "Why do they open before bed?" Dahl thought.
  
  "The latest information just came in." Cambridge was talking on Drake's cell phone. "This came recently from a deeply undercover informant, and I quote here: 'Matthäus keeps this strange idol contraption in a nightclub safe.'
  
  Alicia bit her lip. "From the sound of this guy, it could be anything."
  
  "I suppose," Cambridge said. "But if it's not the Waters of Neptune, then it's some kind of twisted coincidence."
  
  "Idol, not a statue?" May said. "Do we have any information about the artifact?"
  
  "Yes, they briefly documented it before it went missing. The problem with these artifacts is that the people who steal them document them, so they keep the description as short as possible with the words "further will follow." Neptune was, of course, the god of the sea, the Roman counterpart of Poseidon. with a smooth granite surface and an image of a god and his trident, it is estimated to be no larger than, say, a microwave oven."
  
  "Which would fit in the safe?" Alicia asked.
  
  "Yes. The informant told me that Matthäus' safe is floor to ceiling. It would do."
  
  "Maybe this is the breakthrough we need," Drake said. "At least we have access to the club. Not like the rest of the building."
  
  "If you call an access a room full of sweaty, heaving bodies watched by over a dozen security guards, bouncers, CCTV cameras and downstairs offices," Cambridge said. "Then, of course, you have access."
  
  "I call it more than access," Alicia said. "I call it party time, baby."
  
  Cambridge made no comment, instead returning to the artifact. "Neptune was also the god of lakes and springs, hence the mention of 'waters' in the title, I suppose. In Rome, there was only one temple for him, built before 200 BC. I am quite sure that you will recognize the idol when you see it."
  
  Drake looked at Alicia intently. "What do you think about it?"
  
  The Englishwoman read his thoughts. "You mean Mai and me? I'm thinking the same thing."
  
  Luther thumped his field glasses down on the scratched wooden table in Drake and Alicia's hotel room. "That worries me".
  
  "I don't understand why," Alicia said. "We are both women who want to have a good time in Greece. On holiday. Both are young..." She paused. "At least I am. Mai chewed on that chain a little."
  
  "Everything is fine". Mai nodded. "Good idea. They won't suspect us."
  
  "They will do it if your photo is in their database."
  
  "Why did it happen?" Mai was already on her feet. "Tempest are the loudest players here. We're just background noise. Come on, Alicia, let's get ready."
  
  "Why? Are you going to dress me?"
  
  "You wish. We need to coordinate actions. Find a place to hide all those cameras."
  
  "Sounds funny. Is there any..."
  
  Kenzi intervened. "Hey, I'm going too. Can't hurt, right?"
  
  "Three is a crowd, bitch."
  
  Drake didn't look, but he didn't need eyes to see whose answer it was.
  
  "Problem," Mai said seriously. "Is that they can have your photo. The result of your previous work."
  
  "I have never met these people. The only Greeks I used for business were based in Athens and various cities in Egypt."
  
  "I'm sure we can work this out," May said, and then in response to Alicia's groan, "She's right, Taz. In this case, three is better than two."
  
  The woman walked towards the door. Alicia voiced a comment that she was looking forward to a great evening.
  
  Drake shuddered and looked darkly at Luther.
  
  "Shit," he said. "It won't end nicely."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia leaned on Kensi's shoulder as they entered the club, whispering everything she thought of her. Kenzi smiled at the porters as they pranced past. Mai kept close to the back of the couple, posing as a mother. Due to the lack of time and ease of purchase, they were forced to wear new jeans and tourist t-shirts, but did not go too far from the norm. This nightclub at least didn't have a rigid dress code, but was more concerned with getting patrons to hand over money.
  
  Mai placed her hands on the shoulders of each of her companions. "Keep calm girls. Do what we came here for and get out."
  
  Alicia pushed Kensi away, playfully but with force. The Israeli woman barely managed to stay on her feet before crashing into a wall.
  
  "Oh, don't be silly," she screamed, as if she had inhaled a bottle of red wine on the steps.
  
  Alicia moved to shove her again, mockingly laughing, but Kenzi defied her drunkenness and deftly stepped around Alicia on the other side. "Missed me, bitch?"
  
  Leaning down, she put her arm around Alicia's neck and squeezed. Alicia let her tongue fall out, pretending to be stupid, but in reality it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
  
  Mai had a hard time separating them. "Concentrate, kids. We're in business."
  
  The wall of noise hurt their feelings when they were allowed through the last door in the heart of the nightclub. One huge hall, it was roughly circular in shape with mini-stages for dancing around the perimeter and a long bar counter on the right. Glasses and bottles sparkled under bright lights along their entire length, the brilliance instantly attracted new arrivals.
  
  Alicia went down to the central dance floor, soaking it all up. Couples and groups jumped back and forth and shouted into each other's ears to be heard. The dance rhythm reverberated from wall to wall and through the floor, penetrating Alicia's bones and dulling her senses.
  
  She leaned back, grabbing Mai by the head and screaming into her ears. "Fuck me, I don"t miss this shit!"
  
  The Japanese woman smiled softly. "When you are young, everything is different."
  
  "Yeah, damn right. I was a lot dumber then."
  
  "Are you ready to do it?"
  
  Alicia mustered her courage. They knew where the guards were. They knew where the weapons were. They knew where Matthäus was, and where the crime boss who ran this no-police zone kept his safe.
  
  "Come on".
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
  
  Knowing in advance that communication outside of the toilets would be next to impossible, they decided to use a series of hand signals. Used by the military, they were well acquainted with them, but hoped that the former army bodyguards would also not recognize these gestures. The trio make their way through the crowd with their hands up, skirting a noisy bachelorette party and then several couples and a man dancing alone.
  
  Alicia leaned against the bar, using the endless wait for service to get her bearings. Flashing lights shone overhead and were built into the walls. The small outdoor dance floors were crowded, people only managed to hold on to the small areas by holding on to floor-to-ceiling dance poles. Two heavy golden curtains covered the door at the end of the bar and two more on the far side. Several nondescript doors marked "Private" were also scattered around.
  
  "Help you?"
  
  Alicia turned around and saw the friendly-faced bartender staring at her. "Champagne," she said. "From all sides".
  
  She hated the stuff, but she wasn't about to drink it.
  
  The mission parameters were focused on the safe, not Matthäus, so the women headed for the door that led to the criminal's inner sanctuary, glasses in hand. If the informant was right, there should have been people right outside the door, and behind them three or four more groups - guards for several rooms used in various nefarious operations, and then a relatively cozy, dirty office at the far end.
  
  Of course, they weren't here to deal with the safe.
  
  They were here because of Matthäus.
  
  Passing by the first door, they came to a golden curtain with its thick, overlapping folds. Two men stood in front of him with pistols in holsters, but in plain sight, watching the people on the dance floors and all those who loitered around. Their eyes were empty, like those of a shark; their faces could have been carved from solid stone.
  
  Alicia looked between them. "What's inside?"
  
  "Private room," grumbled one. "Move on."
  
  Kenzi opened her eyes wide. "Oh, and how do we get an invitation?"
  
  "You do not understand. Now get the fuck out of here."
  
  "I can be very persuasive..."
  
  The man on the left gave her a hard look, while the man on the right lowered his hand to his pistol. Mai, laughing, dragged the women away.
  
  "Calm down," she told them over a musical explosion. "Just calm down."
  
  Alicia found a corner and pounced on Kenzi. "God, girl. I can be very persuasive," she mimicked. "What the fuck?"
  
  To her credit, Kenzi lowered her head. "It just came out. Complete blunder."
  
  May looked at her watch. "We have to come up with something quickly. The guys will be knocking on the door in a few minutes."
  
  Alicia glances at the guards. "Plan B," she said.
  
  "Which one?" Mai looked puzzled and resigned to her new plan.
  
  "Well, if my name was Kenzi, I would walk up to them naked."
  
  The Israeli frowned. "Don't smear me with that brush."
  
  "Why? Would you prefer me to use whipped cream?"
  
  "Stop it," Mai said. "Just deal with it."
  
  "It's not hard to understand," Alicia said, ignoring Kensi's obvious comment as she continued. "We are waiting for the boys to knock. In the confusion, we grab Matthäus, or at least the part of him that we need."
  
  Mai glanced at her watch again. "Four minutes," she said.
  
  "Then better get ready for a fight." Alicia couldn't keep a smirk off her face.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake drove the dark gray Transit van through the dark streets of Thessaloniki, taking the quietest routes. They weren't in danger, but they wanted the van's route to be as discreet as possible. Getting the equipment they needed was not easy. The van was stolen from Matthäus' own vehicle depot; the winch was borrowed from a store downtown. The bolt pistol was brought from the store, bought and paid for, but what about the rest? Well, Cambridge certainly had to pull the most dodgy strings here and use all the favors of the British government.
  
  "Closing to the rear of Matthäus," Luther said.
  
  Drake shook his head. The American really needed to work on getting it delivered. The side street was pitch black, deserted, and littered with rubbish heaps that were visible in the van's headlights. Even narrower and darker streets diverged as they crept forward. Drake soon found a marker they had set up earlier, which marked the location of Matthäus' small office, along the outer wall, according to the informant.
  
  He stopped the van at the curb and turned to Luther. "You got up."
  
  "Keep your ears open."
  
  Drake nodded, mostly listening to Luther set up their advance. The tall American, muttering something under his breath, worked, first checking that the bolts holding the winch to the floor had not shifted during the journey, and then the winding mechanism of the winch. Both options were approved, and then Luther popped out, his bald head glistening in the light from the lights that shone from Drake's dashboard. Using a powerful flashlight, he measured the distance from the edge of the building, and then marked with a tape an oblong vertical figure on the wall. Working quickly, he was finished by the time Drake looked at his watch two minutes later.
  
  "Wait," Drake said.
  
  "I haven't set the charges yet, boy."
  
  Drake cringed at the nickname, but accepted it because he knew Luther wasn't being dismissive. It was simply a manifestation of the warrior's personality and presumably part of his charm. Drake hesitated about that, but waited for Luther to set all of the specially shaped charges.
  
  "Forty seconds," he said.
  
  "Everything is good here. All you need is a detonator."
  
  "Get around the van on the other side."
  
  "Yes, yes, ma, give me a second."
  
  "You don't have a second."
  
  "It can't fire while I'm holding it," Luther hissed back, then added, "The vicar said to the choir boy."
  
  He walked around. Drake closed his eyes and wondered how he got here. His watch flashed and he commanded "go ahead," but Luther was already there, pressing the detonator button. There was a loud but not booming explosion, and the side of the wagon crumbled into rubble. Drake slid into the passenger seat as Luther walked around the van, flashlight in hand, to look at their handiwork.
  
  "Not bad," said Luther. "I've seen worse."
  
  Drake thought it was poor quality work, but made no comment. The brick wall that formed the back of Matthäus's nightclub and office now included a four-foot-tall vertical opening. Bricks were sticking out here and there, still clinging to the main wall, and mortar was pouring out. There was a pile of rubble on the sidewalk. Luther cleaned up the excess and then returned to the wagon. Drake jumped out of the car with a new Smith & Wesson pistol at the ready. The van was still running, the headlights were off.
  
  He imagined the chaos inside the nightclub. Regardless of the sound-absorbing properties of the explosive, its minute amount, or the shape of the charges, an explosion is an explosion and is easy to recognize.
  
  Leaning down, he scanned the street in both directions and the buildings above it. Everything lay in darkness. Nothing moved. Perhaps Luther did a better job than he first thought.
  
  "Fixing the chain." Luther sighed heavily.
  
  Drake remained on guard, but hissed back, "Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?"
  
  "Fuck you, dude."
  
  Luther took hold of the hole in the chain and carried it to Matthäus' office. The guard was dead inside, and the other was on his knees, staring at the floor. Luther quickly finished him off and placed the only chair left intact behind the inner door, briefly securing it. It should have worked, and it didn't take them long. He quickly looped the chain around the short safe and secured it, then returned to the truck and started the winch.
  
  There was a grinding sound that made Drake flinch. The iron safe scraped against the broken bricks and mortar, pushing them out into the street as they appeared. Its edges collided with the wall, loosening more bricks, but passed through as the winch began to strain. Luther jumped out and straightened the safe, seeing it through the crack.
  
  "I can hear the noise inside," he said to Drake. "Soon they will come in the door."
  
  The safe was dragged depressingly slowly but inexorably towards the van.
  
  Drake jumped into the hole it had just passed through and fired three shots at the heavy wooden door that led back to the nightclub and Matthäus' other rooms. The scream was evidence of his accuracy or luck, which didn't matter at the moment. The hammering stopped and Drake turned his back, helping the safe across the sidewalk and down onto the road.
  
  Luther installed flat metal ramps that ran from the side of the wagon to the road. The safe screeched like a ship running aground as it hit the pavement and then began its slow climb up the ramps.
  
  "It still takes a few minutes," Luther said.
  
  Drake watched the door and the street, alternating between one and the other. It was one of those moments when he wished that more than half of the team was not in America. Usually their strength was in numbers. Today it's not like that.
  
  "Hurry up, motherfucker," he hissed apprehensively at the safe. "The might of a Greek crime lord is about to strike us with a crushing blow."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  When a deep crash shook the nightclub, not everyone noticed. Alicia discovered this, as did May and Kenzi. The guards noticed. Most of the guests continued to enjoy themselves, but a few drew back and bowed their heads in sudden unease.
  
  Alicia saw the curtains twitch before several guards hurried out. Their weapons were already drawn, causing panic among those who saw them. There were screams and panic quickly spread, but the guards didn't care. They went to the door marked "Closed".
  
  Alicia rushed back to the curtain with a distraught face.
  
  "Oh please. What's happening? Should we leave?"
  
  Both guards drew their pistols just as Mai and Kenzi moved around Alicia to disarm them. The process was unexpected and took much less time than ordering a drink at a bar. The guards collapsed as two armed women stepped around Alicia and pulled back the curtain.
  
  A wide passage led to another door. There were no guards in front of him, although Alicia suggested that they probably were before the explosion. A few seconds later, and they were at the door, peering through the viewing panel. Behind it was a room, sumptuous, brimming with gilt-edged paintings and gold lamps, a dazzling chandelier, and a life-sized poker table. Three places were occupied: two by barely dressed women, and the other by Matthäus himself. Alicia recognized him from the photographs they were looking at.
  
  Fighting their way through the crowd, Mei and Kenzi ran with their heads down, pistols at the ready. Three guards stood quietly at the edge of the room. Mai shot one and Kenzi shot the other. The third one threw himself on the floor, but Kenzi jumped onto the poker table and shot him before he could react.
  
  Matthäus, for that matter, allowed the corners of his mouth to curl into a grin. "You know who I am?"
  
  "Go." Alicia waved to both women. "Get out of here".
  
  Mai grabbed Matthäus's seat and turned it around so that the crime lord was facing her. Kenzi ran to watch the door while Alicia picked up the discarded weapon.
  
  "I will not speak". Matthews laughed. "You won't get anything from me."
  
  Mai smiled, then jabbed her knuckles right between his eyes. "Stop talking, idiot. Now give me your finger."
  
  "Wha... what?" Tears flowed from Matthäus's eyes, and his chest heaved heavily.
  
  "Hold on, Mai," Alicia said.
  
  Mai grabbed Matthäus's wrist with an iron grip and placed him on the table. She then squeezed it onto a fresh glass, making sure she got a good set of prints. By the time Matthäus realized what had happened, the deed was done.
  
  "I will kill you all for this."
  
  Mai carefully handed the glass to Alicia and watched as it was wrapped in several black napkins with Matthäus's name embroidered all over.
  
  "We are fine?" Kenzi called from the door.
  
  "We're fine," Alicia said.
  
  Mai hit Matthäus twice more and then watched as he unceremoniously slid under the poker table.
  
  "After you girls."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake waited impatiently for the safe to be loaded into the van, then got angry and started pushing him from behind. Luther pulled him from the front. Drake fired three more shots into the trashed office. Finally the safe crossed the threshold and Luther slammed the sliding door shut.
  
  "Forward!"
  
  Drake jumped back behind the wheel, switched on the headlights and started the engine. The road ahead lit up brightly, momentarily blinding him, as well as the lone guard who was running towards them. Drake hit him with the van, ducking from the shot, and heard the side window shatter. Luther yelled from behind, still trying to bolt the safe to the floor so it wouldn't rumble all over the metal floor.
  
  Drake drove down a narrow street, then switched off his headlights as he pulled onto the main road. After getting out of the car, he turned right and drove away from the nightclub, giving Luther a look that was a mixture of delight and concern.
  
  "Just waiting for the women to call now."
  
  "Yes," said the soldier. "I really hope Mai is okay."
  
  "Alicia too," Drake said. "Even Kenzi?"
  
  "Yes, yes, they too."
  
  Drake walked towards the meeting point, realizing that the women should have been waiting by now. Four minutes later, when he drove up, there was not a soul in the square.
  
  "Crap". He looked back at the city streets. "I think they might be in trouble."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
  
  Alicia led the way, pulling back the curtain and peering into the nightclub. Surprisingly, many of the figures were still dancing, although the herd had thinned out. The lights continued to flash to the beat, and the bar served drinks for the brave and the reckless.
  
  Alicia wiped sweat from her forehead. "Idiots," she said. "Don"t they have something to do after the shootout?"
  
  "Guards?" Mai demanded.
  
  "Yeah. Two on the right, two on the left, one at the counter. Everyone plugs their ears with their fingers. It"s a total mess right now, but pretty soon they"ll figure it all out."
  
  "The explosion distracted them," Mai suggested. "And probably the fear of their boss, who is, perversely, working against him right now."
  
  "No one wants to deliver bad news," Kenzi said. "I remember it well."
  
  "The clock is ticking," Mai said. "Move."
  
  They carefully slipped out onto the dance floor, making their way to the right where mini-stages were set up. Now that there was little space, Alicia could see sweat glistening on silver stands, splattering the floor, and a whole gallery of bottles of different brands lying around - lipstick-crusted, peeling, some even broken, with jagged edges sticking straight up.
  
  Several men and women danced to their left, moving with more dedication now that they had more room. The bar staff stood around looking bored. Only the bouncer, standing near the exit, saw them approaching.
  
  "We need to get out of here," Alicia drawled, doing her best to appear nine-tenths drunk. "It's been a long night."
  
  "Did you come out of the back room?" The man was broad-chested, with heavily pumped arms. For now, he ignored his earpiece.
  
  "Yeah, everyone got the alcopops, mate."
  
  "Usually the Man calls to say you can go," the bouncer grumbled. "Wait there."
  
  Alicia's eyes flashed. "Say we can go? What the hell does that mean?"
  
  The bouncer held up a finger, which attracted Alicia like a moth to a flame. Stretching her muscles, she was about to explain her physical point of view to the man when Mai put her hand on her shoulder.
  
  She whispered, "Let's see what he has to say."
  
  Alicia restrained herself with an effort. The man soon finished, and then unhooked the two-way radio from his belt. "Figures approaching from outside," he said. "Not cops. Check it out."
  
  Alicia wondered if it could be Drake and Luther, but she didn't have time to consider it. The bouncer acknowledged them once more.
  
  "You'll have to stay inside," he said, offering no other explanation, because in this nightclub he didn't have to.
  
  Alicia knew they had to take the risk. "I don't think so, mate."
  
  The bouncer frowned. "I said-"
  
  "Go on," Alicia invaded his personal space, "I challenge you. Raise that finger one more time and see where it leads."
  
  Mai and Kenzi supported her by standing on their sides. It would be easy. The bouncer stared at all three and then beyond, his eyes widening.
  
  Alicia sensed it was coming before she even heard it.
  
  Matthäus' voice: "Stop those bitches! Stop them now!"
  
  Alicia kicked, stunning the bouncer, who quickly gave up. Kenzi pressed him even harder to the floor. Alicia jerked open the exit door. May was right next to her.
  
  A shot rang out and the bullet hit the frame above their heads.
  
  "Don't move on. Or at least one of you will die."
  
  Alicia weighed the odds. She could do it; probably May too. But Kenzi was in the back and would have been shot first.
  
  It wasn't a joke. Alicia stopped and raised her hands, turning back to the dance floor. To her right, Mai did the same. Kenzi was already standing face to face with Matthäus. At the other end of the dance floor stood a black-haired man with bruises on his face where Mai had hit him and his nose red with gore. By this time the rest of the revelers had also understood the message and crowded around the outer walls, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Alicia saw guards all around and more coming out of the back where Drake and Luther freed Matthäus from the whole safe.
  
  The crime boss waved at them. "What's going on in my club?"
  
  "Burglary, boss," one said. "Now our people are looking for them."
  
  "What did they take?" Matthäus's voice rose an octave, causing several of the guards to flinch.
  
  "In... a safe," came the quiet reply.
  
  Matthäus at first stared at him in disbelief, but then, quickly, his face turned red. "You call this a burglary? All my safe? Gone? You should shoot yourself quickly, you idiot, and save me the trouble."
  
  "See," Kenzi muttered. "Always kill the messenger."
  
  Matthäus's head turned sharply towards them. He started walking, holding out his hand, which hastily held a small 9mm Beretta. "She". He pointed to Mai. "I want her first. I want her to suffer."
  
  The guards crowded ahead, surrounding them as they made their way to the center of the dance floor, where the lights were still flashing and the music was playing. As if by luck, one of Alicia's favorite songs, I Like The Way, by the Bodyrockers, played.
  
  She caught the eyes of May and Kenzi. "Three minutes to go," she said. "Let's make them count."
  
  As the rhythm began, Alicia knocked the nearest pistol out of its owner's hands, sending it rolling on the floor. She grabbed her other wrist and broke it, allowing the gun to fall out. Mai and Kenzi rushed from both sides, the Japanese jumping into Matthäus's arms as if he were a long-lost friend.
  
  This movement certainly shocked him. First he clasped his hands, grabbing her, then realized his mistake and tried to let her fall. The gun is useless, Mai slammed her forehead into his already broken nose.
  
  The scream drowned out the Bodyrocker's chorus for just a few seconds. Alicia's lips moved as she sang along, using the song's pulsing rhythm to control her movements and release her adrenaline. A shot rang out, a bullet passed between everyone. The bouncer at the door rushed in, only to find very quickly that he had been thrown face down and now turned into a bowling ball that Alicia used to stab the approaching guards. Several people sprawled on the rolling mass. The bones are broken. Those who remained standing took aim at the women and prepared to fire.
  
  But Mai managed to push Matthäus out of the way. Terrified, the guards retreated as their boss staggered between them. Mai rode behind him, trying to keep him from falling, as he was their only shield. Alicia spun in time to the musical thud, knocked down one guard, slipped his weapon into her pocket, then rose to stab another under the chin. The disco beams flashed bright red, green, and blue strobe lights that flickered in the semi-darkness. The guards crawled across the mud-crusted, sticky floor.
  
  Matthäus kicked May over and over again, finally managing to throw her off by falling to his knees. Blood gushed from his nose. He came to his senses, but Mai knocked him down again while killing another guard. Now they were all defeated or trying to get up. Alicia knew at once that they couldn't hope to destroy them all, not at the same time. There had to be another way.
  
  Unfortunately, four were already on their feet. Two more found their pistols, and the third rose with a Glock in his hand. Alicia heard the song come to an end and saw her life come to an end with her. Matthäus was on his knees, a wry grin stretched across his face as he saw that most of his guards were still in the fight.
  
  "Revenge," he blurted out. "I want-"
  
  Alicia didn't hear the rest, throwing herself headlong at the three guards. Two staggered, but the third remained standing, carefully aiming the short barrel of his pistol at her.
  
  Ah, damn...
  
  All hell broke loose around her. The windows flew inward, shattering into pieces. Framing and even block work followed as one wall was destroyed. Revelers fell dead and wounded, bleeding on the floor. Brick shards flew at Alicia, blood running down her cheek from the deadly ragged edges. Kenzi was knocked down, her head covered in blood, when a brick-sized piece hit her in the skull. It soon became clear that incessant firepower was being used to infiltrate the nightclub.
  
  The storm was Alicia's only thought. They arrived late, but they arrived in force.
  
  Grabbing Kensi under the armpits, she dragged the struggling Israeli across the debris-strewn floor, pushing the guards out of the way as she went. Two were dead, others were injured. Matthäus groaned as he rolled over the scattered remains of his empire and his servants. The bar was destroyed, glasses danced and shattered, large-capacity liquor bottles exploded and spilled their contents onto the floor.
  
  Alicia crawled faster. Mai pushed Kenzi from behind, pressing hard on her hips to encourage her to move faster. Kenzi groaned and tried to keep her head still as her body slid against its own will.
  
  They squirmed past the bar and through the door marked "Private" that led to Matthäus' backroom, aware of a brand new exit. Alicia saw rooms to the left and right, dens where they prepared drugs and laundered money. Where porn was distributed and computers were hacked. She took the opportunity to yell at all the tenants, sending them into a panic and hoping they would never return.
  
  Behind them, the nightclub came under heavier fire; the light fell on the floor, and the music finally stopped. Men with machine guns jumped out through the new entrances and engaged the remaining guards and Matthäus.
  
  Mai tossed the glass, still in its protective packaging, to Alicia. "I block the way."
  
  "Damn it, Sprite, it's fucking broken."
  
  "Well, try riding bareback on the shoulders of a Greek crime lord, trying to club him to death. See if you can keep your glass intact."
  
  Alicia lifted Kenzi and continued to fight, knowing that they still had Matthäus's fingerprint even if the glass was broken. Mai dragged tables and dropped computers in their path, then set the whole thing on fire.
  
  "Go, go, go," she said, following them into the dark alley where Drake and Luther had been working earlier.
  
  "Which way?" Alicia asked.
  
  "Into the darkness," Mai said. "You should have known that by now."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
  
  At dawn, the team regrouped on the top of a small hill overlooking the vehicle dump. The wagon was hidden under overhanging trees, its front hidden by the bushes and branches that Drake and Luther had gathered. Through phone calls, they directed the women to them and waited until the team was reunited before allowing themselves a moment's respite.
  
  Drake nodded as Alicia approached him. "Looks good".
  
  "Bullshit". Alicia hit him on the arm and wiped her face. "I look like I barely survived a terrorist attack, which is what we did."
  
  "Yes," Mai said, stepping back. "But it's better than your usual look."
  
  "Where is the safe?" Kenzi asked, sporting a new headband. "And for that matter, where is the van?"
  
  "Close," Luther grumbled as he watched Mai. "Everything is fine?"
  
  "This is true". Mai smiled. "But it was close. For a while we hoped for luck."
  
  Kenzi looked around. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks."
  
  "Fine". Drake headed back to the van, certain they were alone, as a golden glow of sunlight spread across the eastern horizon. They could easily see a single road winding for miles in both directions and had a good view across the fields. The landfill downstairs was not yet open for business. Thessaloniki itself was three miles away and out of sight.
  
  Drake ducked under the cover of the trees and pushed the van door open with a loud crack. "Let's see what we have. Do you have Matthäus' prints?"
  
  Alicia handed over the broken glass. "Mai broke it, not me."
  
  Luther intervened. "I have a few shaped charges left in case the glass fails."
  
  "It requires finesse, Luther, not brute force."
  
  The bald man looked unhappy.
  
  Drake, with the help of Luther and May, finally managed to open the safe using a large piece of broken glass with Matthäus's unstained fingerprint. The iron door swung open wide, revealing its dark innards.
  
  Drake peered in, holding a flashlight out of the darkness inside the van under the overhanging trees. Three shelves held a variety of useful items, including weapons and ammo, an assortment of expensive chocolates, jewelry, and two laptops. The shelves were high up and clustered together because the entire lower part was occupied by the Waters of Neptune.
  
  It was a beautiful artifact, about three feet high and, as they had come to expect, completely black. Neptune sat on the crest of a wave, holding her trident in her left hand, while the sculpted waves splashed at her feet. The base was a flat part with a wavy surface, made in the form of an undulating sea.
  
  "Weapon?" Luther asked. "I don't see how."
  
  "It would hurt if it hit you on the head," said Alicia. "Maybe it's just an artifact."
  
  "Or," said Drake, seeing something for the first time, "could it be the stuff these relics are made of?" Or the rare element inside?"
  
  Luther nodded, carefully handling the Neptune item. The three-foot-tall object seemed very small in his hands.
  
  "Let's take it away." Drake pulled away. "Together with everything else that we can use at the expense of Matthäus. We won this round, but Tempest got pretty damn close."
  
  He returned to the top of the hill and sat down among the overgrown grass stalks. Alicia came over to sit next to him, while May remained with Luther. Kenzi went to fetch water to wash her wound. The land around was quiet and still, except for a pleasant breeze in the air. Drake took the moment to be with Alicia without outside interference to put pressure on them.
  
  "Hanging in there, love?"
  
  "Given the circumstances, I"m holding up pretty well."
  
  Drake vividly recalled the moment she decided to stop running away. "It's clear. We're running again, I know, but not for long."
  
  "Can you really believe this?"
  
  He should have been. "It keeps me alive, sane and hopeful. Memories cannot be changed, but the future is in our power to shape."
  
  "I think we need to rest."
  
  Drake studied her, wondering if she meant right now or in their immediate future. He thought about everything they had achieved and saw no obstacles to leave.
  
  Except Storm.
  
  "As soon as this mission is completed," he said. "And successfully. Once we're legal again, we won't be hunted down, there won't be any unresolved issues. No outstanding debts. We can strike back if you want."
  
  "Haven't we tried it once before? I forgot."
  
  "You know what I mean. Defeat Tempest and then we are free. What else could have happened?
  
  "Do not say that!"
  
  "I know, I know, but it doesn"t look like the worst, most vengeful enemy of our career is just around the corner, does it?"
  
  "Kovalenko is dead."
  
  "Blood King? Yes, I know, I've been there. I mean there are other teams that can do what we do. We don't have any personal investment and I'm pretty sure no one can say we didn't do our bit."
  
  "I don't want anyone else to die," Alicia said softly.
  
  Drake saw that the hard shell had been temporarily removed and put his arm around her shoulders. "Me too".
  
  "Even May," Alicia added hoarsely.
  
  "Oh, I know. What about Kenzi?
  
  "Maybe a small injury. Nothing too bad."
  
  "So it"s time to heal?" Drake continued her previous thought about the break.
  
  "Time to live," Alicia shrugged, "another life."
  
  "You know?" Drake squinted as the sun rose higher. "To do that, we would have to leave... the team."
  
  He almost uttered the word "family", but at the last moment changed his mind.
  
  "Crap". Alicia playfully slapped the hard ground. "They'll all fucking die without us."
  
  "When it's done," Drake said. "Nothing else will follow us."
  
  Alicia looked at him for a long time, and he thought he saw the question in her eyes. They both felt it-an empty sound in his words-but only in their bones.
  
  "Do you think something is coming?" Drake asked. "Something from the past, right?"
  
  Alicia looked away. "I have a hunch, but most likely it's nothing, just my anxiety speaks. Being on the run and then being hunted down by a SWAT team doesn't help."
  
  Drake nodded, silently joining her, unable to shake the exact same feeling. Even if they managed to destroy Tempest, was the worst yet to come?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Mai sat to the side, surveying the fields and checking to see if she was ready for battle. She heard Luther calling Cambridge and knew they were waiting to get the location of the artifact's pickup point. After finishing her work, she sat for a while with her eyes closed, letting the sun warm the left side of her face. It was easy here. Part of her longed for such minimalism and an escape from the world she had lived in for as long as she could remember. All real enemies are gone. Her parents are safe and living clean lives. Her sister is with Dai in Tokyo, the two of them are as safe as possible, moving towards a promising future. The dead still haunted her, though she assumed they haunted anyone who had lost a parent, someone who had killed a mortal enemy.
  
  However, other than Drake, she never came close to finding a real, reliable partner. The knowledge weighed heavily on her. Their break did not bother her - at that time she did only what she needed. So the whole Drake and Alicia thing was irrelevant. It happened - move on.
  
  Tears welled up in her eyes, not for all the men and women she had killed, but for those who didn't deserve it and those she cared about. The thing is, life didn't care if she liked it or not. It was her business to arrange good times and make them unforgettable.
  
  As thoughts of Grace flowed around a happier prospect, she felt a presence beside her. She looked up, already knowing that the shadow would be huge.
  
  "Do you mind if I sit down?"
  
  She nodded, and the huge soldier sat down. They were silent for a minute, assessing each other's mood, but then Luther suggested a thoughtful subject.
  
  "This team," he said. "I'm still trying to figure it out. Some of you are friends, some of you are enemies, but then you will die for each other. And did everyone sleep with everyone else? Because it's just weird."
  
  Mai laughed. "This is not an American sitcom, Luther. We've been together for a long time, been to hell and back. This team was forged in fire, literally in the tomb of a god. We are enemies and friends, united and at times in conflict. We are a family, no matter how it sounds. You live, breathe and fight with someone long enough," she paused, "you form the greatest bond."
  
  Luther has changed. "I understand it. I'm a soldier. I can't forget some of the things I've seen, but I can use my best memories to overcome them. The war will never end, but as soldiers we can make sure that all the innocent lives we touch are a little bit better."
  
  "What about other lives?" Mai asked impulsively. "Can you do it better too?"
  
  Luther looked anywhere but at her. "I can try".
  
  May held out her hand. "Then... try it."
  
  "Soldiers, huh?" Luther made a sound that was half grunt, half laugh. "When it comes to the personal, we have no idea."
  
  "Depends on where you start." Mai smiled again. "Let me know".
  
  And for the first time since she'd met him, Luther looked unsure.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  A few phone calls later, Drake reported that two helicopters were approaching. One to collect the Waters of Neptune; the other was Hayden's recently arrived crew, flying towards them. Within half an hour, the artifact was secretly flying to London, and the entire SPEAR team was reunited. Drake tried his best not to sound overly happy seeing Dahl, but when the Swede gave him a bear hug, he held on tight.
  
  "Nice to meet you," he said, meaning just that.
  
  "And you, my friend. We have a lot to catch up on."
  
  So they sat as carefree companions as the sun rose higher, each telling his story. Kinimaka brought a bag full of food and bottled water and divided them equally. Hayden spoke of their feat on the train, and Dahl added a side dish. So far, five weapons have been collected, and they were still for Tempest. Kinimaka talked about the new weapons list and how the Ishtar Gate was said to be "virtually inaccessible". They wondered aloud where Tempest was and how many weapons they might have captured.
  
  "We believe Tempest needs the material for this weapon," May said. "Or the element within."
  
  "Makes sense," Hayden agreed. "Why the hell didn"t I think of that? Either way, Lauren and Secretary Crowe are doing their best in Washington. Crowe helped us get out of the country."
  
  "Any news about other disavowed special forces groups?" Drake asked.
  
  "Not yet. Obviously they don't know who to trust."
  
  "If we could find a way..." Drake ignored the rest of the sentence, thinking hard.
  
  "Whitehall could do it," Dahl said. "Think about it well. They are connected everywhere, even helping us around the world at the same time as storing weapons and maintaining our cover. Give them a job."
  
  "Say what exactly?" Alicia played the devil's advocate. "How about playing on a date?"
  
  Drake was inclined to agree. "She's right, in her own way," he said. "First, we need to strategize. But first, let's warn Whitehall."
  
  "We learned a little more about the terrorist training camps that Tempest is setting up," Hayden said. "It is run by hand-picked mercenaries and is essentially a double bluff. The recruits are fed regular rookie crap, half brainwashed and introduced to several 'father' figures who will be their handlers. They are then used all over the world doing Tempest's dirty work. Theft. Murder. Concealment of missions under the general veneer of terrorism. Every day they get stronger."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  When Dal saw Kenzi again, he smiled uncertainly, unsure how to greet the woman he had hurt. She wanted more than he could give; but she knew it. She knew that Dal was married and had children. And yet she kept getting closer.
  
  I did the right thing.
  
  So why did it feel so wrong?
  
  Their relationship had soured badly, and even now he wasn't sure why Kensi stayed with the group. In the back of his mind, he thought it was only for one reason-a reason she would never, ever reveal.
  
  Kenzi wanted to belong to something good, to do something good with the right people.
  
  Dal felt the same way and wanted her to stay. But he couldn't understand how she could overcome the problems she had created between them. While it was true, they barely had time to talk after their own confrontation, when Dal told her that he would continue to fight to stay with his wife, nothing had really changed. She still resented him.
  
  Now that the group was making their decisions, he realized that she was sitting behind him. It was a perfect sunny day without any pressure. Who could stay angry on a day like this?
  
  "How are you doing?" He turned slightly.
  
  Kenzi tensed but said nothing.
  
  "So bad, huh?"
  
  "What's the point in answering?" she snapped back softly. "Like you really care."
  
  "I care," he said honestly. "Just not the way you want me to."
  
  "Oh, don't flatter yourself. This ship has already sailed. Now you are just another foot soldier to me."
  
  "Is this what we all are?" Dahl asked.
  
  "To a large extent."
  
  "Then why are you staying?" He didn't want to push too hard on the sensitive part, but Kenzi seemed to know how to hit the wrong buttons.
  
  "You know, I'm wondering the same thing."
  
  Kenzi stepped back and leaned against the silently ticking helicopter. Then Dahl saw the only chance, the opportunity to approach her and try to fix everything. That would require truth, honesty. This would require a huge effort.
  
  But all too suddenly it was time to leave.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  As Drake got up, Yorgy was suddenly at his side. The young Russian's fists were clenched into tight balls, and his lips were white with worry. Yorgi seemed to want to say something, and Drake had a very good idea of what it would be.
  
  "When you told us what happened to your family, why you killed your parents, I wondered if that would change you."
  
  Yorgi looked grateful for the easy start. "It's not a change," he said, tension deepening his Russian accent. "But it strengthened my resolve. You know what I should do, don't you?"
  
  Drake nodded quickly. "I saw it in your eyes, mate, even as you told the story. It's not over yet, is it?"
  
  "No. This is wrong".
  
  Together they walked towards the waiting helicopter, taking their time. Alicia remained to Yorga's left, listening intently.
  
  "I must return to the graves of my kindred," said Yorgi with calm passion. "I can't just leave them there, unmarked, forever lost in this icy wilderness."
  
  "You don't have to go alone, mate," Drake said. "We will go with you."
  
  "No," said Yorgi. "This is for me. I also had a hard time coming to this decision. I told my story - I think it was a few months ago - and since then I have been struggling. Now I know that I must return."
  
  "With us". Alicia pressed him with her words. "Together. We are a family, Yogi. You know it."
  
  The Russian smiled at the age-old nickname. "At least you stopped calling me a girl."
  
  "Well, just for today."
  
  "Then, that's better. I will return to Russia tonight. I have to go".
  
  Drake fought every protest, every offer of friendship. Sometimes a person had to do something himself. It was the only way to defeat the old demons.
  
  "Just stay in touch," he said quietly.
  
  "And never forget that we are here for you," Alicia added.
  
  Yorgi turned away from them with tears in his eyes. "I will never do that," he said. "As long as I'm alive."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  
  
  Karin Blake almost instantly regretted her decision to infiltrate FrameHub.
  
  It was a small bunch of super geeks who managed to take control of the weapons systems of three countries, forcing two of those countries to shoot each other. They were deadly, superintelligent, and downright uncool. Self-proclaimed gods, they were connected via a computer to everything that contained a microprocessor, and to some things that did not. They used ridiculous code words instead of names and held onto the belief that knowledge is power, so they set out to gain infinite knowledge. They currently consisted of eight members and wanted Karin to be their ninth.
  
  Based on her old reputation.
  
  Karin was now a soldier, a freshly trained deserter to be exact, and she had brought with her two of her nearly identical colleagues, Dino and Wu.
  
  All well trained and eager to fight, they went to Egypt for one purpose and returned for another. This confused Dino and Wu, but it was Karin's party. That's how it would always be. They respected her and looked up to her.
  
  Their lives under her guidance looked good, hungry and full of potential.
  
  They had no idea what was coming.
  
  For now, Karin said goodbye to Drake and the team after the battle for the Great Pyramid, shelved her major plans to a later date, and turned to eradicate the terrible, destructive organization that was FrameHub before it caused death and agony to even more innocent lives.
  
  She returned their invitation email, hinting that she might be interested in talking. She returned another one, then jumped through several hoops, proving she could crack a simple code-for her-over the Internet.
  
  This allowed her to infiltrate the secret web room.
  
  Progress grew every day, and then every hour. They really wanted her. Dino and Wu got bored very quickly, they were not used to sitting around doing nothing without a clear plan.
  
  "First I have to get inside," Karin kept repeating to them. "Here's how it works."
  
  "They're geeks, Blake," Dino reminded her. "Let's just take them out."
  
  "Now that would look very awkward, Dino," she said. "When they take you away. You don't understand it. They penetrate everything. The best thing you can do is not appear on their radar."
  
  Dino laughed. "What are they going to do? Fry me with an ATM machine?"
  
  "How about hijacking a self-driving car so that it hits you? Are you using your brake lights to get the van to pull into your lane? Anything simpler like using one of the army of mercenaries they hire?"
  
  Dino grabbed it. "So, you enter an establishment guarded by a mercenary army? Never."
  
  "No no". Karin tried her best to remain calm. "This is wrong. FrameHub operates in a bloody basement. They don't trust anyone, not even their own mothers. They only have themselves. They are millionaires who are not interested in cash. Entrepreneurs with no vision. Travelers without the slightest drop of wanderlust. They live, breathe and feed on computer data, and it is difficult for them to dare to ascend into the real world. Only I can get close to them because I... I'm used to living in that world."
  
  Dino didn't look impressed. "You? Fucking geek?"
  
  "Yeah."
  
  "What's happened?"
  
  "Life happened, you asshole. Shit happened. And don't judge. Everyone has to find a way to deal with their problems. Some are different from others, that's all. But FrameHub, they've gone too far."
  
  "Everything is fine. You will go first. We destroy. That's all you wanted to say." Wu has always been accurate.
  
  Karin turned them off and remembered the days when she lived with her mainframe and loved it, when the lights only flashed when data was transferred, and the buzzing hum of a working computer in the middle of a break-in was the most pleasant sound in the world.
  
  Be the old Karin, not the new Karin.
  
  It's time to go retro.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  And now, sitting in the big basement, which stank of old sweat, hot electricity, and candy, she thought about everything that had happened over the past few days.
  
  They first met in a busy cafe in the city center. She sat sipping a vanilla latte for thirty minutes past the agreed time, assuming they were checking her identity before approaching her.
  
  Then a man approached her-a young man with spiky hair, bad skin, and a nervous disposition.
  
  "I am FrameHub," he said.
  
  "Are you FrameHub?" she asked. "I thought there were eight of you."
  
  "We are FrameHub. I am FrameHub. He shrugged. "That's what we're talking about. You are Karin Blake."
  
  "Well, at least you got that part right."
  
  He blinked and stepped back. She quickly reminded herself to be the same Karin.
  
  "You guys are awesome!" she said too loudly. "Even super cool."
  
  "Do you really think so?" Now he was looking at her as if he had never seen a girl before.
  
  "What happens next?" she asked to get rid of the goosebumps. "Can't wait to meet all of you guys."
  
  "Are you British or American?"
  
  "Once from the UK, but I worked in America for many years."
  
  "Right. You have a strange accent."
  
  I like your fucking face, freak! "Oh, right." She had something that looked like a laugh. "Cool".
  
  "How old are you?"
  
  "Don't you already know that?"
  
  "Yes, yes, but you look older."
  
  Something to do with life and love and loss, she thought. "Strong paper round," she said.
  
  The nerd laughed so unexpectedly and on such a shrill note that she jumped, and the barista looked back. Karin thought it wise to bury her face in her latte cup and take a few sips.
  
  "We need to go," the geek said, looking around. "By the way, I'm Piranha."
  
  Karin kept a straight face. "Beautiful".
  
  I should get a damn Oscar for this performance.
  
  But it turned out that this was the first of many performances that she was to act out. The old Karin was long gone, but the New Karin was forced to find that echoing lost voice and use it to move forward. Karin hated it. The good news was that it didn't last long.
  
  The piranha led her to a waiting car. Karin almost expressed her shock at the FrameHub being able to drive, but then found herself wearing a paper bag over her head and was forced to shut up for fear of betraying herself in a fit of rage.
  
  Pressed into the passenger seat, with Piranha at the wheel, she drove for about forty minutes. It was a small town, so Karin assumed it was on the outskirts, perhaps an industrial area. The sun was mostly to her left, so most of the way was due north. One time a whistle blew, and another time, a few minutes before they stopped, she felt a change in the road as they passed over the bridge.
  
  I might find it again. Probably...
  
  Doesn't matter. The beacon in her boot would allow Dino and Wu to follow her with ease. The problem she had was to get rid of him before they entered the headquarters. The car plunged into darkness, and then the Piranha stopped it.
  
  "Wait here," he said. "I'll come to my senses and pick you up."
  
  Scratching with all her might, she peeled back a few nails and managed to pull the tracker out of the boot and take it in her left hand. When Piranha pulled her out of the car, she was able to throw him behind her, under the chassis. A moment later, Piranha pulled out a paper bag.
  
  "You are incredibly lucky," he said. "Only eight others have ever seen the FrameHub lair."
  
  Again her face twitched, but somehow she managed to look around in awe. The trick was to remember that these hopeless, asocial nerds were incredibly dangerous and didn't care who they maimed or killed.
  
  This was the focus.
  
  The piranha led her out of the underground car park through a door marked "Staff Only" and then down a hollow concrete staircase, cold because it led underground. She started. The piranha looked up at her.
  
  "Don't worry. It's damn hot in the basement with all that equipment. Down here, it's also protected. Tons and metal of concrete between us and the rubble up there."
  
  Karin struggled with it. "Shit bricks?"
  
  "People".
  
  "Ah, now I understand."
  
  The stairs twisted for a while. Garbage and other debris had been carried up here from the top floor and lay in decaying heaps. It became so dark that Piranha had to get a flashlight. The walls were covered in bandit graffiti, but obviously old and peeling. Layers of dust covered the floor, marred only by their own footprints.
  
  The piranha forced open another door, metal creaking on the protesting hinges. On the other side was a square-shaped room, empty, and they went to another door. This room looked as run down as the rest, but Karin noticed two well-hidden cameras. Using a hidden panel in the wall, Piranha pulled out a small keyboard.
  
  "Our lair," he said majestically.
  
  Assassins, Karin thought.
  
  On the other hand, everything was exactly as she imagined. As far as she could remember, to be honest, she had once been part of the hacker underground. A large oblong room with several niches at the far end. A row of tables arranged in one long row, with rows of computer screens on top. Wires everywhere, snaking under tables and across the floor, ending in rows of electrical outlets, cables so messy they could never make sense of it. Two rows of pendant lights hung from the roof to illuminate the room, and against the wall opposite the computer terminals were other tables lined with laptops, three huge refrigerators, microwaves, and a drink mixing station.
  
  Everything a crazy, power-hungry geek could dream of.
  
  The first thing that came to her mind to ask was: "Where do you sleep?"
  
  "There, in the back." The piranha pointed towards the niches. "FrameHub never stops. It's twenty-four hours and seven minutes now, so we're working in shifts, but we're sharing beds back there."
  
  Damn unbelievable.
  
  Seven faces studied her with wide eyes. She thought about pointing out that FrameHub wasn't actually functioning at the time, twenty-four-seven, but instead flashed an open, nerdy smile.
  
  "Hi all!" She waved her hand.
  
  Most of them quickly turned away, but one, a little more personable, came up and introduced himself.
  
  "Hi, I'm Barracuda."
  
  "Karin". She nodded. Karin Blake.
  
  "We must find you a suitable name," Barracuda said. "The present. Think about it".
  
  "I will do it".
  
  "Anyway, we need to check on you first. Make sure you are acceptable to FrameHub."
  
  Karin felt distress as all work stopped again and all faces turned to her. "And what does that entail?"
  
  "Take off your clothes."
  
  She gasped. "I'll take off my clothes right after I take off your face, you moron."
  
  "We need to make sure you're not connected," Barracuda protested.
  
  "So... sit me down."
  
  Now Barracuda looked visibly embarrassed. "We don't have it, sorry."
  
  "Are you kidding?" Karin looked around the room. "The mighty Framehub that the nations fear doesn"t even have a magic wand? Look, buddy, if I was in the military or a cop, do you think they wouldn't jump on you now? Not that I needed recognition." She pointed to a row of computers.
  
  "Yes Yes". Barracuda conceded defeat with a measure of grace. "It was worth a try."
  
  Karin tried again to keep a straight face, but this time she was threatened with rage, not amusement.
  
  "Why don't you show me what you're doing here?"
  
  I won't be able to keep my hands off their pimply necks for long.
  
  But she had to be sure they weren't in the middle of something terrible.
  
  "First," Barracuda led her to a brand new computer, "you have to prove yourself, and this is no joke. Turn it on and hack Morgan Sachs. You have ten minutes."
  
  Karin sat down. "Ten minutes? Not in Langley? Not the NSA?"
  
  "We believe you would already have backdoors or worms planted there. I'd give you a maximum of three minutes for government shit. Morgan Sachs is strong, but child's play if you have the right skills. We have the right skills. And you?"
  
  Karin spent the next four minutes breaking into a Wall Street bank, then leaned back in her chair. "Are we all right now?"
  
  "Wait". The complete jerk reached out to her, attacking her senses with the stench from her armpits. "We can replenish our reserves a little with this." He went through hundreds of accounts, withdrawing small amounts from the very top.
  
  "Subtle," said Karin.
  
  "Most people don't check their claims," Barracuda said. "And many of those who are really only looking for big sums. Sax might notice it, but they won't find us."
  
  Karin spent some time wandering between the tables, pretending to be impressed by most of the illegal offenses being committed there. Some were reprehensible; FrameHub preyed on ordinary people just for fun, ruining lives on a whim. It reminded her of Tyler Webb and the atrocities he committed, so it wasn't a surprise when they asked her about him.
  
  "We know you've found his treasure trove of secrets," Barracuda said. "So share."
  
  Karin sought to solidify her position and presence among them by keeping them waiting. She went to the fridge and used their personal supplies to make herself coffee and a piece of toast. Then she returned to them, pulled out a chair from behind the table, and sat down.
  
  "You want to hear about Webb's secrets? Listen carefully".
  
  An hour later she stopped, leaned back in her chair.
  
  "Wow," said Piranha. "But we already knew about Tempest. They don't interest us."
  
  Karin feigned shock. "Do you know Tempest? How?"
  
  "Because we have our own plan." The piranha could no longer hold back. "We're going to destroy America."
  
  The nervous excitement in the room was palpable, electric.
  
  Karin knew immediately that she needed to find out what they were up to before destroying them. And that meant staying with them.
  
  Damn it.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  
  
  She spent the rest of the day avoiding "beer hours" with nerds and finding several opportunities to pump out information. They rarely left the lair. They had more than one conspiracy, but nothing as big as the one they called America. She spent the night with one eye open, lying uncomfortably on her bunk and trying to avoid any contact with the sheets. The other two dozed in adjacent niches, snoring restlessly and talking in their sleep.
  
  The next morning, she roamed the basement, collecting every bit of information relating to the place, everything from external data stores to connection points. Questions such as "Do we have weapons?", "Do we have an escape route?" and "Do we have defenses?" questions were asked and answered quickly, Piranha, Manta and Moray showed her what evil they did in their spare time, and that was all she could do to keep their heads off right then and there.
  
  Ruining lives through social media, fake emails, messages, and photoshopped prints. They lived for it and used the scoring system to see who did the most damage. Their laughter got on her nerves.
  
  Once again, she was called upon to break out into a mini-crisis, but fortunately it wasn't something that completely offended her morals, and she managed to come to terms with it. Later that morning, after a ten hour chocolate break, Barracuda urged everyone to listen.
  
  "Time to move forward with the prison break," he said with an excited note in his voice. "Go to the second step!"
  
  Some clapped, some hooted, but one, a guy named Paku, yelled, "In front of that bitch? Are you sure dude?"
  
  New Karin wanted to shove the kid headfirst through his own computer screen, and she would have done it-but Old Karin put the operation first.
  
  "I did everything you asked for."
  
  Paku chuckled. "Too early, Piranha."
  
  "I'm right here," Karin said. "You're not going anywhere. Why not use me?"
  
  "We'll just keep her here until the mission is successful," said another. This one was Goonch, Karin remembered. "No risk. Then we know that she is one of us."
  
  The barracuda was watching her. "Does it suit you?"
  
  Karin nodded, but then raised her hand. "I'm calm, but we need to clear one thing."
  
  Eight faces stared at him.
  
  "The next person to call me a bitch will get a 404'd error."
  
  The room erupted in laughter at the nerd's little joke. The 404 error was usually followed by the words: Not found. Even Paku smirked.
  
  "All right then," Barracuda said. "We're going all-in with this. Simultaneous reopening of all high security facilities in the United States. Chambers, internal doors, external doors. And we're going to keep them open. This is going to be a total fucking blast!" He rejoiced.
  
  Karin forced herself to smile again. "Can you take a look at this?"
  
  "Damn, of course we will. That's the whole point. Some of these supermaxes are, of course, way off the grid, but the prisoners will make it to the nearest town sooner or later."
  
  "Cool. Where are you still?"
  
  Barracuda raised his hand. "Soon," he said. "First, we must proceed to the second stage. The main work has already been done. Coding, programming, all that cool stuff. But we still need to discreetly install it on their systems. You can help with this, Karin. Damn, what should we call you?"
  
  "Mantis," Gunch suggested.
  
  "It's not a vicious fish, you moron."
  
  "I know, but that"s cool and kind of describes her, don"t you think?"
  
  "Too big in the mouth. How about Piara the vampire fish?"
  
  "It will do," said Karin. "How can I help?"
  
  "That's it," Barracuda led her to the terminal. "First we need to inject the code and then inject a generic trigger to get it all going."
  
  "I can do it. What date did you mean?
  
  "We have nothing on our minds," Barracuda said softly. "It will happen in two days."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  
  
  "Egypt again?" Drake complained. "Shit".
  
  The subordinate team flew undetected by radar in an unmarked helicopter, entering Egyptian airspace with the help of Cambridge and a kind airfield controller by the light of a crescent moon. Drake could only guess what made it enjoyable, but he assumed it had a photo of Benjamin Franklin attached on the back.
  
  Without Yorga, and with Kenzi's all-time low support, Drake felt like he was healing wounds he didn't even have. In any case, not yet. He comforted himself that they would see Yorgi again.
  
  Soon.
  
  Hayden regaled them with more than one story. "The flail of Anubis is next," she said. "I hope this is our sixth weapon. This weapon is also of dubious provenance. The government itself removed it from the lair of the relic rogue, and then continued to store it in storage."
  
  Dahl shifted his body, creaking against the hard seat in the large helicopter. "If we catch any more of these dinosaurs," he said. "I'm thinking about taking my own roll pillow with me."
  
  Drake groaned. "Have you decided to open this nugget now? Now that I'm too depressed to fully benefit from this?"
  
  "Yes". Alicia nodded grimly. "Yes".
  
  "I thought it might cheer you up."
  
  "Nope." Drake sighed. "It feels like I've lost a friend."
  
  "It feels like I've lost a nice toy," Alicia admitted. "Poor old Yogi".
  
  "He's not dead," Hayden growled. "Get a hold of yourself. We will see him again soon. Now listen - they have locked the Flail of Anubis away until the whole world finds out what this weapon is capable of. They were waiting. Nothing happened. The tombs were destroyed and the flail was largely forgotten. It's still there, inside the vault, but we have a couple of major issues."
  
  "Shocker," Drake intoned. "Put them out."
  
  Hayden rolled her eyes. "Egypt is still reeling from the FrameHub-instigated missile attack that hit Cairo. The city and its inhabitants have not recovered, the government is in no hurry to help. The press, as usual, only adds fuel to the fire to sell a copy. The good news is that the vault is not in Cairo, but in Alexandria."
  
  She paused to get everyone's attention.
  
  "And the bad news?" Luther asked.
  
  "It is kept in a bank vault -"
  
  "Not bad," Molokai interrupted. "You just need to use the right amount of dynamite."
  
  Hayden tried to finish, "Which is located across the street from the horrendous situation that is currently unfolding in downtown Alexandria," she continued. "Terrorists are holding hostages right across the road."
  
  Drake sat down. "Terrorists?"
  
  "Yes, my thought too. What kind of terrorists, right? Well, they are in the spirit of Tempest. I think this whole hostage crisis is a ruse. Deception."
  
  "Terrorists make noise on the road while Tempest"s mercenaries steal the flail?" Luther said. "I think it makes sense."
  
  "However, a full military presence," Kinimaka added. "Snipers on the rooftops. DESTROY vehicles on the streets. Looks like they're ready for war."
  
  "They don't want to take risks after Cairo," Smith said. "And I don't blame them."
  
  "How far have we gone in the crisis?" May asked.
  
  "Good question. Only an hour. Unfortunately, one hostage is dead, but they are talking."
  
  "Picking for time," said Alicia.
  
  "Agree. The area has been evacuated and cordoned off, but there are still many ways to get close."
  
  "How much time do we have?" Dahl asked.
  
  Hayden pointed to the creaking fuselage of the helicopter. "We are already there. We are landing."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The helicopter landed them in Alexandria, three miles from the hot zone. They wore wide cloaks over their gear and moved carefully, speeding only when the roads were clear. They divided into three groups, on different sides of the road, with an interval of a minute. They tested the new communication system. All was good. Drake moved quickly along with Alicia and Mae, Dal a step behind, sweating all over. It was normal, it was competent, but at the same time it seemed threatening.
  
  It was as if a creeping shadow of foreboding had fallen over them. Drake wasn't prone to premonitions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. Why? Because finally, after all this endless struggle, the final stages were visible. Yorgy is gone. Kenzi was about to leave. May liked Luther a little. The stakes have been flipped, times have changed. Nothing will ever be the same again.
  
  But not now.
  
  Together they moved closer to the bank and the hotel across the street where the hostage situation was unfolding. Cambridge relayed information over the communications line, but strictly speaking Whitehall's influence in Egypt was unremarkable, forcing them to read between the lines.
  
  Molokai and Luther broke into the back entrance of a women's clothing store. Hayden led us through the storage area to the sales area, crouching behind a large metal shelving full of clothes so they couldn't be seen through the display cases.
  
  Drake crawled through the clothes and peered inside.
  
  A wide road and sidewalks separated them from the ill-maintained facade of a street hotel with years of unpainted signs and unwashed windows. The front door was closed. Police cars lined up outside as if waiting to pass, but their passengers crouched behind wheels and doors, pistols drawn and waiting. Two large vans were also visible - Drake assumed that at least one of them was a means of communication, the other was probably hiding the strike team. The whole area was lit not only by street lamps, but also by portable searchlights, which gave it a severe, ghostly appearance. Drake didn't notice any movement at the hotel windows.
  
  "Negotiations are ongoing," Hayden reported.
  
  "The only question," Luther said. "Will they kill the hostages to cover up Tempest"s attack on the safe, or to cover up their escape?"
  
  "Both," Mai suggested. "They have eight hostages."
  
  "But the Egyptian special forces will step in at the first loss of life," Molokai said. "They have to".
  
  "Maybe we can dispel all this," Kenzi said, "if we find the flail first."
  
  "Listen," Hayden said bluntly. "What happens to the hostages is not something we can influence. Or change. And you can bet your ass that no Egyptian special forces team will accept our help. So, the operation continues, there are no questions."
  
  "I've bet my ass a few times," Alicia said thoughtfully. "Always lost." She looked around. "Maybe I wanted to."
  
  Drake removed the hem of his bright blue skirt from his shoulders. "Thank you for sharing," he said. "So the shore is on this side?"
  
  "In the next room," Hayden said. "The vault is on the floor below. You are ready?"
  
  Kinimaka struck and then caught a whole bunch of clothes a second before they hit the floor. "Wait. What if they are already inside?"
  
  Molokai chuckled. Luther explained. "We want them inside, Waikiki. We have no other way to get inside without making the noise of the thunder god."
  
  "Waikiki?" Kinimaka frowned. "I'm from the North Coast."
  
  "Better". Luther crawled out from behind the clothes hangers. "Follow me, North Shore. Strictly speaking, my own tendency would be to go big on this, to pull this mother out of the water, but I'm afraid for these hostages. Let's not make things worse."
  
  Drake was surprised by the reserved thinking of the big warrior. "Show the way."
  
  Dahl appeared next to him, wearing a bright blue skirt instead of a headdress. "Are we following the god of blood and war now?"
  
  "Sorry buddy, I can't talk to you like this."
  
  "Like what?" Dahl did not know about this equipment.
  
  "Like a pretty Disney princess." Alicia pulled the fabric tight around his ears and blew a kiss. "Princess Torsti".
  
  "Back off".
  
  "This is more like the truth. Let's."
  
  Retracing their tracks, they came to the back entrance of the bank. Molokai reached him first and raised a clenched fist. Drake joined him from the front. The walls of the shore protruded from the main façade, forming a column from which they could look. The back doors of the bank were forced open, but the alarm didn't ring. The guard lay dead on the floor, right inside, surrounded by a pool of blood. Somehow they forced him to open the door.
  
  Drake knew there were hundreds of ways to force a guard, from threatening to kill a passerby to kidnapping a family member. There was no question of any scenario for Tempest. The inside of the bank was well lit, seemingly empty except for a dead guard lying at his desk, and open floor plan all the way to the entrance.
  
  "It's difficult," he said. "We have to be careful that the street cops don't see us."
  
  They located the vault and the stairs leading to it through Cambridge, and then made preparations.
  
  "If they're already down there, it'll be noisy," Alicia said.
  
  "Then grab your headphones, honey," Hayden said, breathing hard. "Because Alexandria is about to get really noisy."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY
  
  
  Hayden wasn't wrong.
  
  Chaos and bedlam descended upon them, almost as if Luther himself were a curse, attracting a turmoil of death and destruction. Drake flung open the back doors and then Cambridge yelled into their headphones, warning them that Whitehall had intercepted a message from the bank with the message: Engage.
  
  The noise started. Drake heard and saw what happened next, like a stretched out moment in time, a slideshow of horrific events. First, the terrorists dealt a heavy blow. Windows all over the second floor of the hotel flared up, accompanied by flames and the roar of detonation. The cops outside ducked down, screaming, and the cars shook as glass and debris rained down on them. A second explosion soon followed.
  
  At the same time, a muffled bang came from directly below. The mercenaries blew up the safe.
  
  And then, as the SPEARERS squeezed past him, the polished white marble floor of the bank partly collapsed in front of them. First, cracks appeared, and then a rough hole the size of a Smart car just fell off.
  
  "What the-" Alicia approached him.
  
  Drake went with her, no less puzzled. They waited a moment, crouching so that not even their silhouettes could be seen from the outside. Kenzi did a brilliant deed and turned off the interior lights exactly at the moment of the second explosion.
  
  "I think they're cocked down there," Alicia whispered.
  
  Drake peered into the hole very carefully, allowing his eyes to cover the scene half a meter at a time. The wall had been blown to pieces, its edges now jagged and damaged. In this wall was a wide door with a gray wheel in the center, the entrance to the vault. The door was not damaged.
  
  "They totally fucked up the mutt," said Alicia. "Back, forward and upside down. Crap."
  
  Two mercenaries lay dead on the floor, another wounded. Four more stood around, scratching their heads. Drake heard a noise outside the bank and saw an Egyptian strike team jump out of the van and storm the front of the hotel. The cops drew beads on the windows with their pistols. Fires raged. The street was a rubble-strewn battlefield.
  
  "I hate that we can't help," Dahl said.
  
  "That's what we're trying to change," Hayden replied, looking down. "Are they trying again?"
  
  Drake saw that it was. "We must retreat," he said. "Fast".
  
  A second later, a smaller explosion was heard on the other side of the road, while a faint explosion came from below. Drake covered his ears at being so close and prayed that the whole floor wouldn't collapse. By the time he looked up, an approving chorus came from below.
  
  The second time was lucky.
  
  Maybe not.
  
  He jumped forward, pistol raised, the rest of the team at his side. They reached the opening a second later, just in time to see the four men below open the vault door. One slipped in while the others stood guard near the descending stairs.
  
  Drake looked from the stairs to the hole. Dal crawled up to him. "What do you think, Yorkshire Terrier?"
  
  "I think we should drop you first and then use your belly as a soft landing."
  
  Dahl grinned. "How about we all go together?"
  
  "Oh no. I..."
  
  But then Luther and Molokai were close by, grinning too familiarly. Crazy Swede caught them on the hook. Almost without pause, the three men positioned themselves around the hole, favoring Dahl, whose idea it was.
  
  "See you downstairs, Yorkies," Luther said.
  
  Drake groaned. Now even he was saying it.
  
  Dal jumped first, bending his knees and carefully holding his weapon as he fell through the air. Molokai and Luther were right behind him. Without wasting a second, Drake and Alicia followed them.
  
  The room downstairs became very crowded.
  
  Dal, grinning, fell on the shoulders of one of the four mercenaries, using his incredible strength and descent to knock out the main one. Not even a whisper escaped the mercenary's lips as he fell.
  
  Luther and Molokai struck next, the former able to strike an elbow from behind the other mercenary's neck. The blow was stunning, crushing. The mercenary instantly went limp and collapsed, not knowing what had killed him.
  
  Molokai was the last to descend, landing close to the center of the vault door itself, looking inside. Two mercenaries remained standing, and both were there.
  
  Drake fell to the floor just as Molokai lunged at them.
  
  The mercenaries were not only at a complete disadvantage because they were faced with this destructive, obsolete war machine wrapped in dusty scarves. The tallest held the flail of Anubis; the lowest one held the large metal container it was in.
  
  Molokai attacked with the shortest, striking while his arms were full to the stomach and head. Drake darted around him, pistol raised.
  
  "Do not move".
  
  The mercenary hesitated. His pistol lay on the floor between his legs. Molokai tore his gaze away from the mercenary he had just destroyed.
  
  "Take a step towards it." The wild growl was the death knell. "I'm calling you."
  
  Drake sensed the others behind him, at the door. The mercenary lowered the tip of his flail, a thick iron bar with a black surface inlaid with archaic designs, a thick chain leading to a deadly metal tip from which a bunch of blunt spikes protruded.
  
  "Are you going to attack us all with this?" Smith laughed. "Good luck".
  
  The mercenary prudently relented, and Drake made sure he was alive by locking him in a vault. When the man protested, Hayden squatted down in front of him.
  
  "What did you expect? Movie ticket? What can you tell us about the people who hire you?"
  
  "A man named Tilt works for me," came the reluctant reply. "We are twelve. I don't know who hires him. He just calls them 'bosses'.
  
  Drake expected to see standard practice among criminal enterprises. This mercenary's "bosses" will be another decoupling shield before they get close to the layer that was Tempest.
  
  "He is here?" Alicia looked around at the dead bodies, some from a botched explosion, others from the hands of Dahl's insane antics.
  
  "No, he's upstairs. Waiting for an artifact."
  
  Kinimaka bent over the mercenary, his body the shadow of a descending mountain. "Why do they call him Tilt?"
  
  "He started having problems with dizziness. Something is wrong with his inner ear."
  
  "We have to go". Hayden turned away. "That thug can't help us anymore."
  
  They exited the vault, leaving the mercenary to fend for themselves, and climbed the stairs back to the first floor. A quick glance through the front windows showed that the street outside was still engulfed in chaos, the hotel opposite was on fire, its brick cladding cracked and crumbling. The police and military were scurrying back and forth, and the roadway was packed with cars. They could see flashing blue lights flooding the windows and ambulances approaching.
  
  "Go," Hayden said before they could stop. "Do not stop".
  
  They quickly climbed the stairs and passed through the back doors of the bank. Mai carried the flail, wrapping it in her coat as she went. Kenzi was the last to leave.
  
  Outside, the Alexandrian night was dry and warm, with a hint of sea spray in the air. They took the route away from the bank, mostly traveling in the dark. It would be a short run back to the waiting helicopter and then...
  
  Drake counted the weapons in his mind in surprise.
  
  The last weapon was the Vulcan Forge, which was next on their list. A sense of urgency crept into his mind - reminding him that they hadn't managed to contact the president yet, they were still on the run, and Tempest was still busy setting up a sizable camp full of terrorists and capturing more ancient weapons.
  
  Because of the material from which it was made? Maybe.
  
  If that were the case, then no government should be allowed to possess it. He wondered for the first time whether Cambridge and Whitehall understood its significance.
  
  Cynically? Yes, but that's how we stay at the top of our game.
  
  A mile-wide tree-lined park, replete with skateboarding ramps, swings, a climbing frame, and hard benches, marked the spot where the helicopter had returned. It had the coat of arms of a local firm on it and had to be licensed to fly, another favor from Whitehall. As they approached the location, Hayden called for the helicopter pilot.
  
  "There is no answer," she said.
  
  "Maybe he fell asleep," Alicia suggested.
  
  "Everything is possible". Mai tightened her grip on her flail and peered out the darkened windows all around, the empty pre-dawn street and the park a hundred yards ahead. "Try again".
  
  They got closer, now they could see the bulk of the helicopter that was waiting in the park, sheltered by trees. The silence was eerie, and the presence of so many windows was unsettling. Drake reached the gate, finding it wide open.
  
  "I think we should take this-"
  
  He never finished. From the shadows came the rest of Tilt's forces. There were no shots fired; beyond the darkened windows there were too many houses and civilians for that, but eight people rushed at them so suddenly that it was all they could do to defend themselves.
  
  Drake, off balance, fell to one knee as the large mercenary attacked him with a shoulder. Dahl repelled a similar attack, but still retreated. Mai rolled to the side, and Alicia backed toward the metal railing that surrounded the park. The rest were surrounded in the same way, barely managing to dodge blows, attacks with a knife and blows with brass knuckles. Their own melee weapons were hidden or sheathed. Only Molokai managed to unmistakably reach into the folds of his scarves and pull out a machete.
  
  Kenzi stared at him like he was the world's greatest wizard. "Oh wow, so now I'm around-"
  
  Fortunately, the rest of her offer was lost when the mercenary hit her from the side, causing her to sprawl on solid ground. The same mercenary jumped on top of her, trying to pin her to the ground. Drake, off balance, furiously fought off the attacker. It was a shocking onslaught of people; the team survived several knife attacks only through experience and reaction. Not a word was spoken. Three of his friends lay on the floor. Alicia was pressed against the fence. The mercenaries fought hard to keep their pace.
  
  Drake drew his knife and parried the attack, slashing furiously with his blades. Turning, he managed to unbalance Alicia's attacker while parrying another blow from his own. Kenzi turned her head as the knife flashed from below. The bullet missed by millimeters, the point pierced into hard concrete. It rose again and then fell again, Kensi saved herself with just her reaction. Now, however, she was able to slip her hands between their bodies and force the one holding the knife to change position.
  
  Luther met the second attack by quickly stepping back and then resting his head on his opponent's forehead. There was a sickening crack, and the man fell in a comatose state like a rag doll, perhaps even dead.
  
  The SPEAR team was already recovering, and less than a minute had passed since the initial attack. Sixty seconds is a long time in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat. They didn't come out unscathed. Kinimaka was stabbed in the back, right where his spine met his tailbone. Saved by the body armor, he was still in unbearable pain, and that was all he could do to fend off the mercenary before a second blow to the body armor made him roar like a cornered bear. Smith also took a hit to his vest, then grabbed his opponent's wrist and attempted to neutralize the weapon.
  
  Mai let the Flail of Anubis fall, waited for it to wriggle out of her jacket, then swung it at a nearby head. A heavy steel ball flew under the man's chin, throwing his head back and breaking his bones. It happened again, swinging the expert, he hit him in the jaw on the right, and then in the temple on the left. May moved on to the next one. An overhead strike drove spikes into the man's scalp and then turned into a side strike to the cheek of another. A swing of the flail returned the SPEAR team to first place.
  
  Drake's opponent then reached out and pulled out a cell phone. "Listen," he hissed. "You have to listen to it."
  
  The mercenaries ceased their attack, breathing heavily. Drake pounced on the man and the phone. Hayden helped Kinimaka to his feet.
  
  "I'm sorry," said the voice. "They grabbed me."
  
  Drake didn't recognize the voice at first. Hayden frowned.
  
  May spoke. "It's a helicopter pilot."
  
  Drake stared into the darkness of the park. The helicopter landed in complete darkness, thirty meters away, but while he was watching, someone illuminated the face of the pilot with a flashlight. No other figures were visible, but the threat was obvious.
  
  "We only need a flail," said the mercenary. "Give me the flail and your pilot will live."
  
  Mai did not hesitate; just stepped forward and passed it on. The mercenaries melted away, sliding back into the darkness.
  
  Hayden walked towards the helicopter. "Not good," she said softly. "They planned it as redundancy. If we didn't know before, we can be pretty damn sure that Tempest knows we're after guns."
  
  "So what do we do next?" Kinimaka asked.
  
  "We beat the bastards to the last."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  
  
  The helicopter dropped them in Port Said, not far from the military museum. It was quiet in El Montaza Park in the early morning, allowing the team to slip away unnoticed and find a hotel before changing into civilian clothes and heading out for a long-overdue breakfast. They couldn't hide their bruises, but they managed to pass for seasoned hikers.
  
  Almost, thought Drake. In fact, the soldiers were not hard to spot.
  
  Sitting in the back of a small diner, they ordered pastries, hot drinks, and bottled water. They were given a decent amount of privacy as the crew leaned back to relax and recuperate.
  
  "We lost the flail," Hayden told Cambridge over the phone. "Suppress your Egyptian team."
  
  The SAS captain didn't ask them any questions. "You can go straight to the last weapon. Lauren Fox and Secretary Crowe are making headway in Washington. Their plan is well thought out - just need to wait for the right time to execute it now."
  
  "Great," Drake said. "And on this other, personal, question?"
  
  "Yes. Your friend Yorgi landed aboard a Boeing 747 last night landing in Moscow. He rented a car and then found a hotel on the outskirts of the city. He's safe, but we'll be watching."
  
  "No problem?"
  
  "No..." Cambridge's tone made Drake sit up.
  
  "What is this?" I asked.
  
  "Honestly, I do not know. The yorges have nothing to do with it, but something big is brewing. I hear it in the conversations we listen to. In cellular communication. Through informants. Everywhere. All this is unfounded. Do you remember when the Blood King attacked the president in Washington? Prior to this, the chatter of terrorists and mercenaries went off scale. Well, it's happening again. Right now."
  
  "Not affiliated with Tempest?" Hayden asked.
  
  "No. The chatter is huge, yes, but it's a relatively open channel, focused on just a couple of areas in the world. But it's... it's so deep and dark, it's scary."
  
  Scary? Drake didn't like the way it sounded.
  
  "Washington was a bad time for us," Drake recalled. "For all of us. This only confirms that we need to quickly clear our names and resume business as usual. We cannot remain in the dark about something like this."
  
  Mai took a sip of water. "May I ask if there is a reason why you mentioned it in the same breath with Yorgi?"
  
  Cambridge sighed at the end of the line. "Yes, yes, it seems to come from Russia."
  
  Drake knew they had many enemies there, but Kovalenko was dead. Like many others. "Let's find the last weapon," he said. "Before worrying about ghosts. And what about the camp of Syrian terrorists and disavowed teams?"
  
  "Ah, well, there is some good news. We have a plan to contact all the teams and try to get them to work together. We offer a series of code words and send locals to meet with each team. You guys were right - there are dozens of them. Hundreds of men and women. We have established our neutrality with great difficulty with the help of already implemented code words - phrases recognized by each team and implemented at the training level. We still have a few friends in places like Fort Jackson, Fort Knox, Benning, Sill; something like that."
  
  "Good idea," Dahl said. "The thinking of a soldier is formed at the level of training. Throw a few old idioms at him, known only to the people who trained him and those who fought him, and he will sit up and take notice."
  
  "It worked," Cambridge said. "We are developing a strategy to bring them all together."
  
  "Where are they all?" Luther asked.
  
  "Scattered," said Cambridge. "Mostly throughout the Middle East. Egypt. Syria. Afghanistan. Iran. Iraq. Wherever there is conflict in Eastern Europe."
  
  "I know we lost him," Alicia said. "But what is the significance of the Flail of Anubis?"
  
  "Of course, I had a whole speech prepared when you deliver it. Anubis was an Egyptian god associated with mummification and the afterlife. Of course, it is associated with typical images of people with dog heads and the like. He was one of those who decided whether the soul would be admitted to the realm of the dead. He is one of the oldest gods and also one of the most famous, but plays virtually no role in any of the Egyptian myths."
  
  "Didn"t they also depict him as a jackal?" Drake asked.
  
  "Yes, he has had many different roles over the centuries. Although highly respected."
  
  "And do we have any ideas where this flail can be taken?" Luther asked. "And, since we ask, where are all the other weapons kept?"
  
  "It's a good, fresh approach that we're trying," Cambridge said. "Tracking weapons, as you say. But the short-range devices we have are limiting. This is hard to follow. At the moment, following events from around the world, we are almost certain that the weapons are going to the United States, and that there are more than twenty of them."
  
  "Events?" Drake asked. "Not all terrorists, please?"
  
  "No, not all," Cambridge said to the team's relief. "Nothing like the train episode either."
  
  "I really think you should start analyzing the weapons you have," Hayden told him. "The only way to defeat Tempest is to be one step ahead of them. Lauren and Crowe are trying in Washington. I believe you can do the same over there. What is so special about this weapon?"
  
  "Another good idea," admitted Cambridge.
  
  "It's because of the coffee." Alicia finished her third cup. "Here, strong and black, with a mega-caffeine dose."
  
  "Just what I need," said Cambridge. "I will contact you soon, but in the meantime, I will send you the details of the Vulcan forge."
  
  "Lung?" Drake asked hopefully.
  
  "No, this is by far the most difficult. I half hoped that Tempest would get to him first, but as you say, they may be saving the most difficult and dangerous artifacts for last."
  
  "We're on it," Hayden assured him. "And report it. Oh, and Cambridge?"
  
  "Yes?" I asked.
  
  "Use more resources to find out exactly what the 'big thing' is coming from Russia. You know, just in case we all survive and get back to America. I don"t want to be dragged into another blood feud battle again."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  
  
  Not only was the Vulcan Forge dangerous to get to, it was extremely dangerous to approach. This area was close to the IS stronghold. Cambridge did not add this to his report, but Drake knew that IS emerged from what was al-Qaeda in Iraq, which was formed by Sunni militants after the 2003 Western invasion. In 2011, ISIS joined those fighting against President Bashar al-Assad in Syria, where it found itself relatively safe and armed. Drake also knew that over eight hundred people had traveled from the UK to join the conflict in Syria and Iraq, and just under half have since returned.
  
  But what would they return to?
  
  He couldn't know that, so he put the question aside. Refugees were one of the main problems of this war, more than five million fled from Syria and three million from Iraq. Even the battle for Mosul itself led to the fact that more than a million people fled their homes.
  
  Vulcan's forge was in Syria, within walking distance of one of the last IS bastions. The territory was heavily guarded in accordance with IS standards, which, to put it mildly, was incomprehensible to most. Perhaps even the cave system itself is used.
  
  "How did the forge end up in the IS stronghold?" Alicia asked.
  
  "A group of militants discovered this while searching and destroying people's houses," Dahl read aloud, since not everyone could crowd around Hayden's laptop. "Perhaps an archaeologist. Perhaps it was even stolen from the Europeans who worked here - the land of Syria still lies at the center of archeology.
  
  "I don't understand how we know it's there," Kenzi said. "If the team got close enough to use the tracking device, why didn"t they just come in and take it away?"
  
  "That's the interesting part," Hayden explained. "Apparently, it is advertised for a huge amount of cash on the dark web."
  
  "Part of me wonders if this is worth risking our lives for," Alicia said. "But then another part assures me that the forge will be a crucial element in Tempest's plan. It's Dern's law."
  
  "Agreed," Drake said. "And the forge is larger than the rest, containing a large amount of material. Knowing Tempest, they'll just fall for this thing."
  
  "They wouldn't trust IS," Kinimaka said. "Don't forget who Tempest is. CIA, bankers, businessmen, judges. They know how deals can fail."
  
  "And all we know is that it is inside this cave system?" Drake pointed to the screen.
  
  "Deep inside," Hayden said. "The device was barely readable."
  
  "We'll need to be fully charged," Luther said gleefully. "More guns and ammunition than Fort Bragg. We get into this army... our chances are falling by the second."
  
  Hayden nodded. "And we will need to surround ourselves with a HALO. Fell four thousand meters right on the edge of their camp," she said. "It won't be easy."
  
  Luther glared at her. "Steep?" he repeated. "Special forces eat this shit for breakfast. Sure, hopefully you can keep up, SPEAR team."
  
  "We will do everything in our power," Drake replied without emotion.
  
  "Are you kidding?" Dahl said with a grin. "It's party time. Not only will we have a joint HALO, but we can stick to it in IS. This is what it takes for the full list guys."
  
  Not entirely sure that Dahl knew what the ideals on the list of favorites really meant, Drake glanced at the meeting. May, when all the demons of her past have been buried, and is now probably unsure of her next move. Her proximity to Luther showed that it could be right there. The great warrior himself, unable to contain his glee at the thought of a new battle, a warrior at heart and probably unable to calm down. Kenzi teetering on the edge of everything - fight or flight, good or bad, advance or retreat. Drake was sure she would leave. A few meters away, at an undeniable distance, sat Dahl, a man kept waiting until he could return to reclaim the family he loved. Then there were Hayden and Mano, who teetered on the edge of a new relationship, but neither of them wanted to ruin it by being too zealous.
  
  Smith... waiting for Lauren. It seemed to be waiting for a miracle.
  
  Molokai was a mystery. group anomaly. Drake couldn't read his mind at all and wondered if it would be better not to look into the man's past.
  
  And that left Alicia and himself. Honestly, where were they? Their relationship was stronger than mountains, their bond stronger than a stranglehold. But where were they going? From one skirmish to another, from one mission to the next.
  
  Alicia was right. Some research and development is long overdue.
  
  "I think we should do it then." Alicia brought him back to the present by whispering in his ear.
  
  "A?" I asked.
  
  "Hey just told us to meet at the hotel in thirty minutes. This corresponds to twenty minutes of sex. Come on, better bring your best game, Drakes."
  
  "Shouldn"t we be conserving energy for... you know... what an epic battle we"re in for?"
  
  "Nope."
  
  "Shouldn't we collect our weapons?"
  
  "Right now I"m only interested in one weapon."
  
  "And later? If we save the world?
  
  "I could let you go on top."
  
  "Oh thanks".
  
  As they walked up the stairs to their room, Drake thought about their relationship and how they needed some real time together. Is it really that hard for people to spend time together in the real world? He considered.
  
  But then they walked along their corridor, and Alicia was already undressing.
  
  "Wow, your panties have 'come and get it' written on your ass."
  
  "I know. I bought them for you when I remembered you were so damn slow."
  
  "Awesome." Drake threw her onto the bed. "How about leaving them where they are, love?"
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  
  
  Karyn Blake spent another night and day with FrameHub fans, learning what they knew, stealing their secrets and their code with her eidetic memory, looking through their open positions, their assignments and personal projects, enduring their sidelong glances every time she would get up to go to the water cooler or refrigerator, enduring their terrible and often deplorable jokes.
  
  It would be nice if it was ultimately harmless. Then she could bear their obscene remarks, their petty, discreet hacks, their relatively innocuous social media posts. She might not even notice how all eight of them were peeping on her-and using internal cameras-as she dressed for bed. Partly she understood all these things - these were men under thirty who had never lived with a woman before and certainly had never touched her. At first she wondered if organizing a wild party with beer and prostitutes could cure them of their ailments, but then she began to look deeper.
  
  FrameHub were evil, perfectly defined evil. The softer machinations worked on top of deeper intrigues, each more torturous, each hiding an additional layer of depravity. They didn't care who they hurt - and they blamed the dark web for the worst immoral sins.
  
  She gave up all hope for them as their high point drew near inexorably. The prison break went on as scheduled, ready for the green light. Karin had never seen such a vicious gleam in the faces of men, even in the expressions of the worst mercenaries, warlords and crime bosses she had to deal with. In short, they wanted every person to suffer-man, woman, and child-and set out to create countless, never-ending scenarios to make sure that happened.
  
  Karin used the stash account to send a message to Dino and Wu. Checking the account every hour for incoming messages related to her hacks was part of her routine, and FrameHub accepted this after the first day and stopped checking.
  
  Now they had twelve minutes left.
  
  Karin peered over the Piranha's shoulder, purposefully moving closer. The guy could not concentrate and constantly interrupted to smile at her. As time went. In an ideal world, she could probably take out all eight of those assholes herself, but her army training had taught her to rely on reliable support. Wait for it if possible.
  
  After tracking her down and then following her on their way here, Dino and Wu will arrive at this very spot in...six minutes.
  
  She clenched her hand on Piranha's bicep. "Wait, is this San Quentin?" She nodded at the rapidly scrolling list.
  
  "Yes, why?"
  
  "My ex-boyfriend is there." She laughed. "Wow, I could tell you some stories about the two of us."
  
  Sixteen eyes fixed on each other. "Like what?"
  
  Three minutes.
  
  Karin walked across the room to pour coffee, deliberately taking her time. She knew they would be watching. "What else is there to do, Piranha?"
  
  "Upload the virus. Run the code. A few seconds after that - "he made a whistling sound" - doors open all over the homeland. Special doors."
  
  "Drink up?" she asked. "How about a beer? Let's have a drink and then we can start the party."
  
  There were several expressions of interest on the faces of the assembled, but Goonch had no intention of lingering.
  
  "Cool, cool," he exclaimed. "But let's push the button right now! I can't wait to see what happens to the guards and when they reach the first few cities!"
  
  Karin walked over to his work station, put her hands on his shoulders, and then used his seat to turn him around. Her eyes were two inches from his.
  
  "Are you excited to see who they maim or kill first?"
  
  Goonch nodded, inhaling the smell of garlic mixed with sweets into her face. "We are FrameHub," he said.
  
  "From now on," she whispered, "you must assume that all your systems are out of order." She hoped she had spoken the last stupid thing of her life.
  
  The explosion tore the door off its hinges; a metal rectangle, spinning like a dice, flew into the room. Goonch stared wide-eyed while the rest of the geeks all threw themselves on the floor. Karin expected this, but she covered her face for a moment before pouring the contents of her cup into Gunchu's face. The boiling liquid scalded. Goonch screamed as he toppled over and hit the floor with a thud. Dino and Wu burst into the room with their semi-automatic weapons raised. Karin paused for a moment as Dino threw the weapon at her.
  
  The piranha jumped up, reaching for the desk drawer. Barracuda and Manta did the same. Moray stood with his head in his hands, his butt up. Another jerk made a dash for the open door.
  
  Karin pointed the muzzle of her gun at Gunch. "You want to know who will kill first?" she asked. "I am".
  
  She pulled the trigger twice. Gunch's face exploded and he no longer lived.
  
  Karin ran to Piranha's computer just as Dino and Wu yelled for the geeks to back off. Karin called out without looking up.
  
  "Kill them," she said. "They will only cause trouble in the real world."
  
  "Wouldn"t they be worse off in prison?" Dino grinned.
  
  "No," said Karin. "I saw what they are capable of and what they do. The best they deserve is bullets to the brain, Dino. Just do it".
  
  Karin focused on closing the Piranha program. It took several minutes, careful keystroke after keystroke. She saw Piranha draw a gun to her right and Dino rushed forward to disarm him. Coming even closer, Wu punched Manta in the forehead, sending him staggering into the lines of cars, and then lifted Barracuda by the collar, preventing him from reaching his own little pistol.
  
  "You weigh nothing, boy," Wu said. "How do you like to fly?"
  
  He hurled the Barracuda over his head, slamming him to the floor. The geek hit hard, and then skidded further, his face scraped against the rough concrete. Karin still hadn't heard the shot. To her left, three other geeks straightened up, unsure of what to do. When one of them pulled out his desk drawer, Karin stopped what she was doing and shot him in the chest. The feel of his blood splattering across their faces caused the others to vomit violently. It took Karin a little longer to finish what she was doing.
  
  The piranha, unarmed, lunged at Dino. The soldier was supposed to shoot him on the spot, but instead chose to hit him in the head with the butt of his rifle. The piranha fell. Karin moved away from her computer.
  
  She aimed her weapon and opened fire, destroying the monitor, the hard drive, and everything connected to it. She looked at Wu.
  
  "Storage cabinets are back there," she said. "Go and fry them all. And I mean comprehensively. Bullets and fire, Wu."
  
  "So we won"t turn this over to the authorities?"
  
  Karin looked at him like he was crazy. "Don't be ridiculous. Apart from all the private shit these assholes have hacked into and saved, there are dozens of active businesses going on here. I wouldn't bet that some authority wouldn't scrutinize them thoroughly, would I?"
  
  "No," Wu admitted. "No, I wouldn't."
  
  Karin turned back to the main room. The geeks on the left were still vomiting, pale-faced and scared. Dino grabbed Piranha by the hair, holding her upright, and pointed his gun at the others.
  
  Karin stepped towards them. "I thought about it," she said. "To be honest, I did. I tried to see the good in you. I tried to imagine that you don't know better. I even tried to find out if some of you were coerced, which is why I checked all your jobs. But it's just not there. You are all like-minded people. All the same. Nobody can help you."
  
  She raised her semi-automatic pistol, pointing it at Murena and Manta, behind whom Barracuda was hiding.
  
  "You are FrameHub," she said. "Think of all the civilians killed by these missiles. All the families you destroyed. Think about the irony of this - how many will your murder save?"
  
  Karin had no compassion left. In her life, she had already witnessed the worst, seen how loved ones die, how a madman kills them. Whatever remnants of kindness she has left will be saved for those who deserve it.
  
  The gun shook in her hand. She held on tight. Bullets riddled three bodies, causing them to collapse, bleeding, to the floor. Behind them, the computers shattered; wires, plastic boxes, and broken glass danced on drooping tables. The wall kicked up plaster dust where the lead had finally stopped.
  
  The piranha screamed. Only two remained beside him - Skat and Ox - and tears flowed down their bloodied faces.
  
  "So," said Karin. "How do you like me now?"
  
  "Wait," Dino said. "This is cold-blooded murder."
  
  "What did you think you signed up for? Our original goal was to kill Matt Drake."
  
  "He is a soldier. They are all like that."
  
  Karin shook her head sadly. "Like those assholes," she said. "But you don't see it. Why? Because they are young and inexperienced? Because they don't shoot bullets? Their fingers, Dino... Their sticky fingers can do more worldwide damage in sixty minutes than your trigger finger can do in a month. You understand?"
  
  Dino frowned. "But-"
  
  "Crap". Karin shot Stingray in the head. "They enjoyed every second of the damage they caused. Right here, right now." She shot Bull in the head.
  
  Only Piranha remained.
  
  "Cowardly, emotionally defective psychopaths with no morals," she said. "Enjoying the massacre they have unleashed."
  
  She pressed the cold barrel right against the Piranha's head.
  
  "Excited to the core. Emotionally. Sexually. Physically." She started pulling the trigger. "The suffering and pain of others."
  
  The last bullet echoed sharply through the suddenly hushed room. The Piranha's body made a sickening, wet slapping sound as it hit the floor.
  
  She looked Dino in the eye. "Thanks for the help".
  
  He tilted his head cautiously, clearly not fully understanding what was going on. Karin checked on Wu. "Let's go to. Now that FrameHub is out of the way and their evils have been undone, we can complete our program."
  
  "That hasn't changed?" Wu asked.
  
  "No. Why do you ask?"
  
  "We were there. You had a chance. I thought... maybe you changed your mind."
  
  "Everything I have done since joining the army has been aimed at achieving this goal. I explained it and you still came. If you don't like it, you can leave, but for now, we're going to end this."
  
  "And no one else knows?" Wu asked.
  
  "Nobody. Don't worry, we're safe."
  
  Dino stared at Wu intently. "You know it, man. You were with us every step of the way."
  
  "I like confidence."
  
  "What you need is a mother."
  
  "My mother died when I was six."
  
  Karin didn't want to go into details. FrameHub was officially shut down and she didn't feel an ounce of regret. The world was a harsh place. If you faced this head on, screwed up with this, you deserved whatever harsh fate befell you.
  
  The world would be a better place without him.
  
  "Let's leave these bastards to rot."
  
  Dino and Wu got ready. Karin grabbed everything she had and a few items she saw were valuable. They rid the dead of their cash simply because they no longer needed it. Karin did have access to the funds, but she was always aware that the game she played might need even more. Much of FrameHub's valuable information was stored in its memory.
  
  Dino walked towards the door. "Let's. We can make contact with the SPEAR above."
  
  Karin followed him, but then her phone rang. When she took it out, a message appeared on the screen: Unknown caller, which was not surprising in their kind of work.
  
  "Hello?" I asked.
  
  "Is that Karin Blake?"
  
  "Who wants to know?" There was a strong accent in her voice, which she recognized as Russian.
  
  "You don't know me, Miss Blake, but you will. We have to meet because we have the same goals."
  
  "Who is this?" I asked.
  
  "Someone is planning something very big. All over the world. Destructive. They have destroyed my legacy and I will have my revenge."
  
  "They?"
  
  "A SPEAR. Drake and others. Not even that whimpering ferret you call the president. Plans are on, but they don't know I'm coming."
  
  Karin could not cope with the empty fear that began to twist somewhere in the lower abdomen. "Who are you?"
  
  "Meet me." He dictated the address. "Meet me there and let me show you. Bring your companions. You will be safe for now."
  
  "I'm not going to date you. I couldn't trust you."
  
  "Of course you can, Miss Blake. My machinations won't begin until the SPEAR is done with Tempest. I want them to give me their full attention."
  
  "So you're saying that the Storm is a hindrance to you too?"
  
  "Let's just say I want to get them out of the way. Then...the day of death begins."
  
  "That's a little corny, bro," Karin tried to tease the man.
  
  "Corny? I don't know. I know that your only chance to survive in the coming weeks is to meet me."
  
  Karin sighed. "You're breaking my schedule."
  
  The man told her the date and time. "If you don't show up, you'll be the first to die."
  
  Phone turned off. Karin stared at him for a minute before including Dino and Wu in her thoughts. "Did you hear all this?"
  
  "Certainly. Just another psycho." Wu shrugged.
  
  "Really? Then where did he get my number from? How did he know we just finished here? How did he know about our plans? And, if there is a threat to the SPEAR, there is a threat to the world at large."
  
  "The SPEAR won't go down that easily," Dino said.
  
  "Not only this. He also mentioned the president. It can be grand."
  
  "So you want to meet a psycho?" Wu said it like he was resigned. "Of course you know."
  
  "I think we should guys."
  
  Dino tossed his weapon to his shoulder. "Then you'd better hurry."
  
  Karin didn't look back.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  
  
  The jump in HALO was supposed to be exhilarating, a dizzying rush from start to finish, but Drake barely felt it. Risk lurked everywhere, from the size of the jumping team to the chances of being seen from below.
  
  And then there was the landing site.
  
  Close to the IS stronghold and the mountain range, they tried to descend as close as was reasonably possible. Drake had never seen a team so equipped; they were literally weighed down with weapons. Enough to win the war.
  
  It may even come to this. Luther grinned from ear to ear.
  
  Drake landed and rolled, hitting his thigh on a stone, but escaped with only a nasty bruise. The rest descended one by one, their ally was pitch darkness, rigid parachutes controlled by GPRS. Despite a lot of bruises and scratches, the team gathered in a good mood.
  
  "Everything is quiet?" May whispered.
  
  "We're a few miles from the city," Drake said. "See that comb over there?" He pointed to the horizon, where a jagged line stood out against the silvery sky. "This is our goal. We should be there before dawn."
  
  They are gone. The air was cold, even penetrating, making Drake's blackened face goosebumps. They couldn't help but make a little noise, weighed down with all their gear, so they took it lighter than usual and kept low. The ground underfoot was packed and uneven. Drake did not hear any sound, carried away by the gentle breeze that blew in from the desert. They could easily be alone.
  
  Very soon they discovered that they were far from it.
  
  Dahl, passing to the left, stumbled upon a man sitting next to a battered rifle. The man didn't see Dahl at all, but his eyes widened as the huge figure loomed over him. He opened his mouth to scream.
  
  Dahl stuck a knife into his throat to stop any sound and caught the fighter as he fell. Then he steadily laid the man down next to his unused rifle.
  
  "Guardian?" Drake asked over the comm.
  
  "I think yes. We'd better keep to the right if they've posted sentries that far away."
  
  They followed the Swede's advice and moved forward with extreme caution. Being seen at this point would be disastrous, completing the mission. An hour passed as they moved easily through the oppressive darkness, danger lurking on all sides. Not a single superfluous word was uttered; no remarks beyond the area and destination. Finally, they reached the gorge and allowed themselves a ten-minute respite, carefully descending to the very bottom.
  
  Drake moved closer to Alicia. "Not long left".
  
  "Yes. Do you want chocolate?"
  
  "Hell yes." It became a tradition over the years when they got it right.
  
  "I'll take some of this." Dahl was next to Alicia.
  
  "Are you ready with that beacon, buddy?" Drake asked, chewing.
  
  "Ready and willing," Dahl said.
  
  Drake glanced at his watch, then clicked on his communicator. "Come out guys."
  
  Another thirty minutes and they were approaching the foothills. Here Drake saw several fires scattered on the slopes of the lower mountain, and several small buildings that looked like tents. The problem was that they extended all over the wide rocky base.
  
  "I'm guessing it's some kind of overflow," he suggested, knowing the cause didn't really matter. Knowledge would not overcome obstacles.
  
  "They are not so close together," Luther said. "We can walk right through."
  
  Drake grimaced, certain now that Luther was looking for an excuse to start using the iron. The problem was, he was right, and dawn was just around the corner.
  
  With great care, he silently crawled over the nearest rock, then used his leg muscles to slide down the other side. Rounding the nearest fire, he took cover in the shadows, checking every step, every rough obstacle. Next to the fire lay a figure wrapped in a blanket, snoring loudly as they approached. Drake held his breath, but slipped past without disturbing the man.
  
  And in the second small camp.
  
  Like the first time, it consisted of a small fire and a tent, but this time there were two figures sleeping outside, both women. Their faces were blank, they looked up at the stars, their breasts rising and falling smoothly. Drake stepped over a narrow crevice before climbing a slight slope on the other side. The tent suddenly rustled, its outer side swelling. Drake paused, bracing himself, hoping it was just a man rolling over in his sleep.
  
  It was. A moment later they continued, entering the third camp. Here they could bypass the main territory, skirting a wide ravine that curved along it. However, the gorge ended with a paddock full of horses and they were forced to return.
  
  Careful, they took a different route.
  
  Forty minutes have passed. Drake kept his eyes on the eastern horizon, which was definitely less dark than twenty minutes ago. The mountain loomed ahead, but not as intimidating as it seemed at first glance. They knew that they were climbing on the right side, and that the entrances to the caves were about a hundred meters high.
  
  "Slow down," Drake said. "We are here".
  
  A gaping entrance emerged from the darkness above. Another camp was set up to their right, and Drake could see the figures begin to stir. Being here, they had no idea what was waiting for them inside.
  
  "Now or never," he whispered. "Move!"
  
  Without hesitation, the whole team rushed inside the mountain.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  
  
  The darkness was full of rats.
  
  Only these rats wore hermit clothes and carried weapons. They had nothing on their mind but murder, they were rebels until they died.
  
  At first, the darkness inside the cave was overwhelming. Lighting came from rare lanterns that were hung on the stone walls. It was clear that there were others inside from the moment they entered the complex.
  
  Echoes of conversation, a low bleat of laughter and harsh words were heard from several adjacent passages, making it impossible to check who was where. The team advanced step by step, passing archways and jagged openings in the stone walls that led through the complex. In one corner they found three men fast asleep, in the other a pair of handcuffs crudely fastened to the stone with heavy pins. Scraps of clothing were scattered all over the place, but no sign of a body. The team sobered up even more. Darkness came at every opportunity.
  
  Dahl sent a beacon signal in front of them as often as possible. Sometimes they had to deviate to the left or right, but soon they found a path that led down. The path was also not without danger. Three times the group had to split up and hide behind niches or protruding walls when fighters passed by. From what Drake could see, they were a motley bunch, undisciplined and quiet, lonely and unenthusiastic. They walked unnoticed, many looked at their feet.
  
  Of course, they would never expect to see an enemy here; a place they frequented for years. However, their complacency gave the team more and more hope.
  
  If we can go down, we can go up. In safety. For free.
  
  Drake suppressed his growing confidence as Dal abruptly stopped. The Swede instantly pressed his back against the wall, forcing those behind him to follow suit. He slowly pressed the communication button, whispering, "The passage opens into a cell ahead with four exits. Right in the middle, four men are playing cards with their heads down. There is no way past."
  
  Luther was the first to react. "Knives".
  
  Again, the big man was right, but the warrior's lust betrayed him as he approached Dahl. Molokai was behind him. Kenzi was right behind him, trying to hold Smith back.
  
  "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all go home," Smith growled.
  
  Drake let Luther lose his head and covered the path they had already traveled. Mai went back and forth to check that no one was following her, and now she has appeared.
  
  "All is clear".
  
  Luther's voice filled his ears. "We're done here. Let's."
  
  They passed the hall and went downstairs, further and further. Luther and the Molokai hid the bodies in a place they said would not be found until decay began. The cave complex was huge, but it was easy to navigate. All they needed was a descending slope and Dahl's GPR device.
  
  "Signal getting stronger?" I once asked Kinimaka.
  
  "Always," Dahl replied. "Too bloody all the time."
  
  This meant that the artifact was deep underground. Little by little, step by step, they sank deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth.
  
  "How heavy is this thing?" Hayden asked as they walked, seeing fewer and fewer enemies. "I'm worried about dragging him back."
  
  "I will do it," Molokai said.
  
  "No," Drake interjected. "Let's measure the weight first."
  
  "I will carry it," Molokai said again in a stern voice.
  
  "Leave it". Luther patted Drake on the shoulder. "He's a beast."
  
  The Yorkshireman looked at the talking mammoth soldier. "Okay, okay then."
  
  Hours passed. What looked like a group of raiders ran up from below - four men dressed in dusty, gray clothes wrapped in all directions and armed with Ak47 submachine guns. They were charged, pumped up, chatted with each other about some task assigned to them. Drake was not strong in the language, he caught only a third of the words. He considered ambushing them just because they had walkie-talkies, but by the time he made up his mind, they were gone.
  
  After walking a little more, they came to a huge archway in the mountain. Drake saw water rushing ahead, a stream falling from somewhere above, passing before their eyes and disappearing below. An underground waterfall filled their ears; his spray touched their faces. Drake found a narrow ledge that passed behind him and stepped onto it, pressing against the wall. Comfortable handholds were carved into the rock, so he wrapped his fingers around them as he stepped aside. This time, the connection was completely silent as the team used every ounce of concentration to maintain balance. The ledge was no more than a foot wide, and in places their heels hung over the edge.
  
  The endless stream cascaded down so close that they could feel its power in their guts. Drake is already soaked through. Of course, any confrontation here would have ended in certain death, but they managed to get past. The ledge widened and ran along the cliff ahead for a while before descending into another jagged tunnel.
  
  Drake paused for a moment and looked around. A shabby group appeared, equipment dripping, hair matted, many wiping their eyes.
  
  The ledge curved sharply, and the drop to their left was all too obvious. It wasn't until they entered the new tunnel that the roar of the waterfall began to fade.
  
  There was the sound of boots ahead. Drake stopped dead in his tracks. Walls rose on both sides.
  
  "Nowhere to go." He pressed the link button and dropped to one knee, aiming his pistol.
  
  Luther appeared above him, taking aim at the other. "I'll cover you, buddy."
  
  A man emerged from the darkness. He seemed to squint, unable to believe what was before him. Drake fired first, followed by Luther, their weapons rigged with silencers. Guns barked softly and the man fell, his own weapon clanging. Drake quickly checked that he was alone.
  
  "All is clear. Move out."
  
  Ten minutes later they exited the tunnel and entered a larger room. Passages stretched left, right and straight, leading down. Dahl's signal finally began to glow brighter and became more focused. The forge of Vulcan was close.
  
  Drake moved on. The ground ahead, shrouded in shadow, abruptly went down, and then seemed to disappear. Drake assumed it was a deeper darkness until he got close to it.
  
  And he felt the draft rush up.
  
  "Wow!"
  
  He recoiled, suddenly seized with a fit of dizziness. Ahead lay a deep void, just a crack in the floor: grim, deadly, and unexpected.
  
  "Big trench," he said aloud, squinting to see the far side. "Not good. I don't see shit here."
  
  Luther took out and cracked open a handful of glow sticks. "It will help."
  
  The first thing he threw didn't make it; it was barely halfway. The second hit the wall of the crevice. A third spun to land on the rock and illuminated their new predicament with its orange glow.
  
  "How far?" Hayden asked.
  
  "Must be ten feet," Luther said.
  
  Fifteen, Molokai decided.
  
  "Well," Drake scanned the crack in both directions, "the enemy must jump over it. There is no bridge here. Not even a wooden board."
  
  Mai and Smith shone their flashlights around the room to make sure. They came empty-handed, shrugging their shoulders. Drake looked at the group.
  
  "Is anyone nervous?"
  
  Without waiting, he turned around, rushed and jumped. His hands trembled mid-flight, HK hit him on the cheekbone, and then he landed safely on hard rock, rolling just once for extra convincing.
  
  Dahl tossed the device to him, then jumped. The rest of the team came up one by one. If there were any nerves, they were not shown. "Strong as nails," Drake said, grinning as the last man, Smith, jumped over him.
  
  They went down again.
  
  More time flew past them. It was Dahl who said, "Deeper and we'll be in hell," but those words sent a shiver down Drake's spine. The Swede was right. The descent seemed endless, the huge complex around them was crushingly magnificent. With each passing moment, they fell deeper and deeper towards their goal, so deep underground that everyone lost the will to speak.
  
  Finally, Dahl stopped. "The signal is as concentrated as it can possibly be," he said. "The forge should be right around the next corner."
  
  Drake shook himself, keeping his focus, remembering that most treasures were usually guarded. "Just don't forget," he said in a light voice. "We'll never get it back up without a board."
  
  "Ah, the woes of all treasure hunters," Alicia said optimistically.
  
  "Two would be better," Dahl said.
  
  "Why, one for each leg?"
  
  "We could tie them together."
  
  "Wonderful. Two boards. So, are we ready?"
  
  Luther was already there.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  
  
  Light filled the room, spilling from dozens of flickering lanterns built into the walls. The black smoke spiraled into the higher shadows and dissipated. The floor was flat, the walls uneven, as if hewn by a drunken giant.
  
  Drake saw six men.
  
  One sat on a pile of dusty old books, irreverent and indifferent, for he must have known that he was guarding stolen valuables and possibly significant relics. He sat munching, staring into space, and spat on the dusty floor as Drake watched. Two more were seated far to the right, passing the time playing an old board game. The last three walked among the treasures, picking up some, turning and squinting at them as if appreciating their value.
  
  "Did we expect this kind of booty?" Alicia asked.
  
  "Not really," Hayden replied. "But of course we can't take it all with us. Take photos and let others decide. This is the best we can do."
  
  "They aren't particularly photogenic," Mai said, pointing at the guards. "Maybe we should get them out of the way first?"
  
  "Get in line." Kenzi raced past Luther and Molokai as she entered the hall. Stepping silently, she took aim at the seated man and fired, the gun spat softly. The noise in this room was enough to make the others turn around. Kenzi ran up to the seated two, jumping back at the last minute as they fumbled for their weapons. She hit one right in the face with a flying boot, brandishing the gun like a club to hit the other in the temple. Both groaned and collapsed. The head of the first hit back against the stone wall. Kenzi focused on the second, regaining control of her pistol and fired two point-blank shots.
  
  Luther and Molokai kept up with the Israelite, seeing the other three guards stare at him in shock. Two explosions knocked two bodies back, but the third missed as Luther tripped over a small rock.
  
  The finale is a guard thrown behind a heavy chest. Drake heard him fumble for his gun. The team ducked, and Luther complained of a sprained ankle. Kenzi crept up from the far side. Molokai chose another. Drake aimed at the very top of his chest, where the head should have come from.
  
  A few seconds passed, and then the guard began to act. Three shots were fired, all of them hit the target. The results were not favorable for protection.
  
  Hayden and Kinimaku were pushed into the cell. Everyone fanned out and searched the place, leaving May and Smith to watch for any unpleasant surprises. Drake opened the safe and chest, then rummaged through the chest of drawers. Alicia turned over the shoe box. Hayden found gold bars wrapped in sweatshirts and Kinimaka found a round carousel stuffed with fake swords.
  
  Kenzi examined them carefully. "Complete nonsense. You would rather die than bleed with one of them."
  
  "But maybe valuable to someone," Kinimaka said. "Sentimental".
  
  "I believe".
  
  By this time, of course, they knew the color and general design of the item they were looking for. Alicia noticed it first and called the others. "I found it first. What is my prize?
  
  "An evening with Thorsten Dahl," Drake said as he approached us. "Where, no doubt, you would cook meatballs and listen to Roxette's greatest hits while assembling flat furniture."
  
  "Sounds... different."
  
  Dal didn't hold back. "Yeah, unlike the usual battered seafood, chumbawumba, and full Monty?"
  
  "That doesn't sound too bad," Drake said.
  
  Dahl chuckled. Alicia pulled the artifact from the pile it was in. The miniature forge, done in midnight black, with two sides, an open chimney and a grate of wicker, looked quite impressive despite its reduced size. Vulcan was the god of fire, volcanoes, and forges in Roman mythology, and he was often depicted at work in the forge, forging the blade of a new sword or hammer shaft. Hayden started rummaging around for a canvas bag big enough to hide it, but Luther pulled one out of his backpack.
  
  "Always come prepared," he said.
  
  It was hardly big enough. Drake could understand why this artifact contained more material than the others. It was not only larger, but also denser, the walls and interior decoration were thicker. If Tempest comes for it, they'll be in trouble.
  
  "Long journey back," he said. "We'd better get started."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The return was long, hard, testing the limits of even their endurance, but at last the exit of the cave loomed ahead. Molokai took the opportunity to rest, never complaining but sinking to the floor of the cave with his pack still strapped to his back.
  
  Alicia tried to help. "Let me take it"
  
  "It's better if I do it alone," Molokai said ungratefully. "My thanks, but I"m already used to fighting alone. It builds character."
  
  Outside, daylight shone in all its splendor. At first, they could only see the sky, which was blue and speckled with white clouds. Drake and Luther moved cautiously to the edge of the cave, so that the landscape below gradually opened up with each step they took. First the field, then the foothills, then the mountainside.
  
  Luther chuckled. "Shit".
  
  It was a vision that would haunt Drake for the rest of his days.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
  
  
  "We're going to need more ammo," Drake said.
  
  "You've said that before," Mai approached them. "But we are here."
  
  Drake let her see what lay before them. "And now?"
  
  "Maybe you are right".
  
  "Certainly. It's a Yorkshireman's birthright."
  
  The plains below were full of militant IS fighters; their groups were scattered all over the field like mushrooms on food. The lower foothills were teeming with them, all armed: sitting on the rocks, standing at a distance, squatting to each other. The mountainside was littered with bodies, making a covert escape impossible.
  
  Worst of all, more than half of the fighters had already seen them, while the other half were slowly becoming aware of them.
  
  Luther leaned back quickly. Alicia glared at him. "And how does that help, soldier boy?"
  
  "Instinct".
  
  "Oh wow, we better watch out for this. Make sure it doesn't infect all of us."
  
  Drake watched the upward faces, all focused on the rebels who had wormed their way among them. He couldn't count them all, but he figured they numbered in the hundreds. Worse, each of them seemed to have a weapon.
  
  "The only way is to back off," Kenzi said. "But down there, there's no way out."
  
  "However, we could contain them," Smith said. "While we are looking for another way out."
  
  "Damn, this complex is huge," Drake said carefully. He didn't move, hoping the stasis would give them some more time.
  
  "And these guys will know every inch of it," Hayden said.
  
  "We don't have food," Kinimaka said.
  
  Alicia looked at him. "Typical man".
  
  "A lot of problems," Hayden said. "Any solutions?"
  
  Luther weighed the pistols in both hands. "We fight our way through like soldiers."
  
  Drake sighed. "You know, buddy, we're going to get killed because of you. With a plan like that, yes, some of us can make it, but not all of us."
  
  Luther looked around at the faces of those present. "Anyway, your team is too big."
  
  Drake hoped he was joking. This time he saw no way out. The caves were large enough to take the life of everyone. The mountains and plains were full of enemy soldiers. Speed was their best option, but how?
  
  The locals were getting restless. Some were screaming, others were gesticulating. All this was aggressive. Boots began to step forward, pistols waved. The attack was coming. Drake had no doubt that they would hold out here for a while; they could protect the entrance and branches of the cave, but sooner or later the militants will start to think bigger - explosives and RPGs.
  
  Think or die.
  
  He found himself looking at Dahl, and the Swede simply looked up.
  
  Certainly .
  
  We had a chance. Drake released all of his weapons and placed them on the ground. "Two minutes," he said. "Get ready. It will be one of the most bizarre things we have ever done."
  
  Dahl handed him the radio. "Do you want honors?"
  
  "No, you do it, mate. It was your idea."
  
  Everyone else just stared at them with an expression that said, "What just happened?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Dahl called and then said, "Eight minutes."
  
  Drake pursed his lips. "So long?"
  
  "That's what it is, my friend."
  
  Shooting started. Bullets ricocheted off the cavern entrance and roof, blasting away rock debris. The floor has become a good place to live. Drake and Luther couldn't risk looking out, simply resting their guns on a rocky ledge and firing blindly into the mountains. Behind them, Alicia and Kenzi found safety behind a jutting rock, allowing them to better keep an eye on the entrance. Alicia was already picking up the ones the others had missed when they came over to partially block the light.
  
  They were already close to being captured.
  
  "More firepower!" she screamed.
  
  They were already on it. Hayden and Kinimaka join Drake and Luther on the floor, but further back, giving them a better view. Smith and May covered the back of the cave, where adjacent tunnels branched off. They had good cover between them. Dahl crouched down to cover the Molokai and trap the stragglers the others had missed.
  
  The noise inside the cave was terrifying, continuous shooting. The noise outside was terrible, the screams of the dying and the screams of the wounded. Drake saw one after another of stern gray faces staring at him and had to trust that the others could handle them. She and Luther took turns reloading their weapons, and then they heard Dahl scream.
  
  "Four minutes".
  
  The enemy was approaching, shouting obscenities that the team did not understand. They came ready to maim and kill themselves. They came determined to wipe this stain from their lands, from their homes. There was no respite.
  
  "Shoot!" Luther roared. "Shoot, motherfucker!"
  
  Bodies piled up outside. Mai and Smith blocked the passages with the dead. As the grenade flew in her direction, she threw it back, blowing to shreds those she had already killed. Alicia somehow managed to grab the grenade mid-air and throw it back further into the cave system before it exploded. However, shrapnel and cave dust billowed through their space near the exit, rolling out among the attackers and disorienting them.
  
  Drake heard it first: the incredible, timely, beautiful sound of an Apache AH-64 attack helicopter approaching. It housed a crew of two and a set of sensors installed on the nose for target detection. Not that it's needed today. It carried a 30mm chain cannon, Hellfire and Hydra missiles. The amount of built-in survival reserves was staggering, from cockpit-to-cockpit protection to allow at least one pilot to survive, to airframe design and rotor blades designed to protect against 23mm rounds, and a self-healing fueling system.
  
  Right now, it symbolized survival.
  
  It was accompanied by an identical twin and a cargo helicopter that hung high in the sky.
  
  "How?" I asked. Alicia considered.
  
  Dahl shrugged. "Swedish ingenuity".
  
  Drake choked. "Did you sort them out?"
  
  "I called Secretary of Defense Crowe via Cambridge," he said. "And requested an airstrike."
  
  "Damn, so she still has juice!"
  
  "Enough to save our lives."
  
  The militants were already turning away from the cave, overestimating their attack. Drake was able to carefully peek over the ledge. Huge gray helicopters filled the air overhead, heading straight for the top of the mountain.
  
  "Down!"
  
  The chain pistol fired; its nightmarish, deafening release struck everyone in its path and terrified the rest. Its deadly course was marked by rocks, earth, and bodies flying upwards. The SPEAR team didn't waste a second; they instantly rose to assess their escape. At that moment, another helicopter fired its own chain cannon down the side of the mountain, drawing the attention of those gathered below. The scene was full of devastation.
  
  "The truck is behind," Drake said. "We'll have to act in hot pursuit."
  
  "Here". Luther pointed to a section of the plain below that was empty.
  
  "Looks good. We are ready?"
  
  They gathered and then waited for both Apaches to come to their senses again. Another 30 mm shells pierced the air, destroying everything they touched. Most of the militants were defeated, seeking cover and safety. Only the hardiest or the most stupid kept coming.
  
  Drake saw two climbing between rocks and immediately finished off one. Another dived behind a boulder. Luther covered him with constant fire.
  
  "Go, go." Hayden hurried them out.
  
  The mountainside was a battlefield littered with bodies. Apaches appeared again and again. Hellfire missiles destroyed groups of militants and tore huge pieces from the mountain and foothills. Earth and stones hovered in the air, in places a curtain of small debris was visible.
  
  A squad of SPEARERS ran from cover to cover, finding plenty of rocks to hide behind on the mountain. The helicopters followed their course above, unleashing hell and death on their enemies. Molokai valiantly fled with the heavy artifact, closely watched by Alicia, who helped him clear the way. Drake, Luther, and Dahl darted forward with guns raised, firing constantly, killing their enemies or forcing them to duck behind rocks. Mai and Smith used grenades from the back, helping to drive out the stragglers and obscure the rear view. As a full team, their firepower was overwhelming.
  
  Drake's boots touched the foot of the hills, the ground became less rocky. Finding cover down here was more difficult, so they moved more slowly and more accurately as more rockets flew up the mountain and the plains below.
  
  The cargo helicopter drifted towards the empty field.
  
  The constant fire from the Apaches weakened the resistance of their enemies, making each person fear for his own safety. By the time Drake reached the foot of the hills and saw the desert plains open before him, there were no more shots. However, they were all careful with their weapons. The large helicopter softly touched down, its rear door lowered.
  
  "RPG!" Mai screamed.
  
  It appeared out of nowhere, fortunately flying far from its target. Mai and Smith saw a gleam in the foothills and concentrated their fire as they ran. There were no more RPGs.
  
  Drake's boots hit the lowered door first. He knelt down and turned, clutching his pistol to his shoulder, scanning for the enemy behind them. Luther and Dahl were at his side, lined up across the ramp.
  
  "Purely".
  
  The last person rushed aboard, jumping at full speed as the helicopter was already climbing. Drake and two of his companions opened covering fire.
  
  "We are alive?" Alicia asked from her seat on the floor, peering out the back door.
  
  "I certainly hope so," Mai said. "Because you're certainly not an angel."
  
  "And we're proud of it."
  
  Drake watched intently until they were out of missile range and the door finally slammed shut. Only then did he relax, lowering the gun and taking a few deep breaths.
  
  "It was damn close."
  
  Molokai scrambled out of his heavy backpack, mushroom dust settling from his clothes and filling the cabin. "And the artifact is intact."
  
  "Good," said Drake. "Because it's the last one. Where do we go from here?"
  
  Hayden unhooked her satellite phone. "Let's find out, shall we?"
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  
  
  All hell broke loose.
  
  It quickly became apparent that a member of their team was on the run, in the most danger, fighting for his life. Suddenly, the situation began to escalate.
  
  Lauren's voice was tense and full of horror, she hummed desperately into the receiver thousands of miles away, on the other side of the world.
  
  "I'm leaving... I'm free... Damn, wait."
  
  A whisper of fear made Drake clench his fists, wishing desperately that he could help. Smith was beside himself. Hayden had been trying to figure out what was going on for six minutes, but Lauren had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse.
  
  There was absolute silence in the rear of the cargo helicopter. It was dormant, standing on a dark airstrip in a dark corner of Egypt, just waiting for a call to action.
  
  What's next?
  
  They didn't expect this.
  
  Lauren caught her breath. There were no words in the command; even Alicia and Kenzi sat in silence with expressions of extreme concern on their faces. Lauren's next comments were barely audible.
  
  "Oh my god... they are here."
  
  Hayden gripped the satellite phone tightly. "Remain absolutely still. Do not do anything."
  
  There was a scream and a lot of rustling. There was a shot. Lauren screamed in shock. Another rustle. One more shot.
  
  Smith stood only a meter away from the phone, his eyes closed tightly, fists pressed to his temples. He said just one word: "Lauren?"
  
  Voices came through the phone, deep and guttural: "Is she dead?"
  
  "Looks like it."
  
  Smith dropped to his knees. Hayden held on to the phone and the open line in desperate hope, but he couldn't hear Lauren's voice at all. Just a little shuffling.
  
  "Better bring that bitch over here, Urban."
  
  Yeah, leave him where he belongs, hey Carmine? In a ditch."
  
  The whole team registered both names. Drake knew that this was one of those moments where two personalities would stick together forever.
  
  Another rustle, and then a dragging sound. Both men grunted. Drake saw Kinimaka and Kenzi turn away, not needing or wanting to hear what happened next. Alicia's face turned into the hardest mask he had ever seen.
  
  "Heat that bastard up," Smith growled. "I know where I'm going next."
  
  Both men screamed as two shots rang out. Drake thought he heard two bodies fall, and then two more shots. It was a blessing to hear Lauren's cracked voice.
  
  "I'm fine," she breathed. "They shot me. In hand. But I'm fine. Faked it, haha. It's the only thing I'm good at."
  
  Smith was suddenly on his knees, unable to hide his emotions. Hayden's knuckles were completely white when he was on the phone. "What is happening there?"
  
  "Wait... I have to get away."
  
  Three minutes later, after a long chug and crunch, she returned to the line.
  
  "Damn, this hurts. I bleed but managed to bandage it."
  
  Drake spoke first. "Did you grab one of their pistols?"
  
  "Hell no. I'm useless as hell."
  
  "No, it's not," Smith said.
  
  "Look, we are here on our fingertips. We are not soldiers. They are going to kill us."
  
  Hayden forced her voice to sound calm. "Are you safe at the moment? If yes, tell us what happened."
  
  "Yes, I'm fucking in the middle of a huge parking lot, between cars." The New Yorker took a deep breath. "They took Kimberly first."
  
  Drake did his best to keep his mouth shut. "You mean Storm? Crap."
  
  "Yes, they have kidnapped the Secretary and are hiding her somewhere. I do not know what happened. It was only... a few hours ago. We planned to capture the president after his speech. I mean, not literally grab him, but Kimberly had arranged anonymous press passes for us, and it was clear how to approach him. She used her last favors with these passes, and someone must have let it out."
  
  "They have eyes and ears everywhere," Kinimaka said.
  
  "Anyway, they dragged poor Kimberly right out of the car in the parking lot. Just threw it in a black van in broad daylight. It was... terrible."
  
  Lauren's voice rose. Hayden told her to calm down. They couldn't risk being heard now. She may have found good cover, but good cover was often the hardest to escape.
  
  "I ran. Fortunately, I was not far from the press conference, so I managed to find a place where they would not dare to touch me. Hold on..."
  
  Drake assumed she was checking the area. The team waited with bated breath.
  
  "We are clean, but I need to check this hand. It's on fire." Lauren fought the panic again, regaining her essence. "Look, despite all this, I managed to talk to President Coburn."
  
  Drake was amazed. "Wow, did you do that?"
  
  "Yes, I came closer and he recognized me. He was also familiar with the code words, which allowed me to communicate in private."
  
  Drake knew there was no code word. It was Lauren's way of saving time. In truth, he had no doubt that she would have reminded him of the Blood King's attack on Washington and what followed. Coburn would have taken this as a warning sign, a cry for help from SPIRA.
  
  "I put it all simply and coolly. Several advisers were also there; I couldn't help but get them involved. I talked about the Tempest, the special commands they left to fend for themselves, the weapons of the gods... everything."
  
  "Was he responsive?" Mai asked the question that was on everyone's mind.
  
  "Yes. Asked questions. I asked for dates. Lots of stuff."
  
  "Lauren," Hayden said. "How the hell did you end up on the run?"
  
  "After finishing the conversation with Coburn, I stepped aside a little, and Rick Troy was standing right behind me. You know him - an aide to the president who is part of Tempest. The asshole that's been blocking us all this time. Well, I smirked. I said, 'Gotcha, motherfucker' and then I told Coburn to act fast because his life was in danger."
  
  "Great," Hayden said. "Just wait. We have a lot to think about."
  
  "Or nothing," Smith said. "We're going to Washington."
  
  All this time, on the other line, Cambridge from the British SAS was listening. Now Hayden gave the floor to him.
  
  "What do we have with weapons?"
  
  "I'm afraid the Tempest is under control. They have almost twenty types of divine weapons. They have a secretary Crowe. Lauren is clearly being hunted. And, by now, I'd guess they have a plan to eliminate the president if Troy overhears all of this. It just got grand."
  
  "Understood," Hayden said, and turned back to the satellite phone. "You two managed to locate Tempest's hideout, right?"
  
  "We determined where they meet, yes, from Gleason's laptop."
  
  Hayden greeted every pair of eyes in the large cabin. "We must destroy Tempest. Immediately".
  
  Smith shook his fist in the air. "Absolutely!"
  
  "I'm sorry," Cambridge interjected. "It's not quite that simple. The storm is not alone, as you know. The terrorist camp is now fully operational. It won't be long before they start shipping it in droves, just to cover up what they're planning next."
  
  There was a deep, oppressive silence in the cabin. There was no easy answer.
  
  "How many terrorists?" Luther asked.
  
  "Hundreds," Cambridge replied. "At least".
  
  Break the Storm or destroy their network, Drake thought. Save Lauren and Crowe and maybe the president, or cripple the terrorist army?
  
  Hayden came up with a plan. "I'm afraid we have no choice. We will have to split up again and both teams will be in grave danger."
  
  She stood up with the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Say goodbye while you can. We are divided into five. I'll take Smith, Mano and Molokai with me. The rest of you will deal with the terrorists."
  
  There were no protests or rejection proposals. Hayden was right and determined their course of action. The team got up and huddled around to let Smith know he had their backing and handed over everything they had to Lauren. Hayden told the New Yorker about a doctor she knew who could have admitted her to the hospital under an assumed name.
  
  "Go there immediately," she said. "I'll tell him you're coming and I'll come up with a code word."
  
  "I will," Lauren croaked. "And guys... thank you."
  
  "We'll see you soon," Hayden ended the conversation, turning to Cambridge.
  
  "So, any thoughts on how five soldiers can handle hundreds of terrorists?"
  
  "That also crossed my mind," Drake added to make it more persuasive.
  
  "Five?" Cambridge laughed. "No no. How about a hundred special forces soldiers. Everything from SEAL teams to Naval Intelligence, from Green Berets to Delta Force. And that's not counting the secret CIA teams and half a dozen others that don't even have names. They are all ready to help you."
  
  "Fuck me," Drake muttered. "Let's talk about the dream team."
  
  "Never again will such a team be assembled to defeat an army of terrorists," Cambridge said. "I fucking envy you."
  
  "The fruit of fantasy." Dal rubbed his hands. "Can not wait".
  
  Hayden pointed to the helicopter. "But who will go first? We only have one transport."
  
  "You," Cambridge replied immediately. "Because, Hayden, our insiders are already hearing the gossip. The Tempest's attack on President Coburn is imminent."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  
  
  With the help of code words agreed upon in face-to-face meetings that Whitehall and Cambridge arranged through old-school contacts, widespread, isolated special forces groups began to assemble in Syria. The agreed rendezvous point was an elevated, deserted village about a mile off the dusty main road-easy enough to get back on the main route, far enough to gather in a crowd and not draw attention to yourself, easy to defend if necessary. At first, the teams arrived one by one, but then began to arrive in groups after they realized that with their skills it was relatively easy to infiltrate the war-torn country.
  
  Leave your ego at the border, it was a welcome wave; the first thing Drake saw when he entered the village. Someone scrawled these words on a dusty gray sheet and hung it between two buildings. With Alicia, May, Luther, Kenzi, and Dahl, he walked down Main Street, getting to know the place. They were well-armed and well-fed, ready to leave immediately, and just waiting for someone to call the assembly to order.
  
  It happened quickly as the last team arrived at the rendezvous point, a simple table set up outside where code names could be marked. When everyone was assembled, an Englishman in his fifties came up behind them, climbed onto a wobbly wooden chair and called for attention.
  
  "I'm not in charge," were his first words. "I am not your leader and I would never want to be. Do you all know Cambridge? Do you all know Whitehall? They asked me to speak first so we could get in order and make a plan. Are we ready?
  
  The air was filled with general approval.
  
  "Then send your captains ahead. Right here and now. We're going to come up with this plan and go kick some terrorist's ass!"
  
  There were shouts of joy and the shuffling of feet. Drake put on his sunglasses as the bright yellow orb slammed down hard, causing sweat to form in the folds of his forehead. Dahl nudged him with his elbow.
  
  "Do you want to throw for the leader?"
  
  Alicia nodded to Kenzi. "You are doing Dahl. I'll take care of Drake."
  
  The Swede closed his eyes wearily. "I mean-"
  
  "I know what you meant," Drake said. "But actually... honestly... I think we have a celebrity in our midst."
  
  More and more often, as they moved along with the crowd, as people crowded around them, he noticed that Luther was turned with respectful and admiring glances. For some, he was a real myth, for others, no less than a legend. Drake remembered Crowe calling him a bloody old school warrior. The man who unleashed hellfire on every enemy of the United States.
  
  He was not a man prone to selfishness. "I think our captain is right here." He nudged a large bald warrior with his elbow. "Go ahead, buddy."
  
  "I?" Luther tried to appear humble.
  
  "You're fucking famous, mate. Dare."
  
  Dahl grabbed Luther's huge shoulder before he could move. "But don't screw it up."
  
  Luther shrugged and moved through the crowd, joining over a dozen others. First they divided their hundred or so soldiers into four teams, one for each direction of attack. Aerial reconnaissance shots showed the terrorist camp as it was - five main areas located on both sides of a wide stream - a parking area, a place for all the tents where the trainees slept, an educational institution, a meeting house and a makeshift camp. Nothing was obvious or absolutely clear from observation, but at least the teams knew what they were dealing with.
  
  So four teams, Drake thought. After that, they sought to identify four points of contact within these teams - not leaders, as they were quick to point out. Luther quickly became a common ground for the team that Drake and his companions became part of. It would have been Luther's job to ensure that his larger team coordinated seamlessly with the other three.
  
  And then they were ready to act. No exorbitant, confusing plans. They were here to neutralize the terrorist camp and destroy Tempest's worldwide influence. Only Drake and the others knew that two attacks were coming - the second was at the center of a secret organization and led by Hayden.
  
  It took some time to get so many people in place, but with the help of state-of-the-art communication equipment and years of training that was just right for this purpose, they were ready.
  
  Drake never took his eyes off the camp. A river flowed in the middle, about the width of a person lying along, with a fast current. It filled a natural depression in the earth; the roughly graveled parking lot to his left had enough room for three buses and half a dozen cars. Behind it was a low building made of metal sheets, which they told him was a training workshop - a school. On the far side, he saw a large cluster of tents, one pressed against another, and a well lined with bricks. To the right of that, across the river, he spotted a meeting house-perhaps somewhere to let off steam.
  
  Another set of structures was visible, and the most amazing one. To his right, they built what seemed like a makeshift American town, something small but with the right decor, even some of the right brand names. It was for familiarity, Drake realized. Something to help these recruits feel more confident.
  
  The new team lined up next to and behind him, doing last-minute checks. The sun had already arced about half way through the western sky, but Drake felt better as the temperature dropped. Hiding, trying not to inhale the sand, he was overwhelmed by the incredible number of special forces soldiers around him.
  
  "A hundred of us, five hundred of them," Luther said over the link. "The little bastards don't stand a chance."
  
  "Make it real," Dahl said. "Stay strong".
  
  They will attack simultaneously from four directions, concentrating on four different areas. Luther coordinated well with the other three controllers on the team and gave everyone a countdown.
  
  "Twenty Seconds"
  
  The stunning commandos took a moment to reflect. Drake, Alicia, and Dahl smiled at each other and then felt humble, part of a phenomenon, ready to stand alongside a hundred like-minded warriors in one of the most determined, heroic armies of all time.
  
  "Forward!"
  
  The call has stopped. Drake broke into a run, rushing down the slope in a combat charge with Dahl and May to his right, Alicia and dozens of others to his left. Some greatness touched them. It was impossible to refuse this selfless courage. That was all they were made of.
  
  "The end of the Storm begins now," Drake said.
  
  They reached the level ground where the parking lot began, already hearing gunfire from the south. Drake ran, holding the gun tightly to his right shoulder, cautiously scanning the road ahead. The air smelled of oil and diesel fuel; Drake saw it on open top drums. The sounds of battle were getting louder. He made his way between the buses, getting closer and closer to what they thought was the school building.
  
  The terrorists were lounging among the vehicles. Kenzi shot and killed one who was descending from the front of the bus with a rifle slung over his back. Many others who tried to see the source of the new noise then realized they were being attacked.
  
  Drake saw one dove behind the front of another bus, throw himself on the dusty sandy floor, and smash the enemy's legs. Dahl ran around to finish him off. In addition, heads appeared in the windows of the next bus, followed by gun barrels. The attacking forces wasted no time. They riddled the windows with bullets, smashing every single one on the other side, then pelted them with grenades.
  
  Drake fell to one knee, his fingers over his ears as the bus exploded, sending flames into the air. Black smoke billowed.
  
  Drake and Alicia jumped up almost before the shrapnel had finished flying, moving closer to the fire to go around the back of the bus.
  
  The school was ahead, about thirty meters away. People poured out of the only door, as if there were a pack of lions inside. Drake immediately understood their game.
  
  "Move!"
  
  Leading a furious fire, they rushed to the school. There was still a chance that they could stop most of the terrorists from leaving through the one door. There were eighteen soldiers-the rest were still sweeping the parking area-and they ran in a single wave, a continuous line of precise, deadly fire.
  
  The fugitives fell instantly, still half a minute from any cover. The most hardy fell on their stomachs and began to shoot back.
  
  Drake removed one of them, his bullet blasting off the top of the man's head and causing his entire body to plummet. They fired shell after shell at the exit door; people fell on top of each other. Windows shattered all over the building as the trapped people looked for a way to escape.
  
  "Circle it," Luther hissed. "Custer's Last Stand Style".
  
  "You want us to run around this building in ever smaller circles?" Alicia retaliated by cutting off the communications.
  
  Luther ignored her as he approached. Those on the left fought off to the left, while those on the right went to the right. They ran around the school, going around it in a circle and covering every window. Drake saw two of his own fall, but did not know their names. Bullets flying in their direction were a rarity-they had timed their attack perfectly-but Misfortune and Bad Luck were bastards that were advancing everywhere.
  
  Drake got down on one knee, shooting with precision, each time changing the scope to millimeters, filming everything he saw moving. Alicia and Dahl were on either side of him, with May behind them. They moved forward slowly, but not for long. In this kind of battle, movement was essential.
  
  Drake saw four windows along this side, with SWAT soldiers positioned around the perimeter. The terrorists began to stay inside, aiming whatever weapons they had through the damaged window panes.
  
  "Grenades," Luther said.
  
  They ducked and squirmed as they lunged forward, throwing their grenades before becoming easy prey. Even then, an RPG was shown from the window, the owner of which did not care about his own safety. Not everything flew into the open slot; some bounced off the metal structure.
  
  Drake threw himself onto the sand and gravel floor, hands behind his head.
  
  The explosion was powerful, splitting the metal structure, causing its panels to collapse outwards. Fire shot out in all directions, scorching the ground and everything that stood in its path. A couple of Luther's crew got burned, but nothing too dramatic. Luther would have considered them "enthusiastic." His cry of victory was driven by bloodlust.
  
  "School is fucking over, guys. What's next?"
  
  Drake rolled over and jumped to his feet. Judging by the conversations on the link, other teams experienced more resistance. The parking lot was cleared, but they lost four people.
  
  "The main battle is at the tents and the river," said Luther. "Go".
  
  Drake was still looking around for movement, trusting nothing. Dahl patted his clothes, kicking up a cloud of dust. Sand trickled down from the folds of his jacket.
  
  Alicia reloaded her weapon. "No time to preen, Torsti. Let's face it - it's a long job."
  
  "Hey, Drake is the one who cooks the meat."
  
  They jogged around the ruins of the school, feeling the heat of unbridled fire on their faces.
  
  "There's nothing wrong with that, buddy," drawled Drake. "Damn it, this is a real mess."
  
  Luther stared at the incredible fight between the tents and the river.
  
  "Time to tie, guys."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY
  
  
  Hayden felt dizzy, and not from soaring. Events turned into a fast-paced series of improbable occurrences that began with the fact that they returned to Washington and were stuffed into a matte black, frighteningly fast sedan. Washington D.C. seemed to tremble in silence; the city moved as usual, but with an underlying sense of intense fear and violence. Only the few who were in the know had any idea what was really going on, but their uncertainty, phone calls and warnings soon spread throughout the city.
  
  Hayden recalled being taken from a darkened runway straight to a private hospital. There they met Lauren and took a few precious minutes to express their joy at meeting her.
  
  Smith was beside himself. He ran in, despite all their recent disagreements, lifted her from the bed and hugged her tightly. Hayden pretended not to see the tears in his eyes and the big smile on Lauren's face.
  
  "Thank you," Hayden said. "Thank you, thank you for everything."
  
  "It's been a long time since Transylvania," Kinimaka said. "You knew better than us, girl."
  
  Lauren chuckled, crushed by Smith but not unhappy about it. "After all, I got there, didn"t I?"
  
  "Damn right you did," Hayden said. "Coburn and we owe you our lives. The hand?"
  
  "Everything will be fine," Lauren said. "In the end".
  
  Hayden saw the weariness on Lauren's face, the utter exhaustion, and thought about what she'd been through in the past few weeks. Constant pressure, constant fear, twenty-four hours a day.
  
  "Look," she said. "We will continue this when the Tempest is broken. Right now we have to move."
  
  A few minutes later, they were racing again in their unmarked car, leaving Lauren behind and discussing a plan with Coburn and his trusted advisors that would end this. Coburn was taken to safety after talking to Lauren at a press conference, thwarting Tempest's plan for only a few hours.
  
  "Do you know where they meet?" Coburn asked.
  
  "We know". Hayden didn't want to reveal this to anyone but the president. There was no second chance tonight. "We can be there in half an hour."
  
  "Agent Jay, I am still the leader of the greatest nation in the free world," Coburn said. "I think I could enlist some support for you."
  
  Hayden hated asking this man questions and clenched her teeth at the question, "One hundred percent trustworthy?"
  
  "Six persons. Delta. I trained with two of them and they trained the rest. I support them."
  
  "Sounds great, Mr. President. I forgot that you are in the military."
  
  "This is not something you should confess to me, agent. Can I trust you?"
  
  Hayden knew it was just a small reprimand. "Yes, sir. Let's meet them."
  
  "And thanks," put in Smith. "Thank you for helping Lauren."
  
  "With pleasure, soldier. She saved my life."
  
  "Are you safe, sir?" Hayden asked as they redirected to a new address.
  
  Coburn chuckled. "I believe this is a moot point. Is the president ever safe? Before this very real threat loomed another. Worse, if you can imagine it. From Russia."
  
  Hayden knew the president, and many DC officials were constantly getting reliable information about assassination attempts. There was nothing unusual about this.
  
  But Russia?
  
  "Are you close?" Coburn asked.
  
  Hayden shook herself and checked her sat nav. "Five minutes left," she said.
  
  "Then good luck to you all. Give me back the good news, my friends."
  
  "That," Molokai said, "is never in doubt."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden knew that Lauren had discovered Tempest's secret lair - a place they named The Room - after she incredibly bravely attempted to become Nightshade for General Gleason one last time. The laptop gave them the location, and thanks to Lauren's quick wit, Gleason never really knew or told anyone about what happened. Hayden also knew that the Tempest were now fully invested, from killing anyone who got in their way to kidnapping the secretary of defense. When they met with the Delta team, she made sure they were fully prepared.
  
  "Are you a SPEAR?" asked the leader of the group. "I thought there were more of you."
  
  "We're a little tense right now," Smith said. "But eager to end it."
  
  It just passed 9:00 am in Washington DC. The hall was a convention for a meeting place inside Meridian Hill Park, a small gazebo-like structure where these seven powerful men could meet in person. This was Tempest's big moment, and now there was their crisis - it was obvious that they would meet. The question was when?
  
  They were dug in the surroundings at the first rays of the sun, shivering and cold. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. It wasn't until the obvious figure of General George Gleason approached that Hayden felt a surge in her heartbeat.
  
  "Strike first," she whispered. "No one fucking move."
  
  Two minutes later Mark Digby approached from the other side.
  
  "Deal a second blow." Hayden was already clenching her fists.
  
  "And the third." Kinimaka nodded to the west.
  
  "Look over there," Smith hissed, real malice in his voice. "This is Rick Troy, Assistant to the President; the one who burned Lauren and ordered her to be killed."
  
  "A little more," Hayden told him. "Then you will have your revenge."
  
  And in full, as she hoped. Each Tempest member came with more than one bodyguard. There's a good chance that the people who tried to kill Lauren were also here.
  
  "Done," confirmed the commander of the Delta group.
  
  "Fourth impact," Hayden said as another familiar face approached the brick building and disappeared inside.
  
  Kinimaka pointed a parabolic microphone at the building, listening to their comments through his headphones. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was getting some key information. Of course, they didn't need more proof; they had had enough already, but Hayden saw it as a few more nails in Tempest's coffin, and no one could deny it to them.
  
  By 10:00 am all the players were in their places. Hayden signaled to Delta Team that they were ready to deploy. Then a woman appeared walking her dog along a muddy path, causing the team to press pause.
  
  "Wait," Hayden said. "Now there is no risk to civilians."
  
  "Or fangs," Molokai added.
  
  Hayden glanced sideways at him. "And this too."
  
  The dog walker disappeared, only to be replaced by a jogger. Disappointment sets in. The team was waiting, ready to move, but frozen in place. Two more minutes have elapsed from that day.
  
  Hayden saw that the moment had finally arrived and nodded to Mano, which meant a lot to her; the most important of which was "stay safe". The delta rose before SPIR, climbing out of the undergrowth. They had already established that there was no back door here. They ran screaming across the grass, dragging most of the bodyguards into the open.
  
  Hayden killed the two men as he crossed the open green and then climbed the gradual slope to the front of the gazebo. The two dead bodyguards sprawled on the ground and then rolled down the slope. Hayden overcame one thing, bypassed another. Delta Force moved forward, pinning people to the ground or killing them. There was no respite. The park, the blue sky, and the green bushes were no longer real to her-life had narrowed to survival and victory, the nasty fall of what could have been a terrible empire.
  
  More shots rang out from the gazebo as the bodyguards crouched behind the walls, creating a standoff. Hayden hit the grass hard, the slope giving her some cover. A few seconds later, before she could ask, the Delta leader screamed.
  
  "Hang up! We will kill you if you don't back down. Look at your position."
  
  The storm would be in a state of panic, forcing its armed defenders to pull them out. The walls will close. Panic in their chest. They deserve all this and more.
  
  The Delta soldier showed their enemies the fallacy of their ways by throwing a grenade. It was thrown intentionally short - a warning blow.
  
  "Last chance!"
  
  Hayden took aim in case they suddenly decided to escape. Nothing happened for long seconds, and then several of the pistols arced through the air, landing heavily on the grass with a heavy thud. Shouts could be heard as Tempest scolded her guards and ordered them to fight. But it was useless. The hall, as they called it, was impregnable.
  
  Delta ordered the bodyguards to come out, forced them to their knees and put guns to their heads. Smith ran forward, ostensibly to help, but Hayden knew exactly what he was doing.
  
  "Lancelot Smith," she warned. "You're retreating right now."
  
  He didn't recognize her. Hayden's face twisted in annoyance, but at the same time she sympathized with the man. If Urban and Carmine, the two mercenaries who tried to kill Lauren, were here, Smith would get some kind of compensation.
  
  Incredibly, it all ended as quickly as it began. General Gleason appeared first, raising his hands, shouting loudly, which only made Hayden smile. The rest came soon after. Rick Troy, assistant to the president, came last.
  
  Hayden stared at him, the man who allegedly made SPEAR an enemy of the state. Kinimaka and Molokai spread out, watching every little movement.
  
  Hayden breathed a sigh of relief, her thoughts turning to Drake and the others for a single, clear moment.
  
  And then it happened; The last act of The Storm.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  
  
  Hayden's mind was in recharge mode. The enemy was defeated. Not even a stab of mild anxiety tormented her. Later, she realized that this was how it always ended - Tempest would never have been allowed to volunteer to be taken alive after all the horrors they had committed.
  
  Gleason reached for his pistol, and then three others did the same. Troy let the small pistol fall out of his shirt sleeve and into his hand. Another-Hayden recognized Mark Digby of the CIA-tossed a live grenade high into the air.
  
  "You think we didn"t prepare for this?" Gleason screamed.
  
  It was only a matter of a moment to align the general's forehead in her field of vision. She thought: I don't care what you think, jerk, pulling the trigger. Gleason died instantly, which was unfortunate, hitting another person. The grenade slid lazily down. Smith was moving faster than an exploding firework, aiming at Digby just as the aide brought his gun up.
  
  Smith fired first. Digby flew back. Hayden chuckled approvingly.
  
  The grenade fell as Delta and the bodyguards rushed to the grass. It exploded a meter above the ground, killing several people. One of the dead was a member of Delta Squad, which caused a stab of pain in Hayden's heart.
  
  Bodies littered the grassy knoll just in front of the gazebo. Hayden approached the remains, desperate to find at least one still alive.
  
  Smith already kept hapless criminals under close surveillance. He looked away for a moment as Hayden approached.
  
  "I believe these two are Urban and Carmine," he said. "My friend from Delta showed me the CCTV footage from the parking lot where they attacked Lauren. I will be happy to fill them with as much lead as you need."
  
  The Delta leader knelt beside his fallen colleague. "My eyes are clouded because my friend is dead. I can't see anything, and neither can my team."
  
  Hayden's face was streaked with dirt, worrisome and angry as she looked at the two mercenaries. "Where is Secretary Crowe?" I asked.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY TWO
  
  
  Drake tossed his body across the wide river, landing hard with his boots in the dusty mud, then ran up the short slope to the edge of the tent city. There was real chaos here. The terrorists and mercenaries rested, some slept, resting after the day when the sun was at its peak. The gunfire woke them up and they opened fire, especially the mercenaries who were better trained.
  
  Drake lunged at the dark-skinned young man, knocked him to the ground, they rolled, crashing into the tent. Alicia fell beside him, struck horizontally by a man who had been flung back by another. Dahl's boot landed in the face of Drake's opponent, hitting him hard; Dahl was then dragged away by two mercenaries. Drake elbowed his opponent, drew his knife, and stabbed him twice. Then he saw Alicia get up and looked at Dahl.
  
  The Swede lay on his back, hands scraping through the mud, while the two men struggled to hold on to the top. One hit him in the face, the other in the stomach. Dahl tried to throw them off. Drake reached under the chin of the nearest man and pulled, squeezing his throat at the same time. Alicia delivered a flying kick, kicking the other man in the left ear with her boot. He took down Clear and Dahl was free.
  
  There was no time for gratitude. A huge mercenary pulled Alicia back, and then this man fell into a pothole, staggering, reached the tent. The material enveloped them, slashing left and right as Alicia and her opponent sought dominance.
  
  Drake spun so hard he thought his enemy's head was about to come off. The fight didn't last long. Drake left the man face down, turned around, and then was hit in the face with a rifle butt. He staggered back, down the slope, step by step. Blood rushed into his eyes, burning and blinding him. The knife bounced off his body armor, and then the butt of the rifle reappeared, making him think the owner had run out of ammo. In the end, the river stopped him.
  
  The boots slammed into the running water as Drake finally managed to stop his retreat. The fighter must have taken to the air, because then his body crashed into Drake and sent him crashing into deep water. He fell and rolled, gasping for air, coughing, writhing. A hand found his throat, holding him. Drake struck twice, looking for soft targets and finding what he thought was a chest. The knife was still in his hand, so he twisted it hard and plunged it into the water with all his might. The blade plunged and the pressure eased as the figure dodged, still holding the knife in its body.
  
  Drake surfaced quickly, spitting. Water streamed down from its upper half.
  
  Finally, his vision cleared. He was on his feet now, chest-deep above the water, looking up the slope at the tent city.
  
  Figures fought everywhere. Shots and screams resounded non-stop. Drake saw several of his comrades struggling, and splashed out of the river back through the mud to the top of the slope. Pulling out a pistol, he aimed and fired. Where a mercenary or terrorist stood in space, Drake shot at them. The eighth fell, and his own colleagues got up or knelt down and did the same.
  
  The mercenaries charged at them again, a wave of screaming shapes. Another hand-to-hand fight ensued. The terrorists retreated at every clash, they were herded to the center of the tent city. Drake stood among the fallen tents, looking for his friends.
  
  Alicia turned and fired at the approaching mercenary. Dahl threw the man into the tent so that the material enveloped him, giving the Swede an easy kill. Kenzi held her own against the other, using two knives to confuse and stab in tandem, leaving the man defenseless before taking his life. Luther and Mai were almost in the center of the mass of tents, at the far end of the path of fallen material and people that Drake guessed the two had mostly caused.
  
  The other members of their team fought all around them.
  
  Bathed in sweat that was still dripping, bleeding from a dozen wounds, Drake struggled his way through the mass towards Alicia. He was just in time to stop the mercenary rising from the floor, pistol in hand. Drake picked up the abandoned pistol and fired at him. SWAT teams constantly covered each other's backs, always looking out for a colleague.
  
  Luther's voice boomed through his earpiece. "Ricardo's team met with serious resistance in the fake city," he said. "Clean up here and go."
  
  Drake cursed. Did Luther mean that this was not serious resistance? Damn, what's up with the other team? He fired at a man coming out of a tent with an RPG slung over his shoulder; kicked another one that lay in the dirt, still alive enough to cause trouble.
  
  Alicia turned around. "Are you safe and sound?"
  
  "More or less. You?"
  
  "I think I broke a nail on the tooth of some Bell End."
  
  "Damn, I'm so glad you added that last word."
  
  And again they were separated. Drake slung the man over his shoulder; then staggered under the heavy blow of another, falling to his knees, staring at the bloody ground. A quick turn and he threw his body to the side, gaining precious seconds. However, the next attack was halted as Dal appeared and confronted Drake's opponent.
  
  Four seconds later, Drake, Alicia, and Dahl were shoulder to shoulder.
  
  "Here," Alicia said.
  
  Luther, Mai, and a dozen others gathered in the center of the tent city. Mercenaries and terrorists rallied there, providing the last resistance. Luther held a submachine gun in each hand, their barrels so hot from constant use that they seemed to be on fire. Smoke shrouded the scene. Kenzi charged into the fight so casually, armed only with knives, that even Dahl grimaced.
  
  "Should we?"
  
  Picking up the weapons they needed, the trio hurried across the ground, which was covered in clods of tangled soil, grass, mud, and blood. The battlefield was littered with the dead and dying. Drake saw their own people being looked after by others. They approached the center on either side of Luther and May, seeing the mercenaries fall ahead, unable to fire in any direction for fear of the enemy from all sides. Luther's team advanced from north and south, east and west, crushing the ranks of the mercenaries. Every terrorist trainee Drake could see was kneeling in the mud with his hands on his head, defeated.
  
  Soon the tent city was captured. Luther ordered the men to tie up the captives and only a few remain to watch them.
  
  Drake looked around at the makeshift city, the last and worst zone of resistance. Buildings were on fire, flames erupted from the roofs. RPGs were fired and grenades exploded.
  
  And, of course, that was exactly where Team SPEAR needed to be.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  
  
  The makeshift city was a war zone, but for Drake it was a special sight as dozens of elite SWAT soldiers fought alongside each other. The mercenaries were seated in a diner with red and yellow shutters and graffiti, their firepower clearly visible as they fended off any attempted attack. The terrorists also fired from the windows of nearby buildings - a bank, a cafe, a burger joint - recognizable features of American life. Some headed for the rooftops.
  
  Luther and the other three coordinators organized their teams using the link. Groups ran through shops and stalls, six at a time, clearing the area of enemies. The other team supported them. The terrorists were allowed to ascend to the highest heights of the city simply because world-class special forces snipers were already waiting for them there. An incredible pride filled Drake's chest.
  
  "Everyone wants the same thing," he said.
  
  "If only it could always be like this," Dahl said.
  
  They themselves clashed with special operations teams - both on the same side, but forced into a confrontation. The boundaries have always been blurred.
  
  Not today. Drake listened in on the comms, squatting in the shadows between the two buildings. The buildings were reported to be of poor quality design, no doubt due to the need and speed of assembly, and would collapse under heavy assault.
  
  This gave Luther an idea.
  
  As he said this, Drake looked at Alicia and Dahl, shaking his head sadly. "Trust that damn dinosaur," he said.
  
  "I love it," Dahl said.
  
  Drake laughed and they retreated, following the example of every other SWAT soldier in the city. The snipers hurried down from their perches, and those involved in the fighting stopped it as quickly as they could.
  
  The mercenaries mocked the retreat.
  
  Drake frowned. "Not smart."
  
  Here and there were terrorists sticking their heads out like meerkats to see what was going on. Shots rang out. Drake fired back, giving a dozen of his men a chance to run forward with RPGs on their shoulders.
  
  They quickly knelt down and instantly opened fire.
  
  The effect was stunning. Drake had never seen anything like it in his entire life. Powerful missiles streaked into each building in pairs, detonating on impact and filling the insides with fire and death. No structure was strong enough to withstand the fiery devastation. Drake whistled as six buildings collapsed on themselves, logs and beams, bricks and blocks raining down on the killers inside, crushing and devastating everyone inside. Luther was at the head of the RPG line, the man most vulnerable, and was already loading another rocket into the barrel.
  
  "You have to give the man credit," Alicia said. "It worked really well."
  
  "Destruction is his forte," Drake said. "And yes, he just saved a lot of lives."
  
  "Who would ever think that?" Dahl muttered.
  
  "Stop it," Drake said. "You're just mad you didn't come up with it."
  
  It became clear that only one building did not collapse completely; its left side was supported by a pile of fallen debris. Several mercenaries were still active inside. Now they fired, and Luther ducked, but one of his comrades was wounded in the chest. More bullets flew. Dahl and Drake were in the best position to help.
  
  "Will you cover for me?" Dahl asked, already starting to run.
  
  "Always, mate."
  
  The Swede walked around the surviving mercenaries from the blind side, approaching the back of the building. Drake expected him to jump and run up the broken wall, perhaps throwing a grenade through the gap. What he did not expect was that the Swede at full speed would crash into the side of the fragile structure.
  
  "Always those damn show-offs."
  
  Dahl's powerful momentum shook the entire store, moving debris and new supports. It trembled and then collapsed, falling on top of everyone inside and cutting off their furious cries.
  
  "I saw it, Dahl," said Luther, "couldn't have done it better myself."
  
  The Swede grinned at Drake. "I bet you were shocked."
  
  Drake coughed to hide his grateful smile. "Actually, I wasn't."
  
  "Check your sixes, boys," Luther's voice came over the comm. "But I think we just won the fucking day."
  
  Alicia walked over to where Drake and Dahl lay in ruins, followed by Luther and May. Twenty Spetsnaz soldiers held captives at the tents and the school; seventy more surrounded the city. The remnants of the terrorists were captured with minimal resistance. Drake dropped his weapon and wiped the dirt from his hands.
  
  "Tempest in the ass," he said. "At least here."
  
  Alicia threw herself into the mud beside him. "Can someone please call Hayden? I can't relax knowing that they are still fighting."
  
  Mai picked up the satellite phone. "Already doing it, Taz."
  
  "Thank you," Alicia said with her lips, and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the setting sun wash away the tension from her face and the terrors from her mind. A few seconds later, she opened them as Mai began to speak.
  
  "Did you get them? All of them? Gleason and those assholes who attacked Lauren? Oh, that's great. We closed them here too. And Secretary Crowe is safe." Her short, repetitive comments were for the benefit of those around her.
  
  Drake found a smirk stretching across his face. Another victory, and no casualties. Another victory for the good guys; those who made the world a safer place.
  
  "I think it's time for a vacation," he breathed, even the rocks under his back now felt like a feather mattress as all worries receded.
  
  "I think it's time for a drink," Luther said amiably. "And then a trip back to Washington. We have been away for a long time, boys and girls, and we are far from home."
  
  It was only then that Drake sat up in shock, catching the looks of the SPEARERS on him. "Damn it, he's right! We are free. We are justified. Coburn will dig up all the evidence and exonerate us."
  
  Alicia patted him on the cheek. "Yes darling. Thank you for finally catching up."
  
  It was nice. It seemed incredibly real. It seemed as though there really wasn't a terrible, powerful, deadly, unknown shadow towering high above them.
  
  Something that would change everything once and for all.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  
  
  Karin Blake stepped into the darkness surrounded by darkness, having just passed through an entire room full of darkness. The only way forward was to follow the little man carrying the beam of light.
  
  She was alone. She didn't fear for her safety; the man who threatened her on the phone clearly wanted something from her. Dino and Wu returned to the bar, worried. Let them worry. She was already wondering if she really needed it.
  
  But now the darkness is over, replaced by a starry night. They were high up, standing on a balcony overlooking the center of Moscow. Below, a myriad of glittering lights illuminated the great city. Pedestrians roamed the sidewalks and vehicles crowded the streets.
  
  The man sat in an armchair overlooking the city, peering through the cracks in the balcony. "Good to have you here." Strong Russian accent, but young voice. What she could see in the figure told her that he, too, was strong and lithe.
  
  "I have come a long way."
  
  "And I thank you for that. But you're also curious. You want to know who I am and what I'm up to. You want to know how I discovered your greatest secret. And in truth, you want to know if you can stop me."
  
  Karin used her soldierly skills to look for lurking guards, perhaps. She didn't feel anything. "I guess you could call me curious."
  
  "I brought you here for a one-time offer. Don't worry about your safety now. You do figure in my plans a bit, but..." He paused. "No battle plan ever stays the same."
  
  Karin walked to the balcony and put her hands on the railing, looking out at all the many facets of life going on below. The noise, the smells, the sights existed because so many people were content not to notice the hellish visions that passed them in the shadows.
  
  "Who are you?"
  
  "I'll tell you," the Russian said. "After you answer my offer."
  
  "Spread out."
  
  "A?" I asked.
  
  "Please keep asking. What is your suggestion?"
  
  "I have a legacy. Until a year ago, I couldn't accept it, or rather, I couldn't achieve it. I was forced to reclaim, rebuild and own the empire. I did it, not without sacrifice, you understand? Do you recognize me now?"
  
  Karin glanced at the shadows. "No". But something was bothering her. Something from the past.
  
  "I fought tooth and nail to reclaim all that was my legacy. Those who loved died. True friends were killed. I washed my hands in the blood of my enemies, fought my way back up the stairs, back to the top. He occupied this highest step with his gnawed bones and red-hot blood.
  
  The realization of this was too terrible for Karin. The past was dead. Her brother, her mother and father were dead. The anguish of it all hit her again, like an ax cutting every last nerve.
  
  "Can you see me now?"
  
  "I don't believe that the thought just came into my head. It can not be true. It's all wrong. You are not him."
  
  "No, but I got my heritage back," the man said. "And now I will demand my revenge."
  
  "You are trying to deceive me."
  
  "I think you know who I am. So we'll leave it there. I have a plan to destroy the SPEAR team. I have a plan to capture and publicly destroy the president. Do you want to be a part of this?"
  
  So that's what it was. Karin could hardly believe that her plan, her new ideals, had led to a situation where a terrible madman was offering her a place in his plan to destroy her old friends, not to mention President Coburn.
  
  It's time to act or die. Dino and Wu were right - her resolve wavered as soon as she saw Drake and the others in Egypt. She remembered what they stood for, what they fought for. The world would not be as safe as it was if not for them.
  
  "Are you weak?" This man was incredibly insightful.
  
  "I don't know what I want," she said honestly. "But what happens if I try to throw you off this balcony?"
  
  "Please try, Miss Blake. If you think we're alone."
  
  The mention of her last name shocked her, brought everything back to solid reality. She gripped the railing so hard it hurt. "Because of this, I lost my brother and my parents," she said. "I will fight for them as they fought for me, and as Drake and SPIR will always fight for them."
  
  "Then this is your answer. Like I said, you're free to leave. We'll see you a little later."
  
  Karin backed away, still not quite sure who the man was, still frightened by the shadows that surrounded him. "I still can't see you," she said.
  
  He turned, and then, at last, there was no doubt. Karin suppressed a scream as the face from her nightmares appeared before her.
  
  "I am Luka," he said.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  
  
  For some reason, the team could neither rejoice nor even relax. They returned to Washington, DC, reunited, alive, healing their wounds, but there was a twisting tension between them, a thread of threat and uncertainty. It was all about reports and understatements, grim mutterings and exaggerated truths. Karin still hadn't called, but the reports were talking about her trip to Russia.
  
  Where did the new darkness come from?
  
  They were supposed to celebrate in their usual way, but this time it was different. They all sat or stood inside the dimly lit warehouse, a safe zone designated and guarded by members of the President's Secret Service, until definitive pleas of innocence were made.
  
  Even Secretary Crowe was among them, determined to support the team and thank them for saving her life.
  
  "How is Lauren doing?" Drake asked Smith.
  
  The soldier smiled. "I was with her earlier today at the hospital. Maybe another week and she can leave."
  
  "Fantastic. Maybe then you two can sort yourself out, huh?"
  
  "I think we already have." Smith looked younger when he smiled, Drake decided. Let it last a long time.
  
  Mai stood next to Luther, both of them leaning over the barrel of drinks in their hands and looking around the room. "Now it won't take long," Mai said. "And then we'll be free."
  
  "What are you going to do first?" Luther asked.
  
  "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps they call for Grace. Grace is my adopted daughter. Something like that." She sighed. "It's complicated".
  
  "That's the way it always is," Luther said. "And what after that?"
  
  "Shower. Dream. Good food."
  
  "Cool, do you need company?"
  
  Mai narrowed her eyes and returned the warrior's gaze with her own cold gaze. "I'll let you pay for my food, yes."
  
  "Well, this is just the beginning. I suppose you let me share it with you?"
  
  "Hang on, Luther. This is a lot of arrogance."
  
  But even then, with a perked up heart, Mai couldn't help but look up at the rafters where the shadows swirled. It wasn't something physical or obvious, just something out there in the world that was depressing their contentment.
  
  Most of the team stayed together, perhaps feeling more comfort in the company. Drake sat with Alicia and Dahl, quietly reassured. Hayden and Kinimaka were chatting about a meter to their right, and the big Hawaiian asked her if she wanted to try again. Hayden's gleeful smile was more than enough in return.
  
  At some point, they managed to get through to Yorga, although the line was intermittent, and the voice of the young thief sounded incredibly distant.
  
  "I'm fine," he shouted brokenly, as if through thick ice. "I'm becoming... I think... strange... but I have nothing to rely on. It's... cold... north."
  
  All was good. Drake shouted out a promise to join him if they needed him, but Yorga's response was lost due to broken communication, snow and ice. He hated to think of their friend fighting alone.
  
  Luther and Molokai were both seated on the hard floor, stacks arranged around them like little offerings, all empty. Kenzi smeared them all over the fresh bottle with her boot. With the same movement, she caught Dahl's eye.
  
  She beckoned him into a corner.
  
  "I'm leaving," she said. "Right now, I've done my time with this band. He deserved his forgiveness. If you don't want me Torsten, I don't want to be here."
  
  Dahl felt something clench his heart. "I can't say I'm not torn, Kenzi, but I haven't changed my mind."
  
  "Ball and chain come first?"
  
  "Family," he corrected. "Families First".
  
  "Tell me this... if you didn"t have children, what would you do?"
  
  His expression spoke for itself, but for Kensi it was even worse. She didn't hit him, she didn't swear at him, but he immediately knew that their friendship had come to an end.
  
  "I hope you return to your family," she said.
  
  He tried to rid himself of a feeling of unease that had nothing to do with Kenzi. "Thank you. I will do it".
  
  "So goodbye". Kenzi raised her voice to the entire warehouse and headed for the door.
  
  "Goodbye Kenzi," Dahl whispered as he closed one door and wondered if he would live to regret this.
  
  The whole team said goodbye cordially; strange for some, not so for others. Kenzi made herself one of them through her fearless struggle, her loyalty and determination. She will always be one of them.
  
  Drake hated to see her leave. Thought, what's next? thundered around his head like a crazy demon. While hunting the Tempest, he imagined the team taking a break, taking a vacation or visiting loved ones, finding some form of life in the world that could help them in the upcoming battles.
  
  Crowe answered the call shortly after. All of them were completely forgiven.
  
  The SPEAR team left the building.
  
  
  END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  David Leadbeater
  Treasures of Saint Germain
  
  
  For mom and dad.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIRST
  
  
  Tyler Webb didn't like the coincidence. There has always been a man - or a plan - behind even the most seemingly innocent flight of chance.
  
  Take, for example, the French city of Versailles. Founded by the will of Louis XIV, it was the capital of the Kingdom of France throughout the life of Saint Germain, then, just a few short years after the count's death, this special honor was given to Paris.
  
  Take, for example, the wildly overblown and romantic legends that surrounded the immortals of Transylvania, and then consider that the Count was born and raised there. Take endless observations after his supposed death in 1784, right up to this very day...
  
  Webb winced involuntarily. He knew the emotion wasn't physical, but it had to be. Now turned into a slop rat, the once-great leader of the Pythians, in his opinion the greatest shadow organization ever created, while finding many aspects of his new life extremely odorous, admired some of them. In fact, they were so lusciously gorgeous that the whole collapse of his organization and previous life was almost worth it.
  
  He stood among the crowd of tourists, looking up at the black gates of the Palace of Versailles, grateful for the cold day that allowed him to use a scarf and hat to hide his features. It was also getting late, the ink slowly spreading across the sky helped those who were hiding, sneaking up and loitering everywhere.
  
  Tracking was much easier when you were just a civilian. But three times already, Webb had let that get in the way of his ultimate quest. Each time, the sensations grew, the gain increased, and the obsession deepened. The dark shadows sang to him like never before. The melted thrill of hiding behind windows and doors, stalking victims in empty bus stops, stalking a lone figure in a dark alleyway even here in Versailles was now hotter than at any other time in his life. Perhaps he had something to lose. Perhaps the omnipresent danger to himself had ignited another inner fire. A laughing couple passed by, their happiness interrupting his daydreams.
  
  Should he?
  
  The man looked frail, a little bookish. Without a doubt, a submissive in this relationship. The woman was noisy, confident, athletic and energetic. Webb liked the look of the challenge. He almost began to move, practically putting one foot in front of the other, before he remembered the decisive and time-dependent significance of his situation.
  
  The scroll brought you here. The first clue brought you here. Despite everything that has happened, you still have... Contacts...
  
  Webb retained only a few, mostly those who could assist his efforts to turn a difficult situation into a manageable one. Take, for example, the Palace of Versailles. Only a man with clever and stealthy means could get in there uninvited, at night, with a dark, secret purpose on his mind. Webb surveyed the scene. Too many tourists, too much light. One dubious guy across from him who seemed to be almost studying him.
  
  Webb shook off his paranoia. It wasn't good. It was what he did to others.
  
  But still...
  
  The already thick fog that surrounded his intrigues and schemes has recently intensified. There was one more game in the game that Webb didn't count on. Mainly because he had never heard of them and still did not really understand their plans. Webb shrugged. It was the breaks, the vicissitudes of a lifelong dream, and the maneuvers that brought it to fruition. You made it or you lost.
  
  Instead of forking out any of his Pythian deals, Webb thought that the new players were centered around the Saint Germain conspiracy and were alerted to him purely because of his latest investigations and breakthroughs. He had the same people who helped infiltrate the palace tonight to deal with them and their plots. It won't take too long and should be an interesting new information dossier when completed.
  
  It's time to lose even the slightest hint of a trail and enjoy a good hunt in the process. Much to his chagrin, the couple dissolved, but he soon saw another acceptable candidate-a man and wife, probably locals-hurrying past the palace without a glance, heads down, carrying a heavy shopping bag between them. How strange, thought Webb. How nice. Too bad he didn't have time to completely destroy everything they held dear.
  
  Webb quickly slipped away, meticulously memorizing faces, clothing colors, backpacks, and other eye-catching items on all his peripherals so he could later double-check anything he might have left. Husband and wife hurried on without speaking, and he followed them. It took him a while to get closer, to make himself known, then he pretended to hesitate, and they moved forward. He could already see traitorous signs in this woman: sideways glances back, the acceleration of the pace, the tense position of her shoulders.
  
  A quick check of the time showed that he could have gone a little further, so he moved forward and locked eyes with the woman, unable to hide the smirk that twisted his features. Her look, full of fear, mixed with disgust, excited him. He made a move towards them. The woman slowed, then looked around so quickly that Webb feared her neck might break.
  
  Unfortunately, there were many others around, so Webb faded into the background. No longer a threat. It was time to head back to the palace, but then a familiar twisted desire stopped him.
  
  Let's go a little further.
  
  He ran across the road, heading straight for the woman and her daughter, grinning from ear to ear. She stopped, and now her husband noticed, staring at Webb through narrowed eyes. He slipped his hand into the waistband of his trousers, hoping they would think he had a gun in there, but not really caring where they would take him. The man stood in front of the woman, visibly trembling. Passers-by looked at him curiously. Webb quickly ran right up to him and then slowed down, leaning over.
  
  "See you later," he whispered, then ran on.
  
  Dark excitement and deep pleasure seethed in him.
  
  One for Webb, he thought.
  
  And left them to watch him in the back.
  
  Chuckling, he slowed down and merged back into the crowd of tourists as the palace gates reappeared ahead. In all his vicious entertainments, he now realized that he had not been able to complete the one task he had set for himself. Get rid of the tails. He chalked it up to enthusiasm and moved on. In a past life, being the leader of the Pythians, he would have thrown someone down a well for such insubordination.
  
  Webb was different now. This new life has changed him. He mingled with the other peasants and rabble without any sign of disgust and was glad to see how far he had come in just a few weeks. Give him another month and he'd be riding the fucking bus.
  
  A tweet alerted him to a message on a mobile phone. It's time to get serious. Webb saw that many tourists were now dispersing, which made him more visible in the wide area in front of the main golden gate. The flat, paved ground extended in all directions, broken only by the low walls and railings that surrounded the great palace.
  
  The French castle was a magnificent structure that occupied the entire horizon. Webb left the main gate behind and wandered around the perimeter for a while, purposefully but cautiously advancing to a predetermined location. Now his heart was pounding. Now he had to find a second clue on the way to Saint Germain's greatest treasures.
  
  So far, the scroll he bought from Ramses has proven to be absolutely priceless.
  
  Webb was thinking about the scroll as he entered. The tattered hodgepodge of parchments bore fruit; Leopold spent decades searching for Saint Germain, carefully and jealously guarding every secret he found, until he died in the 1940s. Webb wasn't entirely sure what happened to the scroll after that, or how it got to Ramses, and he didn't care one iota. All he cared about was that it was now securely hidden in his coat pocket, double zipped and wrapped in plastic. Webb had already studied it in detail, although he tried not to get too far ahead. Some pleasures were worth enjoying.
  
  The pages were arranged in the order in which they were written; and in the order in which Leopold traveled during his great quest. Each passage is an understanding of what happened on that very day, sometimes even written during walks and searches for a German. Webb found that he could get into a man's mind, feel his excitement, just by reading a paragraph. A lot of thought and random ideas littered these passages - it took a lot of effort to sort them out bone by bone.
  
  Target? Or circumstances? Leopold must have been a lonely man living with himself and his notes, his obsession. Webb wanted all of this, but he knew he had to progress at Leopold's pace, not his own.
  
  The ciphers were the key.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  Webb went to a small, unremarkable gate: a staff or service entrance. A suspicious-looking man was standing there, shifting from foot to foot. His eyes met Webb's and the demand was known.
  
  "Here. Hurry up".
  
  Webb wanted nothing less. He enjoyed frank conversation. He followed the man's trail straight into the closing palace, peering into the lengthening shadows around him for any sign of pursuit. Nothing. If there was anyone else, they were good.
  
  "We must act quickly," said the man with an English accent. "They don't get nervous for half an hour after the doors close, but then..." He left it hanging, such a terrible threat.
  
  "Who you are?" the man asked, heading inside.
  
  But Webb, never one to reveal too much, found himself unable to utter a word as he walked through the old royal palace. The sudden onslaught of all that gilding, the mirror-surfaced floors, the masterpieces of art that adorned the walls, the lofty open spaces, are all lavishly embellished with exquisite details crafted by an expert eye. Webb could have spent days here studying this stunning symbol of the ancient regime, deciding what he would most like to destroy or steal.
  
  "They said to leave you alone," the Englishman now said. "But I'm not sure I can do it."
  
  Webb finally acknowledged the vulgarity with legs, not the first time he saw one of the downsides of solo travel. He usually had some thick-necked Neanderthal tell the slug its place-but Webb was never a real fighter.
  
  "Follow your instructions exactly," Webb said dispassionately. "I assume they said they would release your son or daughter when I was done?"
  
  "Wife". The man swallowed quickly, his face contorted in anguish.
  
  Webb slowed down a little, enjoying the man's fear. "Don't worry, I'm sure they take special care of your wife."
  
  "What does it mean?"
  
  "Do you have a photo?"
  
  The man fished out the folded photograph, his anxiety making him look ten years older, his shoulders hunched in submission. Webb saw a pretty brunette with wide eyes and an even wider smile.
  
  "Ah," he said. "Yes. As long as she keeps them happy, I'm sure she'll be safe." He had no idea of her fate, but he loved to instill fear and see the panic build up.
  
  He waved his hand towards the glittering rooms ahead. "Maybe you should hurry up."
  
  "Yes Yes". The man took off as if his legs were on fire. Gilding, gleaming wood, and glittering chandeliers flashed past as Webb was pushed into a relatively small room somewhere in the back. Webb knew that the Comte de Saint-Germain had stayed in this bedroom countless times, visiting and advising the King of France. It was here that Leopold found the second clue, the cipher, and wrote about it on his scroll.
  
  Only the smallest details have been left blank, ensuring that anyone who comes after will have to search with the same zeal as Leopold himself. Which Webb was fine with.
  
  Finally, the man stopped at the entrance to the room.
  
  "Are you sure?" Webb took on a menacing tone in his voice.
  
  "Yes, sir. This is the same room."
  
  Webb nodded. "Wait outside. I need to get away quickly."
  
  "Please... please don't stay too long, sir. They will see us on cameras."
  
  Webb shrugged as if it hardly mattered to him, and then turned his full attention to the door in front of him and the room beyond. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a sense of wonder swept over him, crowding out everything else. Gilded walls rose on all sides, joining at the top with a high ceiling. The walls were covered with untouched emerald green wallpaper that also adorned antique masterpieces, life-size gilded mirrors, and hanging curtains of rich crimson red. Webb froze in awe, imagining a time more than two hundred years ago when the Earl himself slept, thought, and planned right there. There were many intrigues of this man.
  
  Webb carefully removed the scroll from its plastic cover and flipped through the hard, old pages. The thick, embossed leather cover was a gentle balm for his fingers, and Leopold's messy scrawl was a surprisingly comfortable blanket. The first few pages were now completed, describing the location where the first key he had already found in Transylvania was hidden, and then offering an additional hint at the type of cipher Germain used to encrypt messages in his subsequent caches.
  
  Webb went to the very bed, to the very footstool, to the very chair on which Germain had once sat. He read aloud from the scroll, hearing the commotion outside the door but ignoring it completely. The Englishman was too impatient. Maybe Webb will pay him a little visit...
  
  He quickly closed it. Focus. Leopold described his entry into the palace in the early 1920s by essentially the same route as Webb and ended up in the same bedroom.
  
  "Be careful, counselor," Webb said softly. "This is not an easy journey. The end of everything you think you know is all you will find. Treasure nothing, for everything disappears." Webb paused excitedly.
  
  "Except you".
  
  He moved deeper into the room, walking around the bed and approaching the back wall. He knew these words by heart, he knew what would follow.
  
  The road to Germain's greatest achievement and greatest accomplishment in the history of mankind passed by each of his lesser but no less incredible triumphs. Transylvania provided the key to the early stages of his experiments with alchemy. We hope that the Palace of Versailles will contribute to this research by revealing even more of the Count's secrets to Webb.
  
  Alchemy was more of a tradition practiced mainly in Europe and Egypt. It was aimed at refining and perfecting certain items and potentially creating new, powerful talismans. Some say that several people over the centuries comprehended alchemy at all its levels - at least Germain was one of those people who were believed to be able to manipulate metals and create elixirs, and even a universal solvent in his time. Webb believed that the key in the Palace of Versailles would unlock some of them, but quickly became disillusioned.
  
  For there, carved into the wood under the mattress of the single bed, was just another cipher that no doubt led to a third clue. Of course, Webb half expected this. Of course, the secrets of alchemy and their discovery required a laboratory.
  
  However, disappointment took hold of his soul when the cipher was revealed. He compared it to a scroll and then quickly photographed it. It was a Baconian cipher designed by Sir Francis Bacon, another mysterious, revered and enigmatic figure before Germain's time, but also a lover of scientific methodology who challenged known facts.
  
  It was assumed that Germain and Bacon were the same person.
  
  But Webb didn't have time for that right now. Outside the door of the room, the sounds of a scuffle were heard again, and now a scream that sounded clearly in English. What the hell...?
  
  If not...
  
  He quickly hid the scroll, hid the phone with the photo of the cipher on it, and searched the room. Of course, there was a connecting door, surprisingly obvious for such an old castle. Oh, how the French loved their intrigues and secret passages. Germain must have loved those times.
  
  Keep nothing of value, for everything disappears.
  
  Webb ran the words over in his mind as he approached the door, understanding their deeper meaning and what they meant where Germain was concerned. As he reached for the handle, the door at the other end of the room slammed open.
  
  The Englishman fell through the ground with a bloody face.
  
  Webb stopped, startled, unaccustomed to such sudden violence. A life full of tenderness never helped in such situations.
  
  Someone pushed the Englishman into the room. A cutthroat, thought Webb. But it was a bandit he recognized. This was the group that had haunted him since Transylvania, the group that his men had been investigating.
  
  Overwhelmed by a strange fear and confusion, he pulled with all his might on the doorknob.
  
  The Englishman tried to get up, but the bandit and one of his colleagues kicked him in the skull, causing him to stagger and sprawl on the polished floor. The blood flowed faster now. Webb had an epiphany in the world he helped create when the men came out again and the Englishman stopped.
  
  Now they met his eyes.
  
  "Stay where you are," said one of them, a local, judging by his accent.
  
  "The group wants to talk to you," said another man, more swarthy, perhaps of oriental origin.
  
  Webb flung open the door, glad it wasn't locked, and ran outside. He was not a healthy person, never played sports, but he was also not overweight, and he already told himself that if these people catch him, his lifelong dream will end.
  
  Adrenaline ignited his heart and limbs. Webb raced through another bedroom, where the bed was separated from the rest of the room by a gold railing lined with footstools, and then turned back to the outer corridor, pausing at the door before peeking out.
  
  The coast is clear. So there are only two pursuers.
  
  He ran, waving his arms, shaking his knees. He knew that he was no match for anyone but a good school mom, but need spurred him on. The halls were clean, each wide expanse of splendid architecture rushing past so quickly that he felt a little dizzy, until a scream came from behind.
  
  "Don't make me run after you boy."
  
  Webb pushed it, already seeing the side door ahead and knowing that all he needed to take from this place was a mobile phone in his pocket. Once everything is cleared up, he will speed up the investigation and end this pesky group once and for all.
  
  How dare they?
  
  For the moment he smashed open the outer door and ran out into the night, a cold breeze cooling the sweat on his forehead, the distant ringing of bells giving the city a solitary air. Not what he needed right now. What he needed was a crowd, a busy road, a parade of shops. What he needed was not to be followed on the streets, as his hitherto very careful avoidance of security cameras would become ineffective. Many of them were so good these days that they'd turn your face over to Interpol in seconds.
  
  Webb heard the chase gain momentum. Despite the gloomy gathering, he managed to make out the outer gate, the same through which he was secretly led. He quickened his pace, almost stumbling as he did so, and tried to stop the endless flailing of his arms. It wasn't easy when his heart threatened to explode in his chest. And no respite was foreseen. The palace was located in the middle of a huge flat courtyard that stretched far in width. Webb casually glanced over his shoulder.
  
  Hurry up!
  
  He knew the way by heart. Exit the gate and turn left past the Orangery towards the train station. He already knew where the scroll would take him next. The scroll indicated the places, the ciphers the exact locations; the locations themselves provided for the ongoing and unfolding wonders of Saint Germain.
  
  Webb slammed the gate shut behind him, wickedly hoping it might hook one of his pursuers in the teeth. Then he was struck by a fabulous moment when he saw the same man and wife, hand in hand, hurrying the other way across the street - the woman was looking at him. A slight smile appeared on her face as she saw the panic on his face and the two big brutes chasing him.
  
  Webb took a deep breath and continued. But he fought a losing battle. When the train station finally came into view ahead, one of the pursuers came close enough to snag his overcoat. A furious jerk, and he spun, falling, dropping to one knee.
  
  He lost his balance, not realizing but actually helping himself, as the mower slammed into the empty space where he had just been. The beast grunted, slipping. Webb crawled away on his knees, looking for a place to stand. The jeans on his knees were ripped bloody, and perhaps this was a new experience for his skin. The low wall gave him support and helped him to his feet, and then he stood there, breathing heavily, taking in full lungs of air while he still could.
  
  One of the men crouched low with his hands on his knees, also breathing heavily. "We... told you not to run away. But you ran away. Now... now we have to hurt you and also take you to our leader."
  
  Webb would have laughed if he could. "Who are you, aliens?"
  
  The man looked surprised, then angry. He tried to stab Webb in the stomach, but Webb stepped aside and the blow whizzed past.
  
  Both the bandit and Webb looked surprised that he managed to dodge.
  
  "Stay still."
  
  "Why? So that you can hurt me?"
  
  "So I can break your skinny ribs and use them like a toothpick, boy," the Frenchman growled. "Make me run, okay? Let's see..."
  
  The dangerous hooligan came to his senses again. Webb saw no reason to stand idle, turned around and tried to run away. Crashed into the chest of the second man. He chuckled.
  
  "Don't you know who I am?"
  
  It was out of his mouth before he could contain himself.
  
  The swarthy man laughed. "Not yet. But we will do it soon."
  
  "Why are you following me?"
  
  "Are you stupid? I already said the group wants to talk to you."
  
  What a group? Webb opened his mouth to ask, then found it stuffed with knuckles. The pain came a fraction of a second later, then blood gushed out, and one of his teeth was clearly loose. I could have Bo train me. I could fight my way out of this. He groaned in pain as another fist hit him on the side of the head. The train station now seemed so far away.
  
  "Let's take him back to the car."
  
  They lifted Webb, each took an arm, ignoring the looks of passers-by. Webb resisted weakly, but even the threat of another blow dampened his anger. The cell remained in his pocket, along with the image of the Baconian cipher, but any standing person would soon find it.
  
  "That's better," the Frenchman said when Webb stopped resisting. "Know your place, boy."
  
  This infuriated Webb even more, but then again, he was not a fighter. It is better to wait ... wait for an opportunity.
  
  "Hey! Stop right here!"
  
  This happened earlier than expected.
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  Two policemen approached them cautiously, their hands on their pistol holsters. The guards at the station must have noticed the altercation and seen Webb being dragged away.
  
  Both of his captors instantly turned around, the sight of the approaching police officers did not bother them at all. Several passers-by stopped to watch, and as if Webb didn't already know, street cameras would have noticed them. What happened next shocked all viewers, including Webb.
  
  Driven insane by what was happening, the two thugs drew their weapons and instantly opened fire. Without warning. Don't aim. Bullets bounced off the asphalt and pierced a parked car. The cops ducked for cover, one lucky, the other not so good. The bullet hit the flesh of his calf, leaving him sprawled on the ground.
  
  The Frenchman gave him an evil look.
  
  Now the second policeman fired, bullets whizzing past Webb. Both bandits backed away. The second policeman was already talking on the radio, calling for reinforcements. And it will come in a hurry, the French assume that this is another terrorist attack. Webb was caught thinking when he was being treated roughly: stay put or run? Fortunately, he now knew that he was a coward. But would these people shoot him in the back?
  
  Doubtful. This mysterious 'group' wanted to interrogate him, not kill him. They wanted to know what he had already discovered. And How.
  
  Risking the biggest risk of his life, he pushed Frenchy and kicked Swarthy. Parked cars were all over the place, so he broke free and ran towards one of them, rounding the front. Annoyed cries followed him. He dodged the cops, spotting a side street that ran past the station. The bullet whizzed past, probably a warning, but Webb felt his insides turning to jelly. One more and he'd piss, he knew. Lowering his head, he continued. The next sound of gunfire was even further away as the cops engaged, and sirens were already blaring into the night.
  
  This was his chance.
  
  If he had done it quickly, he would have been on the train before they closed the stations. Witnesses saw him as a victim, not a perpetrator. The authorities wouldn't be as obsessed with him as they are with others. One quick glance back showed that the swarthy man was still watching, tracking his progress, but seemed to be chained to the spot. Webb wanted to grin or wave like a child, but he didn't dare. Not yet. Only when he was guaranteed safety.
  
  The sirens howled closer, illuminating the black dome overhead with their ominous blue flashes. Webb felt a reassuring package inside his jacket, a phone and a scroll carefully wrapped. Then everything was fine. His teeth hurt like hell and his mouth was still bleeding, but he'd cry about it later. He had to get on that train first.
  
  Inside the station was buzzing with activity, almost no one knew about the events outside. Webb hurried as fast as he could, still trying to avoid the cameras, but realizing that this particular game was over for the day. In any case, it will take some time for the recognition to reach the right people, and by then...
  
  Webb grinned as he recognized the next train's departure time.
  
  Seven minutes. Ideal.
  
  Paris beckoned then, along with a third clue to the scroll. The next must be proof of pure alchemy, full disclosure. Then it could only lead him to greater accomplishments.
  
  Comte de Saint-Germain revealed.
  
  More treasures. More ciphers. If he could decipher a Baconian cipher, around the time of Leopold, and one of the ciphers associated with the mystery of Saint Germain, then he should be able to at least interpret all the others. Everything related to the count is Shakespeare's codex, Merlin, Plato and Columbus. All doors ended in Saint-Germain.
  
  Webb bet his life on it.
  
  The fruits of this bet have already borne fruit.
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  Matt Drake and Alicia Miles were left alone, the recent events in New York over the past week giving them more than a little pleasure.
  
  Drake looked at his watch. "Soon six, dear. We should be at the office by half past six."
  
  "A person like you should be able to get him home three times before."
  
  Drake shook his head at her rudeness. "Let's do it once and do it well."
  
  Alicia snorted arrogantly.
  
  Drake jumped on her naked body. "It's better than now, bastards."
  
  He chalked up Alicia's lack of further questioning to his skill, though in truth she probably understood Yorkshire slang after being around him for so long. He firmly imprinted the tall blonde in his mind, not allowing anything else to interfere. It took them so long to get this far. She was all that mattered now and nothing else was guaranteed.
  
  Nothing.
  
  The bed groaned, and so did Alicia. With a defiant push, she knocked him over onto his back, then took control for a while, allowing him to turn her over once more for the last few moments. The night outside the window deepened by 6 pm. Raindrops drummed on the curtained windows, their clatter filling the small apartment. For a while, the two were lost in another world; free, fun and relaxing.
  
  When they finished, Drake rolled over. "So how was it?"
  
  Alicia turned on her side, studying him. "Me".
  
  "Oh thanks. You know it takes two."
  
  "You mean the team?"
  
  "Well, not necessarily a kiss-"
  
  "Okay, because I was about to question it, because in my experience..." She paused. "Actually no, I'll leave it alone."
  
  Drake was glad she did. No one ever knew if the energetic southerner was joking or not.
  
  "By the way, about hanging." She looked down between his legs.
  
  "Damn it, woman, give me a minute."
  
  "Hey, you got yourself into this."
  
  "Oh, am I?" He remembered Alicia's explosion during the battle of the ghost ships, the way she'd chosen him to pour her heart out on him. "Haven't we always been 'in it'? Together."
  
  "Bullshit. It's too deep for me."
  
  She slapped his right thigh before jumping out of bed, laughing and pulling on some clothes. "Come on, Drakes. Duty is calling."
  
  He grumbled that he had just done his duty when he followed suit, keeping his clothes purely civilian since this scheduled meeting at the office was a regular one, nothing urgent. After the events in New York, the exposure of Robert Price as at least a terrorist conspirator, the infamy of the CIA, and the even harder lessons learned from America's true state of defense, the SPEAR team had a mountain of problems to deal with. Hayden led the attack, but the entire team was called in to intervene.
  
  "As long as they don't ask me to fix any furniture in whatever new office they give us," Alicia recounted his own worst nightmare, "I'm fine. You know, I almost wish there was another crisis that would get us out of the way."
  
  "Dal"s little escapade wasn"t enough?"
  
  Alicia snorted. "Torsti holidays? I just love how he fidgets every time I tease him about it."
  
  "Tease? Alicia, you couldn't tease even if your life depended on it. It's more like a full-fledged act of war."
  
  Alicia shrugged. "Doesn't matter".
  
  Drake repeated her statement in Yorkshire fashion. "Be honest".
  
  They both laughed as they met eyes at the foot of the bed in the tiny room and never felt safer, happier. For a second, neither of them moved, glad that the moment was stretching and maturing. It was rare for anyone on the SPEAR team to experience a real moment of pure relaxation. Drake thought he had finally found someone who could help him find those moments more often.
  
  "We are ready?"
  
  "Hell yes." Alicia looked at the bed. "Third round?"
  
  "Perhaps later."
  
  "Perhaps, huh? We really need to work on your vocabulary."
  
  The couple left the apartment and complex near the Pentagon, heading to work, and not a cloud overshadowed the horizon. Drake saw a great calm now that the rain had stopped, and felt it in his emotions as well.
  
  The problem was, what happened next?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Smith looked up as Lauren came through the door. Her expression was carefree, innocent, but he knew where she was.
  
  "Bad traffic?"
  
  Lauren found it difficult to answer. He wondered if she would lie to him. "Everything was OK".
  
  "Thought you were supposed to be back an hour ago. Do you remember that we have to be at work at half past six?"
  
  "Yes, but we can still do it."
  
  Smith chuckled, not revealing himself in any way. "It would be easier-"
  
  She lashed out at him. "Say it. Why don't you just say it?"
  
  He gave her the familiar irritated grimace. "I thought the New York girl would have lasted longer."
  
  "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" There was a hidden menace in her voice, something he only realized when he reviewed his words and considered her past.
  
  "Your secret," he said quickly. "I only meant your secret."
  
  She looked like she had a thousand secrets to keep, perhaps because she did. "That's one general statement."
  
  Smith chuckled again in annoyance. "You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean. Dancing around it just makes it harder."
  
  "I don't dance around anything, Smith. Like you said - I'm from New York."
  
  "What do you see in it?"
  
  So it was. Laid out on string, grated, pulled out of Smith's wounded throat like a piece of barbed wire.
  
  Lauren softened her quick, biting attitude when it came to Smith, he knew. She had a hard upbringing, a hard life, and one day she told him that it was difficult for her to fully interact with the opposite sex, because she saw him in all forms of degradation. He saw in her face an effort to remain polite.
  
  "He's trying to help us."
  
  "No. He's a fucking terrorist caught red-handed. And now he's trying every trick from the book to stay away from Super Max."
  
  "He was forced. Either way, he has changed."
  
  "Nicholas Bell is a Pythian," Smith tossed to her. "Nothing changed".
  
  "You don't know how he helped."
  
  "I do not want to know. I don't care".
  
  Lauren threw up her hands in annoyance. "And here's this for you. It's just you. Anger before the reservation. Guilt before the question. Stop being such a negative asshole all the time."
  
  Smith winced. "So I'm an asshole now, huh?"
  
  "Don't expect an apology."
  
  Smith did not. Lauren found it nearly impossible to apologize, even when she was blatantly wrong.
  
  "You used to spend time with this guy. Just for one night, but yes, you managed to get close. That didn't stop him from colluding with the enemy, Lauren."
  
  "Once you get inside, it's hard to get out." She referred to her own past.
  
  "What is this? Are you trying to identify with him?"
  
  "Of course not. But I see what he does. Smith," she licked her lips. "He helps us track down Webb through their network of old contacts. Thanks to him, we know that Webb recently visited Romania. He gave us every name, every number. You cannot find this information anywhere, because it exists only in someone's head and should not be discarded!"
  
  Smith watched the expression on her face as she paused, trying to control herself. I saw emotions there, deeper feelings, and got scared.
  
  More than scared. Lauren was being manipulated and didn't know it. Bell used her, and Smith hated the terrorist even more for this. How could he stop Nicholas Bell now?
  
  Lauren indicated the time. "We're going to be late."
  
  He didn't care, but he took his jacket and followed her out of the room. Usually, thanks to many years of training, he easily managed to separate.
  
  Not this time. He just couldn't shake the feeling that Nicholas Bell needed to be stopped. Forever.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Torsten Dahl went to work quickly and alone, still reeling from his recent 'discussion' with Joanna. Ever since the most recent reality checks in their lives, they've been trying to make it better, come up with something. At first, after the Barbados hell seemed to change them forever, the rocky road smoothed out, giving them an easy transition, safe havens all around. But even in the short time that has passed since then, pitfalls have begun to reopen, past problems rearing their unbearable heads. On the plus side, his kids seemed oblivious to the horrors of that day off, with only the occasional mention bringing back nightmares. Oh, and Julia never wanted to see the beach again. At least for the next three weeks.
  
  Dahl checked his ID through a pair of card readers, then stopped abruptly when his name was called. Well, he actually screamed. No, he screeched.
  
  Torsten! Torsten! Wait!"
  
  He sighed. He was the only person assigned to look after her, and without him, she would not have been able to enter the building.
  
  Not the worst possible outcome, he thought.
  
  Kenzi slipped through the gate, the only comforting sight he thought was the absence of a regular katana. Abusive and dangerous, the former Mossad antiquities smuggler had a soft spot for him and never missed a chance to remind him of it.
  
  "So you're still here," he said grimly.
  
  "Helping your people has its benefits," she said. "And also keeps me on the lookout for a few notorious kingpins who may or may not be watching me."
  
  "Not to mention the hope that the US government will forgive you old crimes," he said.
  
  "Yeah, and I would like them to, how shall I put it: tighten their asses?"
  
  Dahl saw no reason to keep reminding her that he was not American, or English, or whatever nationality she constantly mentioned. Side by side, they walked down the corridor.
  
  "Have you already given Mrs. Dal the hoof?"
  
  Dahl lashed out at her. "It's none of your business. And, Kenzi, stop trying to get under my skin."
  
  "What would you like me to get?"
  
  He tried not to see her long black hair and lithe body, the promise in her eyes.
  
  She chuckled. "You know I won't be here long. Better take advantage while I agree."
  
  "Why? Because you're going to try and kill me in a month or two?"
  
  Kenzi shrugged, not ruling it out. "The sides are changing, my English friend. As is devotion. Sometimes every day. Just ask the Americans. Oh, and speaking of side-changers..."
  
  Dahl looked up as she nodded. Mai Kitano and Beauregard Alain walked up the corridor, also side by side. At first he thought it was a little odd that they arrived together, then he realized that Kenzi and he must look the same. He nodded to Bo and smiled at Mei.
  
  "Heard anything from Grace?"
  
  The Japanese woman smiled softly. "All the normal, natural, contented and typical things you would expect from a teenager."
  
  Dahl smiled back. "I'm happy for her."
  
  The group continued, cautiously moving around the halls, at least two of them more than alert due to the heavily guarded signs that were placed everywhere. A few moments passed in silence, and then Bo spoke.
  
  "You think they, uh, found us a new headquarters?"
  
  Kenzi studied him critically. "Who knows? So where's the body, my friend? I much prefer bodysuits. Creates things... easily catches the eye."
  
  "They prefer me to dress normally in a five-star building."
  
  "I bet it is." Kenzi laughed and even Mai smiled.
  
  Dahl followed Beau's thought. "I hope they are. This constant guarding makes me tired."
  
  "You guys have a really bad track record for headquarters," noted Kenzi, who by now was up to date with most of the history of the SPEAR team.
  
  "The point of view is accepted. But the new secretary of defense may very well get us out of here."
  
  May looked back. "See if anyone else has arrived?"
  
  "Oh no, sorry. Perhaps they are already here."
  
  "They?"
  
  Dahl winced. "I thought you meant Drake and-"
  
  "There are ten people on our team." Mai gave Kensi an appraising look. "Well, nine for sure."
  
  Dahl remained silent, regretting his oversight. It seemed that no matter what he did, he constantly upset the opposite sex these days.
  
  "So May, are you staying forever this time?" Kenzi liked conflict.
  
  "Perhaps I will be persuaded to take a week off, just to take you to where you belong."
  
  "Really? And where do you think my place is?"
  
  "What a hell hole. Atonement for all those whom you have harmed directly or indirectly."
  
  "And I guess you never hurt anyone, huh?"
  
  Mai gritted her teeth. Dal could hear the creaking. "Be careful, Kenzi," the Japanese woman hissed.
  
  "Oh my God. Did I say something wrong?"
  
  The guard they recognized stepped forward. Dahl engaged him in a little chat while the others stood in tense silence. It occurred to him again that perhaps they should get rid of Kenzi as soon as possible, the thief seemed to be nothing more than a wart on the skin that held the team together.
  
  It's better not to explain it that way, though.
  
  The door to their office was open straight ahead, inviting, welcoming, but Dahl could see nothing through the gap, only a deep patch of darkness. Pushing aside his own worries, he wondered what might be waiting for them inside.
  
  However, he went straight through.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  Hayden and Kinimaka sat alone, waiting for the team's arrival, from about 5:30 p.m. The office was dark and quiet, equipment turned off or muted so they could sit side by side at the table and talk.
  
  Hayden swung her legs back and forth. "I'm trying to be completely honest here, Mano. We are unshakable. We don't face obstacles. We are in complete ass."
  
  The Hawaiian looked sullen. "Because I didn't want you to torture the guy?"
  
  "That was a few weeks ago. And he deserved it. But it's not that. It's deeper." Hayden couldn't bring herself to fully explain the problem - it was about her opinion that Kinimaka wasn't courageous enough to take it all the way - and not just in that case - and how that humiliated him in her eyes. The same thing happened with Ben Blake. Damn, she thought. Poor Ben. I hope you are happy my friend wherever you are.
  
  "I love you," Mano said simply, maybe a little desperately. "I am worried about you. All the time."
  
  Hayden felt like he was somewhere far away. "Have you ever thought about our future? I mean, look at our lives. Do you think we'll have a great wedding day? Hawaiian honeymoon? Do you think we will end up at Disneyland with our kids?"
  
  Kinimaki's face softened a little. "Why not?"
  
  Now Hayden saw the chasm that stretched between them. "We won't change."
  
  "Everything changes".
  
  "Then change it now. All this. You. The entire SPEAR team. There are no irreplaceable people. Let's disband and get personal."
  
  Kinimaka took a deep breath in surprise. "Do you want to break up?"
  
  "I put my career ahead of everything, no matter what," she said. "And I need strong people by my side to lean on."
  
  "This team is working," Kinimaka said. "You know it is."
  
  "Then it would work anywhere."
  
  "Wait". Kinimaka raised his hand. "Just wait. I thought we were talking about us."
  
  Hayden swung her legs faster. "Damn it, Mano, that's who we are. I'm on a roll, remember? You are careful."
  
  "Of the two of us, who got shot the most?"
  
  "Oh, hold my ribs until they crack with laughter."
  
  The Hawaiian ceased all movement as the table beneath him creaked in alarm. Hayden felt relief in her chest; his clumsiness and fear of it had always been one of his endearing traits to her. He spoke while staring at the floor.
  
  "If you love me, don't let go."
  
  "There"s more to this than-"
  
  "No. It doesn't matter if we are talking about adults or your children. There are always difficult moments, moments when you want to take off. But don't. Deal with it. Don't run away from the ones you love."
  
  Hayden didn't expect this from Mano. Despite her decision, which had already been made, she paused. She held back the words that were on the tip of her tongue and took a deep breath.
  
  "Do you have any suggestions?" instead she said. Unconvincing, but doable.
  
  "Hell no." Mano laughed.
  
  Hayden saw shadows crossing the doorway and the unmistakable figure of Thorsten Dahl walking through it. It's time to face the truth. It's time to get to work. For a moment she wondered if she should be gentler with Mano and suggest they just take a break, but then she remembered his words, their long history, and how he had once made her feel.
  
  One more chance. We are worth it.
  
  Kinimaka jumped off the table, nearly knocking her over as the enormous weight shifted. Dahl smiled at the unintended antics.
  
  "You two," he said. "You are a wonderful comedic couple."
  
  Hayden didn't smile at all. This was what she was afraid of.
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  Drake winced slightly as he realized that he and Alicia were going to be the last to enter the office. It made every pair of eyes twitch in their direction, and it didn't help when he opened his mouth to say hello, Alicia pinched him hard on the ass.
  
  The greeting came out in a strangled cry.
  
  Mei's face was impenetrable; Bo is an illustration of humble acceptance. Dahl looked at it as tolerantly as he could treat his children.
  
  "So you did it."
  
  "Good to see you, Matt," Hayden said.
  
  "Was it a big session?" Kenzi intervened, upsetting four people at once, which isn't exactly a record for her.
  
  Drake addressed the cheers in turn. "Dal. Any other vacation plans we need to clear our schedule for? Hayden, what are you doing? Kenzi, go fuck the doorknob. And why the hell are you still here?" He smiled at the almost unnoticed Yorgi who sat in the corner.
  
  "No prison can hold me." She shrugged.
  
  "It would be nice to check it out."
  
  "How are you, Matt?" Mai politely asked.
  
  "I'm a little out of my mind," he replied, then added, "That's Yorkshire for 'okay'."
  
  "I know".
  
  Alicia walked past him. "What? What am I, a goddamn invisible?
  
  "We can wish," Kenzi said.
  
  Alicia pounced on her. "With you, bitch, there is no us. Only I don"t think you will ever fit into this team."
  
  "Does it still hurt because I kissed you? Or just hurts?
  
  Alicia clenched her fists, but Hayden had already anticipated this and jumped off the table. Her words extinguished all the growing passions.
  
  "The new Minister of Defense will be announced soon."
  
  "Already?" Dahl said. "This is cool".
  
  "The president's office says they'll be up to date in a couple of days."
  
  "We don't have a very good track record when it comes to secretaries," Smith said grimly. "It's probably best to keep it at arm's length."
  
  Drake saw a fleeting look of hurt contort Hayden's face and wished there was a way to turn Smith off sometimes, knowing how close she was to Jonathan Gates, the man who had the foresight to start and support the SPEAR team from the start. It made him think of the other people they had lost along the way. Ben. Sam and Joe. Romero. Kennedy Moore. And Komodo.
  
  I'll just name the first few.
  
  He saw the same distant look in the eyes of several of his colleagues, including Dahl, and wondered if the soldier's destiny was always to keep loved ones alive by remembering them day after day, night after night, year after year. If so, then that was fine and right.
  
  The best we can all hope for is someone to remember us when we're gone.
  
  Mortality affected everyone. It was hard to believe that the world would simply exist after your death, people would live their lives, dawn, the same trees and the same buildings would stand indifferently, the same worries, fears and obvious joys would visit a new generation.
  
  Alicia put a hand on his shoulder, perhaps guessing where he was. And her own motto resurfaced in his thoughts: One life, live it.
  
  He broke the thoughtful silence. "Does he have any plans for us?"
  
  Hayden flipped a switch that turned on the screens and all communications. "I don't know. But new officials usually change things, so expect him to offer what you least expect."
  
  "I hope this is not a blood omen," Dahl said.
  
  Kinimaka approached the coffee maker cautiously. "I'm pretty sure it will, bro."
  
  "Damn," Smith swore. "You should have known better by now."
  
  Hayden calmed them down with a constant cough. "Fine. Stop it guys. Let's all focus on this for a bit."
  
  "On what?" Lauren intervened. "You brought us all here for this? Nothing happens ".
  
  "Hooker is right about something," Kenzi said.
  
  Now Smith appreciated the Israeli. "Do you want to push it a little further?"
  
  Lauren snapped her fingers. "I can fight my own battles, Smith."
  
  Alicia caught it. "You still call him Smith, right? Dude, do you even have a name?"
  
  "When we're alone, we don't talk too much," Lauren said.
  
  Same for most soldiers, Yorgi mused.
  
  Hayden finally managed to get heard over her chatter. "Updates!" she yelled. "As you know, we are constantly aware of what is happening in the world. Now let's start with Syria..."
  
  As Hayden recounted various new incidents around the world, none of which were deemed serious enough for SPIR to intervene, Drake wondered if their patched-up team was starting to loosen up. Fatigue set in? Did they all have to go and do something else for half a year?
  
  Kinimak was brought in with coffee, a strong Kohn concoction that Drake knew would keep him awake later, but it was delicious as hell. Besides, it was difficult and dangerous to sleep with the playful Alicia jumping in your groin. He slept in war zones, which worried him less.
  
  Dahl walked over to him. "If I were you, I would be a little more careful. The dynamics here are already quite shaky."
  
  Alicia frowned. "And yet I'm always there, aren't I? Pulling you out of the sea after you couldn't handle a small nuclear explosion. Flying to Barbados to join your bus driver's vacation? What's next - babysitter?
  
  Dahl looked scared, as expected, and Drake let out a pleased chuckle. "Personally, I would like to see how Alicia will babysit your children," he said seriously. "Imagine the consequences."
  
  Dahl shuddered. "Wonderful. I'll shut up."
  
  "Good idea".
  
  Hayden tilted her head to the side as the internal line rang. It's no surprise that someone knew that the team had lingered here, judging. After all, they did work for the government.
  
  Hayden pressed the button. "Yes?"
  
  "Hello. Interpol found something you guys might be interested in. I am sending this to your inbox right now."
  
  Hayden thanked the technician and tapped on a nearby screen. She brought the information to the big screen with a flick of her wrist, enjoying the Pentagon's standard technology. What appeared to be an official email has been scanned, virus checked and cleaned, ready to be opened. Drake noticed the sender's name.
  
  "Arman Argento," he said. "Remember him? Good guy. Good agent. He was Aaron Trent's inside man at Interpol."
  
  "Forsaken team?" Bo said. "I remember them from Niagara Falls too, although I never had the pleasure of ... bumping into them." He gurgled, clearly remembering the skirmish in which he inflicted several bruises on the SPEAR team. "I also know Argento from some European travels. Clever guy ".
  
  Hayden opened the message, taking time to process the information. "Fine. They seem to have spotted Tyler Webb." She said the name as if she felt a bad taste in her mouth. "But that's over a week ago. In Transylvania." She shook her head.
  
  No one came up with the expected spate of bad jokes; instead, they focused on Argento's text and additional information.
  
  "Nothing specific. Just got spotted by the local cops," Hayden continued. "Reported too late to take any action. They believe he may have visited local castles in the area."
  
  "It's all guesswork. There are many castles in the area, not to mention hundreds of houses, churches, villages..." She trailed off.
  
  The whole team was processing the email at the same time.
  
  "But then, much later, at Versailles," Dahl said.
  
  "When?" Alicia asked quickly.
  
  "Only six hours ago."
  
  "The most wanted man in the world," grumbled Smith. "And the French let him slip out of their hands."
  
  "Like the Americans," Bo said. "And most other countries."
  
  "He hasn't slipped away yet," Hayden continued to read. "They came back and say that Webb got on the train to Paris a few hours ago. It looks like he was being chased at least through Versailles, which is probably why he came out of hiding."
  
  "And it wasn't just a random robbery," Yorgi said. "Shots were fired, policemen were wounded."
  
  "But they protected Webb?" There was disbelief in Dahl's voice. "Why?"
  
  "One thing is certain," Smith growled. "We will not make the same mistake with Webb that we made with Nicholas Bell. This one will not come back alive."
  
  "We will need to identify the hunters," Dahl said.
  
  "And why Webb showed up at Versailles."
  
  "They traced his movements to infiltrating the palace." Another observation, this time from Mei. "Webb hit some trail."
  
  "That's why he allowed the Pythian organization to destroy itself and then wither away," Drake said. "His obsession with this Saint Germain character."
  
  "It must be a damn valuable treasure," Alicia said, "to give up your entire privileged life so easily for. What prize could be worth all this?"
  
  "We were careless," Kinimaka said. "We had to do research. But I think that was Karin's forte."
  
  "It won't be long," Drake put in. "She will be back".
  
  "The big question is..." Dahl added quietly. "Judging by the wording at the end, Interpol invites us to come?"
  
  "Looks like it," Hayden replied. "So that they can take into account our recent deals with the most wanted man in the world. And Argento knows us."
  
  She made a call. "Arrives in thirty. I'll call Argento and then the State Department. Get ready. We should arrive in Paris by 4 am local time."
  
  The team took a collective deep breath. That's how it always started. I'm planning a new job, I'm calling my relatives to tell them the news, and I don't even have time to go back and hug. Their lives were about to change once more, for better or worse.
  
  Drake wished they could leave all uncertainty and grudges at the door, but this team has changed. Whether this is for the best remains to be seen.
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  The Baconian cipher was a relatively simple cryptogram, but it could still be complex without respect and concentration. Webb gave both, and figured out the location of the next clue on the train to Paris. The message was especially interesting. This time, not a museum, not a church or a palace, but a kind of residence. Perhaps this time he became one of the few people in history who were honored to be in one of the count's many laboratories. Perhaps certain alchemical secrets would be revealed.
  
  Webb found his excitement growing. He had better suppress it before the vertigo took over and made him unconcerned. No doubt the authorities would eventually hunt him down from Versailles to Paris - it was inevitable thanks to the armed thugs in Versailles - but once he leaves the Gare du Nord, Tyler Webb will disappear completely again.
  
  As the train slowed and the famous station came closer, illuminated in the dark and recognizable by Webb, he rose from his seat and prepared to disembark, face down. Of course, every little thing helped. He then quickly fled the station, breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of police and knowing that he had not yet been identified on the security cameras. As time went on, he melted away, using his stalking skills to avoid cameras, busy areas, and tourist hotspots where surveillance would be at its highest. The residence was exactly where he expected, so he took a quick look around, then paid in cash to check into a hotel room nearby.
  
  Waiting for the night
  
  Webb now had other problems, more serious complications. Never in his decades of research had he come across a group that might already be on its way to Saint Germain, or might be guarding it. But that seems to be the case. The investigation showed that the group following in his footsteps was secretive, mostly unidentified and unfamiliar. Webb reasoned that they must be Saint-Germain-obsessed, purists keeping their criminal fervor only for scoring purposes, otherwise they would already be red-flagged and easier to investigate. Of course, he did not go on this journey unprepared-he had unforeseen circumstances. Ways to escape and back-up plans and worse, much worse if it looked like someone was about to catch him. Years of careful planning will pay off.
  
  Chase me all you want, he thought. I have prepared so many ways.
  
  The room was tiny, consisting of a single bed with coffee-stained sheets, a closet with room for two T-shirts, and a shower that could only be big enough for a dog. Webb thought of the grand hotel rooms he stayed in, luxurious suites, and world-class service. Oh, fall so low in the name of the count. The fever burned brightly in him. It's been twenty-four hours since he came here, and he hasn't even gone on a dark hunt. But when he looked out the window, many candidates showed their true colors.
  
  However, it didn't matter. Once the lab is almost certain to be discovered, everything else can wait. However, the problem remained... this is the so-called group. Will they oversee the lab?
  
  Certainly. If they saw him in the castle and palazzo, they would obviously be at every stage. But how did they know about these places without access to the scroll? Was there another tributary that led to the great lake of mystery surrounding Saint-Germain? Or was it something else...?
  
  Webb made terrible instant coffee and sat back down, patiently watching the sun go down over the horizon. The investigation was still ongoing, but so far the group appeared to be well-funded protectors of Saint Germain's greatest treasures. Probably wanted to get them all for themselves. Jerks. But they wouldn't stop him now. Nobody would. Webb remembered the courtesies of Hayden Jay and her highland boyfriend, Matt Drake and his vulgar girlfriend and the very capable Beauregard Alain. It wouldn't take them long to hit the trail. Until now, Webb had lingered, enjoying the freedom and joy of searching, but he could no longer afford it.
  
  To end.
  
  The sun was sinking lower and lower. Webb could have seen the Eiffel Tower if he had leaned at an awkward angle through the dirt-splattered window. The Champs Elysees were within walking distance. Now, more information about the organization, which he now thought of as a "group", had leaked onto his tablet. It seemed that there were several societies, organizations, or cults around the world that believed in the existence of beings called Ascended Masters. Webb has not yet been informed of the exact meaning, but this group believed that Saint Germain was a member of this ultra-exclusive set. However, as he waited and reviewed the new information, time was running out.
  
  Darkness fell.
  
  Not at all embarrassed by the events at Versailles or his almost inevitable public exposure to the authorities, he gathered everything he could need to get into the residence and look for what he was sure was still there. The irony was that the presence of the group had so far only confirmed and strengthened his resolve. This showed that he was on the right track, from reading the scroll to deciphering the codes and clues.
  
  Thank you group.
  
  Webb left the room, taking all his belongings and not expecting to return. The street outside was quiet and dark, and he turned in the direction of the Champs Elysees, knowing his route and not worrying too much about hidden spectators yet. The building in question has been rebuilt many times over the past two hundred and fifty years, but is currently an upper level holiday rental home set around a small courtyard filled with trees, benches and a paved winding path. It took Webb eight minutes to get there.
  
  It was not easy to drive up; there were no easy ways to get to the front door, and the side entrances opened onto a well-lit side road. Webb walked at first, then accelerated past the green zone. The plan in his mind would lead him straight to the part of the house where Germain's laboratory was located, well below ground level, and his biggest concern was that someone had been tampering with it over the past few centuries.
  
  Of course, this now seemed less likely, as radical groups were involved at every turn - one would hope that there would have been influential people who had observed changes in Germain's residences over the years and quietly ensured that certain areas remained untouched. He suggested that this could probably be achieved in any number of ways, from sticky red tape and control over planning to outright intimidation, discredit and ruin. They may even have gone further.
  
  Not by luck, but through diligent and persistent investigation, Webb's small network found out where the service entrance was. Service entrances have been known to remain unlocked for several reasons, from frequent smoking breaks to keeping delivery schedules at any time of the day so as not to annoy residents. However, when Webb tried to open the door, it was locked, showing how fickle his life had become and how things could change with a bit of luck. Of course, more thorough preparations have been made. Some maintenance staff could be bribed quite easily.
  
  Webb waited, standing in the shadows. The feeling of unease that ran across the width of his shoulders was unfamiliar and rather disturbing. I almost thought he might be a little vulnerable. Webb was only worried about the scroll, and was relieved when there was a faint click and the door slowly opened.
  
  "Oui?"
  
  Webb played the game and named the password.
  
  The door opened and Webb entered, making sure it was closed and locked behind him. Then he brushed aside the man's suspicious appearance and followed the outline in his head. The corridors branched off in different directions, and Webb got the impression that only about a third of the country house was in use as he moved from side to side and walked carefully to his first destination: an old staircase built into the far wall.
  
  He spiraled down them, stopping once to listen for the house, and heard no suspicious movement. He licked his lips, feeling dryness on them, and tried to calm his racing heart. The wooden railing was rough under his fingers. When he descended below ground level, he found that the walls were peeling, the floor was uneven and there was a peculiar smell everywhere. A great deterrent for the curious.
  
  Moving forward, he switched on a small flashlight, illuminating the path ahead. No need to stop and explore the slightly open rooms down here, they would be full of junk, junk and newspapers for the most part.
  
  The next significant move he made was to the dusty, dirty grate of the chimney and the heavy hatch set into the floor to his left. Webb dropped to his knees and, with a couple of tools, rummaged through the hatch, found the thick metal ring that lifted it up, and pulled. It took some effort, but eventually the door screeched up, scattering debris across his knees. Webb stood up and brushed himself off, then shone his flashlight down.
  
  Wobbly wooden steps led down, covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. There are no traces anywhere. Webb was delighted to see that no one had descended this path for decades or longer.
  
  "Wait".
  
  He forced himself to catch his breath, to pay attention to the house. It wouldn't be a quick getaway. He needed valuable information from this third key. The building all around remained silent, as if it sat with bated breath, waiting for what would happen.
  
  Webb took the first step, then descended underground, determined to leave the hatch open. There was no way he wanted to risk being trapped underground. The steps were evenly spaced, and eventually he reached the rocky floor. Now the hardest part. There were four huge rooms immersed in total darkness.
  
  Webb lit a larger torch, now a flashlight. Finally, he discovered that the third room had been divided - a solid drywall wall had effectively cut it in half. Webb pounced on the drywall with relish, coughing from the rising dust and began to choke. He tore off a piece with his bare hands, seeing himself as an aggressive conqueror, destroying everything that stood in his way. He scattered pieces of drywall around the corners of the room and trampled on others. He stood in the midst of the whipping powder, god.
  
  The enlarged hole revealed everything he was looking for. One of the laboratories set up by the Count himself; one of the laboratories built to continue his research and deepening into alchemy.
  
  Webb entered, completely resigned.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Finding the true secret of alchemy, penetrating into the deep mystery that surrounded its very name, has always been the most important goal for a certain kind of treasure hunters, namely those who seek the Philosopher's Stone. Naturally, Webb did not see himself as such; he wanted everything that was created by Germain. A process for converting base metals into noble ones. Method for making gold. An alternative to conventional science.
  
  Using a dizzying and complex combination of laboratory techniques, terminology, theory, experimental method, and a strong belief in the power of the four elements, the Count was also guided by magic, mythology, and religion. A dangerous mixture, then, no wonder the very practice of it makes the hands of kings and priests tremble and the local pitchforks twitch.
  
  Webb stepped on the hallowed floor as carefully as he could sneak up on an unsuspecting victim, biting his bottom lip to contain his excitement. The room was dominated by a waist-high wooden bench, stretching almost from wall to wall, on which various objects lay; a collection of debris that may have been several centuries old. Webb walked around the desk, noticing a cupboard in the far corner and a stack of boxes in another.
  
  On the table were beakers, a cylindrical vessel that Webb knew was a boiling glass, a flask, a funnel, a measurer, a meabulus, and a medicine glass. There were bubbles all over the place, and he also noticed a solution vessel and a crucible with some sort of ancient, furry mass inside. At one end was a spirit lamp, at the other a claw and a stand for a vial. Webb found at least one set of Saint Germain's sacred alchemical tools. Now the path of his future was determined.
  
  The book, which lay half open on the table, contained the first alchemical formula. Without reading, Webb knew that part of the recipe would be missing. The real alchemists thought that if the one who followed them wanted to strive for greatness, he would be able to fill in the missing part himself. Masonic symbols and words for base metals and other formulas stared at him.
  
  The path of the metal seed.
  
  Now I understand it.
  
  First, distillation. Separate the consecrated metal from the raw; blessed essence from the main peel. Next, digestion. When it turns into a black sticky mass and becomes pure. And then it is drunk, or molded, or bottled for further manipulation.
  
  The perfect seed, Webb thought. Suitable for distribution.
  
  The use of water, air, earth and fire, combined with salt, mercury, sulfur and other elements, was paramount and divinely justified. Medieval chemistry? So it was said, but Webb thought otherwise. Speculative? No more. He touched the dusty pages of the book with reverence, as a priest might touch the hand of the greatest martyr. Oh, if only things had gone differently and he could have stayed here. They stay for days, weeks. The agony of being forced to move forward tore the ragged bands from his soul.
  
  But somewhere in this room was written the type of cipher that should be used in the next part of the scroll. Webb needed to find him quickly in case he was interrupted. Many secrets of alchemy were in plain sight; there would be no cipher. Abandoning his humble reverence, Webb took out the scroll and reread the last clue in combination with the Baconian cipher. This pointed him to the open book itself, the one Webb least wanted to touch. Here, inside...
  
  Here, inside, is ... everything.
  
  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. No time to double check, no time to mess around. However, the sacred must not be tarnished, so Webb put on gloves and slowly turned the pages. They were flawless inside, symbols and words bouncing around before him like playful children, demanding attention. He fought the urge to look at them, finally finding the page he was looking for.
  
  The next clue on the scroll will be deciphered using the Shakespearean cipher. Of course it made sense. Facts have been unearthed over the years to prove that Sir Francis Bacon actually wrote the works of Shakespeare. And Sir Francis Bacon was Saint Germain. Depends on how deep you delved into the story. Webb knew from this new group that if you blindly follow them to the nth degree, you will eventually believe that the Earl was an Ascended Master and is still alive to this day.
  
  He dropped it, already seeing the next clue in the text. In addition to alchemy, Germain was also a master of languages, and the key to this discipline lay in another European city the Count visited - only by guessing this key could he know how to find the next one.
  
  Another day, another journey.
  
  Webb did the best he could in this lab, on this day. He assumed that everything would remain in place until he found a way to return. It was well hidden, even with the broken wall. He will carry this matter to the very end, earn the greatest reward, and then transfer all the treasures of Saint Germain to a place that only he deems worthy to own it for the rest of his very long life.
  
  Webb smiled in the darkness, then walked to the door.
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  Outside again, and it seemed like an eternity since he'd seen the same darkness, breathed the same air. Paris has changed considerably; the whole world has become smaller, less significant. Webb, searching alone, unraveled age-old mysteries.
  
  Not that he doubted himself.
  
  Here, outside, the air must be at his disposal, the earth his property, which he could control. Once upon a time. A spot of light from a lamp flickered to the right, and Webb shied away. He left the Parisian holiday home and, looking at the time, was surprised to find that it was only around 9 pm. He thought he spent half the night there. And that was a shame, because tourists still littered the streets with their cameras, food bags, and backpacks, and Webb wanted it all to be his.
  
  Everything changed a moment later.
  
  Out of the shadows and across the secluded lake of light they emerged, six this time, all with faces as hard as forged steel. Webb recovered quickly, muscle bruises from a few days earlier flaring up as if in warning. Heavy boots rumbled behind him. However, not a word was spoken, and this caused a flash of fear in the very soul of Webb. They would wipe him off the face of the earth tonight if they could.
  
  He raced with his head down and aimed at the only people he could see, but in the direction of the famous Champs Elysees. There seemed to be crowds roaming there twenty-four hours a day, and that gave Webb his best chance of melting away. A car crossed his path , almost silent in the night, a fucking electric mutant he'd never heard of. Webb's heart jumped in surprise, his awareness rising exponentially. He followed the car as best he could, hoping the owner would slow down, but of course he was out of luck in this case.
  
  Dark windows overlooked the street and several rows of treetops. A small group of tourists stared as they watched, one even started removing the cap from his big Nikon. Webb turned towards them with some idea in his head, then ran past, only to hear screams from behind as the operator was attacked. Fine. The thugs thought he had lost his temper and are now wasting valuable time teaching him a lesson.
  
  He looked back. Bad luck. There was only one thug left, the rest were even closer. He saw the trash cans lined up ahead, ready for a recycling day, and knocked them over on his way. Leaves, branches and vegetation scattered along the road, large containers got in the way of one pursuer and sent him head first into the road.
  
  Webb then experienced another setback, landing badly while crossing a standard curb and twisting his ankle. He went to the bottom. The thugs attacked him eight seconds later as he struggled to his knees.
  
  "He's old," said one in a British accent.
  
  "No," Webb said. "Not now. I'm too close. I-"
  
  A fist hit him on the side of the head, causing spots to dance all the way around the eyes.
  
  "Shut the hell up."
  
  Webb lowered his head, making himself heavier. His ankle throbbed. "Please".
  
  They shook him hard and the spots continued to dance.
  
  "Pistol," one of them said menacingly.
  
  "I have money," Webb tried. "More than you can imagine. Hell, a month ago you all probably worked for me. "
  
  "Shut your mouth."
  
  "Who are you working for now?"
  
  "Our employer does not like violence," another man said. "So he hires others who do it. This is us". A blow to the ear. "Now do you understand the picture?"
  
  "Yes, but I could double your pay."
  
  "Are you angry with yourself?"
  
  "No. This...
  
  "Then stop wasting my time. I'm already exhausted from running and dumbfounded that you've made it this far. Now stop all your fussing and die."
  
  Webb understood little of this, but he got the general idea. He looked around for anything he could use, but the mercenaries covered him well from all sides. This time he had no choice. This time, Tyler Webb's lifelong dream was truly destined to come crashing down.
  
  Webb decided on desperate measures, which he hoped would never have to be resorted to.
  
  A small incendiary device, almost like a firecracker or a powerful sparkler, could make these hardened men laugh on the battlefield, but what was tucked under their clothes was no easy matter. Webb had previously pulled one out of his small rucksack and now slipped it under the Englishman's jacket. The reaction was instant, the flames scorched, and the man jumped back with a screech, hitting his chest.
  
  Everyone stared at him.
  
  Except Webb.
  
  Pushing off his heels and mustering all his strength, he broke through the crowd of shocked people just as the flames burst through the man's jacket. These people didn't know whether to stop and help their leader or give chase. That is why the Pythian mercenaries never conquered the world.
  
  Now Webb saw it all with his own eyes and ran with all his might to the end of the road. However, the man stayed with him, thrusting his fist into his ribs, causing Webb's heart to race as he ran. He turned aside, saw a man walking a small dog, picked up the whimpering mongrel and hurled it straight at the approaching attacker. Chaos surrounded him. The dog walker complained loudly, the dog itself growled in satisfaction, and Webb broke free.
  
  For free. Now, no-
  
  A shot rang out from behind, the bullet cut through his left thigh. Webb yelped, the pain washing away everything else for a while, terror blinding him. The dog walker squealed too, then fell on top of him as he turned to run, forgetting about the tiny pooch.
  
  Webb staggered, raising both hands. He looked down, expecting to see torn flesh, protruding bone, but all he saw was a thin tear in his jeans, and therefore an even thinner tear in his flesh.
  
  They shot at me.
  
  And he survived! The leg, of course, was already badly injured. Webb sprained his ankle. Perhaps fate gave him a chance. Feeling like the most heroic soldier in the world, he limped off towards the Champs Elysees, close enough now to smell the exhaust fumes and see the endless crowds scurrying around.
  
  Risky look back. The fire was still blazing, though the man was now face down on the ground. Shotgun aimed at Webb. For a moment, he wondered if he could dodge the bullet, estimating his chances at slightly better than fifty-fifty. However, it is better not to bet on this and his newfound skill yet. He made his way between parked cars. The next shot blew out the windshield, then another hit the door panel. Webb climbed on, his knees now on fire too.
  
  Tourists stared at him, cameras twitching. He ignored them, sidestepping their mindless groups. Some laughed, some looked worried. Others ate from fast food bags or stood looking at buildings, probably imagining what it might have been like hundreds of years ago. In fact, Saint Germain may have done the same in the area, considering what it was like in the sixteenth or fifteenth century perhaps, and wondering if he could find an answer to the meaning of life. Cars honked, taxis sped past, confident in their supposed immunity to anything bad. These people heard the noise, probably couldn't grasp the fact with their tiny minds that yes, it really was a shot!
  
  Once on the Champs-Elysées, he moved unerringly towards the crowd and wider spaces, towards the Place de la Concorde.
  
  Place of many executions.
  
  Webb would never stop running or looking. He was here, discovering new depths and new abilities.
  
  It was then that he saw her to his left; his favorite victim.
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  Drake crushed the Foxes, the team that fled with him dispersed in all directions. Interpol agents and the French police rushed in as well, the group making quite an impressive sight as they raced headlong down the wide, tree-lined road. The tourists gave way to them, and when they didn't, the team jumped over the fronts of the cars or jogged right over the roof. The most wanted man in the world was spotted up ahead and parts of him were wanted.
  
  It all started with a phone call leaked to the pocket operations center that Hayden agreed was to be set up. Webb was seen somewhere near the Eiffel Tower, there were reports. Forces were mobilized; Interpol responds but allows the SPEAR team to rule almost entirely due to their reputation and work on the Pythian case to date.
  
  Argento dismissed half a dozen complaints from jumpy, pompous officials so sure of themselves and their own worth that they couldn't stand help from outside forces and others who simply couldn't see that foreign forces could and should work in tandem. These people, these arrogant assholes, would rather see Webb run away than let their pride be trampled on.
  
  Watching the Eiffel Tower was an oversight. Alicia ended up taking the man they thought was Webb with a punch worthy of John Lomu after deciding the French police were a bunch of "cake-eating weaklings standing around waiting for the worst to happen." The man jumped-three times-before rolling onto his back with a look of utter shock on his face. It was then that they realized they had made a mistake. Alicia picked him up, brushed him off not too gently, and then left, not noticing how his legs trembled, gave way, and he collapsed back to the floor.
  
  She looked at Drake and Dahl. "You know it was right. Could have ended this shit right there."
  
  Drake looked at the weeping man, curled up into a ball. "I think he's lucky you were gentle with him."
  
  "That will never happen, Drakes. Not when there is mud and cowards on our streets hurting civilians because they think they have some right to it."
  
  "You and me both," Dahl agreed, no doubt highlights of his recent vacation coming up.
  
  Hayden collected them all. "Another observation, now in the fields," she said. "It was followed by gunfire."
  
  "Sounds more believable," May said. "And we really need to leave this place behind. Fast."
  
  Drake saw a recovering man waving to the assembled authorities.
  
  "How far is it to the Fields?"
  
  "A quick run," Bo said. "I know this place. Just follow."
  
  "With pleasure". Kenzi fixed her eyes on his tight trousers and jogged into the queue. Drake sat down next to Smith, noting that the soldier seemed even more irritable than usual these days.
  
  "Don't worry," he said. "We'll get him this time. No more piths. No more harassment."
  
  Smith's return was revealing, first a misunderstanding, then an empty nod. "Of course, dude. Certainly."
  
  Beau led them straight to the famous street with its brightly lit lanes. As if to say hello, shots rang out ahead and all the forces rushed in that direction, moving along the road next to crawling cars, dodging excited tourists and mingled locals, using benches and curbs, car tops and sides of statues, anything to get through. through the crowd and get ahead. The motorcyclist swerved and then braked in front of Alicia and May, but the couple caught him by the front and rear wheels and threw him to the side. Another persistent weaver found his bicycle lifted and thrown onto a nearby tree by the snarling Torsten Dahl, and decided to stay there for a while among the branches.
  
  A few more thrusts forward, and the force increased its speed to the very limit. Mei moved forward slowly, unexpectedly followed by Kenzi and then the Swede. Drake stepped back, slightly out of breath.
  
  "Get out of the bacon sandwiches," Dahl breathed out the corner of his mouth in his direction.
  
  "Meatballs and muesli," Drake croaked back. "Is this what you think I need?"
  
  "Anything would help."
  
  "Maybe... maybe I'll try and take a vacation. Oh no, wait..."
  
  Dahl ignored the taunt as Bo slithered past them all, making it look like he was jumping from place to place, the soles of his feet barely touching the ground, a panther's gait closing the distance.
  
  "Damn real tiger," Drake moaned, wondering not for the first time where the Frenchman had found so much speed, poise and energy.
  
  "And Yorkshire Winnie the Pooh," Dahl chuckled in response.
  
  "Back off, Freak."
  
  They simultaneously saw a running figure in front.
  
  "Damn it!" Drake screamed. "He's right there."
  
  Bo was already advancing on Webb, determined to finish the man off. A stream of people dressed in black poured out of a side street, making a very unsuccessful attempt to hide a hideous looking weapon.
  
  The French police went berserk, yelling at the new arrivals to stop or die. The Interpol agents darted back and forth, lost in thought, but seemed unconcerned about the threat to themselves. Drake and the SPIR team only had their primary goal in mind.
  
  Hayden jumped over the fallen civilian while Kinimaka bent down to help the man up. Mei caught up with Bo in speed. Alicia's lips were constantly moving, but Drake couldn't hear the words. Perhaps it's for the best. Smith ran alongside Lauren and Yorgi, though Drake could tell he was holding back. Nobody looked pleased. Kenzi literally galloped ahead of Dahl, grinning wildly as if this place was exactly where she wanted to be that night.
  
  The car streaked past Beau, cutting him off. Tyler Webb limped on, a wild look back confirming his identity. Drake closed the gap. They were almost level with the mercenaries chasing them and had to decide how to deal with them. Hayden was expected to bark orders, and he did not disappoint.
  
  "Drake, Dahl, Alicia, Smith, get them out of here. The rest is on Webb!"
  
  Drake turned instantly, took aim and aimed his pistol. The mercenaries scattered as they saw the shift in attention. One remained standing, tracking Webb. Smith fired first, spinning the man in two rounds and spraying red over nearby trees. Drake drove past a slow-moving car, the wheels of which crunched a few meters from his head. Then quickly up, two short bursts and another move. The mercenaries dived in search of better cover.
  
  "Who the hell are we fighting?" Dahl asked.
  
  "Not a clue, mate."
  
  Hayden lowered her head and increased her speed, pushing harder than she thought she could. More than anyone on the team, she had reasons to take Webb out. She had a reason to press him as hard as she could.
  
  Good job, Kinimaki isn't around.
  
  Knowing that the big Hawaiian was back helping the civilians when the man who was sneaking around, filming and trying to terrorize them in their own homes was a hundred meters away, turned the thundercloud into Hayden's already formidable forecast and turned it into explosive storm. She was close to becoming an independent woman again: secluded, self-sufficient, tense. She has already tried this new robe on herself, and she likes how it feels. The inscription, as they said, was clearly visible on the wall.
  
  Webb ran bravely ahead, lurching from side to side, drawing out each successive breath distinctly, like a scream from exhausted lungs. This man was unfit, but he did not give up. Hayden saw Bo take aim at the fleeing Merc like a heat-seeking missile and swerve to block his path.
  
  Thus, only she and Mei remained ahead of the rest of the pack, while Kenzi gesticulated in confusion.
  
  "Are we destroying this man? Or not?"
  
  Hayden took the lead.
  
  "Forever".
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  Ever since the persecution began, Hayden knew that she would come face to face and on equal terms with her shadow. Seeing him now, exhausted, panting and bloodied, with a haggard face, she wondered how the hell he even managed to get under her skin so deep. But now it didn't matter.
  
  What mattered was what happened next.
  
  Webb stared at him, a mini-shock wave running across his face. "Hayden Jay"
  
  "You have two options. Come with me now or go straight to hell." She shrugged, holding her weapon at an angle to his legs. "Anyway, I'm fine with it."
  
  "I am unarmed," he said. "And I have to say... good to see you again."
  
  "Then straight down."
  
  She aimed at his skull.
  
  Kinimaka let out a scream from behind, from afar. His words didn't matter. Webb looked stunned, and the expression warmed her heart. Even Kenzi's mouth was open, and that one look on her face was what gave Hayden a reason to hold back.
  
  "Witnesses," said the Israeli. "What are you thinking about?"
  
  I don't care, was on Hayden's lips. Her hand was shaking, her finger was trembling. One shot, one explosion, and it would all be over. This destroyer of lives has no more chances, no long respite. Just freedom for everyone he ever touched.
  
  Webb flinched as her finger twitched. The bullet whistled past his skull in the awful, impenetrable silence.
  
  "Well, look at this," he trembled. "I dodged it."
  
  Hayden jumped up, but a heavy hand on her shoulder jerked her back. She recognized that hand, and then the voice that accompanied her:
  
  "You are out of control. Back off. I'll deal with it."
  
  Kinimaka moved past her and approached Webb. Hayden, beside himself with surprise, did nothing but wonder if the Hawaiian was right. Needless to say, if she hadn't wasted those moments contemplating killing him, she would have already handcuffed the man.
  
  Out of control? I don't think so.
  
  She stood next to Kinimaka without making any comment. Webb watched them both with a slight smirk on his face.
  
  "I remember the last time the three of us met," said the leader of the Pythians. "Then you both looked a little different."
  
  Only a few meters separated them. Around the fields of Lys, life was still seething, flowing; those who ran from the shots, those who were curious, and those who did not hear anything. The spectators slowly moved forward, excitement on their faces. Somewhere in the distance, sirens howled as they approached. The night was lively. The journalists and cameraman tried to climb trees to get a better view. Police cars tried to break through the already heavy traffic.
  
  Hayden tried to relax. There was no way Webb could escape them now. To the right, Drake and the others exchanged fire with the remaining mercenaries, now there are only about four of them left. Interpol and the French police tried to outflank the mercenaries. The Frenchman was killed, and the Interpol policeman was bleeding, the doctors provided assistance. She ignored the mountain man next to her and pointed furiously at Webb.
  
  "On knees".
  
  "As much as I love the concept and the potential outcome of this idea, Miss J, do you really think I don"t have a few last chance scenarios planned?" Webb asked them, in Hayden's opinion, too confidently.
  
  Then thunder rolled through the streets.
  
  The helicopters were already approaching.
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  Seeing two huge black birds swooping down over the Champs Elysees, Hayden shouted a warning. Kinimaka roared as well, and chaos gripped the entire area in an unshakable grip. There were sharp explosions, adding panic to everything that was happening. Hayden instinctively hit the ground, Kinimaka collapsed like the building next to her.
  
  Right where he's always been.
  
  Thunder was approaching. The Hawaiian's hand was on her shoulders, but she shook it off, listening intently. Those little bursts, damn it, were definitely not gunshots. Through the noise she heard Drake's unmistakable accent.
  
  "It's all a trick, love! Webb went further down the road!"
  
  With little understanding other than the urgency of the words, Hayden stood up and looked around the stage. The helicopters approached with the noise of monsters, but the incendiary substances they dropped were not much more powerful than fireworks. It was all Webb could muster then, now that he was a fallen king. Birds, led by desperate people, bribed and almost certainly going to spend the rest of their days behind bars. For what?
  
  Something that, no doubt, only Webb's resources could provide.
  
  Hayden watched the helicopters, which were already disappearing. No one fired, local authorities dug up radios to help track them. Hayden looked around for Webb, but she already knew what she would find.
  
  Nothing. Nothing at all.
  
  "The bastard has more lives than Jon Snow." She looked at Drake's position. "Go help them, Mano. I will look for Webb."
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  Hayden left, chasing the hunter.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake precisely timed the moment when the sneaking Interpol agents would attract the attention of the mercenaries, and then fired a full clip, wounding two men and sending the rest to flee. Dahl burst out of hiding with Mei and ran as fast as he could. Alicia had ambushed the hider as he prepared to take out one of the agents, and fired her weapon just a second or two before he did so.
  
  "They're running away," Drake remarked.
  
  "Let Torsti and Elf get them. It's a hard work".
  
  Drake laughed, still looking around every corner and wondering if Webb or the mysterious mercenaries had anything else planned. Perhaps Hayden should have stabbed him, but Webb looked like he had already been shot at. Of course, it was not difficult to get lost in the crowd on the Champs Elysees, especially when three-quarters of them were in a panic. This left them with only a couple of alternatives.
  
  Where did Webb come from? Who are the mercenaries?
  
  "Hey love, do you want to interrogate a little?"
  
  Alicia looked at him. "Is this some kind of northern entertainment or something?"
  
  Drake lowered his head. "Wow, this is a division between north and south. It will never get old."
  
  "So you mean mercenaries?"
  
  "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
  
  "Because honestly, I'm happy either way."
  
  "What else is new?"
  
  They carefully approached the area around which the mercenaries were stationed. Some were dead, others were bleeding, watched over by a few not-too-concerned local cops. Dahl had already grabbed one man by the arms and was pulling him into a sitting position. Yorgy and Lauren came up and loitered around the edge, not interfering, but always listening, always watching.
  
  "Are you likely to talk?" - asked the Swede in a cultured tone. "Or do you want me to introduce you to some of my friends?"
  
  The man, a blue-eyed, bearded man with an old scar on his forehead, leaned back against the low wall, breathing heavily. Drake saw that he had been shot in the stomach, but was not in too much immediate danger.
  
  Beyond the obvious.
  
  Alicia knelt down so that her eyes were on the same level with the eyes of the mercenary. "Are you going to talk, or am I going to practice close-up target shooting?" She held her weapon in her lap in a casual style.
  
  The mercenary grimaced, pretending to be torn between affections, then relented. "You won't like what I'm about to say," he drawled in an American accent. "Joined this team just a few weeks ago. Additional insurance, they said. At first glance, it didn't help much." He shook his head sadly.
  
  "Keep talking," Alicia growled.
  
  "I wish I never worried. But money; they were good. Very good. We could take a vacation for a year, maybe two." He paused as a pair of eyes dug into his own, those eyes of a fellow mercenary clearly more interested in his client than he was. Dahl pulled the man out of the way.
  
  "I guess I should keep it locked up," the mercenary muttered.
  
  "Don't worry, they'll get theirs," Drake told him. "This is your chance to get less."
  
  The mercenary stared grimly at the floor. "I can't remember the last good decision I made," he said. "The work was easy. Watch the palace, watch the house. Report back. Talk about foot traffic, guys who seemed to be interested in certain areas or subjects. Watch very carefully. This was done by my brother. Then I did it. They have become a family treasure." He tried to laugh, then sobered up and continued. "We used field glasses, bystanders, dishonest guards and cleaners, food companies, mobile listening devices, photographs. We pretended to be tourists..." he trailed off. "Every trick in the book they had."
  
  Drake joined Alicia on his level. "Who are they? And to do what? "
  
  "They've been doing this for years." The mercenary seemed surprised. "Easy Money. Some of these local mercenaries forgot how to pull the trigger, they got so cozy. But then," he blinked, "something happened.
  
  Drake looked up. The team gathered around, the Interpol agents also listened. Traffic up and down the road came to an abrupt halt, and the man yelled into a megaphone.
  
  "This guy, this Webb, came out of nowhere. He piled them up in Transylvania; they were more afraid of Webb invading what they consider to be their territories than Vlad the Impaler's ole." He laughed, then coughed and grimaced in pain, holding his stomach. "Then... then Versailles happened, and that's when the chickens really started destroying the chicken coop. Webb again. Some big shot in a panic went off the rails faster than a Fourth of July fireworks... called fate on that poor bastard"s head."
  
  Alicia rocked on her heels. "I wouldn't call Webb poor fellow."
  
  "Whatever you say, dude.
  
  "But keep going," Dahl encouraged.
  
  "Versailles has changed the rules of the game. All of a sudden they were all alert, answering calls and disappearing to make silent calls. Favors here and there too. The big boss called us on the long distance line about every hour. More weapons, more ammo. And man, I don't even know what we were guarding."
  
  Alicia slapped him across the face. "Call me dude again, I dare."
  
  "Um, sorry. I call everyone to... this. But like I said, I don't know what we were guarding."
  
  "Do any of these guys know?" Drake jerked his head towards the other mercenaries.
  
  "Don't know. May be. Try Milner there. He is a veteran. We were told to follow Webb and take him out. Before that, however, orders were given to find an old book inside his jacket. They said we should get it too."
  
  Drake watched as Dahl moved away to chat with Milner. "So your boss, mate? Who is he?"
  
  "Oh, I don't know much, man. It is a kind of organization or group. Restrained tone. But damn, they're fucking fanatical. Pure, radical freaks. I know they have a good life, rich lives. They are privileged, I mean like gods. But this Webb thing seems to have pissed them off."
  
  "Names?" Drake asked. "Anything? Addresses? Nicknames? Phone numbers?"
  
  "I have nothing. But I could list all the places we were assigned to guard."
  
  "This is just the beginning."
  
  The mercenary burst into another fit of coughing, causing Alicia to recoil. Drake waved to the nearest medic.
  
  "Make sure he's alive."
  
  Alicia hid her gun away. "It doesn't matter who we follow," she remarked. "Webb and those jerks won't be far apart."
  
  "Right. But soon we will learn that Webb visited in Paris. And then we'll know why. The good guys will be one step ahead next time."
  
  Alicia narrowed her eyes. "Good guys? Did I miss something?"
  
  "Don't you think we're good?"
  
  "I think we have our moments."
  
  Then May came over and Dahl returned. The expression on their faces indicated that the other mercenaries hadn't spilled the beans. Kenzi stood to the side watching the action while Hayden gathered as much information as she could from the local cops and Interpol.
  
  "So where did Webb come from?" May asked.
  
  Hayden sang out the address. "It's a ten minute walk from here."
  
  The team gathered, checking weapons and ammunition, staring down the dark street where Webb and the mercenaries had come from earlier.
  
  "Are any of his friends down there?" Smith asked, referring to the garrulous, depressed mercenary.
  
  "He says that their team consisted of eight people. Maybe someone came back to keep watch or...
  
  "Or destroy this place," Alicia said. "Let's move."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  "So what the hell is this nonsense?"
  
  Alicia kicked the chipped table leg, obviously bored. Drake studied the underground room, which looked like it hadn't been entered in decades until tonight. Alicia kicked again and moved the table, the wood dragged across the concrete floor and dust billowed into the air. The small room was cramped and the team looked tense-they had spent precious time looking for this place, and now every moment seemed to be wasted.
  
  Kenzi leafed through the old book, her fingers making marks in the dirt. Kinimaka nearly dropped the glass vial while trying to read the label. Smith leaned back grimly in a far corner, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. Mai said she felt a little insecure and left the room with several puzzled looks. Drake knew she just wanted to be helpful, and since there was nothing she could do there, she decided to secure the perimeter. Smith went with her, and then Bo too. Good border guard.
  
  "So what do we have here?" Hayden asked an obvious rhetorical question. "Let's put it all together."
  
  "It would take weeks to figure it out," Yorgi said.
  
  "Liquids". Kinimaka pointed to a stocked shelf. "Maybe potions? Medicine? I'm not sure."
  
  "Book". Kenzi threw it on the table. "Full of Masonic symbols and spidery, blurry handwriting. Old drawings on sticks."
  
  "Chemical accessories". Dahl pointed to the burner, test tubes, and a few other items.
  
  "There are so many containers that you could sink a ship." Alicia pointed to the jumble of figures.
  
  "Tells us very little," Hayden said. "But that's all we have to go on guys. Next time, we can't rely on face recording. This was our best chance of finding Webb when we knew he was here. That person has become a ghost again."
  
  "There is nothing obvious here," Drake said. "A map would be nice. Or a set of hints."
  
  "Not exactly a treasure trove," Dahl said. "More like a grunge collection. Come on Drake. I'm sure there's a York expression for that."
  
  "I would just call it a sump," Drake remarked.
  
  "Fine". Hayden looked like she agreed with the consensus. "Only experts can figure it all out-"
  
  "Shit," Alicia added helpfully.
  
  "Yes it. What else can we do?
  
  "Go back upstairs," Kenzi said. "Give me back my katana and one of those uncooperative mercenaries. I will make him sing like Shakira in concert."
  
  "Are we going to have to pay five hundred dollars for a family ticket?" Dahl thought.
  
  "Maybe yes". Kenzi proudly left the room.
  
  The team went out into the night again, depressed and a little desperate by this point. What seemed to be their best lead quickly vanished, almost as quickly as their prime suspect. An Interpol agent saw Hayden and approached, gesturing with his cell phone.
  
  "Take this, please."
  
  "Certainly. Who... Oh, hello Armand."
  
  Drake listened in on her one-sided conversation with Argento, the gist of which was that they needed more information, by any means necessary. Argento was very dependent on this, as were his superiors.
  
  Including the participation of the SPEAR team.
  
  Hayden nodded to Kenzi. "Choose your man."
  
  The Israeli looked surprised and pleased. "Really?"
  
  "They tried to kill us and the French police. They fired at random across the busy street. I would choose a leader, but that is your choice."
  
  Drake watched as Kensi considered her first real mandate as a member of the team. With a growl, she jerked the leader to his feet and dragged him by the collar closer to the shadow that surrounded the house. There were no sounds, no screams, no muffled bangs, but there was something going on. Drake could see the constant shifting of darkness.
  
  He heard Kinimaki whisper, "You gave her the job you wanted."
  
  And Hayden's response: "Leave it alone, Mano."
  
  Kenzi returned with a hurt expression on her face. "I sincerely believe they don't know anything." The mercenary crawled beside her, unable to stand.
  
  Smith lunged forward, muttering angrily. Obviously, the soldier was tired of waiting in the wings. His victim struck, but Smith subdued him with a simple blow. A broken rib and jaw soon followed, and the soldier's anger got the better of him.
  
  When Kinimaka jumped to pull him away, an offended voice rang out: "Dubai! They are in Dubai, but that's all I know!"
  
  Smith paused and Kinimaka did the same. The soldier retreated. Lauren grabbed his shoulder.
  
  "What was it?" she hissed. "You scared me".
  
  Smith turned away.
  
  "Now you scare me even more."
  
  "Interesting," Smith said. "That I scare you more than a Pythian terrorist."
  
  "Oh, leave it alone. And, hey, you'd better not hurt him before we left."
  
  Smith looked as if he wished otherwise.
  
  "You'd better not hurt him, Smith."
  
  "And how could I do that?" Smith boomed. "He's in quarantine."
  
  Lauren paused, staring up at the sky.
  
  Drake was busy wondering if he heard correctly and nodded to Yorgi. "He said Dubai, right?"
  
  The Russian's eyes widened. "Oh yeah. I heard it too."
  
  "It just makes things even weirder," Dahl said. "Dubai? I mean, how do you connect this with... this?"
  
  "Guys, we need to focus," Hayden urged them all. "Right now Webb is on the run and we are nowhere."
  
  "However, he is getting desperate," Bo said softly. "Webb. The person I have been guarding and working for all these months would not have made such a mistake if..."
  
  "What?" Smith intervened quickly.
  
  "He is nearing the end. Uptight. Webb has nearly achieved his ultimate goal."
  
  "And I would like to point out," Hayden said. "It's something else that we know next to nothing about."
  
  "Chemistry. Palace of Versailles. Transylvania. What is the connection between them? Dahl shrugged.
  
  Hayden was waving his cell phone. "Let's hit the road," she said. "We have nothing more to do here. Get some rest guys, because when this is all over, I have a feeling we're going to need it."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Argento came the old fashioned way. He called Hayden, and she called a team, and they went down from their hastily purchased rooms to a cold, empty conference room. They all sat at the dusty table, staring at the bare floor, shivering as they watched the light outside grow brighter as the dawn began to rise.
  
  "You mentioned that he would become desperate." Hayden nodded to Bo. "You were right. Webb was now on the trail of something else, another part of the mission. The guy is wounded, he is being pursued by the one for whom these mercenaries work, and now we are after him. Not to mention half of Europe."
  
  Bo nodded. "He has no choice."
  
  "He also knows that the Dubai band will be waiting for him at every stop," Drake said. "I hope he's a whimpering bloody wreck."
  
  "Not Webb," Bo said. "He really believes that he is owed something. A man will assume that he is capable of dodging bullets until this is over."
  
  Hayden put her mobile on the table and pressed the speakerphone. "Go, Armand."
  
  The Italian agent of Interpol gave vent to characteristic manners. "So this Webb, he's running around like a kid chasing a mouse, right? He seems to be following a trail, maybe a map, who knows? But before Versailles, he kept all this in the strictest confidence, a secret, as you Americans say."
  
  Hayden nodded in agreement. Drake stared at Alicia and then at Dahl, eyes wide and lips about to part. Then the Swede chuckled. "So," he said. "Now you see what it's like."
  
  Argento's verbal storm never let up. "So he's back on the map, that Tyler Webb. You say the most wanted bastard in the world. I say there are worse things, but that doesn't mean much. Have you ever heard of the cannibal cult in Peru? No, well, whatever. Interpol knows everything. You make up for lost time. Webb is no longer sneaking around, he's in full release mode, under pressure, being followed everywhere. He needs every ounce of help, every last piece he can muster. Obviously he still has the money, the influence, the network of sorts." Argento stopped to take a breath before dying of asphyxiation.
  
  The team realized that they, too, held theirs in their hands, and gulped air.
  
  "And thanks to your beloved Pythia - Nicholas Bell - we now have names, contacts, locations, and files for all of them."
  
  Drake couldn't help but glance in the direction of Smith and Lauren, aware of their differences. The soldier sat with a tense face, staring straight ahead, while the New Yorker deliberately shifted in her chair to look directly at him.
  
  "Don't say that," Smith said with his lips alone.
  
  "What? Why did I tell you so?
  
  "Yes it".
  
  But Argento went ahead. "Everything is under surveillance. All. Webb recently used fake IDs to buy a ticket to Barcelona. We can't intercept this because he only got in touch after landing to arrange something else, which is very troubling for Interpol. We don't have facial records, so he's successfully hidden now. My friends, you must get to Barcelona. Fast."
  
  "Why?" Hayden asked. "What are you so worried about?"
  
  "He bought tickets and arranged to meet a contact at Camp Nou tomorrow evening. And knowing Tyler Webb, the red herrings he pulls off... well, that could be a disaster. He has no sense of morality."
  
  Alicia looked puzzled, as did May. But Drake straightened up sharply. "Camp Nou? How is it at the football stadium? Oh shit, is there a match planned?"
  
  "Yes my friend. Big. The stadium - it will be full."
  
  Drake was already on his feet. The others followed Hayden toward the door, Argento's voice urging them on like unceasing machine-gun fire. The pictures he painted were truly amazing.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  The plane flew, honking, thousands of miles above the ground. Darkness pressed from all sides, enveloping all the boiling secrets that lurked inside with a dense cover.
  
  Drake found himself sitting at a table with Alicia, May and Bo and had a few hours to kill. After eating, they leaned back in their chairs and took advantage of the night flight, dozing and daydreaming. Drake asked Mei about Grace's well-being, and the former ninja inquired about Karin's condition. Drake found himself in a difficult position; Karin hadn't been in contact for weeks, and a delicate inquiry told him that she was almost done with her training and was on some special mission. Unfortunate but unable to learn more, he swallowed a bitter bullet-it was one thing to pull the strings to practically coerce an unexpected recruit into a unit, and quite another to keep an eye on that recruit afterwards.
  
  He said so to May.
  
  "It will be hard for her," she said. "But I think it's necessary if she wants to stay on this team."
  
  After Komodo's death, she may have taken different paths. Drake was glad she had taken this unexpected route after losing everything she loved in the war. The young woman has buried too many people for this stage of her life.
  
  "She's a fighter," Alicia added. "A girl of my type."
  
  "Don"t tell me you kissed her too," Bo asked, only half in jest.
  
  Alicia shrugged. "As far as I can remember, no. But who knows? Some of the old stuff rattling around in my head is a little foggy."
  
  "Does this include Drake?" With a laugh, Dahl interjected from the other end of the aisle.
  
  Drake narrowed his eyes. "You just keep fawning over your new birdie, buddy. You two look really happy there."
  
  Dahl looked a little embarrassed as he pulled away from Kenzi.
  
  Drake bravely tried to engage Bo in their conversation. "So how did you meet Michael?"
  
  "Crouch?" The Frenchman brushed it aside. "It's a long story. And not for idle chatter. I worked for Crouch and for you, infiltrating the Pythians, yes, but the original decision was not taken lightly," he paused, "or deliberately.
  
  Drake let his eyes widen. "Bullshit. And here I think you are a good guy."
  
  "No my friend. Is there anything left?
  
  "I would like to think so."
  
  Bo leaned back in his chair. "I don't see any. Do you think Crouch is all right? One day you will ask him how he influenced my help."
  
  It was hard for Drake to appreciate how upset Bo was with Alicia. Common sense told him that the two were simply passing the time; but intuition spoke more. How did it all get so complicated? Everyone is happy on the outside, or at least accepting, but what are they all really thinking about?
  
  May posted it there. "I think it's best to sleep now."
  
  Avoid it. Pay no attention to it. Let it heal before touching it. Drake couldn't think of anything better.
  
  Hayden and Kinimaka sat at the back of the plane, with rows of empty seats between them and the others, ostensibly to plan their movements in Barcelona.
  
  In truth, the mountains were moving.
  
  Hayden swept her blond hair into a short bob, wrapped herself in an oversized jacket, and pulled her knees up. Kinimaka rambled on about Webb and his apparent mortality and his inability to now pursue them for pleasure.
  
  "It's over, Mano." The words escaped before she fully appreciated them. "We need a break."
  
  The Hawaiian stopped in mid-sentence, his expression so surprised that she lowered her head.
  
  "Don't tell me you didn't know this was coming."
  
  "I thought we were focused on the mission."
  
  "Then I guess you were wrong."
  
  Kinimaka coughed. "You sat all the way here just to tell me we were taking a break?"
  
  "Well, maybe I didn"t want the whole team to participate in our intimate conversations."
  
  Kinimaka took a deep breath.
  
  Alicia chuckled. "Then you should lower your voice."
  
  Hayden gripped the edges of her seat. "What do you want from me, Mano? We've discussed this a dozen times. It's too hard to be together, so we both need to see how we live apart."
  
  "It all started when I didn"t let you torture Ramses, right?"
  
  "Stop dramatizing it."
  
  "Or was it before that?"
  
  "Several times," Hayden admitted. "I thought you could move a little faster."
  
  "I have always been on your side. Through everything."
  
  "I know. That's not what I mean."
  
  "Yes, yes," Kinimaka agreed and shifted in his seat. "You know, there's no 'break', Hey. No monthly breaks or timeouts. You're leaving now, you're leaving forever. We're done."
  
  Hayden knew it wasn't him, but the man was in pain. She cut the wound and exposed it, dug deeper and analyzed it. The future has taken place... what? More battles, more difficulties.
  
  "Maybe it's better that way," she said, not even sure if she believed it. "May be".
  
  He used the front seat to steady himself as he climbed out of the seat next to her and walked along the plane. Their conversation was followed by silence, broken only by the roar of the aircraft.
  
  Smith watched Kinimaka take his new seat, then turned to Lauren. "Do you want to end up like those two?"
  
  Lauren threw up her hands. "Do you even know who we are now? Right this minute?"
  
  "We're fighting enough battles," Smith said. "Not fighting for them and between us too."
  
  "You got it right. So why try?
  
  "You know why. Look at your new boyfriend."
  
  Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "The child in you is your leader, Smith?"
  
  "I see Nicholas Bell as a terrorist trying to save his ass. You see him as a man trying to change his life by helping the good guys. I remember you meeting him in that room, dressed as Nightshade. Who is right?"
  
  Lauren made a New York swagger gesture. "Well, it is. Obviously."
  
  Smith remained silent, irritation clearly visible on his face.
  
  Kenzi leaned towards Dahl, no doubt trying to make him feel uncomfortable. "All these problems, huh? I bet you are so happy to be married."
  
  The Swede tried not to wince, then stared at Kenzi to see if she understood the saying. Hard to say. She was a former Mossad operative and well trained. He chose to remain neutral.
  
  "We all have our problems, Bridget."
  
  "Oh, you call me by my first name. It means death."
  
  "No. You bring death."
  
  "You think? After everything I've been through - do you think I'm damaged beyond repair?"
  
  Hell, Dahl didn't know, and really didn't want to go into details with her, when the plane began to noticeably descend towards Barcelona. He gazed at the back of the seat in front of him. "Everyone will suffer. What matters is how you heal and move on."
  
  "I regret that I ever trusted my superiors," she said. "Later, I regret choosing an illegal lifestyle. I'm sorry," she shrugged, "a lot of things. This does not mean that I have no hopes."
  
  He met her gaze. "What do you hope for?"
  
  "So far the simplest. I like to live, stay free and help new friends." She laughed.
  
  Dahl appreciated the flippant remarks and still believed he was right about her in the first place. Kenzi had the soul of a tortured, betrayed man, trying to overcome something good and true and true. She hid it well, but the Israelite cared more than just revenge and ancient artifacts.
  
  "Then I think you're on your way to redemption," he said with the same offhand laugh, but held her gaze to make sure his words sounded as sincere as they were.
  
  I hope for you.
  
  It sounded trite, somehow wrong. But it felt right.
  
  Dahl watched the runway appear below. The night cover of Barcelona gave way to the pre-dawn drizzle. Somewhere out there, the terrorists could be planning an event so they could let Tyler Webb slip away one more time. An event potentially as massive as anything they've ever seen. The road to hell was open, and they all followed its pitiless, terrible paths.
  
  Not this time, Dahl thought. This time we are one step ahead of you.
  
  He hoped.
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  As they landed and began disembarking, Hayden answered the call.
  
  "Argento," she said before pressing the button.
  
  "I've spent some time looking for more information about this mysterious group," he said in a high Italian voice. "They are extremists, fanatics, with a broken head."
  
  "A kind of conversation." Drake smirked.
  
  "Terrorists," Hayden agreed. "And I"m going to show interest in Barcelona."
  
  "No, not terrorists," Argento runs out faster than a cheap battery. "Fanatics, yes, but only interested in the well-being of one thing. One agenda. Le Comte de Saint Germain."
  
  Hayden stopped at the edge of the runway, only realizing that Kinimaka had left to get her gear. Crap.
  
  Drake burst in. "Saint Germain, you say? I knew it would all be about that guy. I just knew. I'm sure I mentioned it."
  
  Dahl shook his head. "I don't remember, mate."
  
  "How would you know? Barbados tried to kill you."
  
  "Well, not an island. Just some of the people."
  
  "Then no offense, huh?"
  
  But the unstoppable Argento had already taken the lead. "So, we are still continuing our investigation. These people, this cult is based in Dubai. I mean figureheads, and it's not clear if these figureheads are just people with names, or if they are involved in day-to-day management..." He paused. "I was going to say cult. Can we call it a cult?"
  
  "They are worse than social deviants," Hayden said. "At least. Let's call them a cult."
  
  Argento began to crackle as they entered the airport building. Drake took in the endless ceiling-high glass panes, the austere corridors, and the scowling guards. Then it must be another airport in another country. But at least it didn't drizzle here. The clock showed him that it was 10 am, still plenty of time to deal with this case before starting. He noticed Lauren walking beside him and smiled.
  
  "Are you okay?"
  
  "I don't know," she said quickly. "You know, I'm starting to wonder why I'm here? My skill set is not entirely critical."
  
  Drake shrugged. "You are part of the team. Like all of us. It doesn't matter when you take a step forward, the main thing is that you do it when the time is right."
  
  "I believe".
  
  "So Webb will be at the Nou Camp meeting with a contact," Drake continued. "Maybe you can help us there."
  
  Lauren arched an eyebrow. "Oh yes?"
  
  Drake laughed. "I'm not hinting. I'm just saying, 'You never know for sure'.
  
  Lauren joined him in laughter as they walked through the endless corridors, bypassing the usual route taken by millions of tourists and locals.
  
  "It doesn't matter what happens here," put in Smith. "Webb has some way of staying ahead. The bastard always knows where to go next and then disappears from us. Here, now, we will leave it forever."
  
  "That's an idea," Drake said a little bit caustically. Smith seemed to have had just such an effect.
  
  Hayden turned her head to speak as she walked. "Guys, if a cult hangs out in Dubai, someone will have to pay them a visit."
  
  "Damn," Drake said. "Don't send a Swede. He has a poor track record with tourist destinations."
  
  "Back off, Yorkies."
  
  "I was thinking about a strong team," Hayden said. "In case we have a chance to take them out."
  
  Drake agreed. "Great idea. Although it will be hard to get it past the local cops."
  
  "We don't really need help," Mai said almost inaudibly.
  
  "Oh," Alicia squealed. "Secret mission. We haven't done anything like this in... uh, ages."
  
  "Speak for yourself, bitch." Kenzi chuckled.
  
  Drake lashed out at her. "You better not do anything during your downtime in Washington, Kenzi."
  
  "Depends on what exactly you mean, love." The Israeli grinned.
  
  Drake ignored it, realizing that Kensi enjoyed seeing hair stand on end and wedges driven between friends. She was not a good fit for the team, but Dahl saw something in her, and despite his misgivings, Drake trusted the Swede's judgment. He nodded to Hayden.
  
  "We'll deal with Webb first," he said. "Then Dubai."
  
  "Agree".
  
  "But now we are here to keep in touch with the cops, right?" Kinimaka asked.
  
  Hayden seemed to sigh. "Yes, Mano."
  
  Barcelona flashed before them as they were escorted from the airport to the local train station, all thanks to Argento's planning. The most impressive sight was the incredible Sagrada Familia, a Roman Catholic church whose construction began in 1882 and remains unfinished to this day. Drake remembered being told about this place once with a couple of friends over coffee, but the place itself defied any description.
  
  Dahl summed up everyone's thoughts in one short sentence. "Half-true stories and deep secrets for future generations."
  
  Traffic ahead forced them to crawl, and then they pulled out of the stream, parked, and were shown where to go. Drake kept his eyes open, as did all of them, aware that Webb retained at least one powerful vein in his organization, which largely included expert observation.
  
  Inside, they took up positions and oversaw operations. The police did their job well; this room quickly became a command post for their surveillance operation and a place to watch as hundreds of monitors began to come to life. A tall, grey-haired man with protruding teeth orchestrated it all, setting up cameras and turning mounts, parking mobile cameras and switching to local channels. As much lighting as possible, and then more.
  
  Hours passed and dinner arrived. Fatigue from inaction gripped the team. Streets, roads, lanes, gates and parking spaces were carefully surveyed using a continuous pavement. Bus drop-off points came under a barrage of powerful lenses. Drake and the others began to look at each other with satisfied looks. They will get their man.
  
  Then the crowds began to arrive, the bodies were so tightly pressed together that they had to walk in the same rhythm, vehicles were blocked, and buses dropped off passengers in any free place they could find. As the time of the gate approached, the task for the authorities became more and more difficult. Local colors helped match body to body; and caps, face paint, even balaclavas and sweatshirts compounded the problem. Facial recognition software worked, identifying known criminals, hooligans, gang members and other unsavory types, but nothing stood out in connection with Tyler Webb or terrorist groups.
  
  Drake watched the men work; they knew their job well and were constantly pointing at familiar faces or zooming in on new ones. Pickpockets were identified, photographed for dossier, and handed over by radio to foot patrols. The troublemakers were filmed so that the mighty Drake could count the stubble on his chin. A thief being pursued was seen and the man had recently escaped from prison. Employees of supposedly friendly intelligence agencies, including the CIA. Hayden blushed in embarrassment upon hearing this, but eventually spread her hands. They uprooted the worst of the bad seeds there, but some agencies will never tell the whole story.
  
  "We're watching them all," said the man with crooked teeth. "We have to. But resources are limited every time."
  
  "I understand," Drake said. "For every ten 'friendly' agents you spend time on, one terrorist might just slip by."
  
  "Yes, sir".
  
  "An hour left before the start." Hayden pointed to his watch. "We must go to our positions."
  
  "Check the connection," said the head of the observation team.
  
  They did.
  
  "Get ready and familiarize yourself with our networking system. You must know every point so that when we call the position, you can immediately converge as a whole."
  
  "Your people too," croaked Smith.
  
  "They will do what they have been taught," the leader said a little cryptically.
  
  Hayden gave the signal and the team moved out, positioned just a short walk from the famous Camp Nou stadium. For Drake, a former football fan turned idle subscriber, the sight was a little underwhelming at first. Like many similar stadiums today, the curved painted concrete walls and advertisements spoke only of money, the surrounding streets were the same. Noise, laughter and screams filled the streets, a riot of colors appeared before his eyes. Men, women and children strolled, stood in lines and rushed about without a visible goal. Crowds gathered to discuss team rosters and recent appearances, upcoming player transfers and new arrivals. We were greeted warmly by the opponent's fans, at least for now.
  
  Drake made his way through the crowd with his team, heading for an inconspicuous side door built into the concrete wall. A keyboard was seen and a six-digit PIN code was entered, and then they were inside a huge arena, passing through sacred halls where no fan or football player had ever set foot. However, a deep, rolling thunder of sound could already be heard spreading across the very base of the stadium and echoing off every wall. The chants of the believers, the songs of all devoted believers. Drake imagined how the players were gathering now and wondered if they could hear it in their locker rooms - something incredibly uplifting for the home team and downright frightening for the guests.
  
  "How much is stored in this place?" he asked.
  
  "More than ninety-nine thousand," Dahl replied immediately. "Largest in Europe".
  
  Drake slowed as they approached the door that led to the stadium itself. They all held their breath, ready for an onslaught of noise and light, for an eruption of passion.
  
  "We are ready?" Hayden asked.
  
  "Chance doesn't pick dates," May said. "This is an event and we must make it happen."
  
  Drake smiled across the table at her. "We always do that, love. I always do that."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  The magnitude of their task was immediately clear. Drake hadn't been to a football match in years, and some others had never seen a stadium like this in their lives. It wasn't just the huge swing of the chairs, the endless curve of the walls, the swaying matching colors - it was also a veritable flurry of noise that hit the senses like a fortress wall full of Gatling guns. Hayden hesitated under the onslaught of voices, and Drake took her hand.
  
  "Concentrate," he said. "We're just here for show. The real work is done by the surveillance units."
  
  Endless rows of chairs ran in two directions, some rows were blue and some were purple. The walkways between the tiers were what Drake was looking for, and he pointed them out to the team.
  
  "Our mode of transportation," he said. "But it will be difficult to get to Webb without being seen."
  
  They walked along the narrow path between the levels, peering into the faces in the crowd as far as they could. One thing soon became clear.
  
  "We have to split up," Dahl said. "We're no good if we all stick together like this."
  
  The teams went in different directions, going up to the stands and switching back, staying in touch through their communicators. Drake watched the rush of the crowd, ignoring the chants and antics from the stands and trying to focus on the faces. The start time was approaching, and a sense of growing excitement added to the already tense atmosphere. The field below and to his right was bright green and seemingly flawless, soon to be illuminated by spotlights. Faces jumped and grinned in all directions, many of them Spanish, which helped a lot when he looked for an American among them.
  
  On several occasions, he spotted potential suspects, but each time he dismissed them after closer scrutiny. Both Mai and Alicia communicated that they had marked the candidate, but the facial recording was quickly done and the man was skipped. Hayden told them all to double-check their phones, where she sent a picture of Webb to help keep their overwhelmed feelings in the spotlight.
  
  Many thousands have been tested. Alicia and May were both in the crowd, Smith approached those with their backs and turned them around while Yorgi watched. Dal squeezed through the groups and raised the hats of those who involuntarily hid their faces. Mostly surprise greeted him with a strange, angry word.
  
  Hayden, Smith, and Kenzi eventually returned to CCTV headquarters, hating the onslaught of overwhelming noise and thinking that they could do better behind the TV screen. Drake remained in the thick of things, never once stopping in place.
  
  "I bet I'll check it out before you, Ikea guy."
  
  "If by that you mean seeing a creature, then I highly doubt it. I am taller, younger and overall the best bet."
  
  "You're in business."
  
  "Guys," Hayden drawled. "I think cameras are better than your eyes."
  
  "Then you participate too."
  
  "Maybe we could team up," Alicia put in a little slyly. "Me and Drake and Dahl and Kenzi."
  
  The Swede bit hard. "You hide your insinuations well, lady."
  
  "Maybe". Mai spoke carefully. "But Drake and I work much better together."
  
  Drake shuddered, anticipating the coming battle. Mai was not the type of woman to give up easily, let alone one that lasted for decades. He guessed that the only reason she was holding back was because she left so abruptly and with no guarantee of return. It must have had a very strong effect on her.
  
  His legs quickened, his senses sharpened. It was a surprise to him to see the crowd on their feet, and he knew that the game had begun; he was completely in his zone. Spotlights flashed and the players took up their positions, checking the opponent. Drake couldn't see the empty space, but now all faces were turned towards him.
  
  Alicia named a possible location, which turned out to be inconclusive. As is Bo. The whole quadrangle in which they were entangled turned into a slowly tightening loop. How would it all end? He stopped, watching the American, silent and motionless among a flock of noisy human geese, hopeful but well aware that it was not Webb.
  
  Dahl then broke radio silence. "I believe I have it."
  
  Hayden replied with a comment, and then Drake waited, now without sarcasm, but in the hope that someone had noticed their prey. Somewhere a timer was ticking, for something, they just didn't know what for. Was it to cover up Webb's escape? Or something worse? And where did this cult position itself?
  
  Hayden's voice cut through the ethereal waves. "It is he! Go and get him, Thorsten!"
  
  Drake acted quickly. He knew exactly where Dahl was and wanted to support the big Swede.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Dahl blinked, almost shocked that the answer was yes. Then it really was Tyler Webb, standing in the back row of the tier, in the middle of the aisle, next to a woman dressed in the colors of Barcelona. The fans expressed their feelings to everyone present as they bowed their heads to each other and talked.
  
  "Two marks," Dahl said, moving carefully and seemingly aimlessly. "The woman next to him seems to be his contact."
  
  "Now I manage it," Hayden replied. "If she knows Webb well enough to meet like this, she can't be good. Watch out."
  
  "Yes mom".
  
  Dahl moved closer, startled by the realization that Webb knew his face, and just one tiny look from those eyes could...
  
  Here.
  
  Webb spotted him, took aim, and spat out a curse. The woman ran away without even looking; clearly expecting the worst from the start. Dahl saw her move to the left, pushing the fans aside, and Webb began to move to the right. Bodies were pushed aside or pushed hard and their arms flailed as they staggered. Dahl had no choice but to chase after Webb, running down the nearest aisle and treating the row of fans who had gathered there in the same way.
  
  He stomped, kicked in the shins, and elbowed in the stomach, knocking one larger man, who had seen him approaching, over the back of his chair. The man decided to challenge the Mad Swede. Not the best idea at any time, but even more so when Dal was after one of the world's most wanted men.
  
  Dahl shouted into his neck mic. "He's running away. Let's get together!"
  
  Webb reached the aisle first and ran up the steps that separated the tiers. Dahl danced around the pregnant woman, lost his balance, then himself fell to one knee on the steps, jumped up and ran with all his might. Webb jumped into another row, causing chaos.
  
  "Someone catch up with this woman!" Hayden was crying.
  
  "On him," Alicia replied, and Mai also answered in the affirmative.
  
  Dahl jumped onto another row, now only one from the fleeing Webb and half a dozen seats behind him. He yelled at the man to stop, but to no avail. In any case, it was just a distraction procedure. Webb stumbled but grabbed the arm of his chair and practically jumped into the seated man's lap. Dahl squeezed past the dense group and for a moment lost sight of the American.
  
  "Better hurry," came from Kinimaki's airwaves. "We don"t know this person"s exit strategy."
  
  "One thing is for sure, it won't go unnoticed," Smith said.
  
  Dahl tried to jump over the back of an empty chair, missed and sprawled on the floor, but immediately pulled himself together. The scratches didn't matter; bruising was common. "Where are the Spanish policemen?" he asked.
  
  "Right now with you. They cut off Webb at the pass."
  
  Dahl looked ahead and saw the police rushing to the next staircase just in time to intercept Webb. The Pythian made a desperate leap, landing only three or four paces ahead; Dahl joined the cops in the chase, now drawing more heads than the household names that filled the field.
  
  The people roared their approval.
  
  Dahl bowed slightly as he ran. It's best to acknowledge praise when you've received it. Webb led the pack into the upper stands. People were already leaning over the railings up there to get a better view of what was happening. Dahl passed two slow-moving policemen, and then another when the man slipped to a flurry of applause.
  
  Ruthless, those football fans. Ruthless. And where the hell is Bo? The Frenchman is usually lightning fast.
  
  The Swede was looking for a way around Webb, but the stadium was evenly laid out and offered no shortcuts. "Where are you?" He turned on the neck mic.
  
  "Coming in on your right," Drake yelled, and then he was close by as Dahl made a sharp turn, the Yorkshireman using his shoulder to slow down.
  
  "Right behind you," Smith said.
  
  "Me too," Yorgi said.
  
  "I'm ahead of course," Bo said in a slippery tone, extremely smug. "And waiting for Webb."
  
  And now Dahl saw the Frenchman. Somehow he was taller than Webb, probably jumping from the back of the seat to the railing and over the vendors, knowing him, and crouched on the barrier, waiting for Webb to enter the race.
  
  Dahl slowed down and prepared.
  
  "The last of the Pythians is about to go down," said Drake.
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  Bo jumped up. Webb didn't see him approach, but he certainly felt the impact, letting out a grunt and half-scream before crashing to the floor. Bo bounced off Pythia's belly and landed on two legs, agile as a cat and more deadly. Drake and Dahl slowed even more as they approached the reluctant Webb. Hayden's hesitant but hopeful voice filled his ears.
  
  "Did you catch the bastard?"
  
  Drake paused cautiously. Webb had already straightened up, glaring at Bo as if he might have the power to melt a man with eye lasers. Luckily for him, he was unharmed.
  
  "You betrayed me, Beauregard Alain. Protected my back long enough to plunge a knife into it. You have never been a believer."
  
  "In chaos, death and the accumulation of supreme power? No, I will never believe it. These days, I only believe in myself."
  
  "Then you are weak. Just like everyone else."
  
  "Hey buddy," Drake called. "You are the one who is about to weaken. On your knees as I smash your bloody nose."
  
  "Get in line," Kinimaka growled.
  
  Webb turned to look at them, the whole stage strangely still now. The crowd was still roaring, with fans cheering or jeering depending on who had the ball, the state of play, or the referee's decision. But they were surrounded by a small sphere, a sphere of absolute focus.
  
  "Do you think I would have done all this without a backup plan?" Ladies and gentlemen, the madman spread his hands, "I have, and they are limitless.
  
  So it was then. Drake held his breath, realizing that this monster could make the most terrible brew. Yorga suddenly had eyes everywhere.
  
  "She ran away," Dahl said. "Your girlfriend. Disappeared."
  
  "You will never stop me. Never kill me," Webb said with a smile. "You know why?"
  
  Drake was ready. "Because death is too good for you," he said with certainty.
  
  "Because I am the next ascender. I will find the elixir. And not only will I join the Master-I will take his place!"
  
  The cops were slowly approaching. Dahl chuckled. "I know one position you're going to take, old chap. As soon as we move you into the general population."
  
  But Webb threw his hands into the air with the black device in one hand and pressed the red button.
  
  "Let them fly!" he shouted. "Let them fly now!"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake froze, ready for anything, the first thing he saw in the new threat was a sparkling blast from above. Flashing facets of light drew his gaze, which was turned towards the heavens.
  
  People in the crowd released small drones, not many, but enough to scare the guards and part of the crowd. Drake immediately took cover behind the concrete wall next to him, but the drones just hovered there menacingly.
  
  Panic gripped the area.
  
  Drake knew what was going on. Everyone who saw the cops chasing the man now saw the drones and assumed the worst could have happened. These drones were tiny, too small to pose any real threat, but no one really knew that. How did Webb do it?
  
  Doesn't matter. Eventually, they would come to this. Right now... He looked around for Webb.
  
  "Where...?" Dahl surveyed the area.
  
  They now saw Bo jump from railing to railing, supposedly chasing Webb, but the crowd began to block his path. Some were already blocking the passages, others were hiding there. In the next moment, all the drones dived and circled in the air, and then returned to their owners, eight in total.
  
  No danger. Just a threat. This was what Webb had been driven to, but the madman still made good use of hidden horror.
  
  Somewhere upstairs, on the upper level of the Nou Camp, Webb ran up the stairs, heading for the exit. Hayden switched on the link, filling Drake's ears with American expletives. Drake interrupted her.
  
  "Did you have your eyes on him?"
  
  "Yes, but leave. Just go!"
  
  Drake ran quickly, jumping over two or three steps at a time, trying to make his way through the confused crowd. His persistence seemed to upset them even more, and some followed him, making it harder for Smith and Dahl, who were behind them. Bo slipped forward, distracted by the excited couple tugging on his arm and trying to calm them down.
  
  "People, slow down." The voice drowned out Hayden and surprised Drake.
  
  Argento? What...
  
  "You are in a packed Nou Camp stadium. I don't need to tell you what will happen if panic fills this place. Now slow down and act like everything is fine."
  
  "Arman!" Hayden was crying.
  
  "I understand your frustration, but Webb is one person. And this is his escape plan. One hundred thousand souls gathered in this stadium. Think smarter. Use the CCTV, Hayden, and catch him outside."
  
  Despite everything, Drake agreed with the Italian. With a conscious effort and fighting every instinct in his body, he slowed his pace and smiled at the interested faces.
  
  "It's all right, guys," Dahl called out. "Just a pickpocket."
  
  Drake shook his head. "You're worse than the daily paper for manipulating bloody facts. As if they would believe you."
  
  Dahl shrugged. "They want it, that's what matters, mate."
  
  Drake saw it in their faces. None of them wanted to miss the match, this is the main event of their week or, for some, of the year; none of them wanted to leave the global atmosphere. Their own optimism gave birth to a new belief that someone had played a cruel joke.
  
  "You'll be all right," Drake told the hesitant couple. "Take your seats."
  
  He believed in it. Webb showed his new and apparently only way out - contacts that could not or did not want to cause chaos on a large scale. At least for now. This may have been Webb's way of remaining inconspicuous. Or maybe he had so few employees left that it was all they could muster together.
  
  However, they seemed to be effective.
  
  Drake made it to the top of the stairs, grateful that the crowd seemed to have begun to dissipate. Thank God the cult abstained. Perhaps they were waiting for Webb outside. Drake shared his thoughts.
  
  They pushed open the door and then turned right across the open countryside, looking for some stairs. To their right were eateries, which made Kinimaku let out a groan of anguish.
  
  As they ran, Drake noticed familiar faces running straight at them, chasing a flying figure. "Hey!"
  
  "Stop the fucking goggles and stop that roadrunner bitch!" Alicia's soft voice caressed his eardrums.
  
  "Good good. Calm down."
  
  Drake saw the woman Webb was dating rushing towards him faster than anyone else he had ever seen. May and Alicia ran with all their might, but retreated, unable to compete with a fast runner.
  
  "Ha". Drake couldn't help himself. "Did you two stop by to get your nails done?"
  
  Dahl got in the way too. "I see that I have done a good job here. As usual."
  
  The woman did not slow down; her face remained impassive as she saw the obstacles in her way.
  
  "Uh, forgive me love..." Drake began as the gap quickly closed.
  
  Dahl gathered his courage. The woman had long blond hair pulled back into a vicious bun that whipped down either side of her face as she ran. The sneakers were bright green, Asics and brand new. The suit was tight, made for running, the Barcelona jersey was gone, and the small baseball cap was barely hanging on. Drake saw only one way out and moved forward himself, not believing that she could really handle both of them, but preparing for the chance.
  
  The woman slid inside, ducking low and kicking Drake in the knees. The polished floor was the perfect surface for her, almost as if she planned it that way on purpose. He jumped to the left, avoiding a broken shin or knee, and tried to wrap his arms around her waist. The position was awkward. She floated past.
  
  Dahl also forded, but the woman tilted her body so that the crazy Swede fell over on her. He hit the floor hard, groaning. Kinimaka positioned himself at the end of her slide, holding out his arms to her with open arms. The woman jumped to the left, then to the right, circled him and prepared to take off again. In fact, Yorgi was the only one who could match her in his construction skills and knowledge of parkour, but what he gained in movement, he lacked in fighting ability. The woman met him face to face - literally - and bled his nose.
  
  Drake rushed towards her, using the floor for support. "Damn, did you see-?"
  
  "Slipperier than a Frenchie smeared with baby oil," Alicia agreed. "And nothing solid to cling to. Damn, you two are fucking worthless."
  
  Drake dived after the woman, dashing headlong just as she swerved to the right and ran for the stairs. His outstretched fingers touched her ankles, but she dodged him, leaving him sprawled and staring at the well-polished floor.
  
  "Bullshit".
  
  "Did you say something?" Mai was breathing heavily as she jumped over him. "About nails?"
  
  Drake got to his feet, but Dahl stopped him, managing to brake the woman at the very moment she shifted into gear. Her momentum shifted and she staggered, trying to keep her balance. Then she turned around, slipped her hand under Dahl's neck and the other in his groin, leaving him trembling and shaken, groaning in place.
  
  "It was close," Kinimaka said.
  
  "Get that e-feeling she was holding back," Dahl said.
  
  "However, good job that you were here," Alicia mimicked. "To slow her down with your balls."
  
  Now, at the top of the stairs, their victim happened to look back. Mai was almost next to her, Alicia a step away from her. Drake and Dahl clambered up, and Kinimaka lumbered along awkwardly. The flight to the next level was short-lived. Mai slowed her pace slightly and held out her hand.
  
  Alicia rushed past her. "Pull up your big girl panties, Sprite. This bitch goes all the way."
  
  The Englishwoman rushed into their prey with force, hitting her against the railing and making her scream. Without a pause, the woman jumped away from Alicia, saw the gap, and jumped four steps straight into her, landing like a cat, with perfect balance.
  
  "Let's talk about one freaking burglar cat," Kinimaka said.
  
  Drake had never seen anyone so energized, with the possible exception of Bo. This woman had insane evasion skills and put the team in an awkward position. What did Webb require of her? Alicia was seething with anger, almost to the point that she took off her shoe and threw it at the fugitive.
  
  Then Dahl went around them all. "Let's stop beating around the bush, okay?"
  
  The Swede reached out, tore a metal wastebasket off its mounts, lifted it over his head and threw it over the railing, timing it precisely to land on the fleeing woman's head. She didn't expect this to happen, but the impact was a loud, deafening clang. The force of being hit by a heavy object caused her to plummet and slide down the rest of the stairs.
  
  Now, finally, she stopped moving.
  
  "Damn, Torsty, we didn't mean to kill that bitch," Alicia growled.
  
  "She will be all right," Dahl said. "See, she's twitching."
  
  "Let's hope she can still talk."
  
  Drake hurried over to her, then hesitantly held out his hand. The woman was completely unconscious. He turned on his microphone.
  
  "We have a woman. Though Bo is on his own, chasing Webb."
  
  "Seriously?" Hayden is back. "It took five of you to defeat her?"
  
  "She was a little prickly snag," Alicia said.
  
  "Beau?" Hayden said. "Are you there?"
  
  "The lowest level," said the Frenchman. "I have my eye on Webb. I thought he eluded me, but I was lucky. Faster, he's going to run again."
  
  "Still chasing guys," Hayden said. "Stop there. Destroy Tyler Webb."
  
  "And be on the lookout there," Kinimaka added. "We haven"t heard anything about this cult yet, but I have a feeling we will soon."
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  Tyler Webb has found that the last few days of running have begun to give him new life. Ignore the cramps and pain, shin splints, knee bangs and black dots dancing wildly in front of your eyes, and it really wasn't that bad. Overcoming the agony, he felt that he could probably run forever. Beat the Olympian. Take up one of these newfangled mud sports.
  
  Either way, I can get rid of Drake and his cronies.
  
  Not that he wanted to get rid of all of them. Hayden Jay - She still had opportunities that he yearned to be able to explore. Maybe later. Maybe after.
  
  At this point, Webb had fled the stadium with only Beauregard close enough to be worried about. Only Beauregard. There was a bit of controversy here; he knew the possibilities of the Frenchman. Almost on par with his own. There is nothing to choose between them. Still, he'd better dodge the fight. He laughed out loud.
  
  Webb raced past the guards, too engrossed in their Bluetooth communicators to notice his approach. He had previously hidden the gun off the court and now felt that removing it could help slow down the pursuit. He headed that way through the big gate, seeing the Frenchman coming, but he was more interested in what Sabrina the Thief had told him.
  
  She was the best of her kind, a midnight tramp of no reputation, rival or equal. The greatest thief in the world that no one has ever heard of. And for the most part, that fact reassured her. Sometimes it drove her crazy.
  
  Webb didn't know her well and didn't visit often, but the huge advance he paid monthly into her account paid for a short time of loyalty. That was it. The woman, who he knew was named Sabrina Balboni, was a tall, lithe woman with a fiery Italian heart, movements that made the Flash look listless, and a temper that could overcome volcanoes. Despite her blonde appearance, she had jet-black hair and jet-black eyes. Webb turned to her because the next few steps in his quest were beyond the reach of most people-even him. They required access to some difficult places.
  
  The last clue in Paris was so wonderful, opening up to his admiring eyes the art of ancient alchemy and providing guidance for the next stage of his quest, here in Barcelona. What was annoying was that Drake and co. found it after him and now, no doubt, racked their brains over the finds. But no matter, he was still way ahead of them and counting down to the climax of everything he had ever aspired to.
  
  The great treasure of Saint Germain.
  
  Webb was rudely pulled from his dream world and catapulted back to the present as Beauregard caught up with him. Too desperate to be shocked, Webb rushed through the gate and out of bounds, spotted a gaggle of tourists and onlookers, and crashed right into them. There were screams as Webb spoke in a high-pitched, dramatic voice.
  
  "He's got a gun!"
  
  Bo was slowed down and Webb was sped up. Something realistic and correct inside told him that he had no chance against the Frenchman, so he quickly looked for an alternative. Red hot flashes ran from the soles of his feet to his thighs as he almost fell. This running would lead him to death.
  
  The traffic was heavy and he thought Beau could overtake the pushing bike, so Webb settled on something else. The motorcyclist was sitting astride his red and silver car, studying a map on the side of the road, when Webb pushed him aside without warning. The man flew off, the bike crashed to the floor.
  
  Webb looked back and saw Bo pushing his way through the crowd of onlookers and approaching him so fast he might have a halo or something. He struggled with the bike, ignoring the groans of the man who looked like he'd broken his arm in an accident. Webb kicked him in the stomach. It helped to unravel the idiot and was quite nice. Webb leaned on the steering wheel, lifting the heavy block vertically. The keys were in place, the engine was just ready to fire. Webb focused on starting the engine and then stepped on the gas. Beauregard could not be far behind; no time to waste.
  
  He accelerated sharply, felt a hand touch his ribs, and an icy flash of fear. No! Not now! The front wheel lifted as he opened the throttle wide, the engine roaring. Bo had no choice but to retreat. Webb darted between two slow-moving cars, unconcerned about the woman trying to pass, laughing as he almost grazed her shoulders with a raised front wheel. The meek followed him, as they should have. He was a whirlwind, born to rule and destined to be their absolute master. They will live and die like weeds before him unless he decides to cut them down first.
  
  The motorcycle straightened out. Webb ran it past the front fenders and rear fenders, between the cars, scratching the metal where the gap was small and not caring. The car-free but pedestrian-filled crosswalk gave her a chance to open up and laugh again as the weak and fearful fled like frightened sheep. Neither Bo nor Drake's team could ever put up with this. Webb was once again a god among men, heading towards...
  
  He paused the self-acceptance in his head. Damn where am I going? Is it correct?
  
  Sabrina had done her research earlier and then told him the location of the place he was looking for - a deep-seated, longtime college that Germain frequented during his heyday. More importantly, and guided by the clue he found, Webb told Sabrina about the college library he was looking for.
  
  Germain used this library almost like his own reference room, studying there all day long and not allowing anyone to join him while he worked. Webb had known about the library before, as it was listed as one of the many European places the Earl frequented, but he still knew nothing of its fundamental importance.
  
  The Earl had been seen in so many places, his movements so well documented by local dignitaries, kings and queens, that it was difficult to tell them apart. Sabrina pinpointed the location and told Webb how to get there-which doors to use and which windows to avoid, which passages to use and which places to sneak through. He thought about inviting her along, but remembered that she might be smart enough to see his brilliance and try to steal all his glory. And yet, if all went according to plan, he would need her impeccable services at least once more.
  
  Webb read road signs and tried to make sense of them. The college was at least half an hour away, but the traffic was so heavy that even he only moved in one direction. He considered cutting off a few lanes, but he thought something might break in the end. Behind him he saw figures approaching, more than one, and he felt only a small stab of desperation.
  
  Stubborn bastards. Why couldn't they have died at Niagara Falls? Or Tokyo or Arizona? Did they have nothing better to do? All he asked for was a pleasant, quiet life, enjoying the freedom to destroy others. It was his gift, his birthright. In short, he wondered if he could talk to them about it. Explain. Certainly...
  
  Reality reasserted itself as the bugle sounded. Webb glared at its owner, then tried to memorize the license plate for later amusement. He rushed past, seeing the tools of his fall approaching fast. It's hard to win. Nowhere to go Webb joined another stream of traffic that seemed to be moving faster, leaned over the front of the motorcycle and pushed it forward. Now he could hear them screaming for him to stop.
  
  Wait...
  
  More hunters appeared to his right, this time eerily familiar. On motorcycles and with weapons in their hands, they swerved, turned around and rushed towards him. Back at the Camp Nou, he was waiting for a group, which is why he chose a crowded place - more bodies to put between himself and the weapons - but here, in the creeping traffic, he was extremely vulnerable.
  
  Webb started the engine, rushing forward. Black figures rushed in from the side, and shots began to be heard. Passers-by watched in disbelief, then fled. Stupid horns to passing motorcycles. Others flung open their doors and rushed for cover, exacerbating the traffic jam that already clogged the streets of Barcelona.
  
  Webb ducked as low as he could, riding the bike with vigorous dedication and trusting in his innate, divine ability to survive. As if by magic, an answer emerged from the haze of light ahead.
  
  Webb stepped on the gas, pulling the motorcycle onto the pavement.
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  
  Drake saw Webb steal the motorcycle and Bo's final lunge trying to stop him. The Frenchman failed and set off; Webb roared away.
  
  Drake cursed. "Damn, Webb has more lives than Mario in a free game."
  
  Yorgy nodded. "Bo is out of his game today."
  
  "Webb is smart," Kinimaka admitted. "We know it."
  
  "Stop talking," Hayden said. "And help catch him."
  
  They stalked their prey, ignoring traffic, dodging cars and avoiding motorcycles and pizza delivery cycles. Worst of all, Drake had to deal with the delivery guys and locals, who scurried back and forth to get a place in the gondola car, and made life very difficult for everyone else. He bounced off the Prius, skidded off the tall 4x4 tire, and raced past the dangerously swaying motorcycle. Pedestrians slowed him down; Alicia and May took the faster sidewalk route. Dahl picked up the weaving motorcycle, complete with rider, and set it aside, facing the wrong way. Kinimaka tripped over a white Range Rover, making an apologetic face at the shocked driver. They caught up with Bo when the Frenchman slowed down for them.
  
  "Slowed down a bit, buddy," Drake remarked nonchalantly. "Unlike you."
  
  "He got lucky".
  
  Webb rode ahead recklessly, haughtily. It was Hayden who spotted the new team coming in from the left, weapons in plain sight as were their helmets, bikes of the same black color, intentions as clear as intended prey.
  
  "Head up!"
  
  But Drake and Dahl had already seen them and changed the direction of their tracks accordingly. Drake yanked a pizza box off the back seat of the bike and hurled it at the first rider. It crashed into the man's arm, exploded, scattering plastic and pizza everywhere. The motorcycle wobbled, slammed into the car before leveling off and moving off again.
  
  Drake aimed at the next one before he could use his weapon. The motorcycle passed mere inches from us, and the Yorkshireman tugged on his arm. Both the motorcycle and the man skidded in a traffic jam, and in the end they were pressed against the wheel of a Nissan pickup truck. Dahl collided with his man like a charging rhinoceros, both of them crashing to the floor and dragging themselves a few feet. The difference was that Dahl took the gun from the man and rendered him unconscious, then stole his bike and stepped on the gas.
  
  "Jump in," he told Drake.
  
  "I'll catch the next one," Drake replied.
  
  A third who passed by their position received a flying kick in the ribs that sent his pistol flying to the side and even his helmet rumbled down the street. Drake lifted the bike, its wheels spinning, and straightened it out before moving sharply after the Swede. Kinimaka and Smith swept from behind, giving the leading players the freedom to close the gap.
  
  Drake and Dahl pursued the six remaining bikers as they chased Webb through the crowded streets of Barcelona. Alicia and May stomped along the sidewalk, keeping a few meters to the right. Webb parked his car on the opposite sidewalk, his own intentions unclear. Drake saw a crowd in front of him, through which it was not easy to break through. He swung the bike around, slipped through several rapidly disappearing gaps, and found himself behind one of the cult's rearguards.
  
  "Oh!"
  
  The helmet turned, the gun turned too. Drake accelerated from the other side, hit the curb but held on, and then kicked his opponent. The motorcycle rocked, the man shaking wildly, but he held on, then leaned back, slowing down.
  
  Now the gun was pointed in Drake's direction.
  
  He quickly turned the steering wheel and smashed his motorcycle into the opponent's motorcycle. This time the man took to flight, collapsing on the landing and screaming in pain. Another pistol went flying.
  
  Drake tracked Webb as best he could, confident that the man would be back on the road at any second. Then he could...
  
  At that moment, the former Pythian applied the brakes so hard that the rear wheel lifted and turned ninety degrees. Webb jumped into space, leaving the motorcycle to crash into the floor. Drake slowed down and parked his bike at the curb, then saw Dahl up ahead, fighting the biker so close they were practically sitting on each other's seats. The Swede managed to drag the cultist and left the motorcycle tumbling, then shouldered and slammed the other man hard onto the hood of a nearby car while still sitting. Metal crumpled, bones broke. Dahl carried his bike to the side and then leaned it against a lamppost.
  
  "Marking your territory?" Drake had one eye to make sure Dahl was okay and the other eye to Webb as the man made his way towards a building almost completely covered in flashing lights, advertising and flickering billboards.
  
  "Don't men in Yorkshire still piss on lampposts?"
  
  "Oh yes, boy, it is. Women too."
  
  "Lovely."
  
  Drake saw a rider in black ahead, trying to make his way through the mass of bodies. He had little chance, and he fell to the floor, but the wave of his pistol sent dozens of people to flight. Drake saw Webb enter the revolving door ahead and finally realized where the man was heading.
  
  And why.
  
  International Motor Show in Barcelona.
  
  It will be so crowded that you won't find a giant in an octopus hat. Webb's next reinforcement. Another chance to slip away. But wait... Maybe not. Could Webb finally be wrong?
  
  A football match would draw thousands of spectators due to its length. Drake ran out with all his might to try and keep an eye on Webb. The flashing lights, instead of getting his attention, pissed him off as hell and made him look away. Crowds of people crowded at the entrance, discussing cars, the city, the match, or many alternative entertainments. Drake pushed open the doors and showed the guard a temporary ID badge.
  
  Don't stop me... don't stop me... I don't want to cause any incident-
  
  Then Dahl was behind him. "Are we in business? Or should I plant it along with the hydrangeas over there?"
  
  Drake flinched, his eyes fixed on Webb, but only seconds away from losing the madman. The guard stared at Drake and then at Dahl, noticing their cuts and bruises.
  
  "Come on, dude," Dahl said. "We're chasing an international terrorist who just walked into your damn showroom."
  
  The guard took another look at their badges and then let them through, calling security. Drake hurried down the same route he had seen Webb take. "You know this is a car dealership, right? This is not a car dealership."
  
  The couple didn't wait, but rushed through the acceptably small crowd, now grateful for the grand event not too far away. Kenzi and Smith caught up with them, followed by Hayden, who reported that the others were a little behind.
  
  "Any sign of the shooters?" Dahl asked her.
  
  Hayden shook her head. "No, and that's not a good sign. They will look for another entry point, that's all. And then..." She breathed out with a worried air. "It can be bad here. I have already warned the locals."
  
  "Here!" Drake was crying.
  
  "What? Webb? Cultists? Dahl stared at him, waiting.
  
  "No. This is the new Ferrari F12 TDF. See the new side vents and flared wheel arches? These-"
  
  "Fuck you, Drake." Alicia walked slowly to his left. "I know cars are the biggest love of your life, but..."
  
  Hayden paused as the crowd became overwhelming again. The huge hall was filled with splendor, gold and glitter at every step; manufacturers showcased their latest offerings and adorned them with bright colors, lots of lighting fixtures and half-dressed models. People gathered at the best viewing platforms, took pictures and discussed the intricacies of what was on offer. The entire gamut - from German to Italian, from English to Japanese - placed their merchandise on spinning turntables and invited special guests to cross red rope barriers and sip champagne while trying to look cool and extraordinarily wealthy. The aisles between brands like Lamborghini and Porsche were filled to capacity, while the lanes between less extravagant brands were much more passable. Hayden led the group past Toyota's offer and Drake quickly followed.
  
  Webb was two stands ahead, the man with his backpack standing out from the crowd as he pushed his way through. The first shots echoed terribly inside the car dealership, the explosions echoing from the high ceiling. Drake immediately saw running armed men walking down the aisle that crossed Webb's shop, their pistols pointed straight at him. He jumped over the rope barrier and ran among the Mitsubishis on display, bullets scratching the metal around him. The lights shattered, and the exhibition stands shattered. More shots tore the excited atmosphere to shreds.
  
  Drake drew his pistol, feeling no qualms about the shooters being removed for good. He ran fast and crouched, holding the Glock low. Webb's head appeared momentarily among the Mitsubishi, followed by a volley of lead and several shattered windshields. The tower of paper cups flew into the air. A bottle of champagne exploded along with a pile of brochures, the whole company jumped up and splashed the surroundings.
  
  Drake saw the men duck and dive and fired at the first running gunner. It flew to the side, colliding with the temporary display case and shattering it into pieces, streaks of red blood marring the exclusive design. The team surrounded him from all sides. Dahl jumped onto two revolving platforms to reach the dizzying heights of the Peugeot stand and crouched behind the silver car. Alarm bells sounded, freeing the public from strangers. Crowds that once stared at the gleaming vehicles and admired them now flocked to the red exit signs.
  
  Dahl fired his weapon from the height of the podium, and another cultist fell. However, they were followed by others who turned around and opened fire on the Swede. Drake saw him duck behind the wheel and open fire from cover.
  
  Hayden crouched low, tapping into her com system. "Webb heads for the back exits. Is anybody here?"
  
  Only the local cops, who didn't sound very confident, answered.
  
  Drake crept closer to the fleeing people. Now the whole team opened fire, forcing the enemy to scatter, duck and hide behind cars and metal racks. Dahl crept across the Peugeot counter, moving on all fours. Alicia jumped out and fired at Drake, keeping the enemy surrounded.
  
  "Come closer," Hayden said. "I counted the remaining eight. Speed wins here guys."
  
  Drake wondered if this was a deliberate double entendre.
  
  Lauren was the only one left behind as the rest of the team crept closer to their enemies' positions. The two cultists attempted to rush after Webb, but Smith and Kinimaka were quickly overcome by their frantic charge. Webb himself seemed to remain cautious, keeping his progress steady and vigilant, risking nothing but rushing inexorably towards the rear of the vast hall.
  
  Drake changed the clip in his Glock. Glittering lights fell from the floating ceilings above them, designed for cars, but emphasizing the firefight in every detail. The cultists chose to take refuge among the magnificent spectacle of polished Jaguars, an SUV, and a blue sports car now full of holes. Drake groaned as the bullets flew overhead, hitting the display cases of Italian marquis flags behind them.
  
  "This is not good," he said.
  
  Alicia knew him. "You mean for the event or for the damn cars?"
  
  Drake gave her a 'uh-huh' look.
  
  "Such beautiful bodies and mechanisms are being destroyed," Drake said.
  
  "Should we focus on the terrorists?" May asked.
  
  Argento's voice filled the connection, startlingly high and unusual. "It is important that you protect the Alfa Romeo brand. Do you hear? It's extremely important. This is our great legacy, our unquenchable passion, our...
  
  A flurry of shots silenced him. The cultists were well dug in now, the Jaguars banked heavily, a pair of vertical lighting stands riddled with bullets towering over them. A small fire started to the right of the stage. Another player rose to strike at Webb, and Drake missed his forehead by an eighth of an inch.
  
  Hayden cursed. "They help him escape. "
  
  The team assessed distances, gaps and lines of cover. Thorsten Dahl then made a positive sound. "Just give me a minute," he said. "And I'll save the day."
  
  Drake started to say, "Oh yes, very funny-" but then the Swede began to move and the team hurried to give him cover. Their bullets ripped through the front fenders and all remaining glass, pierced the tires and shattered the rear lights. Drake managed to sever the cords of a hanging lantern that had fallen among their enemies.
  
  Dahl jumped down a few steps to the floor, an impatient watchdog, turned to his right and walked up to a nearby podium. It only took Drake a moment to realize what was about to happen.
  
  "Oh shit. Get ready-"
  
  Dahl has smashed a two meter stand dedicated to the presentation of a new style of alloy frames. Heavy eight-spoke discs clattered to the ground, but Dahl leaned over and took one under each arm. As the cultists looked back to assess the threat, Drake, May and Alicia got up, firing, and ran up the steps of the Peugeot stand to get a clearer line of fire. The cultists collapsed, groaning. Three aimed at Dahl, and another attacked the Swede.
  
  Dahl turned quickly, then let go. The huge, impossibly heavy rim arced through the air and struck the running man in the chest, its power crushing everything it touched. Then the second ring flew off to the side, crashing into the cultists' main position, blowing off the head and shoulder, causing complete chaos. The guns flew. Heads smashed by metal or against each other. Dahl picked up the last headband and tossed it before anyone even thought to move.
  
  Drake, Mae and Alicia ran down the steps, continuing to fire heavily. Blood began to seep under the chassis of the battered Jaguars.
  
  The third rim came crashing down like a falling meteor, damaging the bright red wing and then deflecting onto the crouching black-clad chest. The lurker let out a squeal, but there was no mercy for him, as the running Smith finished him off. Dahl tensed his muscles to give them a little relief, then drew his own pistol, outflanking Drake.
  
  "I think we now have your new online ID," Drake mouthed. "Junk on the rim".
  
  "Last week I ran on the beach."
  
  "Oh yes, but I think it suits you better."
  
  Two men crept up to the front of the Jaguars.
  
  "Better than an office bike, I guess."
  
  "Hey, this belongs to Alicia."
  
  "Back off, you two."
  
  They sobered up as the scene unfolded. The cultists lay dead or dying, some still clutching their weapons and still trying to point them at the SPEAR team.
  
  "Really?" Alicia said. "Even now? You people must have lost your head."
  
  "They belong to a cult," Mai said. "This is everything for them. They would rather die than give away his secrets."
  
  Drake remembered that Mae had been sold into her own hell, not exactly a cult, but something close. He felt a pang of sadness that they had ended their relationship so quickly. Did he do the right thing?
  
  I'm all right, he thought. You have to choose between the two most dangerous women in the world. What could go wrong?
  
  Hayden yelled over the air, "I'm not sure these people are real cultists, guys. More like mercenaries."
  
  Kenzi put her hand on Dahl's shoulder. "Are you okay, Thorst? I think you owe Jaguar a new car."
  
  May and Bo walked among the defeated men, disarming and holding the cops. Then another shot rang out, and Drake looked to the back of the hall.
  
  "Some are still chasing Webb."
  
  Hayden was breathing heavily into the communicator. "We are in pursuit. Webb close to freedom."
  
  "Not today". Dahl clenched his fists and glared derisively at Drake. "Maybe you could even help this time."
  
  
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  
  Drake ran again, ignoring the pain and bruises he received in battle. Experience has helped him scan many caches from the closest to the farthest, and he only noticed three remaining opponents.
  
  And Webb, a blurry figure approaching the back doors of the car dealership, where metal ledges, wide pillars and high-ceilinged aisles cast a fuzzy shadow over everything.
  
  "Damn ale!"
  
  Drake saw Hayden and Kinimaku and ran down the aisles. The couple stopped next to half a dozen car dealership models, trying to reassure the women. It didn't help when one of the cultists turned to strike at the can. Alicia returned fire to the screams, frightening her enemy into flight.
  
  They ran on, bright lights flickering making them sweat, shiny vehicles and bright colors were a pure attack on the senses, the remaining pockets of hidden civilians were a serious deterrent to attracting cultists. They were quiet, not so threatening. Hayden climbed the podium owned by Aston Martin to look after Webb.
  
  Then Drake saw the answer. Some of the cars at these shows were so unique, so secret, their success depended on hype and anticipation, they were on display just a few short hours before they were taken to private shows. Especially early in the evening, before the show closed, the cars were swerved and then driven out of the backyard. Drake had just seen one such car against the hall wall, abandoned by the manufacturer's representatives, when the gunfight began.
  
  Chiron, he thought.
  
  Calling for attention, he turned left as the others continued. Drake turned on the link.
  
  "Two minutes".
  
  Now, praying that the firefight would drive even the most dedicated technician into hiding without a second thought, Drake walked over to the outlandish machine and reached for the door handle. Glad that it was at least open, he pushed the door wide and peered inside. Unable to contain himself, he took advantage of that extra second to enjoy the sheer luxury of it all, the impeccable art of the interior.
  
  The keys were not sticking out of any ignition lock, and his heart sank until he noticed the butt end of a curved object sticking out from under the steering wheel. Jumping inside, Drake learned the starting procedure of this car's predecessor and tried the same technique.
  
  Demons roared from behind, exhaust pipes belching hellfire and madness. Drake felt his face break into an insane grin as he flipped the controls and set the hypercar into motion. Nervous more than ever in a fight, he drove the car around the back of the dealership, passing between the metal posts that were approaching menacingly. As he passed two columns, he looked ahead.
  
  Webb stood in front of the red-marked exit door, staring at him as if drawn by the incredible thunder coming from the car. The three enemies loomed very close, their weapons not pointed at Webb, but they were forced to defend their backs. Alicia, May, Dahl, and Smith fell upon them like avenging demons, right on the ready barrels of the three weapons.
  
  Drake slammed on the accelerator, letting out a yell of joy as the speed increased momentarily. The beast lashed out, searing the rubber, twisting slightly as it closed the distance between itself and the cultists. Unable to ignore the looming threat, they turned.
  
  The car crashed into them. One flew over the low hood, taking off as its arms and legs spun faster than a skier falling down a seventy-meter slope. Another rebounded, a thud jarring his bones, the sudden stop and reverse momentum staggering. The third landed hard on the hood somehow, bruising it enough that Drake winced as the two of them peered through the gleaming windshield.
  
  "Get it. Away. With my. machines," Drake mouthed.
  
  The man's eyes bulged as Dal grabbed him by the ankles, pulled him aside and threw him to the floor. He skidded further than expected, the high sheen complementing his glide, ending up far enough to shake his head and then reach for his gun. Mai finished him off with one shot, then rolled her eyes at Dahl.
  
  Drake pushed open the door, now opposite the exit that Tyler Webb had used just a moment before. The chatter on his communicator tripled, excited voices relaying information quickly. He joined Alicia and Smith at the door.
  
  "I thought you got the hell out of me," Alicia greeted him.
  
  Drake jerked open the door. "And choose between you and the machine?"
  
  Smith shouldered his way through the gap, ignoring them both as he continued to play head to head. Drake followed him, knowing that the soldier expected immediate support. Surprisingly, they found themselves in another room, this time much smaller, but nonetheless tall and spacious, and filled with trailers, vans, and all forms of motor transport, either mass and cheap, or privately priced and overpriced. The offices bordered the building, with portals and metal bridges spanning the gap. Drake stopped in the face of countless obstacles.
  
  "We need something more-"
  
  Hayden joined them. "How many exits?" She spoke into a throat microphone.
  
  Drake heard the answer. "Eight, plus three double doors."
  
  "Do you have people on them?"
  
  "We are trying".
  
  Drake shook his head. "Let's split up," he said without much hope. "Maybe we'll get lucky."
  
  Alicia didn't have the heart to come up with an ambiguity.
  
  "So is that all?" Smith growled. "Webb is leaving. Damn it!"
  
  "Not yet," Dahl said, optimistic as ever. "Not yet bloody."
  
  But outside, the skies were blacker than a killer's heart, and the streets were as helpful as a call center. Webb could go a dozen different ways, and then a dozen more. Drake took a breath and waved to his colleagues.
  
  "We haven't finished yet. Webb's here for a reason, and it wasn't to watch football or gawk at high-end brands. He hasn't finished here yet and we still have a good lead."
  
  "What?" Smith croaked.
  
  "Woman".
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  
  While May and Smith double-checked the perimeter, the SPEAR team circled the side of the arena and headed for the front doors. A conversation ensued, the most important part of which for Drake was Beauregard's remark.
  
  "People of the cultists, they are slow. Missing due to years of viewing and inactivity. They may be complacent but have now realized that they will have to step it up."
  
  "These are mercenaries," Hayden said. "Not real cultists."
  
  "That's exactly what I mean," Beau told her. "That their bosses are slow, they lack. Inactive. They will have to improve their skills if they want to achieve their own goals."
  
  Hayden nodded slowly. "Maybe you are right. Idleness breeds complacency. They cannot remain idle."
  
  "Another reason to go to Dubai," Drake added.
  
  Returning to the front doors, Drake began to wish they had. Uncertain masses gathered and hung around while they were told what to do. The noise drowned out all conversation. Hayden waved them back again.
  
  Argento. She pressed the link button. "Where are we?"
  
  "No facials. Webb is gone. Dead terrorists are just what they are at the moment. No documents. On a much brighter note, our new friend has just started singing higher and longer than Pavarotti. She-"
  
  Hayden smiled grimly as he assessed the team. "We'll be there soon, Armand. Great job."
  
  "Of course of course. I'm just great."
  
  "Now". Hayden sighed and looked around, her hair framed by a huge white car dealership sign. "Where the hell can we find a car?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Despite the proximity of countless vehicles, it took thirty minutes for their vehicles to appear. By that time, the team was on the verge of irritation. Since no further information was forthcoming, Webb's trail was cooling down by the minute. Beaten cops and informants couldn't find anything on the street. Surveillance cameras did not work, even hidden ones.
  
  And Europe was a big continent. So many places to disappear.
  
  They were all placed in a minibus, Dahl got behind the wheel. Ironically, once he hit the road, navigating the streets of Barcelona became a lot easier as people left the area or went to bed.
  
  Alicia nudged Yorgi in the ribs with her elbows. "Wow, that's a good job, you're smaller than a woman, Yogi. And stop fucking squirming if you don't want me to hit you in the head."
  
  Drake half turned around. "Don't let her bully you, mate. Give it back just as well."
  
  "Webb came to Barcelona for a reason," said Hayden. "Are we to believe it was just for her?"
  
  "She had the skills," Dahl said. "It took a serious weapon to destroy it."
  
  "Dumb tool" Drake thought of the trash can and then glanced at the Swede. "And the main tool."
  
  "Weapons," the Swede corrected.
  
  "You know, I'm not convinced-"
  
  "And yet," Hayden interrupted. "If this woman is so important, who is she?"
  
  "Just wait," Kinimaka said. "And we'll find out."
  
  "Maybe not Barcelona." May always thought outside the box. "Maybe Spain."
  
  "Let's sum it up then," Hayden said. "We have fanatics dedicated to keeping Saint Germain's secrets, and Tyler Webb traveling from Transylvania to Versailles and Barcelona, rummaging through old chemistry books and enlisting the help of expert groups ... and people. However, what is he ultimately after? And why?"
  
  "The dude volunteered to destroy his own organization to get to where he is," Smith said, then tapped his forehead. "Crazy. This situation could only exist in his head."
  
  "Cultists don't think that way," Lauren said.
  
  "He collects items. Or following a map. Or stealing artifacts." Drake shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We'll ask him when we find him."
  
  "If we don't get off this thing first," Hayden worried. "I mean, the whole team was chasing one person?"
  
  Drake scratched his forehead as Dal zigzag through the quiet streets. "Don't be stupid. The most wanted man in the world, and the path of destruction and danger through all of Europe? Of course, we will see it through to the end. Not to mention the personal aspects."
  
  There was a call that was redirected via Bluetooth to the car phone system. Dahl pressed the button.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "Argento is here. We're making progress, my friend. The woman is a ghost, a wanderer on the edge that no one has ever heard of or seen before. How about this?
  
  "I'm not sure how this will help us, Armand," Hayden ventured when the Italian actually paused.
  
  "She wasn't always like this. Fast-forward to her story many years ago and she was - and still is - Sabrina Balboni, an Italian actress, singer and dancer. Then she was very different, after gaining fame, she acted badly and was eventually convicted of manslaughter when the car in which she was traveling hit a passerby. She and three others, including the driver, were heavily under the influence of cocaine at the time. She did a stretch - a long one - worked her time, and then disappeared from the map. Absolutely. We haven't delved into the past twelve years yet, but she's a loner and totally dedicated to herself. That's why she lashed out at Webb."
  
  "I'll tell you this," Dahl said. "Those last twelve years? They taught her some incredible skills. The way she moved..."
  
  "Calm down". Kenzi patted his arm. "We'll give you an autograph."
  
  "So what did she know?" Hayden asked.
  
  "Webb contacted her because she has these 'furious skills' as you say. She has no equal, her reputation is passed only by word of mouth, and the communication protocol is worthy of a president. Webb has always moved in influential circles, and she has long been known. He paid a decent monthly fee only so that one day he could enlist her services. It seems the time has come."
  
  "But what is-" Dahl pulled over at a red light, "-these skills?"
  
  "Basically, Sabrina is a thief. On a more complex level, she is Catwoman..."
  
  "My favorite," Yorgi said in a deep Russian accent.
  
  "Just to be clear," Kenzi whispered as Argento told her. "She's not joining the team."
  
  "Webb needs her services simply because his quest - whatever it is - gets harder with every stop along the way. The man needs Balboni's help to get to at least three more places easily and quickly, quite possibly because he can no longer move slowly and naturally. Not with a cult after him. He knows they're watching all these places. His solution is Sabrina Balboni."
  
  Drake nodded. "Logical. Webb no longer hits like a sledgehammer. So where are these three places?"
  
  "Ah my friend, the trillion euro question. First, I have to ask if any of the Alfa Romeos got hurt during your chase?"
  
  "No. None," Drake suggested, knowing the subject was close to the Italian's heart.
  
  "Ah, that's good to know. This is good. Well, he explained to her where he was heading next and hinted that no one knows the final destination except the country. He needed her skills to gain entry to one of Spain's oldest colleges, the University of Barcelona, which is why he agreed to meet among the hundred thousand people who wanted to watch the match. Her idea. She is guided by anonymity, this woman, just a face in the crowd that no one ever remembers. They immediately headed to the university."
  
  Dahl slowed down to a crawl. Hayden leaned forward. "And the final destination?"
  
  "America," Argento said.
  
  Of course, Drake thought. Something else that just didn't make any sense.
  
  Dahl entered the Sevilla into the navigation system. "We may be there soon," he said. "Call the locals again, Arman, and let them look after this place."
  
  "Already done. But it's been more than an hour and a half."
  
  "I know it," Hayden hissed, showing her frustration. "I fucking know that."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  
  In typical and by now expected fashion, the University of Barcelona has had a fairly layered history. Since its construction in the fifteenth century, it has moved premises, closed and changed buildings. However, by a lucky chance, they discovered that the Bourbon dynasty closed this place during the life of Saint-Germain, perhaps even at the request of this person. Who knew? The secrets, deliberate decisions, and internal conspiracies of the ruling classes were as deep and intricate then as they are now, from town crier to president.
  
  Dahl drove the van through light traffic, tight curves and darkened streets, following the fastest route. Webb had a good head start. It occurred to Drake that Sabrina Balboni had always known this and deliberately dragged out the interrogation, but he couldn't tell for sure until he met her face to face. The team prepared and checked all the weapons, seeing local cops ahead, their cars waiting in the dark and reflecting almost no light.
  
  The building occupied the corner in front of them, stretching in both directions, its façade rising above the walls and consisting of three arched entrances and ten arched windows, all dark. The trees swayed gently ahead, and the taller buildings on the sides stood alone, giving the impression of watchtowers. The area was quiet, passing cars gave the scenery a peaceful and mundane look.
  
  "One thing worries me," Kinimaka said. "If Webb needs Sabrina"s talents now to infiltrate these places, how did he get into this?"
  
  "She had time to explain it," Dahl said, "when they met. And if they had a connection even when we were chasing them."
  
  "One snake slithers next to another," Alicia said. "You could get close to her, Bridget."
  
  Without waiting for permission, a team of SPEARERS moved out, seeing no reason not to head straight for the main entrance. A small security unit inside was put on alert but reported nothing suspicious.
  
  "Remember," Dahl said. "This person may have less opportunity, less influence and less power now, but he still has some very smart, powerful and extremely resourceful people working for him. Eyes open, weapons at the ready.
  
  The doors were not locked, and it was dark inside. The security team met them halfway inside, shrugging again. A commentary in Spanish was relayed, and even though he didn't speak the language, Drake knew they were all empty.
  
  "Go," Hayden said and pointed. "Wait outside."
  
  Argento relayed Sabrina's information that Webb was only interested in the library, and the man's excited knowledge that Germain had studied there at his own desire and convenience throughout his life, all the languages of the known world and more.
  
  Webb's words. Probably taken from some ancient letter.
  
  The meaning is unknown. Drake thought it probably had to do with reading a map or following directions, perhaps concocting some of the chemistry guidelines Webb had brought back from Paris. They walked cautiously down one corridor and then down another, all the while getting closer to the library. Darkness thickened all around, but dissipated by the soft, muted lamps in the hallway, left on for safety. As they neared the library door, Hayden's trouser pocket began to vibrate.
  
  Raising her hand, muttering that this was their only contact with the entire enterprise, and explaining that something urgent might have come up, she quickly responded. "Yes?"
  
  "Oh, hi. Tyler Webb is listening. Is that Agent Jay? Hayden Jay?
  
  "Webb!" she hissed involuntarily.
  
  "Oh, it is. Perfect. Did your cell phone buzz in your pocket, Hayden? Did you feel me vibrate in your groin?"
  
  "Oh my gosh-"
  
  "Yes, that was me. Think about it. In any case, I don't have time for this. Later, no doubt, when I have all the time in the world. If you survive."
  
  Hayden kept every word she wanted to say, every threat she wanted to make, every deadly promise she wanted to make. "What do you mean by that?"
  
  "Well, my friends left behind some... care kit. Little revenge for kidnapping my thief."
  
  "Sabrina set us up!" Kenzi hissed.
  
  "No no". Drake hoped she was wrong. "He always knew we would come."
  
  "One day," Hayden breathed into the camera. "Face to face".
  
  "If not this day, then that day will be your last, Hayden. Oh, and don't forget, I'm watching you. Always."
  
  The line is broken. Silence fell like a ton of lead. Hayden stared at the offending phone and then at her friends and colleagues. "Now what?"
  
  Dahl pointed to the library door about ten meters ahead. "We are moving forward. This is what we always do."
  
  He walked over and stepped on something hidden under the carpet. In the semi-darkness there was an ominous click, but from the roof above their heads.
  
  Drake knew that sound. "Bomb!" he screamed and turned to run away.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  As one, the team turned and took off running, heading away from the library. Looking back, Drake realized that they should have run in a different direction - Webb would never have destroyed the Saint Germain treasure. As the clicks rang out and death approached, he made the quickest and hardest decision of his life.
  
  "Wait!" he shouted over the noise. "We're fucking going the wrong way!"
  
  "Oh shit". Even Dahl hesitated.
  
  Drake took their lives into his own hands, grabbed Alicia and hurried back past the explosive device. As he passed, a deep rumble began; a deafening shockwave that deafened his senses and hit his ears. Overhead, he saw the entire length of the corridor's ceiling rise and then fall back down again, bloated and shattered by the explosion. He ran faster and lower, dragging Alicia with him and hearing the rest of the team rush behind him.
  
  Right into the explosion.
  
  The walls of the corridor bulged, bent by the initial convulsion. The wooden panels shattered, some flying down the corridor like deadly poisoned darts, flying between the runners and hitting their body armor. Drake hid his face as they passed the test, grunting as objects mocked his body.
  
  Then the ceiling began to fall.
  
  Stucco and concrete blocks crumbled. Drake has overcome one barrier. A cloud of dust covered the path ahead.
  
  "Drake!" Alicia screamed, and a heavy piece of masonry fell inches from his head. Behind Smith was covered by Lauren, his arm was constantly fired upon by falling shrapnel. Kinimaka worked his way through the rubble, picking up almost as much rubble as fell around him. Dahl spun mid-flight, seeing the jagged chunk fall and knowing instinctively that it would hit Hayden. He momentarily caught it with both hands, still on the run, then redirected its flight with a quick flick of his wrist. Bo weaved through the crumbling curtains of rubble, landing more blows than he could ever say. Mei and Kenzi pressed against opposite sides of the collapsed walls, hoping there wouldn't be a third explosion.
  
  Drake staggered as the thick wooden beam slid off his shoulders, stretched to his full height, then rolled, still maintaining speed. His body was screaming, his nerves were burning with pain. Dust clogged his nose and eyes. They couldn't be sure what was going on ahead, and all the walls were shattered, bristling with jagged wood and rough edges of drywall. Bo kicked the uneven wooden pole to the side. Mai used rubble the size of a boulder to jump off to avoid the hole in the floor. Kinimaka pulled the cascading pile aside so the others could move faster.
  
  Drake got to his feet again, using Alicia and Dahl as they extended their arms towards him. The dust cleared, the noise almost subsided. Ahead, the library door appeared intact.
  
  Dahl tore it off its hinges, trying to get out of the plaster dust and smoke and into what should have been a safe haven. The team passed quickly, coughing and hanging their heads, looking at each other and seeing a ragged team: gray-haired, dressed in white and holding hands and feet in the places where the shells hit.
  
  "We are fine?" Drake was breathing heavily. "Is anyone badly hurt?"
  
  Everything was fine, and then Hayden's cell rang again. She held it up so everyone could see the big screen.
  
  Webb again.
  
  "Don't answer," Dahl said. "Let the bastard guess."
  
  "You know," Smith said, holding onto his right hand with extreme caution. "He could have killed us all back there. Wiped us off the face of the earth. What does it give?
  
  "Impossible to say," Hayden said. "Lack of resources. Not enough time. Error. Design. Drake is quick to think. I call for this asshole to take it as a game, love it more than family or power. I like it".
  
  "Do you think it gives him a boner?" Alicia considered.
  
  Drake and Dahl choked at the same time, and not just on the dust. "God, Miles, turn the tone down to page 13, would you? We don't need to hear it."
  
  "That's what you were thinking."
  
  Dahl blinked. "No, actually, it wasn"t like that at all."
  
  "What about you, Yorgi? I bet you were interested."
  
  The Russian ignored her, which did its job and stopped her speculation.
  
  Hayden pocketed her phone and walked through the library at three-sixty paces. Stacks of hardback books rose from floor to ceiling, in all sizes, in all colors, with no clear labeling system.
  
  "Whatever he found here," she said. "Probably will remain a secret."
  
  Drake hated it, but was inclined to agree. "So, we are left with... fucked up. We don't know what he's looking for. What does he find. Or why. Or where he's going next. Fucked up."
  
  "Not yet". Words suddenly came from Lauren. "I do have one idea."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  
  Drake sipped strong coffee as they all crowded around the double-sided mirror, staring at Sabrina Balboni while the master thief looked back at them. Trying to read it was impossible. Drake wondered what it took to become one of the world's greatest crackers while maintaining anonymity. How deep are the demands, how desperate is the thirst.
  
  What overwhelming guilt.
  
  Balboni chose a profession that, of necessity, forced her to become a shadow, a real ghost of society. He wondered how her current situation, with her facing prison, would affect her decisions in the next few hours.
  
  He hoped for the good guys. She was their last hope. After that, luck smiled at them and they went to Dubai.
  
  Could be worse. He found his lips stretched into an enigmatic smile, then realized he was looking straight at Mei. The Japanese woman noticed and responded to this with warmth. He was caught, caught between two stormy seas, the future was an impenetrable cloud of impossibility. Luckily, Hayden started to speak and turned to her.
  
  "I will go there again. I repeat the hard line. Then we'll let Lauren come in and offer a deal."
  
  Drake listened to Hayden rehearse the grim future Sabrina had to face, and no matter how hard she tried, the thief just couldn't hide the horror in her eyes. Alicia took the time to tease Yorgi a little.
  
  "So what does it look like, Yogi? Standing so close to a real thief?"
  
  "What do you mean?" The Russian looked suitably annoyed. "I'm real too."
  
  "Not on the same level, dude." Alicia pointed out the window. "This is the master. Genius. A virtuoso with light fingers and real world experience."
  
  "I am also a master thief!"
  
  Dahl glanced down the corridor. "Hey, be quiet. We are at the police station."
  
  "Well, you're good at portraying a woman, I give you credit." Alicia turned the screw.
  
  "I have proven my skill." Yorgi pouted.
  
  "Yes. You have amazing eyebrows."
  
  "I think you should leave him alone." Mai moved slightly. "There is no time for this."
  
  "Oh, and Sprite jumps over the screen to help! No time? Why not? Lauren hasn't even taught the thief how to do a full Monty properly yet."
  
  Mai blinked. "I don't know what you are-"
  
  "I believe," Lauren said. "This is a reference to the nudity. And that's not what I'm doing here."
  
  "Great movie, great ending." Alicia was elsewhere. "And Robert Carlisle." She sighed. "Just leave me alone for a while."
  
  Mei's eyes flashed, then she shook her head quickly at Drake. The Yorkshireman patted Yorgi on the shoulder. Hayden waved towards the two-way window.
  
  Lauren entered the room without comment, then took the third and last chair in the room. She smiled at Sabrina and Drake focused on what she wanted to say.
  
  "There is a way out of this, Sabrina. The way you could help and make a difference."
  
  Balboni's face remained neutral, which must have taken a great deal of effort. "Deal? I should have guessed."
  
  "There is always a deal," Hayden said. "For those who know how to listen."
  
  "We want Tyler Webb," Lauren said. "And right now, you are our best way to approach him. Really close. You will be our man inside."
  
  "Man?" Sabrina arched an eyebrow. "And Webb will know that I got caught. He will meet me again only to kill me."
  
  "Well, it's possible," Lauren told her. "But we believe we can teach you how to pass his tests," she paused. "I've done this before."
  
  Now Sabrina narrowed her eyes. "Really? How?"
  
  "Doesn't matter. But I know that I can do it."
  
  "If I wanted to, I could do it myself."
  
  Lauren grimaced. "Girl, I don't think so. We know everything about you. Isolation from society is not the platform from which to engage Webb. He is a businessman who is used to doing things face to face, and you don't have the kind of interpersonal weapon to fool him." Lauren spread her hands in response to Sabrina's gaze. "You just don't understand."
  
  "And you say you can show me?"
  
  "Yeah. Exactly this."
  
  "What if I do this? What's the matter?"
  
  Hayden leaned forward. "At the moment you are in a good position. All you did was meet with Webb, share stories and give my team a little encouragement. Everything is fine".
  
  Drake scowled at Dahl. "Do you think she is serious?"
  
  The Swede nodded grimly. "Of course she knows."
  
  "We will grant you immunity from prosecution," Hayden said. "And a free pass. For twenty-four hours."
  
  Sabrina pouted. "And it's all?"
  
  "You are a mega thief who has finally been identified. What do you think should have happened?"
  
  "Hi," Lauren added by way of compensation. "It's not like you don't have the skills to disappear again. Continue alone. No matter how unhealthy it is."
  
  "More unhealthy than staying on the radar?" Sabrina asked with a defeated air.
  
  "We're going astray," Hayden interjected. "Our offer is good. And it's the only way to breathe fresh air again before you turn fifty. Look, Sabrina, you're already half trustworthy because Webb will totally believe you're capable of escaping." She spread her hands. "Because you are".
  
  "Certainly. So why don't I just do it?"
  
  "Because you don't want to go to jail. I don't know what they call "overtime" here, but that's where they'll take you. Grandmaster or not, you can't avoid any of them. Ever."
  
  Sabrina jerked her chin at Lauren. "So what skills do you have?"
  
  The New Yorker took it as a victory. "First," she said. "Take off all your clothes."
  
  Drake couldn't help but lean forward, but then so did everyone else watching the two-way traffic. The nine bodies suddenly became very attentive, surprised by Lauren's words.
  
  Then laughter. "Just kidding. Like we said, Webb knows you have enough experience to get away. I can teach you a believable scenario, use the right words, and how to win his trust. How to make him think that you like him, respect him and take care of his search. His convictions. I can even teach you to make him believe that you are worshiping him."
  
  "Are you serious? What kind of cop are you?
  
  Lauren shrugged. "The best sort."
  
  Drake relaxed his muscles. "Well, she knows exactly what she's doing."
  
  "Yeah," Smith growled. "She knows how to deal with prisoners."
  
  "Oh buddy," Drake said. "Give her a chance. She works for the good guys."
  
  "Something is wrong with Nicholas Bell," Smith said. "And no one but me seems to see it."
  
  "What can he do? A guy in a fucking high security prison. He says that he got entangled with Pythia and could not get out. He shows remorse. Good results for the psyche. He never once mentioned liberation. And every lead he gave us came true."
  
  Smith gazed at Lauren through the window. "And considering where he is, in a Louisiana prison, the guy has everything he needs."
  
  "You're not that bad yourself," Kinimaka put in.
  
  "One day," Smith grumbled. "One day. You'll see".
  
  Drake watched as Lauren spoke to Sabrina. As time went. They brought more coffee, this time with hard biscotti. He trusted Smith's instincts to the bone and worried that they might all be missing something. But Louisiana was far from Barcelona, and he saw Hayden bring the phone so Sabrina could call.
  
  Another hour passed while Lauren trained the Italian thief. Finally, she let her make a quick call.
  
  Through the speakers, Sabrina and Webb exchanged brief remarks, and they all immediately realized that the risk involved in using Sabrina Balboni had already paid off.
  
  "I'm in Zurich," Webb told her a few minutes later. "We'll meet there". The man's voice really sounded relieved.
  
  "Great job, Lauren," May said. "Great job."
  
  Bo also looked impressed. "She's good, isn't she?"
  
  "Face to face will be more difficult," Smith said.
  
  "But she gave herself a lot more time," Kinimaka said. "To work on it. This is the best outcome guys."
  
  "Then Zurich?" Drake studied the group.
  
  The team in the small room split up and left a relieved-looking Sabrina Balboni alone for a few minutes. Hayden breathed a sigh of relief as she returned to the group.
  
  "What do you guys think?"
  
  "I think we should go and pin Tyler Webb," Alicia growled. "Once and for all. To the fucking tree. Who is with me?
  
  Everyone around them nodded grimly.
  
  "Hold your horses guys," Drake said. "First there is one more question. Big."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  
  Drake finished his coffee before continuing. "Forget about Sabrina. Forget Webb. We have a team of fanatics who are shooting at the Barcelona Motor Show. They will need to be neutralized."
  
  Hayden paused and then sighed. "Damn, I think you're right. The cultists will follow Webb wherever he goes, but the snake's head? I don't think so ".
  
  "Nah, it will be like sunbathing in Dubai," Drake lamented. "From all places."
  
  "So we split the team. Half to Zurich; one in Dubai.
  
  "Sounds like a plan." Drake looked around, not voicing the unsettling thought that the team was already largely divided. However, in the first place in their minds was professionalism.
  
  "Drake, May, Alicia, Bo," Hayden said, "should go to Dubai. The rest are in Zurich. Drake, we need to keep Dubai in sight. All this."
  
  Drake nodded. "It's clear".
  
  Mai was watching Hayden. "You said 'we'. Are you joining us?"
  
  Hayden quickly checked her email. "I think it will be a good change."
  
  "And I?" Kenzi asked. "I mean, Dahl and I usually stick together, but..."
  
  The Swede winced. "Not of my own accord, trust me."
  
  Kenzi looked offended. "I'm not sure I want to be stuck on the B team. Even if Beach Runner is part of it."
  
  The already beleaguered group comprehended her words. A month ago, they would have been laughed at, but now Kinimaka gave Hayden a rueful look, and Smith stared at Bo. "Maybe we should switch places, bro."
  
  Hayden rubbed her temples. "I need Lauren and Sabrina and you to look after both of them, Smith. Mano, take heart. And Kenzi, if you want to be part of this team, you have to stop sowing discord."
  
  "It's just natural, boss. I'm not sure I know how."
  
  Hayden pointed to Drake. "Seriously, I can't stress enough how important it is to stay in the background. The last thing we need is contact with the UAE."
  
  "We'll be careful, Hayden," he said. "All of us. Hey guys, calm down. We will meet you in Zurich." He started to leave.
  
  Dahl looked worried. "Drake?" - he said.
  
  "Yes?" The Yorkshireman turned around, pleased that the Swede cared.
  
  "Don't screw it up."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
  
  Karin Blake knew what hell looked like. She knew what total defeat tasted like. And she knew the feeling of soul-destroying desolation. Ever since Matt Drake entered her life, she has lost her brother, her parents, and recently the love of her life. She tried to do good; fought on the side of the noble and virtuous. She ticked all the right boxes - but somehow still lost in life.
  
  So she got Drake to enroll her in the program, ostensibly to prepare her for the team with confidence, on the field with some experience and more than just a dojo black belt. The Yorkshireman pulled many thin strings and canceled several favors to bring an Englishwoman into the American army program, but somehow managed to pull it off.
  
  Actually, it fits.
  
  Some fatal irony was that Matt Drake fought tooth and nail to enroll her in a months-long, extremely stressful, grueling super program that ended up-
  
  The jerky orders interrupted her train of thought.
  
  "The enemy has been spotted. Be vigilant, keep cool. We are told to join the fight."
  
  Karin knew this was not a training session, not a long exercise. She was looking forward to the real action after so much training. The months were painful, exhausting, consuming every minute of wakefulness and short hours of sleep. Shortly after she began progressive exhaustion, she stopped remembering her dreams, which was a godsend.
  
  Shortly thereafter, the overwhelming pain and effort required robbed her brain of alternative thought processes, which was also a blessing in disguise. The ability to move, to sleep where I could, to wake up on demand, to know which injuries were serious and which would be laughed at, to use my genius intelligence at certain moments, to get along with the boys and earn their respect, to stand up for myself when the need arose, - all this and more filled her day with details.
  
  However, guilt blossomed when she realized that she hadn't thought about Komodo for twenty-four hours. The guilt intensified when she remembered that it had been a week since she contacted the SPEAR team. The guilt then intensified when she realized that she could not remember the exact date of Ben's and her parents' deaths.
  
  Emotions churned inside her.
  
  They became a raging sea, wild and untamed, held back only by the regimen she followed. And in some rare moments of inspiration, she knew - it was a damn good job, despite the fact that the struggle took a lot of strength from her. Indeed, good work.
  
  Karin turned her anger on the program. She became the best and worst version of herself when either of the two was needed. The first team sessions were tough, but she outwitted her fellow trainees at first and then began to beat them. What she lacked in strength, she gained in ferocity, in unrestricted cruelty. She would strike at her most vulnerable spot at the exact moment and ruthlessly. The men soon learned to take her seriously.
  
  Another order sounded. "People, now we hit the mark. Buckle up and buckle up. It just became very real."
  
  Karin allowed the "here and now" to invade. In truth, she had about as much time to think as she had in the past few months. Now she decided she didn't like it. Start a damn war and inflict fucking pain.
  
  The boys in her class sat around her, filling the back of a tall, unmarked black truck. Palladino, Perry, Garrett and Winters, and many others, are waiting with grim faces, a little banter and unknown expectations. They had never been in a real battle before, and now only by sheer luck. It's one thing to know that you're going to have to fight a real enemy that day, but it's quite another to stumble upon it during training.
  
  Karin stood up, pulled herself together, and peered through the narrow rectangular window into the front cockpit. She was wearing a black uniform and a Kevlar jacket, boots and a helmet. She had a rifle and a pistol, a knife and other weapons. Provisions, medical supplies, daily necessities and Bluetooth were laid out around her body. She didn't feel any of that; I only saw what was right in front of me.
  
  Two dirty white trucks full of dirty white boys running off into the mountains.
  
  Palladino joined her at the window. "So this is Mulholland Drive, huh, Kaz?" he muttered. "I see it for the first time."
  
  She accepted Kaz or Blake. She knew that none of the names showed disrespect.
  
  "Just a road filled with people who will soon be dead," she said. "At any moment".
  
  Both trucks almost crashed into an oncoming vehicle, a collision that was avoided more by luck than intent.
  
  "Civilians are in the way," Palladino said. "Keep that in mind."
  
  "Civilians are always in the way," Karin said. "And they often die."
  
  "You never told us much about yourself," Palladino pointed out shrewdly.
  
  "We're not here to get comfortable, Palladino. We are here to learn how to kill these mothers before they kill us. Don't pretend you don't want it."
  
  Karin ignored his confused expression as she watched the chase unfold. Both white trucks wobbled wildly and bounced around corners and turns, drivers becoming increasingly panicky and pushing the overloaded vehicles beyond their limits.
  
  "They're transporting weapons," Palladino pointed out. "Sooner or later they will figure it out."
  
  Karin looked into the large side mirrors of the truck and saw that they were followed by a whole column of black and white flashing lights. "Yeah, and it's going to be fucking dirty."
  
  "Now is it bloody? Or dirty? Can't tell with your accent."
  
  "Palladino". Karin glanced at him. "I don't want to be friends with you or anyone else. We work together. Concentrate on work."
  
  "Of course of course".
  
  Karin ignored everything around her to take in the unfolding events. Their driver, Callahan, drove carefully and with unflagging attention, staying close to the trucks but trying not to sound too threatening. The groans of the engine and the squeal of tires belied his efforts, but his skill was evident. As they roared across the tarmac, the steep, dead hill gave the trucks some room ahead, and Callahan didn't back down. Karin held on as the truck veered off the road, then crashed, sending two men sprawling. She didn't move to help, preferring to keep her distance.
  
  Outside, one of the trucks shook along the grassy roadside, the roof and sides shaking and hitting the padlocks, shaking like a localized earthquake. More guys crowded around.
  
  "Step aside, Blake. Let someone else see."
  
  Karin retreated, and that's when the shooting started. The back door of the last truck slammed open and bullets began to shatter and pierce their car. Karin crouched low, and the two guys became three shades whiter than pale.
  
  "What should we do?" Winters asked.
  
  "Don't let yourself get shot." Karin leaned even further, believing her position behind the front engine would also help. Four others also understood this; some looked too scared to move.
  
  "So that's what we trained for," Hildreth, their current team leader, bellowed. "You guys are exactly where you need to be, just a little earlier than expected. And on American soil." He added the last phrase a little awkwardly. "Consider it a bonus."
  
  Karin smiled grimly as she saw the mixed emotions on the faces of her colleagues. All was not well there, it seemed, and some might now gladly take a solitary walk down Washout Lane.
  
  For the better, she thought. I don't want losers to have my back.
  
  However, for now, they were a team. Callahan spun the truck around the corner; the bullet crunched through the metal sheets and went through them, hitting a short young guy named Wu in the chest. The impact knocked him to his knees, where he waited for a few moments, breathing heavily.
  
  "I'm fine," he finally said.
  
  "Yeah," said Karin. "We figured it out when you weren't part of the tailgate spot."
  
  "And good work that wasn't done by me," said Perry, the tallest of the group at almost seven feet. "Because it would blow my fucking balls off."
  
  There were a few chuckles, mostly nervous. Karin knew how close they got. Another bullet whizzed by, this time at head height, and when she happened to peer into the cockpit, she saw Callahan struggling with the steering wheel, the windshield shattered, and his navigator tending to a wound in his arm. They were shot to death there.
  
  "We have to do something," she said. "Or they will die."
  
  Hildreth might have been the leader of the team, but he was still a rookie. "What do you suggest?"
  
  Karin didn't answer, instead knocking out the viewing panel and resting the rifle on the frame. As the trucks drew level, she fired half a dozen shots, scattering the men inside and injuring one pretty badly. Chaos reigned there: boxes were stacked in disorder, some were piled up to the roof and leaned heavily, some had broken lids, jagged wood slipped, and people fell on everything, shooting blindly as they got up. The shots almost hit the comrades, some of them pierced their own truck. Others were lucky, they flew over Callahan. Karin fired her rifle again, adding to the chaos. There were screams, and the truck was incredibly trying to pick up speed.
  
  "Get them," Palladino whispered next to Karin. "Now you've made them panic, Blake."
  
  "Amen to that, you bastard."
  
  Karin unloaded her magazine.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
  
  The last white truck veered sharply across the road, bouncing off a carved cliff, barely able to stay on its feet. People and boxes poured into the body, gathering together with a roar, crackling and agonizing screams. Two whole crates slid out of the truck, shattering on the pavement and scattering dozens of rifles and magazines. Callahan drove right over them, failing to safely go around the obstacle. Karin changed her clip and took aim again, ignoring the questions behind her.
  
  "What's happened?"
  
  "Did we get it?"
  
  We?
  
  "Get them, Blake."
  
  She landed several more blows, hitting boxes and one man's leg. The decoy ducks in the back of the truck were now yelling at their driver to speed up, realizing that at least one experienced shooter was in front of them. However, they were still darting back and forth, returning fire and rummaging through open crates to see what weapons they might pick up next.
  
  Her ears filled with the wail of sirens and, closer, the comments of her command. Karin caught Callahan's eye as the driver turned around for a moment, nodded in response to a single-mouthed 'thank you', and ordered their co-driver to squat down. Tires, she thought. It's time to end the chase.
  
  It all started in East Los Angeles, when a white gang was delivering guns under the watchful eye of the DEA. Challenges were issued and an attack was made, but the gang was too well armed and fled in the direction of the city. A few miles later they passed Karin's team, which was conducting their own exercises in the mountains, and Callahan tuned the army radio to the police group. A quick decision and they joined the chase, radioing along the way and receiving criticism from all sides. However, once engaged in battle, they did not consider it right to retreat. The lives of the policemen were in danger, and the Army could not lose face. The bandits were incredibly well armed.
  
  Karin fired at one of the rear tires and saw her bullet rip out a chunk of the pavement. Palladino breathed into her ear.
  
  "I would take that shot."
  
  Karin sighed. "Even if you're lucky? Never".
  
  "Always better than you, Blake. Always. You know it, girl."
  
  Friendly rivalry was out of place. Karin ignored this and looked again. The shaking of the truck, the bouncing of the wheels, the throwing back and forth of the people in the back and their attempts to shoot were simply a violation of the deep inner and outer concentration necessary in order to make a shot. If she...
  
  Then everything changed.
  
  One of the arms dealers smashed a random crate and started screaming with excitement. Karin tore her eyes away from the tire to see what was happening. Other heads turned towards the man. As his hands went up, pulling out dozens of small black objects, Karin quickly turned to Callahan.
  
  "Prepare to ram him."
  
  The Irish driver was already pressing the gas pedal, tuned to the same wave. The truck tilted, causing everyone but Karin to stagger. As she watched, the man with the grenades randomly tossed them to friends and co-workers with an insane smirk on his face. Then, before Callahan could close the gap, he hurled one of them at an oncoming truck.
  
  It recoiled, rolled down the road with a crash, and landed on the grassy shoulder.
  
  "I forgot to remove the pin." Callahan shook his head in disbelief.
  
  The next car arced high in the air, causing a violent reaction from the driver. He turned the steering wheel to the left, causing even Karin to stagger.
  
  "What the hell-"
  
  "Calm down, boy!"
  
  Loud protests arose. Karin regained her balance. The grenade exploded as they passed, shrapnel showering the side. After that, it became quieter inside as the men realized what had almost happened.
  
  "Great moves, Callahan," Palladino muttered.
  
  Karin returned to the viewing panel, knowing that this was far from over. Callahan pressed the gas pedal almost to the floor; the faces of the men in the truck ahead were all too clearly visible. It was do or die as they moved within range of the throw.
  
  "Ahead," said Karin.
  
  Callahan nodded in grim relief. There were only a few seconds left before the sharp turn.
  
  "Hold on, fucking tight," he rasped.
  
  The white truck pulled out at the bend, barely slowing down, but Callahan picked up speed. A second later, their truck crashed into the back of another as it was turning, throwing it aside. People stretched out and collapsed in the back, grenades flew into the air and scattered into boxes. At the very least, the faces of the two men contorted in horror.
  
  "Nooo!"
  
  The scream echoed a short distance as Callahan continued to push the truck into a spinning broadside. Drawers, handles and legs rolled, rotated and twisted in all directions, hitting each other. The truck is on two wheels. Karin shouted a warning at Callahan.
  
  "Back off!"
  
  It exploded three seconds later, a fireball engulfing Callahan's cockpit and starting mini-fires inside the cabin. Both driver and navigator took cover, roaring as the flames approached them, hair scorched but coming out the other side with a barely visible scratch. Karin spun around, grabbing Palladino and throwing him aside. A tongue of flame broke through a small gap for a moment, and then disappeared. Karin nudged Palladino with her elbow.
  
  "Saved your pretty face."
  
  "I knew you had a crush on me, Blake."
  
  But Karin had already returned to the viewing panel, trying to process the nightmare ahead. The shockwave caused by the truck's explosion sent their own truck sideways, off the road and across the grassy shoulder at an acute angle. Now Callahan was desperately trying to keep them on the tight curve, their left wheels scrabbling down the narrow dirt path, their right a few feet higher on the grassy shoulder, their cab tilted at a crazy angle.
  
  To their left: a hundred feet of vertical drop.
  
  Karin felt her stomach twist; my mouth was suddenly dry, like old bones. Above, still on the main road, the blackened, flaming carcass of a white truck thrashed back and forth, the screams of its surviving passengers echoing through the hills. Black-and-white cars sped by, sirens increasing the noise. Karin watched as Callahan struggled with the steering wheel and the curves of the road ahead, their fates in his hands.
  
  "Crap".
  
  She ran to the right side, pushing against the metal wall, yelling at her colleagues to do the same. Palladino was in place in an instant, the others were a little behind. All of them could feel the rocking of the body. Their efforts threw the truck to the right, just as a left camber would cause it to tip over to the left and fall into the yawning valley below.
  
  "Keep up the good work," said Karin, then returned to the viewing panel.
  
  "Good job".
  
  Callahan, sweaty, bloody and bruised, now turned the steering wheel to the right as a narrow gap appeared, bouncing and shaking on both sides, but steering the truck forward. We return to the road. Police cars filled the highway, turning off the road as an army truck bounced among them.
  
  "Thought we were dog food there," Callahan said.
  
  "Not this party," said Karin. "They're not tasty enough."
  
  "Thank God you didn't say 'too young to die'. They all say so."
  
  "We are too old for this," Karin said dispassionately. "And we don't cry. So let's get that last mofo out."
  
  Callahan spotted the last white truck ahead between two police cars.
  
  "I like your style, Blake. I really want ".
  
  Karin checked her gun.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
  
  Mulholland meandered through the hills; green, grey, brown and mottled like the skin of a huge snake, its sharp curves, sudden drops and incredible views of Los Angeles are as world famous as the city it glided through. Hikers, joggers, dog walkers and thousands of others constantly strolled along its length and surroundings, relaxed, peaceful and inspiring, but today the twists and turns and loops shocked and thundered with something much less motivating.
  
  An old, beat-up truck raced along the narrow roads, rumbling and rocking from side to side and driving oncoming traffic into the mud. Its back door was open, and it was crowded with white men with face tattoos and skinhead haircuts, off-white vests that showed lean muscular bodies, baggy jeans and boxer shorts emblazoned with names like Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss and Tommy Hilfiger. They picked up automatic weapons recovered from crates they had once tried to transport to the docks. No more. Now it was a matter of fighting or dying. Take them all with you. Until the end, my brother!
  
  Police cars rushed after them, sirens and headlights turned on, and the countryside was stormed. Then came a black-painted truck filled with army trainees.
  
  Karin held her gun at gunpoint, and all the rhetoric was for the good of her fellow recruits. The boys held on tight, already bruised from tripping over the back of the truck.
  
  "Sharp to the right," she said. "Hold on."
  
  Callahan barely slowed down, turning the car on the side of the road and keeping a few inches from the police cars ahead. When they all straightened up, the arms dealers raised their weapons and continued to fire; some smirked and laughed and high-fiveed, others sat with pained expressions among the crates. The mental state of these people changed along a curve from "barely lasted" to "abnormal".
  
  Karin didn't care. Her thoughts and fears were of civilians, and then of the cops and her crew. Now it was much more than just a workout; it was exactly what they were training for. A test of their character and might; their critical skills.
  
  The chaos of the past few weeks flashed through her mind. The set up took a matter of minutes, while the rest of the time she worked twice as hard as everyone else, just to keep up. Before she started with these guys, she thought she was in shape. Now she knew that civilian fitness and military fitness were measured on completely different scales. An impossible feat for a gym rat can be an everyday feat for a fully trained soldier.
  
  Every day she became stronger, smarter, more agile. Every day her knowledge grew. Although her brilliant mind suited her for challenging indoor work, she preferred to work outdoors, exactly following the story she told Drake. She did not believe that her progress would be reported, but all aspects should have been covered. Her plans for the future were incredibly complex and required many months of hard work to bring them to life.
  
  The death of her parents and brother affected her greatly, subduing her already fragile mind. Events in her youth, when responsible and authoritative figures failed to help save her friend's life, permanently traumatized her, turning her into a thoughtful, introspective person who deliberately dropped out of school. Team LANCE gave her a lifeline, a true purpose, and became her mainstay when her family died at the hands of the Blood King. They all lost someone and made deeper connections. Then, as life became bearable again and an acceptable future with Komodo blossomed, her love was taken away again.
  
  Karin didn't stand a chance.
  
  Never ever.
  
  Now she worked not only to drive away the past, to destroy those creeping nightmares that hung and lurked everywhere, but also to build a barrier based on inner strength and high principles. She wanted to be told what to do, to follow the regime, to exercise until it all passed.
  
  At least for now.
  
  It was more than she expected, but also more than desirable. She pointed her gun at one of the men in the back of the truck and pulled the trigger. Blood spattered the nearest box, and the man rolled backwards, then fell onto the road, rolling across the asphalt like a discarded rag doll. One of the police cars, already under fire from repeated attempts to kill the officers, swerved to avoid hitting him, leaving smoking rubber in its wake.
  
  "It will be creepy when this is all over," Hildreth said.
  
  "Dude," Karin said. "Right now we are in one of them, along with unsuspecting mothers and fathers and hardworking policemen. Do you want to give the order to retreat?"
  
  She looked around and felt Palladino doing the same next to her. However, Hildreth remained silent as she studied the far wall. Palladino leaned towards him.
  
  "Do you want me to shoot a couple? Give the girl some advice?"
  
  "I have advice for you, Dino. Leave me the hell alone."
  
  Callahan made his choice and sped past the spinning police car until he collided with the back of the leading black-and-white one. By this time the trucks were moving down the hills and heading towards the highway and civic centers. When Mulholland dived, he also turned sharply near the ramp, and this is where Callahan guessed that a large force of policemen would be waiting for him.
  
  "There's no way they're putting this on the freeway," he said.
  
  Karin held on as Callahan fired again. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.
  
  "These cops are going to die."
  
  He crashed into the front police car as it slowed down on a curve, dodging dirt and bushes on the side of the road and jerking the truck from side to side. His right side mirror hit the roof of another car, and then Callahan was in front, swerving back into the back of the first truck. Incredible vistas opened up for both parties, from several well-known studio complexes to superstar residences and production buildings owned by some of Hollywood's biggest names.
  
  Karin was sweating under her helmet and vest. Her mouth was dry and her teeth were clenched like two sacks of stones. The stench of body odor permeated the truck. Muffled curses came from all directions, and Perry sat in the back looking like he was about to vomit. None of the guys looked like they wanted to take her place.
  
  Except Palladino. He was a game. Game for anything. She ignored him, knowing the future and the necessary all-destructive path. Callahan now pushed the car to the back of their quarry, this time staying as far to the left as possible and a little blind, much to the annoyance of their co-driver.
  
  When it happened, it happened quickly. Mulholland dropped sharply, and a relatively open, unobstructed view swept across their horizons; the van driver must have seen the road block waiting. He pulled on, anchoring the truck so hard that his rear wheels sank.
  
  Bodies flew backwards, hitting walls and wooden crates. A man appeared, crawling over the roof, clinging to dear life, but as the truck slowed down, he fired a machine gun so powerful that it needed cartridges to maintain its high speed, and fired bullets that could gnaw through a truck in less than a minute.
  
  Callahan roared in surprise and turned right. A shot rang out, deep and heavy as Satan's jackhammer. Karin rolled up to the truck, changed the scope and angle, and aimed at the shooter. One shot, and he was in the air, the gun fell, and the man brandishing it flew down to the bottom of the valley.
  
  "Blake," Callahan muttered. "I never want to let you go."
  
  Palladino patted her on the shoulder. "Did you get one?"
  
  "Yes, just one."
  
  "Lame".
  
  Karin barely heard the comment as she concentrated on what was happening ahead. Somehow, the rearguard had sniffed out what was in store for them-Karin could tell because they were suddenly very excited. The weapons were loaded into the forward cockpit and the rest distributed among those in the rear. Without thinking, without aiming, they opened fire, panic igniting their minds.
  
  "It's going to be so bad," Callahan groaned, twisting the steering wheel with such force that the truck flipped onto two wheels again. Karin flinched and waited, but the next second the rubber touched the pavement again and they started bouncing again. The bullet bounced off the frame of the already shattered windshield.
  
  "Any ideas?" Callahan said.
  
  "RPG would be nice," said the navigator.
  
  "Ram them." Karin saw no other options. "Ram them before they hit the barrier."
  
  Palladino patted her on the back. "You seem to be reading my mind, Blake. I will give you so much."
  
  Karin held on. Callahan brought his right leg down with force, rushing forward, straight into the back of the arms dealers' car. The driver lost control.
  
  The back panel wobbled and tipped. People fell from the open like lemmings off a cliff. A stray bullet hit their cockpit and pierced the roof over Karin's head, leaving behind jagged metal that smoked for a moment. This time, their victim's car reared up and then rolled over on its side, crashing down with the force of a mountain before grinding diagonally across the road.
  
  Karin saw Callahan slam on the brakes and immediately turned around, grabbed hold of some guy wires, and started making her way to the back doors.
  
  "Ready!"
  
  The truck came to a stop, its momentum rocking a little, then Karin pulled on the silver handles that unlocked the rear end. Sunlight flooded the space, blinding. She jumped down to the hot surface, bent her knees and then arched to stay low.
  
  Behind her, men blocked the road, and police cars pulled up beside her. The weapons were scattered from edge to edge. She crept up from the side in a fluid motion, taking aim with her rifle. Palladino covered her back.
  
  They cautiously approached the wrecked car. The tattooed man lay motionless in the back seat among the crates; the other crawled on his knees, probably not knowing which path led up.
  
  When Karin saw the gun waving vaguely in their direction, she fired at its owner, putting the man out of his apparent suffering. The cops ran out of the cars and rose from the blockade, providing assistance.
  
  The trainees dug through the rubble, dragging the living out into the open and tying their hands and feet. Karin was watching Callahan's broadcast on the radio and noticed how his lips curled darkly. The result was irrelevant if anyone wanted to make a problem out of it.
  
  Someone in charge. Someone in charge.
  
  Any incident can be used to advance a white collar career. Karin knew she was close to what she needed with her training and didn't particularly need to rest. But it would still be nice to take over and it's good to have extra weeks to prepare. After that, she will have all the intellectual and physical skills needed to hatch-
  
  Palladino nudged her with his elbow. "We did a good job, Blake. They did a good job there."
  
  She couldn't help but look. "We, Dino? We?"
  
  "Hey, we are a team. I thought you knew that."
  
  Let's see what you say when the recriminations start.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  
  
  Unlike many places he has visited, Drake found Dubai exactly as he had imagined. A colossal airport with increased security, row after row of limousine drivers waving cards with the names of people or flight operators. Wide aisles where passengers could feel relaxed rather than crammed into the crowd, and a duty-free shop to top it all off.
  
  "You know," he said. "I might as well spend the night here."
  
  Alicia gave him a quick glance. "Oh, cheeky. There are rules in the Middle East about this."
  
  "That's not what I meant, love. A guy can really get lost here."
  
  Bo only pointed to a few hidden cameras. "I'm sure they would have found you."
  
  Hayden picked up her hand luggage. "That should tell you all to keep your head down and move on. We don't want some sharp-eyed airport employee to tag us all together."
  
  The Frenchman looked a little offended. "Well, I assure you, it's not me they recognize."
  
  "Nope," Alicia coughed. "It's the 'extra package' you have in your chests. haha."
  
  Hayden couldn't help but smile. Drake leaned closer to Alicia. "Darling, it's a little off-putting when you talk about your old boyfriend's cock right in front of your new boyfriend. Just to let you know."
  
  Alicia closed her eyes. "This? Well."
  
  Drake sighed. "Yes. Good conversation."
  
  Outside, the heat immediately hit them, and everyone took off their jackets. Drake glanced at the group and broke into a smile. After so many years of military service, he was used to seeing everyone in combat gear, and now it seemed wrong to him to see Alicia in jeans and a T-shirt with thick rainbow panels, Hayden in three-quarter baggy trousers and an out of place gold watch, May in a flowing black dress with slits on the sides. and Bo in formal wear. For himself, he opted for the uniform of a Yorkshireman: a T-shirt and jeans, a black military watch - Chase Durer for reliable quality - and brand new white sneakers. The team had become accustomed to covering their eyes every time he walked ahead of them.
  
  The taxi had taken them from the airport, its size and shape still drawing Drake's attention. Soon they joined the traffic and saw familiar hotels and iconic shapes on the horizon, rows of restaurants, car dealerships and local shops along the side of the highway. Drake wasn't surprised to see that much of the local food was interspersed with well-known American names like Wendy's, McDonalds, and more.
  
  To their right, the Burj Al Arab appeared and floated by, slightly hazy in the distance, its sail-like appearance unmistakable even in a city dotted with magnificent views. The road meandered lazily before them.
  
  Their driver half turned around and asked in good English, "Are you comfortable with the temperature? Not too hot?
  
  "Leave it where it is, mate," Drake said. "It's nice to be warm. Where I come from, winters can tear you into a dozen pieces."
  
  "We are approaching the Jumeirah Palm," the driver told them. "From here everything seems to be man-made."
  
  Drake knew most of the history of Dubai's famous palm islands. Designed in the form of palm trees topped with a crescent moon, they were completely artificial, built on sand dredged from the Persian Gulf and protected by breakwaters containing several million tons of rock. Each stone was placed individually and tagged with GPRS.
  
  The Palm Jumeirah itself-the one they were interested in-consisted of a tree trunk, a main thoroughfare running through it, a crown with sixteen leaves, and a surrounding crescent-shaped island forming a breakwater. In addition to the Dubai coast itself, each block is home to hundreds of multi-million dollar homes and status-symbolizing addresses.
  
  A much more interesting fact for Drake was that the entire island was built entirely of sand and stones - no metal was used at all - and was the brainchild of the Prince of Dubai, who came up with the idea for the Palm Islands as well as their design.
  
  Practical boy, Drake thought. And not the person we would like to see today.
  
  And a visionary thinker. The islands were primarily built as a tourist attraction to make up for falling revenues as the region's oil reserves dwindled. Drake could see their attraction to the casual vacationer.
  
  The taxi driver took them to their destination, F Street; in fact, it is a long winding road, on both sides of which exclusive houses are built. The gardens were greener than emeralds, and every palm tree had been trimmed to perfection. Drake lifted his sunglasses for a moment to get a better view, but the glare off the white walls and the glow of the horizon forced him to put his glasses back on.
  
  "It's quiet in here," Hayden remarked as the driver pulled up.
  
  "Not many people live here all year round," he said. "Mostly holiday homes. Some Americans, some Europeans." He shrugged.
  
  Drake didn't need to voice what they were all thinking. The group, even dressed as tourists, were going to stand out like flies on a wedding cake. However, tourists did visit Fronds, if only out of curiosity.
  
  "We should have hired a car," he said.
  
  "I can arrange it for you," the taxi driver said.
  
  Drake blinked. "You can?"
  
  The man laughed. "This is Dubai. We bring everything to life."
  
  Hayden touched his arm. "Send it in here, keys under the front wheel. As soon as possible."
  
  "I need you to authorize a credit card."
  
  "Of course," Hayden said. "And here's something else for you."
  
  When the deal was completed, the taxi driver looked at her for another second. "And why leave the keys under the front wheel? This is the Palm Jumeirah, not New York."
  
  Alicia whistled. "I really believe that Lauren could call you about this."
  
  Hayden opened the door a crack, letting in the intense midday heat. Drake followed the others until they were all standing around on the sidewalk, fake cameras in plain sight, baseball caps pulled low. In truth, Drake at that moment felt more like a tourist than a soldier, a little awkward and a little insecure in the vibrant, hot, mega-rich district of Dubai. Hayden suggested that they walk along the road until they got closer to their destination.
  
  Finally, the sounds reached their ears. The whirring of a lawn mower, the sound of a sand rake. Even snatches of whispered conversations from unknown places. All the windows were dark, and the upper balconies in every house were empty. Drake stopped to look up and down the wide road, and saw no cars in either direction.
  
  "Strange," he said.
  
  "Must be the time of day," Bo guessed.
  
  "May be".
  
  Another ten minutes of leisurely walking, and they approached their destination.
  
  Drake felt an absolute focus descend upon him. He carefully examined every window, wall, hedge, and door; every humble garden and thick palm tree; driveways and double garages; parked 4x4 car across the road. The house they were looking for was very similar to all the others; except that there were now a few signs that it had been lived in. One of the two garage doors was slightly raised, and a yellow car was parked in the driveway. Three adult bicycles lay on one of the lawns in front of the house.
  
  "Someone is home," Mai said.
  
  With no weapons, no communication systems other than telephones, and no Kevlar, they were not well prepared. However, they were exactly where they needed to be.
  
  Hayden smiled and pointed to the horizon, leaning in as the others crowded around. "We are approaching the door. We look around. Understood?"
  
  "Any sign of a weapon?" Bo looked doubtful. "Or the guards?"
  
  There were negative reviews everywhere.
  
  "I feel naked," Alicia complained, "without armor."
  
  "God forbid," May muttered. "Let's talk about the horrors that visit the world."
  
  Alicia looked like she was about to stamp her foot. "Have you ever seen me naked, little elf?"
  
  "Are my eyes burned out of my head?"
  
  "They might be." Alicia turned to May, but Hayden silenced them with a single word. Drake could see the exponential growth of a new feud growing between the two and was worried. The paths of their lives converged quickly and difficultly. The end was unfathomable, but there was no way for it to end beautifully.
  
  It would be best to end it all, he thought. At our best. In all our best hours.
  
  The driveways were short, just over the length of a car. An arched front portico led to a massive oak door. One side of the house was inaccessible, blocked by what looked like an electrical box, and then thick bushes. The other side looked more promising.
  
  Three steps led up to a narrow path that ran around the house. The five of them ducked under the windowsill and made their way to the path, looking around every corner and at the houses across the street. There were no sudden shifts, no movement of any kind. Hayden stopped at the bottom of three steps.
  
  "Ready?"
  
  Bo slithered around her, nothing but smoke and shadow, even dressed in civilian clothes. Crouching to the ground, he moved forward, disappearing around the corner.
  
  "I guess it's all clear then," Drake grumbled and followed Hayden in a circle.
  
  Alicia and May covered the rear - perhaps bad planning, but then this operation could not be rationally organized. Even the SPEAR team was way out of their comfort zone.
  
  The path was dark, secluded, and narrow, its chest-high wall bordering directly on the property next door. Drake was surprised by the proximity of the next fifty million dollar house; he thought money would provide legroom. But it helped their cause.
  
  Moving slowly forward, Bo stopped at a side door, tried the handle, and nodded to them all. So far, the Dubai gods of fortune have generously showered them with good fortune. Or, more likely, it was the norm in the Palm Islands.
  
  Drake followed Hayden into the house, alert to find himself in a kitchen that was whiter than white, with contrasting sleek, polished black appliances, tables, and even picture frames hanging on the walls. The floors were clean enough to eat and mirror polished enough to brush your teeth.
  
  "Spread out," he said, feeling overwhelmed. "We-"
  
  A tall, thin man entered the kitchen, looked at them, and slowly waved his hand.
  
  "Hello".
  
  Drake stopped in the middle of a lunge, his eyes wide in surprise. The man wore a white jacket with mirrored sunglasses and limped along at a leisurely pace, at peace with the world and his surroundings. Drake stepped back, allowing Hayden to advance.
  
  "How are you doing?"
  
  "Pretty good, sister. Pretty good."
  
  Drake watched as the man made his way to the fridge, expecting him to get a beer, but was surprised to see a bottle of juice. He leaned over to Alicia. "Are we in the right place?"
  
  "Headquarters for a vicious cult hell-bent on protecting some ancient dude"s secrets without caring who gets killed in the crossfire?" The blonde studied the kitchen. "Who knows?"
  
  "Are you...surprised to see us?" Hayden asked carefully.
  
  The Arab took a long sip before answering. "It's all right," he said. "Grape juice right here. Fruits on the patio outside. They are preparing the boats for later."
  
  He headed towards the door. At that moment, two more men passed by, staring at the newcomers and saying hello. Drake saw no signs of drug or alcohol abuse, heard no party noise, and tried to embrace their graceful, languid attitude.
  
  "How many of you are here?" Hayden asked, forcing himself to laugh.
  
  "A couple of dozen. Every day is different," said the same person. "Let's. You'll like it".
  
  Drake stepped very carefully, with unspeakable wariness, following the three languorous Arabs into the strangest, fabulous nest of vipers he had ever seen.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Beyond the kitchen, a mother-of-pearl-walled corridor led to four more rooms. Their euphoric guide led them into another room, where a huge panoramic window looked out onto a terrace, a pool, and a private beach that led out to the sparkling sea. The hall was full of people, both Arabs and Europeans lounged on plush sofas and drank water or juice, chatting with their neighbors. Drake managed to keep his mouth shut, but only just. He deliberately turned to Hayden.
  
  "This must be the wrong place."
  
  "This address was confirmed by three different sellers in three different rooms and at different times. Same address." She watched everything. "This is the right place."
  
  "Or whatever they wanted the mercenaries to believe." Bo leaned towards me.
  
  Alicia took a pile of fruit from the golden platter. "Although I can"t say that it was a futile effort. This strawberry is amazing."
  
  Drake studied the faces, looking for someone they might know. The mercenary closest to the cult leadership provided them with an identikit of a characteristic looking man with a well-trimmed beard and piercing blue eyes. Their last information was his name: Amari.
  
  Drake patted the young woman's hand and said the name. Her face lit up and she pointed to a display case of paintings. "Near the swimming pool. Say hello for me."
  
  The team prepared, still distracted by the unusual atmosphere. It was rare to see villains living so carefree and insecure; it was even rarer to see others so contented and trusting. Drake felt confident with May and Alicia at his back, but he couldn't help but turn around to check if they were all right. This environment was wrong and made him disbelieve most of what he saw.
  
  They approached the panoramic window. Double open patio doors led out to a raised concrete platform. To the right were the multi-level pools, to the left the dining room, and right in front of them steps led straight to the beach. Tanned bodies swam, lounged and strolled back and forth, enjoying the beautiful day. Drake walked towards the pool.
  
  "Get ready," Hayden breathed.
  
  Carefully peering into the faces, he saw how a man emerged to the surface, water flowing down his face. After the man erased it, blinked, and then closed his eyes, Drake knew they were in the right place.
  
  "Amari? It's you?"
  
  "Join us". The Arab switched to a comfortable backstroke. "We have spare swimsuits, even for women."
  
  Alicia frowned. "What does he mean by that?"
  
  Drake walked around the pool, watching carefully as Amari slid down to the pool steps. No threatening action was taken, but he also remembered that half a dozen other Arabs were looking for different exit points. And the laughter stopped.
  
  Amari climbed out, jets of water running down his tanned body. "Would you like to join the party?" he asked as politely as a man could.
  
  "Not my style," Drake said. "Honestly, I'm a fan of sausages and Barbie-style burgers."
  
  The blank expression on his face spoke for itself.
  
  "The answer is no," Alicia translated. "But we really need to talk."
  
  Amari studied them for a few more seconds, thinking, perhaps analyzing their intentions. Drake knew of six other men climbing out of the pool, all empty-handed but no less menacing.
  
  Nobody moved or spoke. Drake found himself in the middle of yet another confusing situation. No threats were made, no danger was apparent. This may still be a mistake. What was the answer?
  
  Alicia found it in just a few words.
  
  "Saint Germain".
  
  This electrified the entire area so much that Drake thought it might have been lightning. Amari froze, her blue eyes flashing, and the six onlookers gasped as if in unison.
  
  "You are not my guests!" Amari wept, looking inexperienced, wild and strangely shaken to the core.
  
  "What the hell are you people?" Hayden drawled. "You don't look like ... terrorists."
  
  Amari's jaw dropped. "We are protecting. We save. We protect."
  
  "And, buddy, I'd love to hear a story about a rich Arab who fell in love with a long-dead Transylvanian count." Drake smirked.
  
  Amari surprised him with some venom. "The ascended master is not dead. And one day he will reward us."
  
  The Arab turned and ran, slapping his bare feet on the mosaic tiles. Drake went one way around the pool while Bo went the other. They reached the point where the upper pool descended to the next one among a small waterfall. Amari bent down to rustle in the bushes.
  
  Alarm bells rose in Drake's mind to the level of a klaxon. It may be the strangest leader of the strangest terror cult he's ever faced, but one bad guy was no different from another. When Amari turned, pistol in hand, Drake had already jumped to the side and shouted a warning.
  
  Beau was out of sight as he flew over the pool and landed among the sun loungers. Hayden, Alicia and May retreated, trying to find cover. Drake found the bushes as Amari's trembling hand swayed from left to right.
  
  "Stay away," he shouted. "We are not fighters, but we can fight. We will fight. To protect the Master."
  
  Now Drake guessed that these men had given the attack orders over the phone, isolated and oblivious to the terror they caused; carefree, happy in their bright fantasy world. Fanatical in one sense, downright green in another.
  
  "Put down the gun," he called. "We can talk about all this."
  
  "No no! You will hurt the Master. You roam the world in search of its treasures just like that other American! You have no idea, not even the slightest hint, of the higher power you are facing." The next phrase consisted of four separate words. "He. This. A. God."
  
  A living person became a god? Drake considered. Where did these freaks come from?
  
  Without further ado, Amari ran down the steps. His six assistants sailed with him, saying nothing, but seemed to be drawn by the magnet that was their leader. Alicia's head popped out from behind a low wall, and then May's.
  
  Everyone seemed surprised that there were no shots fired.
  
  "We are dealing with a different kind of animal," Drake said. "But no less dangerous."
  
  The team gave chase. Around the upper basin and down to the lower one, then circling it in a kidney shape. A quick dash to the steps leading to the beach and a glance in the direction Amari was running.
  
  The brushed sand led straight down to the sea, sparkling and shimmering on playful waves that ran between the mind-blowing leaves. A small wharf was built in the water, where half a dozen small speedboats were moored. Amari rushed to the farthest.
  
  "Shit," Alicia moaned. "I see where this is leading. If I get seasick," she called out to the fleeing men, "one of you will be shark bait!"
  
  Drake jumped off the steps and ran across the sand. Amari and his assistants were already in the first speedboat, two of them unwinding the thick rope that held it in place. Amari sat behind the wheel, looking straight ahead.
  
  Refusing to believe that he was forced to flee? Can't you believe it? Spoiled. Covered in unspeakable luxury. Pretending he just popped into the store for a pint of milk, millionaire style?
  
  The engine roared to life. Drake and crew arrived at the dock a few seconds later, but the ship was already moving. Of the seven people sitting or standing on board the speedboat, not one looked back.
  
  Drake shook his head. "Fucking City of Crazy Toons, that"s what it is." He carefully climbed aboard the light blue speedboat, waiting, and found the keys in the ignition. "Press start," he said, and the engine roared to life.
  
  The sneakers slammed into the deck behind him, and then Mei yelled, "Go," and Drake hit the gas hard. Water churned behind him, and the nose rose a little. Clear skies looked down warningly, but Drake was safe under his glasses. Safe, but sweat oozes from every pore. He turned the boat around and arced through the water towards the center of the sea passage and the end of the branch. Was Amari heading for the sea? He hoped not.
  
  "No sign of persecution." Hayden scanned the entire area. "Or cops, for that matter. Does anyone know what the hell is going on?"
  
  "I could risk a few guesses," May said, holding onto Drake tightly as he accelerated. "Rich parents, bored kid. Somehow a fixation develops. Possesses the resources to bring this matter to its most unreasonable end."
  
  "Well, he's clearly not under duress," Drake called out as the spray splashed into his face. "Or any kind of stress. Hold on!"
  
  The boat jumped a small wave, left the water and rolled down with a roar. Drake gripped the steering wheel, bending his knees to soften the blow, and followed the retreating boat as it drifted away. At this speed, they could clearly see the shape of the leaves on both sides as they gracefully described an arc in the sea, man-made marvels and a tribute to human ingenuity. Each back garden descended to a private beach and a small jetty; There were several types of ships on each pier.
  
  Amari first aimed straight at the center of the passage, then began to move northward as the outer edges of the branch showed. Drake whistled as a huge lot came into view, a half-built mansion at the very end of the fronde, surrounded by high walls and pre-grown palms.
  
  "Now there is a notebook," he said. "What do you say, Alicia? Do you want to split it in two?"
  
  "Damn big. We would never have found each other."
  
  Mai coughed. "Not to mention...elegant."
  
  Drake pushed the throttle all the way, ignoring the sharp banter and concentrating on closing the gap on Amari. The lead boat brushed lightly against the fender, slowing it down while Drake thankfully glided across the mirror-flat surface. However, no one turned around, everyone preferred to ignore the fact that they were being pursued. Amari began to bring his ship closer to the coast.
  
  "Did he throw it ashore?" Bo asked.
  
  Drake kept the Arrow straight, using every ounce of speedboat power to get close. The boats were evenly matched. Amari's careless driving allowed Drake to get within twenty meters. After this, however, the Arab gave the boat his full attention, keeping clear of the shallows and quickly turning the boat around the end of the branch.
  
  Waves battered Drake's hull as he performed the same maneuver, not far enough out to sea for a proper swell, but the deep sea water was choppy enough for the Alicia to turn both green and white.
  
  They raced in boats, crossing the channel of the next branch and seeing how another huge space was being cleared at its end. A three-story building resembling a hotel has already been erected here.
  
  Amari threw his boat into the next channel. Drake breathed a sigh of relief because he had already noticed that it was the last one. Behind it was a half-moon breakwater, and then the empty open sea all the way to Iran.
  
  Now a sharp turn to the left, the boat lists, the passengers are holding so that the knuckles are white, the spray covers them from head to toe. Amari did a great job with the turn, much to Drake's annoyance, but then the man had probably done it a thousand times. He followed the boat as it drifted towards the beach around the last branch and noticed a bridge ahead; a concrete structure that carried a monorail that crossed the entire waterway.
  
  "Maybe he'll hit the target," the Yorkshireman said ruefully.
  
  "Don't worry". Alicia patted him on the shoulder. "Someday it has to stop."
  
  "Oh, it really helps."
  
  Gradually, a new structure began to emerge to the right.
  
  "Oh, bullshit," Drake said. "I think I understand his intentions."
  
  They all did it, and anxiety reigned. Until now, it seemed that this pursuit was destined to have only one end. Amari couldn't escape them. But now...
  
  The sprawling Atlantis Hotel was tall and colorful, taking up much of the last block: thousands of rooms, restaurants, shops, and a water park. Thousands of people. A million places to hide. If Amari had gotten ahead of them there, he and his men would have been dead.
  
  Drake went all out, choosing the stillest water and the widest arch across the bridge. He moved closer. Their prey was only twenty meters away, still ignoring them. Drake swept over the bridge just as the monorail passed over it; he saw the faces of people looking down through the glass. In fact, it was a race for boys - nothing more.
  
  He turned the wheel hard as he passed the bridge, skimming the bottom of the car over the level ground and closing the distance to twenty meters. Bo got to his feet and walked to the edge of the boat as if preparing to jump.
  
  Alicia laughed. "Are you serious?"
  
  "No. But I'm ready."
  
  Drake saw that they were now turning hard towards the shore. There was another dock straight ahead, but Amari ignored it and steered the speedboat toward the sandy beach. The men inside must have been talking at some point, for they were all clinging to dear life, and then rose up as the momentum waned. Drake went all out, crashing into the beach at full speed, taking the jolt and trying to hold his own even as they crashed almost sideways.
  
  "She's going to ride!" Hayden was crying.
  
  Fortunately, she didn't. Despite this, Bo gracefully jumped out of the tilted, sliding vessel, landed like a cat, and rushed after the Amari people.
  
  "I hate to say it." Drake struggled down to the beach. "But that French bastard has skills."
  
  The way forward was uncertain at best, hidden by hundreds of planted trees, winding paths and doors leading to the various wings of the hotel. In the center stood a huge pool, around which were sun loungers and tourists ten meters deep. Bars, cabins, and coffee shops added to the suffering of the SPEAR team, adding to a medley of distractions.
  
  Drake saw Bo disappear around the bend ahead. He got there just in time to see the Frenchman head-on into a completely unexpected tree branch. Some of the acolytes must have stayed behind to take out Bo. Brave, assertive and incredibly naive.
  
  The Frenchman staggered, even closed his eyes, but the slippery pavement - wet from recent watering - sent him to the ground. The disciple ran away. Beau nursed a broken nose and sprained ankle.
  
  The team didn't slow down. Crowds of tourists slowed them down. Sunlight reflected off the high walls of the hotel. The team was shocked when they turned a blind corner and found themselves face to face with Amari and his six buddies, who were waiting just outside the hotel's small side entrance, each carrying a small pistol.
  
  "You will retreat. Leave us alone," Amari said.
  
  "Amari is right," another echoed, his voice almost breaking. "We didn't hurt you."
  
  Drake stopped, knowing he shouldn't be surprised, but he was caught off guard anyway. "No harm... how isolated are you people? Do your parents know that you are not in your rooms?"
  
  "We answer only to the Master. Otherwise, we do the same as everyone else. We have fun, drink lots of water, socialize and sunbathe."
  
  Drake wanted to plug his ears. Absolute ignorance of this shocked him. But he seized on a likely thread. "Does the teacher often talk to you?"
  
  Complete disbelief and contempt fell upon him. "The Master does not speak to anyone. His legacy will remain intact. On the. Everyone. Expenses." More one-word sentences.
  
  Drake could not comprehend the depth of idiocy - or rather, the degree of fanaticism - that he saw. But the weapon - it was certainly real and required handling.
  
  He stepped back. "There are no problems here."
  
  Amari already had his hand on the door. "Don't follow us to this hotel. We don't want to hurt you."
  
  Drake allowed them to leave, still surprised by the turn of events and the lack of accompanying mercenaries. The sect clearly preferred to work from afar, directing operations by waving a stack of thousand-dollar bills and reluctantly shaking hands with their unwashed employees. When the last man disappeared into the darkened room, he followed him.
  
  Hayden held him back. "Deep down they are desperate people."
  
  "All the more reason to corner them," he said. "And I don't see a man among them."
  
  The team entered the hotel through the same door. A nice blast of air-conditioned air hit their bare skin, almost as nice as the relief from the constant blue glow of the skies.
  
  Amari and his lieutenants stood directly in front of them, looking down the inner corridor with their weapons at the ready. The hotel guests crowded between them.
  
  "I warned you!" Amari squealed.
  
  "No-" Drake managed to cry.
  
  The sound of gunshots drowned him out.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  
  
  Thorsten Dahl found himself unexpectedly in a coffee shop in Zurich. Sabrina Balboni was given her freedom to help capture Webb and was ordered to go to the Swiss city. Now the rest of the team followed, knowing that Tyler Webb would also be in Balboni's place.
  
  And mercenaries. Let's not forget about them.
  
  Dahl thought he had had enough of these so-called soldiers of fortune lately. From Arizona to New York, they stalked him every waking hour, and then even during a much-needed vacation in sunny Barbados, they attempted the unthinkable-to harm his family. Dahl did not think that any of the assassins survived that day,
  
  Balboni, to her credit and her desperate need to stay out of jail, played her part well. She took the time to convince Webb, even though he already respected her skill. And she knew her job, which at the moment was completely dependent on Webb. She knew her history of Saint Germain.
  
  Zurich was the place where, according to old accounts by various public figures, including Sir Francis Bacon, Saint Germain founded Freemasonry. The Count spent several years here perfecting this special formula before transferring it to Venice and also to Paris. Dal didn't care about all that now. He only cared about stopping Webb.
  
  "Any contact?" he asked Kinimaku.
  
  The Hawaiian held the camera, which was Sabrina's point of contact. "Not yet," he said. "You should have implanted that beacon, bro."
  
  "Too obvious. And Webb wouldn't hesitate to kill her if he found it. I believe she will make it."
  
  Kinimaka's face scrunched up, the CIA's old suspicions still clear. "She is a thief. Why such confidence in her?"
  
  "She's not just a thief. She is different. Proven in many ways, and only missing a few. I believe she can be redeemed."
  
  The Hawaiian laughed. "Do you like your new girlfriend? Watch out Dahl, you'll end up surrounded by your own likes."
  
  "Kenzi is not my girlfriend," Dahl said angrily. "Stop believing everything Alicia tells you."
  
  Hearing her name, Kenzi peeked out from the next table. "Talk to me boys, not about me. So, when are we going after this crazy thief?"
  
  Dahl swallowed the sharp reply. "We let her settle in, get Webb's full confidence, and then she'll call. Have faith."
  
  Kenzi grunted and stared back into the black depths of her coffee cup, as if she could read their future from what was left on the ground.
  
  Dahl stared into space, oblivious to what was going on around him. After Barbados and the horrors his wife, children and himself had to go through because of his old enemy, his life had more twists and turns than a tailspin. Joanna, who at first wanted to try again, had already begun to pull away. The children were doing well, bounced back with a vengeance, and didn't even have nightmares after the ordeal. There is always a ray of hope, he thought, even where the storm was strongest.
  
  There seemed to be nothing else to do or try, except to quit my job. And even then, will the initial euphoria turn to dust when the new life they created becomes mundane and he begins to miss his true calling?
  
  And here he is, in the center of Zurich, in the midst of another job and trying to find a solution to his family problems. It's not easy when the other half of the solution is thousands of miles away.
  
  Zurich itself was an impressive city. Located on the northwestern tip of Lake Zurich, it has been named the richest city in Europe, as well as the city with the best quality of life. Theatres, art galleries and museums were in abundance, attracting tourists from all over the world. Now an eclectic company has gathered around him: tourists, businessmen and local residents who are passionate about computers.
  
  The standard cell phone signal caught his attention. Kinimaka stared at the screen before nodding and bringing it up to his ear.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  Dahl watched his expression as the bustle around them continued without interruption. This could change everything. Get them in motion. The Hawaiian's face remained impassive for a while, and then an eloquent reply followed.
  
  "Where is it?"
  
  Dahl felt energized and smiled at Smith. Finally some movement. It would help occupy their minds, divert their attention.
  
  Kinimaka nodded as he said this. "We are already on our way. We will try-"
  
  Apparently the line then cut off as he stopped talking and stared at the screen. "I hope she's all right," he said, and then took a deep breath.
  
  "Me too," Dahl said. "But be cruel to her, Mano. Don't forget that we have the means to test her too."
  
  The mercenary they'd interrogated earlier in Paris listed all the places he and his thug buddies were tasked with guarding. Now they have this list and they will carefully compare it with what Sabrina gave them in the future.
  
  "I have the coordinates. It's not too far, but-" He looked depressed.
  
  "What?"
  
  "She said something like, 'Bring your skis.'
  
  Dahl could understand why Kinimaka could look so gloomy. "Damn, and it's hard for you to walk in a straight line."
  
  "I know". There were no protests from the Hawaiian side.
  
  Smith rapped on the table. "So, enter the coordinates. Let's deal with this bad guy."
  
  Dahl watched as Lauren moved her laptop to the center of the table. She studied Saint-Germain and Zurich, as well as the history of Freemasons. However, the wealth of knowledge and rumors surrounding the Count was complex and quite fascinating.
  
  Thought to be a secret agent of King Louis XV of France, he apparently traveled with a British commander to India to actually fight the French, highlighting his incredible talent for being able to communicate with the leaders of warring camps and nations. An agent, a spy, "a singer who plays the violin wonderfully, composes music, and is also completely insane," in the words of Horace Walpole.
  
  In Freemasonry, he was considered not so much a Freemason as a member of the High Brotherhood. Modern Freemasons have tried to distance themselves from involvement with the Count, citing ridiculous stories about his alchemical discoveries, great exploits and long life as evidence that this man was a complete charlatan.
  
  But Lauren pointed out the hard facts: Kings courted him; combat commanders traveled with him; composers sought his company, staged his works in theaters. He promoted the marriage of a Dutch princess to a German prince in order to establish a "fund for France". All this is a statement of fact.
  
  Why?
  
  The Brotherhood called him Advanced Adept, and many offshoots still did not reject him. His intrigues, travels and successes certainly pointed to a man of power moving in influential circles and changing minds.
  
  Dahl was more interested in the place where he stayed during his visit to Zurich. "Lauren?"
  
  "Yes, it's up here." She pointed at the screen, which showed a two-dimensional map of Zurich. Beyond the lake and the city rose mountains, some covered with snow. Lauren's fingers touched one of the highest.
  
  "Do we have a GPRS locator?" she asked.
  
  Dahl nodded. "My old job. Never go anywhere without it."
  
  Kenzi patted him on the shoulder. "Hmm, except for Barbados, huh?"
  
  "It was different. Stop talking."
  
  He ignored the protesting bleating as he listened as Lauren suggested an easy route to a location close to the base of the mountain in question.
  
  "Webb is there now?" - he asked.
  
  Kinimaka nodded. "Like a virus you can"t get rid of."
  
  "Kenzi". He stood up without looking at her. "Get a check."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Some time later, around lunchtime, the team got out of the rented van, opened the rear hatch and looked at the various clothes and equipment they had thrown in. Only Dahl and Yorgy sported smiles.
  
  "Don't worry," Dahl said. "It's more like rough terrain than uphill. It's a completely different arrangement."
  
  The team climbed into the van for jackets, trousers, hats, and then terrible skis. Dahl didn't say a word when Smith gestured for help or when Lauren fell, just to make sure the guys were all right. Their weapons were the last to be seized, and then Kinimaka sent Argento's final message to Interpol.
  
  They set off, leaving the minibus in a large parking lot alongside other vehicles and following the tracks already made in the snow. The radiance was high, the sky bright. Dahl tried to show the others, especially Kinimake, how best to use his poles to help him glide across the snowy terrain. The Hawaiian was a fast learner but, in his own words, "had no real experience with white drinks."
  
  "Use the alternation technique," said the Swede. "And look on the bright side, it's not that far away."
  
  The snow-covered landscape stretched far and wide, the hills ahead leading to ever higher slopes. Dahl felt a chill in the air, but he knew it would soon dissipate once the team set off for a cross-country outing. He took the initiative in his own hands, often looking back and shouting encouragement. It was just what he needed, something to disrupt his train of thought and a way to help. When Kenzi fell on her ass, he even moved over to pick her up.
  
  "Are people really doing this for fun?" she asked.
  
  "Certainly. You get used to it, like any pastime. Give him a chance."
  
  The first hill hid a steep slope that Kinimaka and Lauren rolled sideways and tumbled down. Dal helped them to their feet, and they continued on their way, looking ahead and seeing at least three more similar hills. Far to the right, a cable car passed them, rolling slowly over heavily taut wires.
  
  "See the footprints?" Dahl was panting as they stopped, his breath escaping. "The popular path deviates that way."
  
  Kinimaka raised his goggles. "And we're going...?"
  
  "Directly". Lauren pointed out. "In virgin snow".
  
  "Damn, that's just great."
  
  As a team, they persevered and fought to the end. Dahl helped when he got them to slow down, wary of any onlookers Webb might field. There were no more messages from Sabrina, and the day was already drawing to a close, the shadows lengthening. They climbed the last slope and stopped in the shadow of a huge boulder.
  
  Ahead, a gentle slope ran down to the foot of the mountain. As Dahl surveyed the area, a light whirlwind of snow swept around them, scorching their exposed faces with shards of ice. Kinimaka, surprisingly, complained more than Smith.
  
  "He's just moody," Kenzi pointed out. "Problems at Home"
  
  Kinimaka cursed at her. "Keep it to yourself."
  
  "Relax," Kenzi said. "She is all right. I'm sure someone is taking care of her right now."
  
  Kinimaka turned away with obvious melancholy and asked how close they were to the coordinates. Dahl checked his GPS. "A few miles," he admitted. "Perhaps it would be better to hurry."
  
  Another hour of relentless walking and they were close enough to their destination to take off their skis and continue on in their thick boots, to everyone's relief. The air was already noticeably colder, and the sky was rapidly losing its brilliance. The slopes of the mountain were uneven for a while before leveling off and turning into a wide plateau. As the group made the final part of the difficult climb, they looked over the top and saw an amazing thing.
  
  The plateau was dotted with cliffs that led all the way to the mountainside. At the foot of the next rock nestled a medium-sized house, unprepossessing in appearance, but ancient; its brick structure suffered from the weather, and its surroundings were reclaimed by the mountain. From that distance, they couldn't see anything else until Dahl smashed his field glasses.
  
  They crawled over the edge and lay among a group of trees, snow crumbling under them. When Kinimaka hit a low branch, heavy with snow, and a white shower fell from it and covered them all, everyone complained except Dahl, who used field glasses to see if they noticed movement.
  
  Through the lenses, he saw golden light filtering through the open windows, its radiance spreading across the landscape. Each display case betrayed a secret-the presence of men in suits, a table piled with untouched food and unused glasses, rows of leather-bound books carefully preserved in hardcover, and more.
  
  Nobody he recognized.
  
  He went upstairs, carefully adjusting his field glasses. By slowly turning the adjusting wheel, he compensated for the slight change.
  
  And focused on Tyler Webb's face looking out the window and across the landscape back towards Zurich.
  
  Dahl almost suffocated. Surprise made him clench his fists around his glasses, which did not go unnoticed among the team.
  
  "What is this?" Kinimaka and Smith spoke with one voice.
  
  "Webb," he breathed. "I do not believe in this. Bloody Tyler Webb, huge as life and twice as ugly, stands in front of the window on the top floor. Although there are dozens of guards below. This place belongs to a high-level player."
  
  Kinimaka grunted, a wild sound that carried all the hatred and pent-up fears that had accumulated from the months of persecution he and Hayden had endured, both from far and close.
  
  "We're going," he said, forgetting about the camera and their line to Sabrina. "We are leaving now. Do it. Hit harder."
  
  Kenzi moved through the snow, the snow crunching from her body. "Hey Mano, if you'd taken your own advice on Hayden, you might still be together."
  
  The entire team ignored her. Dal rolled onto his side, scattering snow, and looked at them. "Get ready to fight. You are ready?" It was a rhetorical question. "Try Sabrina soon, Mano. Then we move out."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY
  
  
  Drake came into action when shots rang out, lunging to the left and knocking a whole group of tourists to the ground. Hayden jumped to the right and went through the center, throwing people aside if necessary. The windows behind them shattered as the bullets flew high, tinted glass blowing out in a prickly rain. Drake thanked the gods that these people weren't real terrorists and were only shooting to help them get away. He slipped out of the crowd of tourists.
  
  "Not at all," he said when they complained.
  
  Hayden rushed over to him. "It probably won't help, but keep your heads down. We could be up to our necks when they review the footage later."
  
  "Then it won't matter," Drake muttered. "If we do this..."
  
  He rushed after the cult leaders. Hayden groaned after him. Alicia flew beside him, body language of grim disgust. The road ahead was highly polished, reflective, and lined with tall storefronts of super-expensive items. The whole room was darkened, the ceiling shone with gold. The floor shimmered with inlaid tiles with swirling patterns. Amari and his friends were already at the far end, running as fast as they could and still refusing to look back.
  
  Drake crouched down, bowing his head as far as it was safe to do so. They quickly approached the corner and slowed down, moving slowly around, but no shots were fired. Groups of tourists crowded at the doors of shops or headed for stairs and a series of elevators. Drake led the other four along another luxurious alley and saw a large space ahead. A sign upstairs read: Lobby.
  
  "They're heading out," he guessed. "Guys love these. Local residents. It wouldn"t surprise me if they had cars all over the damn place."
  
  They slowed again as they approached the huge vestibule, and their vigilance paid off. The marble statue next to Mei shattered into pieces as a bullet hit her, the shards momentarily obscuring her surprised, scarred face. Another bullet pierced the filigree work above the head, showering them with plaster. Drake jumped to the side, glancing back to make sure no curious guests were following him.
  
  "You would have thought that by this point these guys should have realized that we have no weapons," Hayden said.
  
  "They don't think so," Drake said. "Because they are not trained in it. We are dealing with wealthy citizens who have no real understanding of the consequences of their actions."
  
  "That doesn't make them any less deadly," Mai said as she brushed the marble off her clothes. "Or liable."
  
  Drake crawled back to get a better view of the lobby. The square was filled with screams, the howl of police sirens was heard in the distance. He spotted a guard heading towards Amari and knew they needed to move quickly.
  
  To his right and left were many small potted plants. He tossed them inside one by one, distracting Amari and drawing the guard's attention. He waved the man back. The area was filled with more shots, then the sound of running was heard.
  
  Alicia ran out into the open.
  
  "Wow". He ran after her and slipped in the remains of the plant pots.
  
  Alicia entered the lobby as Amari was running away. To her left were the check-in counters, the concierge, and the information desk right in front of her. A huge, ceiling-high object filled the center of the lobby, something like blown glass. As Alicia approached, two of Amari's aides walked around her and pointed their weapons at her.
  
  "Beware!" Drake's call.
  
  She sighed in exasperation, then stepped forward and knocked one of the pistols aside. The other faltered as the man pulled the trigger, but Alicia was not by his side, she ducked to the right and ran her hand over the man's elbow. A scream and a side gun confirmed the fact that he definitely felt the impact. The first man adjusted, but Alicia slid behind him, twisted his wrist, and disarmed him. As she tried to press them together, tying them together, she sensed rather than saw another attacker behind her.
  
  She twirled. Too late. The butt of the gun landed on her nose, making her see stars and blood. But none of that mattered. Alicia overcame this by focusing on the lethal weapon rather than the man. It wasn't in the game at the moment; stored and used more like a stone than a piece of deadly metal. However, as blood ran down her chin, she turned to the third man, grabbed his arm and twisted it, causing the gun to fall to the floor.
  
  Three are disarmed.
  
  Face to face with Drake, she saw him rapidly approaching her, and the team at his side. Then all three cultists charged at her, and the blood got into her eyes, stinging. Several barely noticeable blows fell on her forehead and stomach. Then one of the men decided to trip her, and she fell to one knee.
  
  All three men turned their tails between their legs and ran as fast as they could, following Amari to the large exit doors.
  
  Drake sat next to Alicia. "Are you okay?"
  
  "Of course I'm fucking fine. Go and get them, idiot!"
  
  Mai stopped and held out her hand. "I guess with your broken nose and my scar we are a couple now, hey Taz?"
  
  Alicia ignored the offer. "The nose is not broken." She rose to her feet.
  
  "Are you sure you don"t need a little help to keep yourself on your feet?"
  
  "Touch me and I'll bite your hand off." Alicia saw Drake, Hayden, and Bo heading for the exit, and with difficulty made her way to them. The ramp narrowed and then gave way to a vast sloping car park, extensive gardens and a taxi rank. There were a lot of cars parked to the left, some bright and expensive, others dull and rented. Alicia tore her gaze away from the myriad hiding places and looked at the others.
  
  Drake burst through the doors, sensing that his prey was close and panicking. Amari was right in front of me, flying down the slope and crossing the winding hotel driveway at breakneck speed. Behind this hotel, the road began, and then the last breakwater that formed the island of Atlantis, and then endless glittering waves that stretched as far as he could see.
  
  Amari's route could not be aimless. Drake figured that even the wealthy, easy-going owner of the coveted Jumeirah Palm address must have come up with some sort of escape plan. However, these guys were in good shape, able to stay ahead of the SPEAR team. Money can certainly buy physical form, if not perfect happiness.
  
  "I'll cut them off." Beau turned left, assuming they could take a shortcut through the gardens to a larger side parking lot.
  
  Drake gave chase. The sunglasses came off, fell on his nose, and had to be picked up again. A bus full of tourists peered down through their windows, chattering incessantly. The busboys and limousine drivers hurried out of the way, one caught by Alicia and sent to stretch as she barged in without much ceremony. The SPEAR team had the added burden of ensuring they always had somewhere to hide in case Amari opened fire, and they were constantly yelling at people to take cover. In the next moment, all the novices who still had their weapons turned and fired. Drake stepped back.
  
  Hayden grabbed his shoulder. "Too many civilians around."
  
  "Agree. Bastards in despair."
  
  "No," Mai said when she caught up. "They're exactly the same, and they make a little more space for their next move. Look."
  
  Amari ran out of the hotel grounds without slowing down, over the decorative wall, and then sped straight across the busy road. The cars swerved and collided. The wings caught on the back and one SUV crashed right into the hotel wall. Amari's aides took advantage of the chaos to slip between the crowded vehicles or slip right over them. Drake, Hayden, Mae and Alicia rushed straight to the heart of it all.
  
  As they approached the confusion, which was now made worse by approaching cars and flashing lights, they were stopped in their tracks by Amari's antics. The cult leader jumped onto the wall that separated the land from the sea, the breakwater from the rolling waves. Looking around, he nodded to his assistants and flashed a dazzling white-toothed smile.
  
  Drake read lips.
  
  "The ascended master will need us now more than ever."
  
  He jumped. Six of his followers ran up and followed suit, bodies filling the air and the horizon, jumping over the wall and descending into a dazzling blue brine. Hayden raised his hand to slow the team down.
  
  "Let's split up," she hissed. "Look at this and then melt. Get back to the city by any means possible. We cannot be arrested here."
  
  Her instructions were reinforced, in part, by the arrival of police cars, a crowd of people along the wall to check on what had happened, and an influx of hotel guests. The team dispersed and then leaned against the high wall, peering out over the sea below.
  
  Drake cursed. Amari clearly had more than six close friends. The drop was a little over ten feet, straight into deep water, and a large, fast-looking boat was sailing close to the shore. Amari was already inside, his friends rapidly approaching.
  
  Drake rested his hands on the wall, glad the cultists didn't just rush to their glorious death. He was ready to jump into the fray. Then he paused and looked at Hayden. Bo was also ready, looking in his direction.
  
  Hayden struggled with it. Drake cursed softly. This could only happen one way. The cops were getting out of their cars. Mai was already moving away from the crowd of tourists. Alicia squatted down next to the local, inspecting the damage to his car and making soothing sounds. If they had continued the pursuit, they would have been locked up in a Dubai jail, and as much as Drake wanted to look inside the cell where the police cars were Ferraris and Lamborghinis, he did not want to end up taking an extended vacation there. Not when Webb was still at large.
  
  Maybe next time.
  
  The tourist who had been watching the boat turned away and Drake clung to him, asking what was going on. They chatted and walked back to the hotel. A few glances back confirmed that the cops were still chasing us, trying to figure out what had happened and probably assuming that all the criminals were on the boat.
  
  He saw the signs for the monorail that led from the hotel to the outskirts of Dubai and paid for the ticket. Amari's escape was unsuccessful, a major setback for their cause. A previously forgetful person would now be in complete frenzy mode. Drake wondered how this might affect Tyler Webb and his efforts to find the Saint Germain treasure.
  
  He hoped it was bad. But now they had to hunt down two main enemies.
  
  He asked how Dahl was doing.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  
  
  Dahl led a painstakingly slow, careful and meticulous raid on a house in the snowy mountains around Zurich. After he spotted Webb, they mapped the house, figured out the location and number of guards, and tried to contact Sabrina Balboni. No wonder the super thief didn't return their calls, so Dal decided to take the initiative. Webb was in their hands. They had weapons, the element of surprise, and three well-trained soldiers. Four, because sometimes Dahl considered the Mad Swede a part of himself, an extra person.
  
  Six of them climbed out of their hiding place, trying not to shake the trees, and ran through the soft snow. Yorgi has been leading the way, and now his vigilant prowess comes into play. Kinimaka moved to the center, hoping that his bulk would not attract their attention. The truth was that, despite very careful surveillance, they could not detect any sign of outside guards. Dal couldn't wait. Webb could be there for hours or days. It was an isolated place with little chance of getting out unnoticed. Chance was on their side.
  
  They stopped at another row of three lone trees, halfway up to the house, with a white-covered garden in front of them. The garden was a hodgepodge of replica vehicles, statues, and collectibles, all of which seemed to wander, as if some weirdo was hoarding them. Dahl leaned towards Yorgi. "As soon as we get to the door, you back off."
  
  The Russian nodded. "Yes".
  
  Kinimaki's phone rang. He forgot to turn off the sound, and the melody sounded distinctly in the winter silence. The Hawaiian's eyes widened as he rummaged through the thick zippered clothing for the black rectangle.
  
  "Shit, shit, shit..."
  
  Dahl studied the house, windows, doors. Nothing moved. Nothing changed.
  
  Kinimaka poked at the phone without checking the caller ID. "Hello. Can I help?"
  
  Smith rolled his eyes.
  
  Dahl listened, recognizing the gentle tones that belonged to Sabrina Balboni, coming from the tiny speaker.
  
  "You should stop calling me. You put me in danger."
  
  "You are our asset," breathed Kinimaka. "We needed you."
  
  "I said I'll call you when I'm safe. That time has come. I have news."
  
  Kinimaka waved them all away. He held out the phone, but did not turn on the speakerphone. "Continue".
  
  "Webb came here to the old haunt of Saint Germain to find out the secret of the next treasure. The idea, the concept of Freemasonry was born here, in this place. Now the High Master lives here, guarding it like a sanctuary, offering help only to those who can prove their worth. Webb was beside himself with pride telling me about it. A disgusting worm. You know he sweats when he's excited."
  
  Lauren grimaced. "I know this guy."
  
  Dahl listened carefully.
  
  "This Grand Master will tell Webb everything he needs to know so that every Mason in the world will answer to him. Doors previously locked even to him will swing open. The world will be his playing field. This is in addition to everything he has already learned about alchemy and the mastery of languages. And this Webb - he was already crazy."
  
  Kinimaka supported her with a grunt. "The lust for power drives him like nothing else. But all this is a perversion. He perverts everything he sees and touches."
  
  "Well, Freemasonry was conceived in this house and still lives here. I'm not allowed to interfere in their discussions, but I'll ask Webb when he comes out. He is stupid. Can't wait to tell me everything and show me what a big person he is becoming. We have to make him regret this. We have to."
  
  "We are close," Dahl said. "Any advice?"
  
  "How close?"
  
  "Come to the window. I'll wave my hand to you."
  
  "Oh, it's good. All guards are wearing robes. They have swords. They have knives and ninja stars. There are almost a hundred of them. The Supreme Master is a true adept at everything you can imagine, a being who aspires to exaltation. The house is devoid of technically advanced controls. He doesn't need them. There are several old-school defense structures on the site. I hope you brought the Swiss army."
  
  "No," Dahl muttered. "I'm afraid, just a knife."
  
  "Oh. Did you think attacking a potential ascender's house was a formality? Did you assume that attacking the bricks themselves and the mortar of Freemasonry would be easy? I thought you guys were at the top of your game?"
  
  "We didn't know," Dahl said. "And we don"t have enough staff."
  
  Sabrina didn't deign to answer.
  
  "You did say ground defense," Yorgi put in, his accent softening. "I only see decorative items. Statue. Pair of Aztec columns. Rusty tank from one of the wars. Bird's cage. And a bright red telephone box in the UK. Nice touch, that."
  
  Sabrina looked confused. "That was one of Webb's remarks. Listen. I'm locked in my room, but they'll be here soon. I have to go. So, I have one more item for you."
  
  Dahl looked around at the hungry flock. "Fine. Let's do that".
  
  "Upon arrival, as we drove in, I asked Webb about our next destination. I thought it would be nice to know, to prepare. For you".
  
  "Clever," Dahl said. "What did he say?"
  
  "He waited until we were inside, behind a locked door, I think for safety, and then blurted it all out like an old woman. We're going to London, he said. Hay Market."
  
  "What?" I asked. Kinimaka looked puzzled. "What is a hay market?"
  
  "Saint-Germain was hanging out somewhere," Sabrina said. "Explore it."
  
  "We will," Dahl said. "Now get ready. We are already on our way." He was pleased that no one, especially Kinimaka, revealed that the name was on the mercenary's list, and even more so that Sabrina turned out to be a kosher asset.
  
  "If you all die, our deal will be canceled and I will find a way to disappear."
  
  "We can't stop you. But it would save a lot of lives if you could at least help take out Webb."
  
  "As soon as I'm safe, I'll see."
  
  Dahl nodded at Kinimaku. "Let's get this over with."
  
  The Hawaiian finished, and then they looked at the house again, this time with new eyes.
  
  "Strengthen your armor," Kenzi said. "That bitch said 'swords'. Damn swords." Her eyes were shining. "I can not wait!"
  
  "There's nothing moving," Smith said with some annoyance. "Nothing. If they have protection, then it is less noticeable than a painted tire."
  
  The team retested their weapons and then prepared them for use. Another moment passed before they scanned the area for the last time, carefully inspected the doors and windows, and made their move.
  
  Crouching low and moving silently, a team of six made their way through the deep snow to a completely out of place row of canons. A statue stood silently to their left, an old tank to their right. The second statue showed no signs of life, no slanted eyes suddenly lit up and shone like headlights. Dahl reached the canons first and squatted down, still watching the doors and not noticing any movement.
  
  Satisfied, he turned to check on the team.
  
  Next up was Kinimaka, which glided over soft ground but held up well. Smith and Lauren ran side by side, not talking, but clearly not wanting to be too far apart. Yorgi was next, and then Kenzi, a former Mossad agent who suddenly went into a hopping step.
  
  Dahl's jaw hit the floor.
  
  The big cannon on the roof of the huge tank watched them, turning silently, its huge barrel following their every move.
  
  "Oh, shiiiiii-"
  
  Death erupted from all sides.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  
  
  Dahl's warning caused the entire team to bounce like acrobats from the intended point of impact. It happened a fraction of a second later, a completely insane, unexpected shot from the rusty tank's turret gun, the shell crashes into the piled snow and explodes, the flames spread several yards around and detonate the shrapnel. Most of the pieces had chipped the snow, streaked the canons, or lodged in the trees, but a few sharp pieces passed through the crew. Dahl added the slashed wrist to his collection of scars; Kenzi - an abrasion on his stomach. Lauren cut her ear, while Smith was lucky enough to see deadly shrapnel fly out of the butt of his gun.
  
  The door to the house swung open, and a continuous stream of screaming sentries in black robes poured out, all of them brandishing swords. Kenzi's reaction was on the verge of orgasm.
  
  "Oh, go to your mother. Get your cute, hot-tempered ass over here!"
  
  She met the first arrivals with joyful self-forgetfulness.
  
  Dal did not lose his head, raised his pistol and saved the cartridges. One shot, one man. His team followed suit.
  
  Smith lunged at the tank, man against machine, snarling and grinding as if he could chew his way through the bulletproof hull. The barrel of the gun remained motionless, its inhabitants probably reloading. Smith jumped onto the vehicle, hit the side, and jumped off the tiny ledge again, landing on top. The access hatch lay before him, as old as a tank, as rusty and vulnerable. He stepped on it, then hit it with the butt of his pistol, gratified to see the pieces fly off. When the latch broke, he lifted the lid and dived, rolling to the front of the tank. Sure enough, the bullets whistled through the hole, shooting straight into the sky. He thought for a moment how far they could go and where they could land, and then wished for a grenade.
  
  Bad luck.
  
  Dahl yelled at his team to get out of their positions when Smith got stuck with a tank. The robed warriors were still closing in, half a dozen downed and dead, but others were jumping over their comrades and charging forward like rats leaving a plague ship. Dahl fired at one at point-blank range, the descending sword whistling over his shoulder. The next moment, he staggered to the side. He deflected the blade with his pistol, gritting his teeth to numb the pain, and fired quickly. This man fell to his knees, but then another jumped on his back and lunged at Dahl, snarling, clothes fluttering, giving the impression of Batman or Dracula, the sword cutting the very air that surrounded them, first to the left, then to the right, and then again to the left, all in the blink of an eye.
  
  Kenzi yelled it out, disarming the first man who got to her. Freed from it, she spun around and swung her sword down in a downward arc, slicing through the arm of her first opponent, whose arm and sword flew sideways with frightening speed. On the backswing, she slashed her stomach, then caught the next sword on her own, a loud metallic clanging sound as the churned ice and floating snow swirled around them, creating a glorious vision. Kenzi pirouetted, confusing her enemy and then left him to bleed out. She stabbed and stabbed and slashed, taking on battle after battle, and she never looked worried.
  
  Lauren and Yorgy stayed behind the rest, planning their shots well and highlighting occasions when the magazines needed to be replaced. No one reached them, but the enemy continued to advance.
  
  Kinimaka stood behind Dal, a solid rock against which all enemy waves crashed. Shooting in both directions, he also dived under two swings of his sword and then abruptly lifted his body upwards, sending his opponents into the air with erratic, clumsy wheel slams. Rapid firing ensured they were dead before they hit the ground, clay pigeons doomed to die.
  
  Dahl stepped back a little. The front door of the house continued to belch hooded assassins. He took aim at the door and unloaded a full clip, filling it and blocking it with twitching bodies. He lifted one person, then another, tossing both of them into a heap. Kinimaka covered for him, while Lauren and Yorgi covered for the Hawaiian. Behind them Smith fought the tank.
  
  Kenzi spun in the middle of the melee, blade blazing, snow and ice swirling and churning all around her, energized by the ferocity of her passing. Streams of blood streamed through the snow, screams were heard, and wherever the fight spread, it left behind a pile of broken bodies.
  
  A hand reached for the hatch cover of the tank, but Smith was at the ready, firing and cutting off fingers. He jumped at him, shooting straight down, showering bullets on his body. The tank did not stop humming, but no more sounds were heard. Smith swore at this and thought his skills might be useful elsewhere.
  
  Kinimaki's text tone sounded at the very center of the battle.
  
  "Damn, hold on."
  
  Dahl redoubled his efforts, guessing what the Hawaiian might be thinking. Maybe Sabrina comes up with a plan or directs them to Webb. At that moment, Kenzi rushed towards him, the majestic Queen of Swords dripping with the blood of her enemies and smiling from ear to ear.
  
  This woman is incredibly dangerous.
  
  Hard. Relentless. Confrontational. He was sure that deep down she cared, but if that was true, then emotions were locked behind impregnable doors.
  
  Smith also intervened, taking the pressure off Dahl. With catlike speed, he turned towards Kinimaka. "What is this?"
  
  "Not good. Our thief ran away from home. with Webb. under guard." He looked around. "Side door!"
  
  Dahl saw it. Another black-robed stream poured in from the other corner, toward the far side of the house, where the edge of the roof met the rock of the mountain. As he watched, the stream reached the far shore.
  
  "Webb!" he exclaimed. "Here". He saw Sabrina's black hair, the figure of Webb, and the stick-thin figure of another man at the front of the pack, probably the Supreme Master. The unmistakable sound of the garage door being opened triggered his next reaction.
  
  "With me!"
  
  For man and woman, they all broke with the Mad Swede, shooting to the sides, stopping sword-wielding maniacs in their path. Dahl jumped over the canon, bypassed the bright red telephone booth, and used the frozen ice sculpture as a screen to get close to the fugitives. As he pulled out into the open, the engine roared to life. The robed sentries spotted him and pushed through with raised swords. Dahl slammed a fresh magazine shut and dropped to one knee.
  
  "Go and get some, assholes."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  
  
  Dahl pulled the trigger, firing shot after shot, aiming for the central part of the body. The wave of attackers did not slow down, a dozen people, and then more rushed towards him with swords held high. From the left, more came up, the rest of those who had left through the front door.
  
  Dahl's team was scattered, but still advancing and fighting hard. Kenzi was highly critical of those who sought to join the new wave. Kinimaka and Smith ran low, firing constantly, trying to get to the Swede. Yorgey and Lauren stayed a few feet behind, watching the battle from a different, cooler vantage point and fending off threats the others didn't have time to see.
  
  Engines roared up the mountainside. Treble's large garage was open and full of active people. The first sign of the appearance of the vehicle was that the short white nose drove straight onto the ice. Dahl immediately knew they were in trouble.
  
  "Oh shit. This-"
  
  He didn't have to finish. From there flew three more cars, all different colors. Blue, green, dark black. Snowmobiles loaded with people and gaining momentum are ready to go. Dal took off like lightning, firing continuously. The two swordsmen came very close. He hit one in the chest, knocking him back, and hit the next almost in the forehead. A withering piece of meat bounced off the Swede and crumpled on the floor. Another stepped closer, brandishing a sword. Dahl ducked, then caught a hand and tossed the man over his head, unable to take the time to see where he landed. Kinimaka was now behind him, dodging the attacking enemy in the air and clinging to the snowmobiles.
  
  "No time!" he shouted.
  
  A white tracked vehicle surged forward, one of the less popular two-seater versions. Not content with that, the two robed assassins also clung to the vehicle, somehow perched behind and holding on to the leather loop. The driver was still holding his sword, but he squeezed the throttle with his free hand and held on.
  
  The second snowmobile, light blue, carried Webb and three guards; in the third - green - Sabrina and three guards. In the latter were a thin man and a flock of sentries. Suddenly, all four snowmobiles rushed across the ice, kicking up snowballs, engines roaring like angry attacking rhinoceroses.
  
  Dal saw them approaching, but was still fifteen meters away. He couldn't shoot with any accuracy on the run, and the snowmobiles were already going up to twenty miles an hour. They rushed past him and disappeared before he could get close. A quick glance back revealed that Kinimaka and Smith were right behind them, with Yorgi and Lauren following them from the side. The robed assassins banded together and still pursued. Kenzi fluttered around their edges like a shadow of death, executing death judgment wherever the steel kissed her.
  
  He continued to run. Never give up. Most of the guards around the garage had already left, clinging to protesting snowmobiles, so the inside was open and clean. The view from the inside was, to put it mildly, inspiring.
  
  Dahl chuckled. He turned around. "Cover the perimeter," he said.
  
  Dahl ran over as Smith and Kinimaka set up the lead mesh, quickly snatched out a magazine and inserted a new one. Yorgy and Lauren came in from behind while Kenzi broke free and jumped over the kneeling Smith, holding her new sword high.
  
  Dahl roared on the new snowmobile. "Do you have one of these things to spare?"
  
  Kenzi jumped on board. "Why? Are you going to go crazy?"
  
  "It's never far from the surface."
  
  Kenzi quickly found a discarded blade stolen from the guards they shot while the tracked vehicles made their escape. Then, with a sword in each hand, she leaned over Dahl's right shoulder, her lips close to his ear.
  
  "Hold on with all your might, Torsten."
  
  The snowmobile pounced faster than the attacking panther. Kenzi's head tilted back, and Dahl leaned over the controls. He waved his hand towards Smith. "There are four more in the back. Move on, buddy."
  
  The car felt heavy on packed ice and then on soft snow, but the steering wheel turned easily and the windshield provided good protection. He ignored all the little buttons, believing all he needed was speed and power. He already knew where the brake lever was, but he didn't intend to use it. In the mirror, he saw Yorgey and Lauren emerge from the huge garage, both on snowmobiles, and guide them towards Kinimaka and Smith, who continued to hold back the robed sentries. Their work was made easier by the fact that dozens more men went to the garage to see what was left.
  
  The rest should have been turned off.
  
  No time!
  
  Slipping and bouncing on the snow and invisible bumps, he swerved into the path of the last car. They were winning as their enemies were heavier, they were hindered by unbalanced people, and they had to keep a close eye on three other vehicles; obviously they didn't have a clear plan in mind.
  
  Dahl tried aiming over the windshield while operating the steering wheel with one hand, found it didn't work, and almost sent them head over heels into a tree. Kenzi hit him on the top of the head.
  
  "Come closer, idiot."
  
  "Thank you. I already understood that."
  
  They ran closer. Behind him, Kinimaka clung to Yorgi, while Smith looked, unsurprisingly, rather unhappy as he sat behind Lauren. The New Yorker chewed her lips like chewing gum, concentrating as hard as she could on steering the ship and keeping it safe. A horde of sentries rushed after them, screaming, but now they had no chance to keep up with them. In the distance, Dahl heard the sudden roar of new engines.
  
  "We have to put an end to this."
  
  "Just bring me closer."
  
  The rails slid and jumped, never stopping. Dahl shifted the steering wheel, overcoming bumps on the go. Lauren growled a little closer, prompting Kensi to slap him hard on the back. He pushed it to the absolute limit, feeling he'd refrained a bit for the sake of safety. Now he could see a thin man with a loose robe wrapped around him, still fluttering. Swords bristled around him. Dahl realized that they had to bypass almost all the snowmobiles to get to the Webb.
  
  "Don't worry," Kenzi said, as if reading his mind. "It's a long way back to Zurich."
  
  "The light will soon begin to fade."
  
  He knew that the day was coming to an end. And although there was a bright light now illuminating their path, revealing every trap, he didn't want to be forced to take that route at night. Something told him that the guards knew the way.
  
  "Get ready, Kenzi."
  
  She rose, black-haired and lithe, sword in each hand. She balanced on the running boards as Dal squeezed more power from the roaring engine. They drew level with the black snowmobile; the nearest sentinel lowered his sword with one hand, holding it tightly with the other. Unbalanced, he seemed clumsy, but the blade came down no less abruptly. Kenzi parried the blow and plunged her second sword into his stomach, then quickly retreated. The man wheezed and fell, bouncing in their path and splattering blood across the snow.
  
  Another took his place.
  
  Dahl moved the machine closer, the tracks almost touching, and the spray scattered on all sides. The thin man just stared at him. Kenzi fenced with the rearguard, ducking and looking for a loophole. A steep hill made her stagger, their snowmobile catching air next to another for three seconds, but as she landed she held on and slashed at her opponent's wrist.
  
  The sword fell out, still attached to his hand.
  
  The man jumped at her, crashing into their car with a crash. She caught him and lowered her shoulder, causing him to flip over the seat. His remaining hand managed to grab onto her leg, but the rest of his body dangled over the side, his feet digging up chunks of the earth.
  
  Kenzi kicked him point-blank in the face and turned her back as he flew to the side.
  
  The next guard didn't bother to hold back, just lunged at her, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword. Kenzi stalled as two snowmobiles streaked across the flat ground. Dahl saw the loophole, again moved with one hand, and raised the gun with the other.
  
  Aimed at the driver.
  
  The thin man-the Supreme Master-suddenly came to life. His frail-looking hands, still clasped together, twitched and launched a spinning black object at Dahl. The bullet went straight into the barrel of the pistol, causing him to drop the weapon to the floor and let out a groan of shock. What the hell? He saw the ninja star flash and spin and was thankful it didn't get stuck in his neck. Another twitch of his fingers, and Dahl ducked, inadvertently throwing the snowmobile aside. Kenzi staggered, and the Swede felt a cut on the side of his face.
  
  Don't mess with the crazy Swede bro.
  
  Kenzi screamed in anger and surprise, but Dahl didn't have time for that. Gritting his teeth, he spun the car around with a quick turn of the steering wheel.
  
  They collided violently, ice and snow exploding all around the impact, sparks flying from engines and chunks of metal blasting off the ground. Dahl grimly clung to them, yelling at their enemies, still turning the steering wheel to keep the cars together. Kenzi grabbed her opponent and pulled him out, jumping up as he fell from his back.
  
  The last guard attacked her. The Supreme Master and the driver remained.
  
  Dahl took on this responsibility.
  
  At that moment, Lauren swept by, skidding at high speed, and then Yorgi, struggling with the mass of Kinimaki, but bravely stepping on the gas to keep up with Lauren's slide.
  
  Dahl hopped over to the black snowmobile, planted his feet on the floorboards, and turned to face the Grand Magister. With one hand, without looking, he made a movement. Kenzi's spare sword flashed through the turbulent air, spinning to catch the light, and then his fingers closed around the hilt and brought it down in one motion.
  
  The lean man raised his hand as if to defend himself against the blade.
  
  Dahl flinched as his sword landed on a heavy metal bracelet, causing it to ricochet to the side. A thin stiletto emerged from under a black robe and darted into Dahl's stomach. He leaned back in the long seat and drew his legs up to the man's chin.
  
  His head snapped back, his neck muscles creaking. The driver looked back, and his frightened eyes met those of the Swede. Dal got up, raising his sword high and bringing it down hard. Behind him, Kenzi parried and stabbed, striking every second until her enemy was pierced through and fell, fell like an old puppet with all its strings snapped.
  
  Dahl speared the Grand Master, then jumped up beside the driver.
  
  "One chance," he said. "Jump the fuck out right now."
  
  The man obeyed. Dahl saw that their own snowmobile, miraculously still attached to the black one, was now dragging along, posing a danger. He looked back at Kenzi.
  
  "Jump in there, love, and free that thing. And throw me that gun."
  
  A battle raged ahead.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  
  
  Dahl saw Lauren pull up to the green snowmobile, her target being Sabrina Balboni, but she tried to hide it. Yorgi drove his car with all his might after her. Two more cars passed ahead: Webb and the leader. Dahl looked at Kenzi, who was now racing alongside him.
  
  "Do you want to help?"
  
  "Not my forte. But, hey, now that I have a sword, I'm practically open to everything."
  
  Dahl pressed his microphone. "Be careful with the asset, Lauren and Smith. Still might be useful."
  
  Yorgi gave full throttle and swept past Lauren and then past her. He was after Webb, someone they could destroy with a sharp prejudice, and he had Kinimaka in tow. The Hawaiian leaned on the back of the snowmobile but held on bravely, no doubt looking for vengeance from being so close to Webb.
  
  Dahl let Kenzi jump back on board and then led her right up to the back of the green car. The sentry, whose brain was no doubt frazzled by the relentless rhetoric, actually jumped right at them, spreading his arms and legs in the air like a flying lizard. The long blade he held vibrated as the wind blew against its thin steel.
  
  Kenzi rushed forward, shielding Dahl, who didn't bat an eyelid, just kept driving. She caught the incoming blade six inches from his skull, hit the descending man hard as he landed, breaking his ribs and sending him tumbling overboard into the snow. Dahl swerved to avoid the body.
  
  They sped up again. It would be suspicious if they didn't attack the thief's car. Sabrina sat with her head down, staring directly at Dahl from under her hood. Around her, sentries raged.
  
  Kenzi grabbed the steering wheel and shrugged. "Just shoot them."
  
  "Really? Have you had enough swordsmanship?"
  
  "I want to get to Webb."
  
  "Yes," Dahl admitted. "Me too". He fired three bullets and the three men rolled to the side. Sabrina kept low, didn't pose a threat, and the driver didn't even look back. Dahl figured their obedience would be enough to get past them.
  
  "Now". Kenzi was balancing on the footrests again. "Be my rock."
  
  He smiled.
  
  Get on the blue snowmobile and Dal came up from the left while Lauren and Yorgy fought for position on the right. A whirlwind of wet snow, a blinding blizzard, exploded around the accelerating participants. Webb tried to command people. Dahl saw confusion and despondency in their eyes. Today they lost their leader.
  
  Where will they go next? At least three-quarters of them seemed to think the sacrifice was a good idea. Kenzi stepped forward and deflected the onslaught of the two men at once, their swords clanging against each other as they all dangled from the sides of the vehicles. Dahl held it perfectly steady, Kenzi's 'rock'.
  
  In Kinimaki's huge paw was a pistol, with which he safely shot the man in the robes at their side; Smith did the same. After that there was no more security; sliding, rebounding and deflection of runners have always been imperfect.
  
  Ahead, Dahl saw a long slope ending in a sparse forest, and behind it, as he knew, lay the path to Zurich. It goes without saying that the Freemasons must have had a plan.
  
  Then his thoughts were completely occupied when a line of trees passed, and they were suddenly among thick trunks without branches. Kenzi knelt down to keep her balance as Dahl barely had time to swerve to clear one deadly obstacle and then streaked right past another, scraping paint off the car and shavings off the wood. The white snowmobile, far ahead, drove even closer, losing mirror and protection due to the very wide trunk and winding roots. Worst of all, the unfortunate man just got stuck there, in the roots, sprawled out, as if tangled in a web, and died instantly.
  
  Dahl rode past, signaling for everyone to stay where they were. Another huge chest appeared, and then it flew left and right past two more, a deadly chicane, and Drake would have been furious to know what he missed. He grinned smugly.
  
  The ground was terribly uneven, one blow sent them high into the air, unable to steer and aiming for the low branches and trunk behind them. At the last moment, the runners crashed into the thin snow at an angle due to Dahl and Kensi's desperate leaning, and then raced past the tree. Their tilt resulted in them crashing sideways into Webb's blue snowmobile, knocking it off course. He hit Lauren, then rolled back into a forward position, his dazed riders stunned. Dahl was forced to swerve to one side again when a gigantic pair of gnarled trunks blocked their path.
  
  "Do you see this?" Kenzi screamed.
  
  The distance could see nothing but snow, forest, and hanging branches. "What?"
  
  "There is a road ahead. If this is the same one we stopped at, then this is a direct route to Zurich. It can't be blind luck."
  
  "So that's it." Dahl nodded. "Knew there had to be a reason."
  
  The snowmobiles moved on, the fighting paused for a moment as the drivers tried their best to keep everyone alive. The white leader soared over the ramp-shaped snowdrift, his driver standing, and landed with a double bang, now passing through the woods and heading towards a belt of black asphalt that stood out from the snowy fields.
  
  Thunder shook the sky.
  
  Dal looked up, and although darkness had thickened among the white-gray clouds, he could easily make out the running lights of a couple of helicopters. "Cavalry," he said.
  
  "Or sectarians." Kinimaka jumped on the link.
  
  "Too much of a coincidence." Dahl let off the gas as the edge of the forest approached. "How are we doing with ammunition?"
  
  "Damn good." Kenzi wielded her sword and grinned.
  
  The others sounded distant; not bad after such an open war, but then they came prepared. Not in every way, he thought, glancing at the beast he had mounted, and then at Kenzi standing tall with her bloodied blade. But the Swede had the mind of a soldier, the brain of a soldier, and he made his next decision without pause.
  
  "Lauren, Yorgi, you are the closest. You get Webb. We will go for the helicopters."
  
  Easy to say, but the structure was clear in his mind. If they chased the helicopters before they landed, the pilots would have been forced to dodge. Then he looked at the people sitting inside the helicopters.
  
  Not dressed in robes, not local. Webb must have placed them in Zurich somehow, on hold. They wouldn't back down.
  
  Men leaned out of the descending helicopters, their feet on the skids, their weapons aimed.
  
  Dahl knew they were easy prey. But something wasn't quite right. Webb, of course, called these people, but where were the Freemasons going?
  
  He pulled on the steering wheel, swung the snowmobile around behind the wide trunk as hellish flames blazed from above. The bullets pierced the tree, knocking huge chips out of it. Dahl and Kensi crouched low. He could hear Kinimaka and Smith grunting over the comm as they were dragged to safety as the remaining snowmobiles continued on.
  
  Dahl did not accept defeat easily. He leaned out of the trunk, holding the Glock with both hands, and took aim at one of the pilots of the helicopter. The return fire distorted its target, and the bullets shot up into the clouds. All three of the remaining snowmobiles stopped by the road, and one of the helicopters dropped sharply, aiming straight for the middle. As he approached the asphalt, the mercenaries landed to take up positions around the perimeter.
  
  "Too much". Smith cursed. "Too desperate. But they still have our property."
  
  Dahl didn't want to do it all over again. He couldn't shoot blindly because he didn't want to hit the master thief. "Next time," he said for no real reason. "We bring grenades."
  
  Kenzi looked a little offended, and Dahl had to admit that she had done more for the team than she was supposed to. Another salvo ripped through the line of trees, pinning them to the ground. Now a new sound came from the advancing darkness, and bright lights flared and bounced from the earth to the heavens. Dahl knew that sound.
  
  "4x4," he said. "Let's go up the road. So this is where the Freemasons fled to."
  
  Helicopters hummed, their rotors spinning violently as one took off and the other climbed. Dahl saw only the remaining robed warriors and Tyler Webb's face pressed against one of the helicopter's windows. The man grinned.
  
  Got what I came for.
  
  But Sabrina was there too. The day was not entirely lost.
  
  "So," he said. "Let's get ourselves a couple of vehicles."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  
  
  The team burst out of cover, engines roared, and runners slid. The robed men heard their approach and formed a cordon around the 4x4, but Dahl showed no signs of slowing down. As the line approached, he stepped on the gas and saw fear flare in the eyes of his enemies as they realized his intentions.
  
  "Don't fool me," he growled.
  
  Pushing people aside, he threw the steering wheel to the side, and the car slid. Kenzi slashed with one hand while holding on with the other. Her sword clanged once, twice, then cut through the bone. People stretched out on the ground. Dahl raised his gun as the snowmobile slowed and fired three shots. From the right came Yorgey and Lauren; Kinimaka and Smith were lighting a fire. Robed warriors rushed towards the spinning snowmobiles, fanatics to the last, some slashing at the metal with their swords, others falling as they chopped down those aboard. Car engines roared as their drivers saw what was happening.
  
  Dahl jumped off the pegs, dropped to two feet, and shattered the side window of a tall black car. Blood spattered and the figure sank, the sound of the engine fading away. The second 4x4 rushed forward in a skid due to gravel churning.
  
  The sword swung at Dahl. He jumped back, letting the blade pass at arm's length. He kicked the owner as he saw the sword fall and then rendered him unconscious. The other attacker yelled for a right hand, but Kenzi caught his descending sword with her own, ripping the man's weapon free and nearly breaking his wrist in the process.
  
  Dahl saw a hole in the bloody 4x4 and pressed the link button. "With me," he shouted. "Fast".
  
  They ignored the few remaining opponents and rushed with all their might to 4x4. Dahl jumped out the open front door and threw the dead driver aside. The engine was still running. The robed figure walked over to him, and he closed the door in the man's face, wincing as metal crunched against bone with an unrelenting crunch.
  
  Kenzi remained at the passenger door, fencing with the two men and keeping them at bay. Smith shot one as he jumped into the back seat. Yorgey and Lauren jumped off their perches and dived along, tangled and stretched out in the legroom. Dahl pressed hard on the accelerator.
  
  Kinimaka jumped into the back seat.
  
  The Swede started off in a black cloud of rubber, racing as fast as he could into the heart of Zurich.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  
  
  Drake was walking, a lone tourist returning to his hotel in the center of Dubai. They chose a location close to the Dubai Mall, both because of its distance from the Palm Jumeirah and its proximity to the airport's main highway. He entered the lobby, holding the door open, looking around to see who might be lying in wait.
  
  Everything looks good.
  
  The interior was bright and shining, all the staff were smiling. Guests came and went, despite the late hour. Drake carefully made his way inside, headed for the stairs and stopped at the first landing. Everything was quiet. In truth, nothing made him sound the alarm.
  
  Looks like I'm safe, but what about the rest?
  
  Their strategy didn't work well - a failure for the SPEAR team. They endangered civilians and themselves. Questions will be asked... anywhere. He's not used to failure, especially in the last few years. Sometimes a person can be forgiven for considering himself a little superhuman, but the elite soldiers of the Special Forces were trained to behave differently, think differently, perform feats that, without training based on decades of experience, may seem unattainable.
  
  Although I must say that they worked hard. Webb was clearly following a plan he had stuck to for many years. The cultists have reacted... so far. Now, he thought. They will introduce new schemes.
  
  He entered their room, next to the fire escape. Heads turned and the shadow moved to the side, but Drake knew immediately that the figure was Mai.
  
  "Took the good old days away from you," Alicia commented.
  
  "Hey, less of the oldies."
  
  Hayden rose from her seat by the window, which was filled with illuminated skyscrapers. "So we are all here. What are your thoughts?"
  
  The group got into a discussion about what had happened. Hayden answered Argento's call and the team considered what to do next. The mood was gloomy; no one liked to lose. And while they didn't exactly lose, the result was not pleasant. Drake took some comfort when he found three boxes of pizza, all half eaten. He carefully fished out two slices of pepperoni and drank a full bottle of water.
  
  Hayden called Dahl.
  
  The Swede answered immediately, seemingly out of breath. "I hope you have better news than we do, Hayden, because we just destroyed half of Zurich and lost Webb." He made a pause.
  
  Drake chewed inconsolably.
  
  "We screwed up pretty bad," Hayden said. "Lost Amari and his boys. Perhaps they are already halfway to Europe."
  
  Dahl asked them to wait a bit while he collected his thoughts, then said, "So Webb was meeting with a High Master, some kind of Adept and a big mason, I believe. The guy was guarded to the maximum by some psychos with swords who were chasing us from the damn mountain."
  
  Alicia pursed her lips. "Sounds like you had a better time than we did."
  
  "It had its moments," Dahl admitted. "Anyway, Webb left in a helicopter that we tracked all the way to town. Caught him near the helipad, pursued him, drove through a red light. Crashed." He sighed. "I'd like to say it was Kenzi's fault for throwing that bloodied sword out the window, but it was my hands on the steering wheel."
  
  Drake stopped chewing halfway through. "Does Kenzi have a sword now?"
  
  "Yeah, I keep trying to take it away from her, but..."
  
  "Don't you have the courage?" Drake asked.
  
  "Yes, it's a real risk."
  
  Drake winced slightly as Dahl continued. "So, crash, but we continued to plow. Webb rushed through the shopping district and over the bridge, and that's when the police intervened. Argento asked them to let us take the initiative, but some local hothead ignored him and went head-to-head with Webb. The result was not pleasant."
  
  Hayden looked around the room. "Yes, it's the same here."
  
  "Webb's mercenaries didn't hold back, and although he seemed to only have three or four of them, it was enough to help block the roads with police cars and make an escape. Luckily for us, Sabrina is with him."
  
  "She stayed?" Alicia looked impressed.
  
  "She did. I believe in her. And her information matches the mercenary's list. Even though she had a chance to escape, she stayed with Webb. We are wanted by Interpol, but given Webb's penchant for disappearances, I believe she is still our best chance."
  
  "What did we learn about Webb's trip?"
  
  "Very few," Dahl admitted. "Saint Germain helped establish Freemasonry here, so maybe their secret chants or handshakes are what he needs to progress, but Sabrina hinted that it could well pave the way for him into the future. Getting to know a million open doors or something like that. Who knows? The thing is, he's now moving on to the next location, and Sabrina has already told us where it is."
  
  Drake opened another bottle of water. "I guess it's Europe. The Count seems to have traveled farther than the damn Boeing."
  
  "And you would be right. Webb's next stop is London, the Haymarket Theatre. Lauren is not Karine when it comes to computers, but she discovered that Germain was writing songs and performing there."
  
  Hayden scratched the back of her head. "So now he is also a composer and an actor? God, who the hell was that guy?"
  
  "Interesting," Beau said. "You are on the side of the 'dead' camp."
  
  "What... to say again?"
  
  "You believe he's dead."
  
  "Of course he's fucking dead. This man was born in 1712!"
  
  Bo didn't say anything. Alicia looked like she was about to vomit a huge sarcastic comment out of her chest, but restrained herself as she met Drake's gaze.
  
  "Is it because you are French?" Smith rumbled bluntly. "You know, the romance of it all, the nostalgic passion and all that?"
  
  "Yes," Drake nodded. "The French certainly love the crybaby."
  
  "What happened there in Dubai?" They heard Kinimaki's voice.
  
  "We lost them," Hayden said very simply. "But the guy has at least six core followers and he doesn't know how to handle weapons. I don't know yet how he got obsessed with Germain, but he's a fanatic, a crusader dedicated to his cause. However, Amari is different again - spoiled, wealthy, out of touch with life. He believes that everything happens at the snap of a finger, probably because it has been like that all his life. I sincerely believe that this person is not aware of the consequences of his actions and has no meaning in human life. Of course, this does not help us much."
  
  "Does he have anything at home?"
  
  Hayden chuckled. "Another mistake. We escaped from there in a fast chase, and now the cops have cordoned off the house. The trouble must have already led to him. The bottom line is we can't access the house."
  
  "So, what is next?" Dahl asked, rather a rhetorical question, because everyone knew the answer.
  
  "So we're heading to London," Hayden said. "We'll meet you guys there. But just remember that things have changed now. It sped up. They got more and more dangerous. Amari and his cult know they are being hunted, but I assume they will stop at nothing to protect their precious earl and all his treasures. Now he is fully invested. This is where it all really starts. That's where the shit really starts to happen."
  
  Drake nodded and rose to his feet. "Webb will follow his set of clues to the very end. If necessary, he will destroy everything in his path. The same for Amari. At the very least, we need to catch up with them."
  
  "See you in London," Dahl said.
  
  "See you, Torsti." Alicia said with a smile. "And don't forget - Kenzie is a bitch. Don"t get too harsh on her side."
  
  "Yes thank you. I think I'm already there."
  
  "Trust me," Alicia muttered. "You're far away."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
  
  
  London was dreary the next morning, with a constant drizzle of rain from a gray slate sky. A cold wind drove a languid Scottish mist back and forth across London, making residents and tourists miserable, cold and wet. Drake remembered thinking this weather was "just for the sake of it," as his mother used to say in the long, usually cold autumn north of Woolley Edge. The mood around was gloomy, and this was not helped by the fact that Dahl's team had been waiting for several hours.
  
  Piccadilly Circus was buzzing with activity; its glittering signs attracted all the attention they could; her statues stood tall, hard and cold, as leaden as the sky; its flamboyant shops and restaurants remained closed at this non-tourist hour, giving its residents a brief reprieve from the ruthless life.
  
  Alicia looked up from under her hood. "You will have to wait for me," she said. "I never, ever hand over vermilion without opening my purse."
  
  Drake tried but couldn't hold back a healthy laugh. "Wallet? As if."
  
  Alicia giggled. "Yeah, that didn't sound right. Throw us a five, love."
  
  In the end, Hayden managed to fish some crumpled English money out of his zippered pocket, leaving Drake wondering when was the last time he made a personal purchase. In truth, he couldn't remember. Their lives did not revolve around comfort and possessions. When Alicia returned with cinnamon-sprinkled icing on her lips, he wondered what it would be like to lick her off.
  
  "Come on guys," Hayden interrupted his fantasy before it got too intense. "Incredibly, we are on this road called the Haymarket."
  
  "It just shows how important theater is," Dahl said.
  
  "Ah, but what was here first? Road name or exhibition hall?"
  
  The Swede laughed and stopped at a wide winding intersection where cars and buses seemed to have a full circle to aim at the hurrying pedestrians and slowly walking elderly people. The crew waited for the green light to turn on, feeling slightly out of place at traveler's London, standing among the drifting crowd.
  
  As they waited, Hayden's cell phone rang and she directed them all to the store's doors. "Sabrina," she said, then answered.
  
  "Are you okay?"
  
  "I am now," came the muffled but still fiery Italian intonations. "As long as you keep that swordsman you have out of my face. Many times she nearly cut me. I am traumatized."
  
  Kenzi smirked and leaned forward to say something, but Hayden cut her off with a glare. "Sorry, she'll never do that again."
  
  Dahl held out his hands, palms up. "You weren't there. We couldn't have done it without her."
  
  Drake nudged him with his elbow. "Sorry to upset you buddy, but you really fucked everyone except you split a bunch of monks."
  
  "Oh. And how was Dubai?"
  
  "Surely better than your vacation."
  
  Dahl looked ready to move on, looking more than just annoyed now, but it was Sabrina who caught Drake's attention.
  
  "We flew in by plane some time ago and have been wandering around the Haymarket Theater ever since. Webb tells me about his search, how important it is, and about him. How could I be invited to bow to his glory in the future." The thief seemed sick. "He is a vile person. But he doesn't know any better. Wait..." Moments passed as she shifted to a better position, her phone rustling in her pocket.
  
  "I'm back. First, Webb already knows where the next and penultimate clue will be found. He didn't explain anything else, but I think I remember his words as 'at the place of his death'. So now this Saint Germain is related to the London theater scene. The greatest philosopher who ever lived, who always looked forty-five no matter what country house, meeting or party he was seen in, also had an extraordinary ability for art. Violin. Harpsichord. He was an improviser, an inventor in every area of life."
  
  "Do you remember all this?" Smith barked.
  
  "No. I've been hammered into this for many, many hours," Sabrina sighed in response. "A painful hour. I am sure that tonight I will dream about this long-dead earl."
  
  Hayden bit her bottom lip. "It's better than dreaming about Webb, trust me."
  
  "So he was a composer, this Count. His works were presented to Tchaikovsky and Lobkowitz, while at least two others were performed at the Haymarket Theater and presented to him. I think in 1745 and 1760. Webb says the next clue lies in the composition, in the words or notes of the song."
  
  Hayden looked up through the drizzle to the tops of the tallest buildings. "Certainly. He was hiding vital information in something that would live long after he was gone. I think if the follower has gotten to this point, the Count may already think he is worthy. "
  
  "I can't talk anymore and will be unavailable for a while as we move on to...anywhere. I don't know. Webb says our next stop is the penultimate prize. I suggest you move faster."
  
  "Does he have reinforcements?" Hayden asked quickly as Drake assessed the road ahead and their path to the Haymarket. "Men? Trap? Anything?"
  
  But Sabrina left, it seems that Webb himself called her. The team took a long look around.
  
  "Busy as hell," Smith said. "And it gets worse every minute. But if Webb is there now..."
  
  "Worth a try," Drake said. "Or two."
  
  Hayden headed for the exit, followed by Kinimaka and Dahl. Drake was next with Alicia, May and Bo, and then the last group - Kenzi, Smith, Lauren and Yorgi - trailed behind, covering the rear. The tour bus rumbled by as they drove past shops almost covered by scaffolding. Steakhouse and market signs on Dover Street. Lauren pointed Kinimake to Planet Hollywood across the road, but the Hawaiian turned his nose away from her.
  
  "Not the same. I love serving stuffed burgers."
  
  "How is the collection of glasses going?" - Asked Drake, when they went to explore.
  
  "Growing," Kinimaka admitted. "My buddy Nigel posts them from all over the world. Either he traveled better than us guys, or he has a lot of friends."
  
  Theatre, another burger joint, and then Drake saw six white pillars and colorful billboards hanging across the sidewalk and guessed they were approaching the Haymarket. The group slowed down again, taking the time to carefully study the area. Drake saw no threats and picked up nothing with his reliable internal radar. For a minute, the team tried to gain access to the theater by calling local residents for permission and then waiting for someone to arrive. The clock kept ticking, and Webb got closer to his goal. By mid-morning, the crew and half a dozen skeptical cops entered the hallowed interior of the Haymarket Theatre.
  
  They spread out, searched everything around. They asked the manager to open locked doors and old, unused rooms, archives. They searched for an hour and did not find the slightest hint that anyone else was there.
  
  Drake paused on the first tier balcony, looking down at what appeared to be a small stage surrounded by gilt fittings, drapes and mirrors. Seeing it so empty, adorned with luxury, but at the same time abandoned, deprived of the only thing that filled its rafters with life, was a little unsettling. He just prayed to God that Alicia wouldn't come on stage and burst into song. It would really ruin this place.
  
  He leaned forward, hands gripping the tiny railing, staring into the distance. Was Sabrina ever here? Did she play them? Where the hell was Tyler Webb? More importantly, when will May actually come out and say she's unhappy with how things went?
  
  And then what?
  
  The last thing Drake wanted was for the two deadliest women in the world to fight over him. Hayden took this moment to use their communications system to admit that there was no sign of Webb or Sabrina - or anyone else for that matter - and called the manager onto the stage.
  
  Drake headed that way himself, seeing that Dal, Bo, and Kinimaka were also heading towards the rendezvous point. Hayden was waiting. The theater manager was a man of indeterminate age, tall, lanky, wearing an overly tight jacket and oversized watch. Oddly enough, he also sported a ponytail, which he may have considered defiant.
  
  Alicia noticed this the moment she arrived. Drake warned her with a raised eyebrow. Hayden got nowhere by questioning this man, not so much as a sideways glance. Drake knew she thought he probably gave Webb free entry in exchange for a hefty sheaf of papers-it was her CIA training-but he didn't see the man as a cheat. After a few minutes she changed the direction of her questions.
  
  "What do you know about the history of this place?"
  
  "The last twenty years? Most of them. I have been a manager for a long time." He looked pleased with himself.
  
  "More further," Hayden said. "I was thinking more about the middle of the eighteenth century and a dude named Saint-Germain."
  
  "No, I was definitely not a manager back then." He tried to fake a smile, which didn't work, then rubbed the back of his neck. Alicia's eyes lit up again as the ponytail began to bounce.
  
  "But you know, of course, that this place was not the Haymarket then?"
  
  Hayden frowned. "Was that not true?"
  
  "No, the original building is a little to the north. Same street, but redone in the early 1800s."
  
  "And this..." Hayden struggled to find the right words. "Works of art. Paintings. Works. Songs."
  
  The manager wrinkled his brow. "Well, they are always sent to the British Museum. In particular, if they were donated to the theatre."
  
  "Saint Germain donated the songs," Lauren confirmed.
  
  Drake took advantage of this. "And, my friend," he moved closer. "You didn"t tell anyone else about this in, say... oh, the last hour?"
  
  "Umm... no. But if I did, does that mean I'm in trouble?"
  
  "Was he alone?" Hayden rubbed the bridge of her nose in desperation.
  
  "No. He came with a young woman, at first I thought it was his daughter. But it's not. They were completely different."
  
  "No... bodyguards?"
  
  "Nope."
  
  At that moment, Hayden's phone chirped. She showed the message for all to see.
  
  Breaking into the British Museum right now. Come soon!
  
  "She's useful," Alicia admitted.
  
  Hayden turned to one of the local cops. "How far is the British Museum?"
  
  "You can get it up and running in less than fifteen minutes. Unmarked cars can take almost as long."
  
  "Then let's go. And call for reinforcements."
  
  "What kind of?" The policeman was running and at the same time pulling out his walkie-talkie.
  
  "All. All this. No one knows what that bastard has up his sleeve this time. Not to mention his enemies."
  
  "Look at it the other way," Drake said. "We have weapons this time."
  
  Kenzi snorted softly. "Simple curiosities. I would do better with my katana."
  
  "Your world-" Dahl grimaced as he looked at her- "not ours."
  
  Drake caught Alicia reaching for her ponytail as she started to run. "No," he growled. "Do you have to pull on everything that hangs in front of your eyes?" He cringed and started to run away. "Don't answer that, for God's sake."
  
  They ran out into the drizzle, and then ran even more furiously; a man who will rule the world just minutes from their takeover, his wild and destructive plans on the verge of being carried out; the people who would destroy it at all costs were no doubt in hiding and planning an attack.
  
  Lives and livelihoods; War and Peace; death and destruction:
  
  Everything was hanging by a thread.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Hayden followed the lead cops through the perpetual drizzle and glanced up at the gunmetal sky. The low hanging clouds matched her mood and she saw no change in the near future.
  
  Alicia was jogging beside her. "Are you having fun?"
  
  "What? No. For some time now, life has been about as fun as a bullet in the back."
  
  "Well, you would know."
  
  "I feel like I don"t know what"s on my mind, I can"t trust the decisions I make."
  
  "Why is this?"
  
  "Because every major decision I make is wrong."
  
  "So it's you. Running under gray skies. Physically and emotionally."
  
  Hayden gave him a searching look. "Is that really Alicia Miles?"
  
  "New and improved. I have changed, or rather, I am trying to change, but it is much more difficult than you think."
  
  "I understand that you have stopped running. But you found what you were looking for. I do not have them."
  
  "Ah, bullshit. So I have." She stared at Matt Drake for a moment.
  
  "Maybe I will never find it because of our work."
  
  Alicia nodded. "Battle. Performed. Chase. Never stopping. I think I'm lucky."
  
  Hayden managed a smile. "So I get the next choice from that pile, right? Who is this? Smith? beau? Yorgy?
  
  Alicia whistled. "All damaged goods".
  
  "Yes," Hayden whispered. "We don't know half of it. We are all damaged goods. Once that childlike innocence is gone, we all become tainted goods."
  
  She lowered her head as they drove past the National Opera and then took a short cut past the tube station in Leicester Square. Here, crowds of people took to the sidewalk, not paying much attention to those who were already passing by, and the square turned into a free for everyone. Dahl found his way and swept through the slow moving cars. At that moment, Hayden's phone rang and she automatically fished it out as she went.
  
  "Jay".
  
  "Hello Miss J, this is Bob Todd calling from the president's office. Is this the right time?"
  
  Hayden pushed the phone away and stared at the screen in disbelief. The number was not identified.
  
  It could have been better, she thought, and said, "Of course, as long as everything is in order."
  
  "Then I will be brief. The President believes that the collaboration with Robert Price has opened several doors."
  
  Hayden's thoughts returned to the recent former Secretary of Defense and his betrayal of the United States. "This is true?"
  
  "Well, first of all, there is a new secretary of defense. And... price's wrong decisions... give us the opportunity to change."
  
  "They make?" Hayden was focused as they passed the Cambridge Foyles Theatre, then turned sharp right down Danmark Street. She heard Kinimaka mutter something unintelligible about the old Forbidden Planet store, but ignored the Hawaiian.
  
  "In general terms, the president thinks that your team should be transferred. Somewhere new. Fresh. And secret."
  
  "Secret base?" Hayden blurted out.
  
  Bob Todd chuckled. "Yes it is".
  
  Hayden bit her tongue, managing to cut off the ooooooooooooo sound just a second after it started. She thought she got away with it.
  
  "Sounds tempting, right? We'll take care of it right now, but be prepared to travel and let your team know in the next few days. In related news: Our new secretary has been chosen and she will be in office very soon."
  
  "She?"
  
  "Yes. Miss Kimberly Crow is a woman."
  
  Hayden wrote it all down as he passed the Shaftesbury Theatre, and then they ended up on Bloomsbury Street. The policemen waved and pointed to the imposing building ahead. Hayden opened her mouth to end the conversation, but quickly closed it when Todd offered a little more information.
  
  "Miss Crowe has expressed interest in meeting with all of you as soon as possible. We are trying to organize it right now."
  
  "It can be, um, not easy."
  
  "It's clear. But that's part of what Secretary Crowe does. If she thinks someone or something is worth the risk, nothing will stop her."
  
  Hayden shook her head. Crap. How the hell do I explain the attributes of this command?
  
  "Maybe wait until we get home," she said tactfully. "It should be easier."
  
  "That sounds very friendly. It will be arranged." Todd hung up before she could answer.
  
  Hayden looked up. The British Museum was larger than she had imagined. The truth that was then established was that it could take all day to find a determined person there. She looked at the cops.
  
  "Could you call the guardian here? Manager?"
  
  "Which one, ma'am?" One of the cops tried to be sarcastic.
  
  Alicia was still standing over her shoulder. "You can have Santa and all his fucking elves if they help, boy. Just do it now."
  
  Hayden took a moment to relax and survey the imposing structure. Inside was a man who haunted her dreams and waking nightmares for much longer than she cared to remember. Besides, she remained certain that Amari or his cronies would show up somehow. If they looked at the previous locations, they would be here too. She looked up as the man ran down the stairs.
  
  "Keeper," one of the cops said.
  
  "What the hell does all this mean?" a tall, smug man asked them, his voice like a high-pitched scream. "You know, I'm a busy person."
  
  Drake stepped right in his face. "We're not exactly messing around, mate."
  
  Alicia said it best. "Listen dude, shut the fuck up and answer her questions. The faster you do it, the less likely you are to get shot." She scanned the area. "Better hurry up."
  
  "Gunned down?" The Guardian stuttered.
  
  Hayden pushed him towards the museum. "Move, move. Faster." The team followed the now running handler all the way up the steps.
  
  And to the hell that waited outside of it.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  
  
  Magnificent corridors, which combined the old with the new, the ancient with the ultra-modern, led many ways inside the British Museum. Drake watched Hayden as she followed the handler, her attention focused on some choppy mid-range movement, her body language tight in a way he'd never seen before. Like Alicia, Hayden could be a hot couple. He didn't want to be the man on the wrong side of her.
  
  Kinimaka trudged along beside him, focused as ever on keeping straight and not knocking over ancient statues and filigree pedestals as he passed.
  
  "I can't get through to her anymore," he told Drake.
  
  "She still loves you, mate. Give her time."
  
  "Maybe she still loves me, but she's already gone. She does not waste her time when she has made a decision."
  
  Drake was inclined to agree, but held his own. "Remember the good times, mate. If you're sure you couldn't have done more, then..." He paused. Who the hell is he to give out relationship advice?
  
  Kinimaka put a huge hand on his shoulders and then leaned down. "Thank you, brother. But I'll tell you this. You have a big payback. You. Alicia. May. He pursed his lips and exhaled heavily. "Judgment Day".
  
  Drake felt the weight on his shoulders increase. "Thanks for this".
  
  The vaults were huge, dusty, and incredibly disorganized. Hayden asked him about St. Germain, but it took him a while to boot up his computer and browse through the digital archives. Only after this was done could the man point them to the right place. "Two compositions," he said. "Donated circa mid 1750s. Do they matter? I hope I haven't missed anything."
  
  The team calmed him, then sent him back to relative safety. Drake was already roaming the dusty corridors, keeping to the darkest corners and listening intently. Ancient tomes and rolled scrolls lay on endless wooden shelves, the only movement they ever knew was the specks of dust that scattered around them. Bare bulbs flickered overhead, though most of them were dead. Drake found it in contrast to the glittering halls above; down here, forgotten relics seemed to dwell in dreams of centuries. But then, like people, not all of them could be constantly put on public display.
  
  "Creepy," Alicia muttered next to him. "You don't really know what they have down here."
  
  "Prehistoric hounds," Drake said. "Chained zombies. Voodoo priestesses. At least that's what I heard."
  
  Alicia nudged him with her elbow. "Don't be with-"
  
  Mai clicked her tongue. "Shut up, Taz. I can't hear anything because of your pathetic whining."
  
  "What about my knuckles? Do you think you'll hear it?"
  
  The situation escalated.
  
  Drake ignored this.
  
  The row of chest-high chests continued to the right, their lids in disarray, some completely covered with nails, while others were broken into jagged pieces. Drake saw ceramics, small figurines and a broken mirror. Red lights flashed everywhere to draw his attention, sensors caught potential thieves, and the security upstairs was top notch. This was one of the main reasons Tyler Webb hired Sabrina Balboni.
  
  He rounded the next corner and Tyler Webb was crouched on the floor, his back to them, rummaging through a low cardboard box. Drake blinked in disbelief, stopped abruptly, and simply stared.
  
  Alicia froze as if she had just been turned into ice. The rest of the team crowded around the corner and stopped; shocked, but all very quickly came to their senses.
  
  Webb rummaged through the inside of the box, jeans and coats covered in a thick layer of dust, surrounded by a dozen torn cardboard boxes and a shelf that was clearly broken. Sabrina, who had crouched in front of Webb and watched, met Drake's eyes but said nothing.
  
  Webb chuckled to himself. "It's in the song. The song is everything. Where next, equal to me? Where to go? You have traveled far and wide. You traveled around. Europe has been your playground. Kings and queens are your friends. But where are you now? Where do we end up?
  
  Each sentence was accompanied by tearing the paper or throwing the scroll aside. Drake wanted to listen longer, aware that clues might be missed, but Hayden only saw the person who had once watched her every move from dusk to dawn and made sure she spoke first.
  
  "Get up carefully, Webb. Is this all you are capable of ".
  
  He tensed, then clapped his hands to clear the dust off them, sending feathers flying into the air. He rose slowly, and Drake saw that he was holding two fragile-looking sheets of paper. "Found you," he said softly.
  
  Then he turned.
  
  "Hayden Jay" He smiled obscenely. "Long time no see. You look slimmer in real life than on CCTV footage. And Mano Kinimaka. Is it beef or fat? Wait, I'm sure I have some photos. Oh, and the inimitable Matt Drake. Your memory is linked to Mai Kitano. Let me know if you ever want to relive this. Oh, and the rest of you..." He waved his arms and backed away. "Write me. I am sure that I have everything you want."
  
  Drake restrained Hayden as she stepped forward in anger. Webb was overconfident and nothing they did came so easily to them. He saw Webb walk around Beau with contempt. It was not easy to see your old bodyguard, who had always been a double agent. He deliberately gave Webb another chance to vent his anger.
  
  "Come to think of it, Hei," he spat out the Kinimaki nickname for his lover. "I don't think I've ever seen you standing up straight before." He giggled. "And Alicia? Does Drake satisfy you in the same way that Bo used to? Hmm, because I have the audiotape and I know. May Kitano? I would love to tell you sometime. Oh wait, I'll call you. First you need to look from afar. And dudes, bitches, boys, I'll be watching all of you. I will have the necessary resources and endless, endless hours of time."
  
  "You think you know everything because you are a complete scumbag, a bunch of scum with resources. But you don't know us. You don't know anything," Hayden spat at him.
  
  "You think?" Webb's face opened, and the light in his eyes spoke of pure honesty mixed with viciousness. "I know that one of you is a lesbian. One of you is confused all the time. And one of you dies. I know it. I know one of you murdered your parents in cold blood. The one of you that is missing is far from what you believe. One of you will die by my hand in three days, just to wrest these tragic emotions from those who remain. Some of you cries until you fall asleep..."
  
  "You seem pretty sure you're going to run away," Dahl said politely.
  
  "That's the only reason you're still alive."
  
  Drake felt a cloud of suspicion and disbelief begin to thicken.
  
  "I don't understand," Dahl admitted.
  
  "My big plan. My master plan. Do you really think it started when I started this last, final search for Saint Germain, or do you think it started before I formed the Pythians? Is it true?"
  
  Drake searched in the shadows, watched Sabrina, puzzled for clues.
  
  "You will be shocked." Webb laughed.
  
  Alicia pointed her gun between the man's eyes. "I'm ready. Shock me."
  
  "You are still alive, so I can haunt you forever. Understand? My plan was born twenty years ago. Yes, it has been modified, most recently, to accommodate each of you, but the structure is still standing. Bones from him," he chuckled, "and meat.
  
  "He's a fucking psycho," grumbled Smith. "Someone just shut the hell up with him."
  
  "With joy". Alicia pulled the trigger.
  
  But Webb raised his hand. Sabrina stepped back, continuing to play her part for as long as she could.
  
  "Indeed," Webb said. "I liked letting you follow me."
  
  "No one was following anyone," Dahl said. "We got you figured out, and you're lucky. If not luck, then it was absolute recklessness and your disrespect for human life. In chaos you thrive."
  
  "Oh, great idea. I'll write it down, order a T-shirt. But really - everything you did was my whim."
  
  "But how?"
  
  "Because that's how it should be. I'm better, from a pious family. I am the master of the human race. And you all must bow before me."
  
  "Really?" Alicia snorted sarcastically. "And how will you make us do it?"
  
  Drake could not believe the audacity, the absolute faith of this man. Truly, completely, he knew he was born to be taller. Webb looked back at Sabrina and said, "Get ready."
  
  And then he turned his head sharply.
  
  "Don't kill them, Bo," he said. "But give them just that much pain."
  
  He started to run.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY
  
  
  A whirlwind began in his head - a terrifying mixture of mistrust and doubt - quickly growing into a physical presence as Beauregard Alain finally showed his true colors and betrayed them. A man of smoke and shadow flitted among them like a ghost, taking full advantage of their shock and disbelief.
  
  First, he knocked down Lauren, a New Yorker who was next to him and completely unprepared, falling, clutching her throat. He then knocked Smith out, the soldier fully focused on Webb and collapsed in agony from the blow to the ganglion behind his neck. He then lashed out at Mei, probably realizing that her reaction was the quickest, and won thanks to the trust factor. Even when she turned to see him approaching her, she simply couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then Yorgi, Hayden, and Kinimaka struck single blows, spinning like a genie released after a thousand years of captivity, lunging and striking among them, each blow was devastating.
  
  Hayden was immobilized, lying on her back and could only gasp weakly, trying to catch her breath. Kinimaka fell heavily on his face, blood splashing into his eyes. Bo then lashed out at Drake, Dahl, and Alicia, and yet it had only been a few seconds since he had taken action. The last two still didn't turn around, still processing, but the Crazy Swede twirled and blushed and tended to trust his own intuition.
  
  A roundhouse kick followed, a split second too late to land on Bo's skull. The Frenchman was inside, relieved, and delivered a painful blow. Even then, Dal exceeded Bo's expectations, catching him with a sharp jab as he was falling and then knocking him out. Bo's legs were momentarily tangled, but he was nimble and taut enough to free himself.
  
  Straight to Alicia. Her eyes burned with wild fire, pits of magma, her features hard with disbelief. Bo swept it off her with two fists, seemingly emotionless, indifferent. A perfect, insensible weapon of death.
  
  "You will live or die only by my will," Webb shouted back. "Remember this."
  
  Drake ran into Bo.
  
  "Why?" - squeezed out of a Yorkshireman. "We trusted you. What about Michael Crouch? He-?"
  
  Bo attacked him like a bullet and a battering ram, making him feel less like a SWAT soldier and more like a backstreet guy. Pain shot through several clusters of nerves, and his legs turned to jelly. However, he hardly believed.
  
  "Why?"
  
  The Frenchman was already leaving, following his master, but looked back with a snarl of contempt.
  
  "What Webb is looking for. What he finds. It will make me live forever. When you people lie old, surrounded by your deathbed memories, I will still look like this." He preened.
  
  Alicia, who was on her knees, somehow managed to look up and croak, "Big dick?"
  
  Bo then turned and quickly left. Footsteps were heard behind them as the police came to investigate and the SPEAR team tried to recover. A long, hard minute passed.
  
  Drake considered everything Webb had told them.
  
  Then there was an explosion, deep and terribly dark, so powerful that it shook the entire British Museum to its foundations.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  
  
  Dal struggled to his knees, ignoring the several fiery rivulets streaming through his body. Even under their protection, Bo unmistakably struck at their weak spots. Part of the problem this time was the shock; this will not happen again. He crawled among the others, encouraging and helping where he could, even as the walls and ceiling shook and plaster crumbled around him.
  
  Images of Joanna and his children flashed before his eyes. Dahl staggered to his feet, pulling Hayden with him. The cops swayed and shouted into their walkie-talkies. The high rack began to collapse, showering wooden and paper confetti on their shoulders. He watched as Drake helped Alicia to her feet and then moved over to help Kinimake.
  
  "Get up, buddy. It was you? I mean, what the hell did you tip this time?"
  
  The Hawaiian forced a weak smile. Hayden approached him and asked if everything was alright, which Dahl thought was a good deed. Smith cradled Lauren, whose eyes were open but filled with agony. The woman could barely wheeze.
  
  "The damn Frenchman will pay for this," Alicia was the first to gasp. "How did he do it?"
  
  "Well, you definitely didn't help," Mai said, rubbing her shoulders and neck.
  
  "Bitch, explain yourself."
  
  "Everyone here let their guard down once you started...fucking with him. Shame on us all."
  
  "Who I pole vault with is my personal concern. Not yours."
  
  "Wrong". Mai narrowed her eyes. "So it used to be."
  
  "Look," Drake said. "Can we stop blaming and start taking action? This room is not going to be renovated in a fucking rush."
  
  The police rushed in all directions, one of them shouted that the explosion was localized and did not pose a threat to the building itself. Probably extra insurance to help the escape. Drake hauled Alicia away from Mae and charged into the midst of his team, racing against a crumbling ceiling, crumbling shelves, and crumbling crates stacked thirteen feet high as the landslide came crashing in from all sides around them.
  
  Staggering, falling head first, he grabbed Alicia's arm with one hand and reached out to pull the shadow on his other side, which slipped on the deadly debris and fell to its knees.
  
  It was May.
  
  He dragged them both grimly behind him.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY TWO
  
  
  Tyler Webb was ecstatic, proud, almost reaching orgasm. The fruits of many years, the labors of his whole life, have finally borne fruit.
  
  So to speak. He giggled loudly.
  
  London was the bustling center of the movement. Webb vanished into the crowd, slipping between comings and goings, wondering when the locals would be able to use their vaunted CCTV facial recognition software on him.
  
  On them.
  
  The two mortals he currently allowed to share the air with him: Beauregard Alain, his magnificent triple agent; and Sabrina Balboni, master thief and master traitor. French and Italian. Cunning and fire. The hardest part was treating them like the human beings they undoubtedly were. Webb was above it all now-he was already ascending in his mind. The path of Saint Germain has so far been difficult and full of dangers, but someone worthy - such as he - every day took one more step towards immortality.
  
  And now he had a magnificent composition, which Germain presented to the British. And what did they do with it? Put it in some deep, dark and dirty hole in the ground, under a thousand smaller treasures. Later, he would unleash a special kind of retribution on them.
  
  His teacher's divine power was absolute. A few years before his supposed birth in 1712, it was believed that Saint Germain-under a different, well-known title-faked his death, attended his own funeral, and traveled from England to Transylvania, where a new legend was then born . The 'great work' of the count was the search for the Philosopher's Stone, which was not at all an inanimate object, as many believed, but in fact was a living, breathing, burning alchemical substance capable of bestowing immortality on those who drank it. For centuries, it has been the most coveted prize among men.
  
  Very few have found it.
  
  Webb didn't believe every legend, every myth, but his investigations into Saint Germain and many of the man's qualities, accomplishments and deeds pointed to the truth. Who else in history could one day mix a previously unknown substance for the benefit of a person, compose a sonnet the next day, and then go to deal with kings and warlords in the hope of preventing war? This novel, this brilliant and surprising story, had long captured his imagination, but became more and more intriguing as the months and years of in-depth investigation went by. Webb was convinced. He found out about Leopold and the scroll and used Ramses' last bazaar to get it.
  
  Full circle. The crowd grew thicker as Webb made his way down Piccadilly. Perhaps he should have chosen Regent Street for even greater anonymity, but the decision was made now. Then he saw a diner on the corner of Swallow Street, walked down that quiet street and turned onto Saville Row. The police would be on the lookout. Webb needed to hide, but he also needed to move forward.
  
  Then Germany, for the penultimate prize, and then...
  
  He stuttered. No one knew. Where was the end goal, the end goal?
  
  Shaking it off, he gripped the composition tighter. It contained clues for a trip to Germany. Interestingly, for Bo, it was also a full circle. He patted the Frenchman on the shoulder as they hurried past Huntsman & Son.
  
  "I have to admit there were times when I had my doubts, but well done, Bo. You crossed over to the other side so easily. Made them believe."
  
  "They believed Michael Crouch. They believed Alicia Miles. The hardest part was convincing Crouch. He is cunning and intelligent. But the time I spent won him over. It's good that we started so early."
  
  Webb agreed. "And despite all the things in New York that we didn"t plan, it seems that everything is in order in the world." Then he slowly turned to his other companion. "Except you".
  
  Sabrina made no move to leave them. She knew about Beauregard's reputation and Webb's hidden arsenal. Her face, quite acceptable, was turned to the floor, her shoulders slumped. She didn't say anything.
  
  "For years I kept you in service, paid your way. I have always remembered you for this last chapter of my earthly life. You. You, Sabrina! My chosen novice has been planning for ten years and..." he trailed off, unable to accept her deceit and wiping tears from his eyes. "Really, I'm shocked."
  
  "Maybe we should... drop her off?" Bo muttered.
  
  Webb burst into a fit of laughter. "Don't be an ass. Despite her stupidity, she is the best thief in the world. Of course, we still need her skills for the next job, and then maybe the last one. It would be insulting to our faces if we ... dropped her off now."
  
  Bo accepted it silently.
  
  Webb was thinking about the middle distance. "That doesn't mean she shouldn't be taught the fallacy of her behavior," he said with his lips alone. "When opportunity comes knocking."
  
  Sabrina made no move other than walking. Bo allowed himself a short nod. The trio turned down several side streets, crossed Oxford Street and headed towards Bayswater. Webb stopped in the street behind the hotel and nodded to a man standing outside smoking a cigarette.
  
  Bo stirred slightly. "Friend?"
  
  "I do not have them. But the best hiding places usually go to those with the biggest wallets, and in London there is a, shall we say, shady network of bellboys, doormen, hotel administrators and restaurant attendants who can find you the quietest place to hide for a while." .
  
  "Interesting".
  
  "Is not it? These people are the true heart of this city. There's not much going on here that they can't see. Few people pass by without noticing. Anything and everything is the currency for the network."
  
  "Who are we?"
  
  "Rich and privileged." Webb laughed and walked over to the smoking man. Moments later they were outside, being led through dark rooms that seemed to serve no purpose, down a hallway that hadn't been cleaned in years. Webb didn't care much about where they were, as long as it gave them some breathing room.
  
  He needed to study composition.
  
  "Four hours," he told the man. "So the taxi is unmarked. I will tell him the destination along the way."
  
  "Just ring the bell," an Eastern European accent sounded, and the man pointed to a button built into the wall.
  
  Webb settled into one of the easy chairs. "Get comfortable, people. Sabrina - I really think it's time for Beau to thank you while I calmly read, don't you?
  
  "If you need my help, you will hold your fists," muttered the Italian.
  
  "Then you will help me when I order. It's clear?"
  
  "Only if your pet freak leaves me alone."
  
  Webb felt the attraction of the composition almost as if Saint-Germain called him by name, calling him to the extraordinary. Without nodding to Bo to refrain, he opened the old newspapers and began to read.
  
  "Here we go to the legend," he said. "And the devil take all who oppose us."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  
  
  Drake stumbled as an entire shelf of books clattered down on his back, the hard edges cutting into his spine. Ahead, a stack of crates toppled over, hitting the floor with a deafening crash, filling his field of vision with dust and debris. Dahl cleared the way, kicking and shattering the rubble. Another shelf, this time over eight feet high, threatened to collapse among them, and staggering heavy pots and urns, statues and oversized artifacts promised more than just bruises if they fell.
  
  May pulled away. Drake led Alicia past the last shelf as it collapsed. Dahl made it to the exit door, then turned to help Lauren and Smith through. Hayden found Kinimaka pushing her until her feet almost touched the ground. Yorgi jumped, nimble and agile as a cat, weaving his way through the destruction. Kenzi came in last, and then, just a few inches behind, Drake. As they raced, the roar weakened and subsided, the shaking of the building stopped. Only a few seconds have passed since the localized explosive device went off.
  
  Drake slowed his pace, looking back to where they had come from. They had no chance of following Webb; there was nothing but rubble on the floor, endless high stacks were crushed and destroyed.
  
  "Some treasures will never see the light of day because scientists cannot explain them," he said. "We learned this from the story of Odin. These treasures... kept, perhaps hidden, and now corrupted, will end their days in desolation."
  
  "Don't be naughty," Alicia snorted. "Most of them do that."
  
  A sense of surrealism and distrust hung over the team. Drake summed it up in true Yorkshire fashion. "So that French ass will no doubt need a cuff."
  
  Dahl just nodded this time. "I'll be happy to be of service."
  
  Hayden called on the phone, explained the situation and asked that all eyes be turned on Webb. She also mentioned that they might still have an ally in Sabrina without questioning the fate of the thief. Everyone there hoped that Webb would find further use for it. In truth, he should have known that she was compromised in the first place - and yet he desperately used her services. And the task has not yet been completed.
  
  Dahl cleared his throat noisily. "May I ask the new elephant in the room?" He made a pause. "All those things that Webb talked about? Are any of them true?"
  
  Drake didn't like to think about them too much and suggested that the rest of the team needed some time to think. "Let's chat later," he said. "I need a breath of fresh air."
  
  In almost silence, they walked down the corridor and found their way to the entrance to the museum. The fresh air helped Drake to come to his senses, and soon he began to look around, wondering what his next step might be.
  
  Alicia then surprised them all by pushing her way into their midst. "Look, guys," she muttered. "I apologize. I don't know how," she shrugged. "But I'm sorry my relationship with Bo helped keep his cover." She sighed heavily. "That's all".
  
  Drake smiled at her. A new and improved Alicia Miles, and every day she gets more amazing.
  
  Mai ignored the apology and turned to Hayden. "We can no longer rely on Sabrina. If she is still alive."
  
  "I know". Hayden bit her lower lip and looked at Lauren. "I seem to remember a snippet of the conversation, do you?"
  
  "Yes. Webb loves to talk, that's for sure. He told Sabrina that the next clue would be found 'where he died' or something. Obviously not Webb, but the insane obsession he lives and breathes - Germain."
  
  "I don't know," Smith grumbled. "Sounds like a risky move."
  
  "Oh, great," Lauren said. "Now you don't believe anything I say."
  
  "I didn't say I didn't believe. I said-"
  
  "You're both right," Hayden quickly interrupted. "Webb meant Germain, but he wanders, fantasizes and builds all his castles in the air. This is a jump. But..." She smiled slightly at them.
  
  "We'll see if it matches the list of mercenaries," Yorgi said.
  
  "And," Dahl said, "that's what he told Sabrina, so I'm inclined to believe it. She has become a real asset that can be trusted."
  
  "Calm down," Kenzi muttered. "Don't forget the old lady."
  
  Dahl frowned. "A?" I asked.
  
  "Your main trump card." She made an accent. "Old Battle Axe".
  
  "You probably know her as Boo Bear," Alicia put in.
  
  "Oh, you mean Joanna?"
  
  The two laughed.
  
  "Maybe he'll never get out of London," Kinimaka suggested.
  
  "He'll find a way behind our backs," Mai said with a sly look at Alicia. "The slippers always do that."
  
  Drake almost swallowed, but luckily the Englishwoman still felt a little humiliated and thought about everything she had said, and most likely her relationship with Bo. How many times will she play back their conversations over the next weeks and months? Drake ignored May and found himself thinking about everything Webb had said.
  
  Several giant bombs fell.
  
  And such personal information. But back then, the man who boasted of the private video footage of Hayden Jay - a former CIA officer and at the height of her career - no doubt had the resources to break through any wall, dig into any tape. Our private worlds were on display for all to see, if the despicable individual knew where to look.
  
  "It shouldn't be hard to figure out where St. Germain died," Drake expanded on the choice.
  
  "Already done," Lauren said. "The mercenary said that northern Germany, and there is a place called Eckernfeld. On the coast of the Baltic Sea. There is an interesting anecdote in the history of the city. The Comte de Saint-Germain was buried in Eckernf, near the church of St. Nicholas. His grave was destroyed in 1872 by a storm."
  
  Even Smith had to fake a wry smile. "Comfortable," he said. "There is no body."
  
  "It all adds to the plot and the legend," Lauren said. "No remains. No evidence that he died at all."
  
  Mai snorted. "Don't tell me you're buying into this immortal bullshit."
  
  "I?" Lauren held out. "I'm from Manhattan and don't believe absolutely anything I'm told. I'm just painting pictures, dear."
  
  "I believe this Eckernfeld is a big place," Dahl said. "Maybe Webb thinks the old burial is intact? He would go there."
  
  "And what did Germain do in Germany?" Kinimaka said. "From what we know about him, it seemed like he always traveled with a purpose, not a whim."
  
  Hayden turned up her nose in the London drizzle. "So, if there's no objection, we're getting out of this darkness."
  
  "And hurry," Drake urged them. "Maybe this time, when the hunt is slowing him down, we can actually get ahead of Webb. I don't believe we should wait. The fact is that even with meager resources, he can fly anywhere in the world."
  
  "So let's go." Alicia was the first to move. "Because I know one big, fat penis that I want to have a very special date with."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  
  
  The German town of Eckernfeld was a popular coastal town favored by tourists. The team flew to Hamburg and then headed for the coast by helicopter, lines of communication always open for reports of Webb, Sabrina or even the new Secretary of Defense Kimberly Crowe. But the wires were silent, like most of the team.
  
  Dahl calmly assessed Webb's words.
  
  I know that one of you is a lesbian. One of you is confused all the time. And one of you dies. I know it. I know one of you murdered your parents in cold blood. The one of you that is missing is far from what you believe. One of you will die by my hand in three days, just to wrest these tragic emotions from those who remain. Some of you cry until you fall asleep.
  
  It struck him that most, if not all, of these statements were true. Yes, it was to Webb's advantage to sow unrest among the team, but for all his terrible flaws, he was not known for lying. He had no reason to invent such wild tales. Some of it didn't even matter, but there were some deep statements that Dahl wanted to make sense of. Besides, he was worried about Sabrina. Despite her crimes, her past sins, she was forced to help the team.
  
  "You look like you're moping." Kenzi kneed him in hers. "Thinking about the old ball and chain?"
  
  Dahl shrugged. Joanna didn't figure in his thoughts today. "Maybe," he said. "And Sabrina. I sympathize with both of them."
  
  "Well, at least now we know who the lesbian is." She grinned at him and darted her eyes at Drake, who couldn't hide his smile.
  
  "Don't encourage her," Dahl stretched out his legs as the helicopter cut through the clouds. "What happens to Sabrina Balboni will be on our conscience."
  
  "Not on me," Kenzi blurted out. "I'm just a follower and she's a vile criminal."
  
  "She never really hurt anyone," Drake said. "Unlike you, Bridget."
  
  "I only kill in revenge," she said. Or for revenge.
  
  "Darling". Drake turned away as Alicia patted his arm.
  
  Dahl made another attempt with Kenzi. "Then let someone in. Hidden deep inside you is a real, caring person. I know. Let her out, if only for a minute."
  
  "You're wrong, Dal. Only ashes remained inside of me. Fruitless emotions. And longing. I yearn to remake."
  
  "Redo?"
  
  "In life. I want to go back to what it was before. Do it all differently. I want my family to be alive."
  
  "I'm really sorry".
  
  "You may not know what it's like."
  
  The Swede glanced over the recent misses. "I agree. I physically can't stomach contemplating this."
  
  "So where can I find my heart?"
  
  Dahl swallowed dryly, unable to answer. Drake came to his aid in an inimitable manner.
  
  "Dudes, just follow Matt Drake's unwritten rule. When you're talking and start sounding too much like Taylor Swift, it's time to end the conversation."
  
  The helicopter was descending towards Eckernfelde in search of a helipad. The team operated under the auspices of Interpol, but the locals were always there. Sometimes they were helpful, most of the time they weren't.
  
  Dahl watched his friends and team members jump out of the helicopter. Everyone, from old comrades to new ones, had their secrets.
  
  But who installed them?
  
  He left knowing that even now he was running from a decision. Recently, he realized that he could not combine family life with a soldier's fate. These two would never get together. So where did he go from here?
  
  The German town outside the window was bathed in sunlight. Hayden herded them all into a hangar where a large transport was waiting, and Lauren chose this moment of relative silence and twilight to convey what she had learned during the flight.
  
  "I believe I found what Saint Germain was doing here. Apparently, he decided that he would die here upon arrival. He was tired of life, exhausted by worries and melancholy. Weak. He died leaving nothing, not even a tombstone. He was the guest of a man named Prince Charles of Hesse-Kassel, who later offered no details about Germain's death or what he left behind, and changed the subject every time he was asked. There are other discrepancies as well. Reliable witnesses state that he died here in 1784, but Freemasonry records, relatively reliable, say that the French accepted him as their representative in 1785. The Comtesse d'Hadamard reports a long conversation with him in 1789 which is official."
  
  Lauren took a deep breath. "But I digress. This prince of Hesse-Kassel also had a great interest in mysticism and was a member of several secret societies. It seems that gems and fabrics were passed around, and Charles was convinced that Germain could invent a new way of dyeing fabric and preparing gemstones. He then installed the count in an abandoned factory in Eckernförde." Lauren chuckled. "Which was later converted into a hospital."
  
  "How the hell did you learn all this?" Alicia asked.
  
  "As I mentioned, this is a matter of protocol. This is the biggest part of Saint Germain's secret - that all the facts are out there, in the public domain, and witnessed by princes, kings, queens and heads of state. We're not talking about mysterious grails, legendary realms, or mythical weapons. We discuss fact after fact. Fact after fact. Alchemy. Freemasonry. Art. Diplomacy of the highest order. Council member. Linguist. Masterly. Every title is earned and documented. This secret," she shook her head, "is deep.
  
  "To the Philosopher's Stone and the Secret of Immortality?" May said surprised. "Now you're back in fantasy land."
  
  "I've been to Fantasyland," Dahl laughed. "There's no Saint Germain attraction."
  
  "Make all you want," Lauren said. "The facts, as they say, will come to light."
  
  "Okay," Hayden took the reins into his own hands. "So you're saying that Germain's last job was in a lab? Converted into a hospital. Where is it now?"
  
  Lauren gave an address less than thirty minutes from where they were standing.
  
  "Are we moving out?" Drake asked.
  
  Hayden hesitated. Dahl knew she would have to deal with the facts. Hospital or grave? Or even the castle of this prince, where Germain stayed? More importantly, were they even in the right country?
  
  "Workplace," she said. "So far it has all been jobs. Bedroom at Versailles. Library. First laboratory. The compositions were removed from where they were written, which was the original clue." She looked relieved. "This is a workplace."
  
  Dahl liked her reasoning and was eager to get down to business. "So put that in your navigator and let's go." He took his place with the shotgun while rummaging through the bag that held the real stuff.
  
  "Do we think the Amari cult will survive this time?" Alicia asked. "Missed those little rogues in London."
  
  "Maybe they were watching the old theatre," Hayden replied, fastening her belt. "Maybe they don't have all the details. Maybe they even left London alone since it's so well guarded and chose-" she nodded at the surrounding hills, the big sky, and the small town, "this.
  
  The car started, Smith at the wheel. Alerted by Hayden's out-of-the-box thinking, the team checked and prepared the weapons. Busy, narrow streets soon gave way to wider, less populated roads and gentle hillsides. Smith turned the air conditioner on full blast and pressed his communication device.
  
  "This thing is so damn quiet, I thought it was broken."
  
  Dahl agreed. "No help. No information. Even Washington is not chasing us on our heels. And Armand? Where is he? On any normal day, you have to make him shut up."
  
  Hayden double checked her mobile. "You shouldn't say it out loud. It could be the calm before the storm."
  
  Drake stared out the window. "Since this is the penultimate clue, I would say you were right."
  
  "Hell yeah," Alicia said. "Now would be the best time to stop him."
  
  "Perfect," Drake said with satisfaction. "So close, yet so far away. There will be no end for Webb, never."
  
  "And here we are." Smith pulled up at the hospital and looked for a parking spot. Dahl looked around the building, finding it completely out of place at the end of what had been a varied but classic journey so far. The walls were square, rough gray concrete, spanning two stories, with dirty, unevenly shaded windows and a small entrance at the front. Patients, workers and visitors walked the sidewalks and made their way through parked cars. The ambulance filled the road right in front of the entrance, waiting for some kind of trouble.
  
  Dahl pointed out an obvious problem. "Easy access," he said. "For all. But only Webb knows where he's going. Yes, it"s a small hospital, but where do we start?"
  
  Lauren raised both hands, and several pairs of eyes turned to look at her. "I'm afraid it's beyond my understanding. Perhaps Karin could pull the blueprints from the depths of the Internet. Maybe not. But I'm damn sure I can't."
  
  Dahl blinked at the name of their missing comrade. He missed Karin Blake and wondered when she might return.
  
  "Assuming the lab or factory was demolished to make way for the hospital," Hayden said. "Assuming Germain was smart enough to know what might happen, the real laboratory would have to be underground. Hidden. And it would still be there."
  
  "Mahalo". Kinimaka nodded. "My thoughts too."
  
  As true as it was, it didn't help them much. "We need a hospital manager," he said.
  
  "No," Hayden said, now smiling. "We need a cleaner. "
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  "Ah, so you mean tunnels? Or secret passages?
  
  Dahl's eyes widened and echoed Drake's outburst. "Come again?"
  
  "When you have an old place and you build from above, from above, from above." The janitor used his hands and fingers to explain as much as his words. "I'll get it soon... a lot of excerpts. Unused places. Forgotten storage rooms and boiler rooms, sewers and access passages. Soon," he threw both hands up, "you will have Warren. Hidden move. Secret move."
  
  Dahl studied the man, who looked as old as the hospital. Rat-faced and clean-shaven from the top of his head to at least his chin, wrapped in a protective sheet, he looked a bit like a rocket. Ironically, he also somewhat resembled the manager of the Haymarket Theatre. His fingers were uncomfortably long, and Dahl wondered if some of the patients were having nightmares after they caught a glimpse of the janitor scurrying up and down the hallways.
  
  "The hospital isn"t... looking after this?" Hayden asked, looking like she couldn't find the right words.
  
  "They have more important things on their minds. So, tunnels or secret passages?"
  
  Drake's face showed an expression of intense excitement. "Let's do both."
  
  Dahl shook his head at the Yorkshireman. The child has never been far from the surface.
  
  "I'm Lars," the janitor introduced himself. "Follow me".
  
  Hayden lined up behind the strange phenomenon, Kinimaka not far behind. Dahl had great respect for the two for not letting personal problems get in the way of their work. It must have been hard. And if Hayden really made up her mind, she'd be somewhere else by now.
  
  Just like Joanna.
  
  Dahl tried to share the conflict of emotions, but he did not succeed. For a short time, their crumbling world began to recover, but decline began again. His heart ached at the thought of what this might do to the children.
  
  You are not the only couple that has ever broken up. Children usually do just fine.
  
  But... but...
  
  Janitor Lars rushed down familiar corridors, past open doors and locked warehouses, feeling at home in a white clinical building. As expected, he seemed to be working his way to the back of the hospital. As they walked, Hayden questioned him.
  
  "Anyone else sniffing around lately?"
  
  The janitor turned around quickly. "Sniffing?"
  
  "I'm watching. For tunnels?
  
  "Ah, no. I'm afraid it's just me and the ghosts left." He bowed. "But don"t tell management, okay?"
  
  Dahl found the man more than creepy. Reminded him of some old horror movie and definitely associated with the legend of Saint Germain. If this was the place where the count worked in his last days, then perhaps his ghost still haunted these halls. Perhaps that was judging them all even now.
  
  He chuckled, brushing off the strange feeling. Everything about it was real, from the medical offices to the desk and chair of the administrator. Unaccustomed to the eerie, he focused on what he could see and feel. The janitor led them deeper into the bowels of the establishment, and the light began to dim. The laying tubes hissed and burst, and some were empty. Dahl realized the incredible weight of the concrete above his head, particularly when he saw wide cracks in the walls. The janitor did not make any comments, despite the many points of view that negatively affected his work.
  
  They made their way through a large archive, making their way between battered, dusty cardboard boxes and old tables, then came to a heavy steel door with a chain and a padlock on the bar.
  
  Lars shrugged. "Doesn't let unwanted people in."
  
  Dahl wondered, but he didn't ask questions. His first thought was: What is stored inside? But such absurdities instantly vanished from his thoughts. Lars took out a long key and removed the chain from the door.
  
  "Wait," Hayden said. "Is there another way to the tunnels?"
  
  Lars moved his arms and shoulders. "Many ways. When you return here, you can exit from all the old rooms to the former premises of the building. They may be long forgotten, but potentially useful. It costs too much to keep them in proper condition."
  
  "Videcam?" Kinimaka asked hopelessly.
  
  "Only where it matters. I will never come back here."
  
  As Lars moved forward, the team unobtrusively readied their weapons. A narrow hallway, apparently still part of the hospital, led past several locked rooms with dirty viewing panels and one open area with plush couches, a wall-mounted TV and a water cooler. Abandonment hung over the area like a stain.
  
  "Love these old abandoned places." Lars smiled happily. "Gives you a sense of belonging. You know? Returning to the past."
  
  No one commented as the man's huge fingers pointed to the path ahead. "Into the tunnels".
  
  "You mentioned secret passages," Hayden said.
  
  "Oh yeah. Now around us, inside the walls, there are two parallel passages, also leading to the tunnels and formed during the construction of the waiting area. Separated," he shrugged, "to make the space more pleasant."
  
  This made Dal wary. Webb could be with them even now. I'm listening. I'm watching. He did what he loved more than anything in the world. A place like this was a stalker's erotic dream. They followed the corridor and came to an intersection. Lars pointed to the right.
  
  "An old staircase leads us to boiler rooms and other storage areas. Wall-mounted hotspots then lead to sewers, electrical control tunnels, and forgotten corners bricked up and ignored by new construction. On the left are archives and abandoned offices. What would you like?"
  
  Hayden studied the janitor. "How well do you really know these areas?"
  
  "Is it true? I'm rarely at home ". He grinned.
  
  Dahl swallowed his disgust. "You mentioned places that were bricked up. We are interested in the history of these places. Apparently there was once a factory here?"
  
  "You're right, and then you're wrong." Lars waved his hands gently forward in a sliding motion. "The factory is still there."
  
  "Show us," Hayden insisted. "Show us now."
  
  Dahl knew they could only be an hour or a day behind Webb. If a person did this, they would definitely find the signs. He walked over to Drake.
  
  "What about these fanatics from Dubai?" he asked. "Do you believe they are out of place now? Lost?
  
  "I can't shake the feeling they're still in development," Drake said. "Yes, they are shielded from it, suspended and seemingly unaware of the nightmares they are sponsoring, but these guys have been watching for years. They are dedicated. Organized. Possessed Guardians. It doesn't seem right that they didn't know about Germain's deathbed factory."
  
  "On a brighter note," Alicia interjected. "What do you think of the brand new secret base idea? How cool is that?
  
  Drake raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, love. Coolness is relative. What if it's in Antarctica?"
  
  "And the new secretary of defense is a woman," Lauren added. "Interesting change."
  
  At the end of the corridor, a staircase rose from the floor. Hayden stared at its base. "Mmm,"
  
  "We have to get up," Lars said. "Go down. It seemed strange to me too, but perhaps it serves as an example."
  
  Dahl blinked. A strange style, considering that it combined old secrets with new ones. Such cover-ups spoke of a vast conspiracy and suppression. He shook his head at the follies of the people. Always focused on the wrong things.
  
  They climbed in a spiral until Lars led them out onto a wide platform. Ahead, the great spiral descended lower and lower, its railings covered in a thick layer of dust except where the janitor's fingers had previously touched. To the right, an old, forgotten stained-glass window looked out over the landscape.
  
  Kensi came close to it. "See the patterns on the glass? This sort of thing breeds conspiracy theories."
  
  Dahl approached her, extremely careful not to get too close. "We don't have time for-" He paused. "That's weird."
  
  The team froze in place as Drake approached. "What are you talking about, buddy?"
  
  "Seven men stood watching the hospital from a back parking lot... They are all Arabs."
  
  Drake shoved him aside with his shoulder. "What?"
  
  Hayden came over too. "Amari? Looking for Webb?"
  
  "I think yes". Drake narrowed his eyes. "The eyes are no longer what they were."
  
  Mai nodded towards Alicia. "Obviously".
  
  "If he's close-" Hayden said.
  
  "Chaos is just around the corner," Drake finished. "And what is he doing there? What the hell is he doing with his hands?"
  
  "Counting," Dahl said with a feeling of sudden, chilling horror. "He's counting down on his fingers."
  
  "And there". Drake pointed. "The mercenaries rush at them. Hell, there's going to be a full blown battle in the parking lot."
  
  "No," Hayden said. "Amari is not going to run away. They are his mercenaries."
  
  "But why?" Drake considered.
  
  Hayden's phone rang just a second before Drake and Dahl, and then everyone else. Sounds of impending doom filled the landing pad, grim expressions on every face.
  
  Argento said it first.
  
  "Amari," he said. "Just called for a terrorist attack on the hospital you are currently in. His message: If I cannot protect the Master, I will destroy every single trace. And that includes your hospital." There was an atypical lack of enthusiasm in the tone of this man, strongly permeated with fate.
  
  An alarm sounded throughout the building, and the team turned to face each other.
  
  "The mercenaries fled," Dahl said. "Because they left something behind."
  
  "God help us all," Hayden said.
  
  Argento's cry: "Get the hell out of there!"
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  
  
  When a man or a woman is faced with death, any death, they can make one of two decisions: fight or die. Struggle can encompass a world of choice-fight, flight, cover, jump into the unknown. But dying was easy. If there is a choice, Drake thought. Fight!
  
  Fight for life with all your being. The alternative is very dark.
  
  As the explosions began, the entire team listened intently, feeling, testing, and listening for their heaviness, depth, and range. Drake knew they were deep. Leaning down, he saw glass flying out and mortar crumbling. Shocked, he saw a wide crack stretching from the foundation to the top floor, the concrete cracked and released clouds of dust.
  
  "I'm pretty sure my feet haven't turned to jelly," Lauren said. "So that's what's shaking the building."
  
  "Oh... what did they do?" Hayden gasped.
  
  Drake couldn't imagine the mindset of a man who would destroy a hospital full of people to save a forgotten ward from another century, but he could imagine his next choice.
  
  "Amari is right there," he said, swaying. "With a dozen or so mercenaries, and he quickly slides into insanity. Webb is probably below us, or has already moved on to his latest endeavor, and knowing Webb, this can't be good for the world. Sorry guys, but there is only one solution here."
  
  "This building is collapsing," Hayden said.
  
  Kinimaka was already heading for the door, Dahl at his side.
  
  "People," Alicia said. "Patients. My God."
  
  In the middle of all this hell they ran. Pieces of plaster, lighting, and drywall trim were already falling off and hanging down, swinging like deadly pendulums. They stomped back into the crowded buildings of the hospital, saw doctors and nurses running back and forth, patients shuffling through the corridors, and heard the screams of the trapped or hopeless.
  
  "We'll get them all out," Dahl said. "All of them".
  
  And he ran away.
  
  Drake picked up the nurse who slid beside them, looked around. "Where"s that...hey, where"s that damn janitor gone?"
  
  "Sneaked away," Kenzi growled angrily, then quickly changed her expression. "I wish I could go with him."
  
  Alicia took her aside. "Then go away, bitch."
  
  But the former Mossad agent was with them throughout the reign of terror. Drake tuned in and helped everyone he met, escorting those who were crying to the exit, herding a crowd of six people who couldn't find their way, carrying air tanks for the junior nurse, and making sure that one of Lauren's tasks was to ensure that the elevators always arrived. . May and Kenzi came in and out like angels of mercy, helping where they could and taking patients to the elevators or stairs.
  
  A constant stream of people blocked the way down and tried to clear the way for those who came up from below. Another barrage of explosions shattered even the chaos of noise that filled the hospital, silencing every man, woman, and child for just a moment.
  
  Then, like another explosion, panic erupted once more.
  
  Alarm bells screeched like desperate banshees. Glass flew out of the windows due to the pressure of the crumbling walls above. The lane lights have fallen. The rescue vehicles slid as far as their wires would allow. The drink machine overturned, its glass panel exploded. Hayden paced the corridors, making sure no one was left behind. The staff also fought hard, worked hard and risked everything for their patients.
  
  The nurse called for help. The room she was standing in suddenly twisted. Kinimaka rushed to help, and the view from the window changed, narrowing as the entire building sagged. The nurse was stuck with her hands under the patient, unable to lift him, her face frustrated. The Hawaiian grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled, while the nurse grabbed all the supplies he was still tied to, and then the two ran, side by side, towards the stairs.
  
  Drake saw rickety walls, a crumbling ceiling. The corridors were empty; a couple of lone doctors were checking the wards.
  
  "How are we doing?" he screamed.
  
  A nod, a thumbs up. The elevator chimed, still working, but not for long. The risk paid off, although Drake had initial doubts. But without their help, nearly half a dozen patients would still be here, stranded, just waiting to die.
  
  Sirens wailed from the parking lot. Drake led the patients down as they parted for the hurrying paramedics. "Everything is clean here," he told them when the doctors arrived, and relief lit up their faces.
  
  "Then only the first floor."
  
  Drake bowed his head. "What does it look like?"
  
  The paramedic shifted his stern gaze to the roof as several wisps of plaster and grout rained down. "A storm of shit. How much time do we have?"
  
  "Looks like-" Drake barely moved as the chunk of concrete hit him in the back, "not for long."
  
  The crowd thinned out; the exit must have been wide open, perhaps all the windows too. Drake was the last of his colleagues to get to the first level and see them in action; making separate decisions and taking on an unbearable burden. The weight of the hospital pressed on them. What will it take to destroy this place? Why was depraved and detached horror the guiding principle for so many rich people?
  
  Drake came to the ward where four patients and two desperate nurses lived. The patients were children. He walked over, grabbed two and lifted them up. Not quite able to strike a balance. There was only one thing left for this. Against the soldier's instincts, but guided by personal motives, he threw the weapon on the floor. Here they are not needed. If he found himself unarmed, facing the mercenaries outside, then so be it. He could carry only the essentials.
  
  Now freed from the additional burden, he managed to juggle the three children, hugged them tightly and went out into the corridor, approaching the wide window. Here the more able patients ascended to safety.
  
  Drake handed the children over to the waiting people, made up of doctors, nurses, civilians, and even patients who had already been taken to safety, and ran back after the others. Everything else was already out of his head. There was no Webb, no Amari, no Bo, no Sabrina, not even any other mission. Innocent people ready to be crushed under the weight of someone else's madness were all that mattered.
  
  The team rallied. Divided walls collapsed, buckling, splintering and crumbling, kicking clouds of dust forward. The critical walls and pillars held out for the time being, but everyone sensed that something vital was changing. The corridors widened, flowing into the lobby, once a confluence of seating, desks, pharmacy and coffee shop and filled with plenty of light, but now transformed with all the elements of a war zone.
  
  Drake penetrated it along with many others, saw a man lying prone on the floor, waving his arms, and pulled him to his feet. Now he understood why the stampede subsided so quickly. The entire glass facade shattered, either from the weight of the building or from the explosives, but a wide hole formed in it. Luck. He looked around the lobby.
  
  Kenzi and Alicia worked together to free the man from the remnants of the false wall, his skull and shoulders bleeding. The two antagonists have done a good job, their differences are forgotten for now. Mai assisted the paramedic who tried to resuscitate the man on the spot, her shoulders unmoving as the mortar rained down on them. Kinimaka was clearing debris from a doorway where people were trapped. Some of the pieces he tossed aside might have broken Drake's back. The gray dust settled on everyone and helped form intricate footprints on the floor. Time flew by unnoticed. Another shift in the structure of the building added to the panic.
  
  Drake rarely prayed, but now he threw out one prayer for the people. The vital wall has been weakened. Nevertheless, patients streamed away. However, doctors, nurses and even more patients rushed to help. Smith came running with an unconscious elderly woman in her arms. Lauren turned the baby over to the paramedic. At least two doctors were forced to attend to patients in a virtual lobby that collapsed around them. Then the far side of the lobby collapsed. Debris flew towards them in a thick cloud. The square had been deserted before, but that didn't say anything about where they were now.
  
  Drake picked up two limping young men, drove them out into the street and rushed back. The scream brought him back to his senses, allowing him to catch the girl before she fell onto the uneven pile of plaster. Yorgi jumped between the rubble, clearing passages and openings where some thought they could be safe.
  
  The alarm calls ceased, leaving an agonized, deafening silence in their wake. Then a deep roar and a rumble of thunder the likes of which he had never heard sent Drake into overdrive.
  
  The vestibule, a later addition to the hospital façade rather than an integral part, was being destroyed.
  
  But he had just seen Dal sink back into the water.
  
  Drake didn't hesitate, just burst through the rickety door that led into the main hospital building, dodging the rain of debris. A lone doctor staggered past him, bleeding from his ear, and Smith picked him up. A nurse in soiled clothes leaned her head against the door frame. Drake helped her pass and pointed in the right direction. A few words were spoken as the unselfish helped those in need of safety. Drake stopped in his tracks in a chilling anguish as a handful of doctors and nurses hurried past, carrying babies in their arms and shielding them. Drake felt agony, rage, and a thrilling sadness. He waited, and then moved on, deeper into the corridors.
  
  "Dal!"
  
  Then it happened; the collapse of something, perhaps everything. Unable to gauge just how devastating this final shockwave would be, Drake watched as the ceiling collapsed an inch from his head. The metal parts wobbled back and forth, one hitting his skull.
  
  Drake just ducked and moved on.
  
  Alicia called out, appearing behind him. "What's happening?"
  
  "Dal," Drake replied, as if that explained everything.
  
  It happened.
  
  The Mad Swede burst into view, demanding adrenaline and pushing a hospital bed with a terrified patient at full speed. He rounded the turn like a pro, ducked under the rubble, and then stared at Drake.
  
  "Run!" he shouted.
  
  Drake turned to Alicia. "Get out!" he yelled.
  
  Alicia turned to the new Hayden. "Crap!" she screamed.
  
  Heaps of rubble collapsed around them. Drake's shin stabbed in agony as the brick ricocheted off the bone. Dal stomped behind him, making his way through the piles, brute force holding him in place. The wheel got stuck, but then freed, a metal spear tore the sheets between the patient's knees. Turning back, Drake deliberately slowed his pace, grabbing the front of the bed.
  
  Together.
  
  He pulled, Dahl pushed. They entered the lobby and turned to find the main exit blocked by people and debris. Debris rained down behind them. Hayden jumped to the window, cut and bleeding, jumped out and waved her arms. Drake sat up on the bed and took aim at her. Alicia grabbed the fallen paramedic and slung him over her shoulder. Dahl strained every tendon, every ounce of will, and the last vestige of his strength.
  
  Drake stumbled as a whole glass window fell off the roof and shattered on his left foot. The shards made him flinch. Dahl was driving too fast. They were going to...
  
  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of the team. Kinimaka and Kenzi, May and Smith, Yorgi and Lauren are still inside and rush to the rescue. His heart jumped. Together they carried the bed and the patient over the last obstacle and managed to feed everyone through the window. The doctors were already at Hayden's side, even as debris rained down on their feet.
  
  Drake turned around. The world plunged into darkness.
  
  They rushed to the windows. Without delay, they rushed headlong into an unknown fate with pure hope and the greatest optimism. Drake landed and rolled, scratched by brick and concrete and a dozen other materials. He returned, looking left and right, counting his friends, looking back at the huge, fragile building.
  
  Kinimaka stood at the window, his face looking out. The hole was too small.
  
  Above him, the whole building drooped.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  
  
  When destinies teetered on a razor's edge, when the patina of life slipped between brilliant and dull, when a million unfulfilled moments and dreams swept through countless imaginations, the stately facade of the hospital building stopped its gradual sliding. Perhaps the load-bearing wall survived or the critical beam took on additional weight, but the destructive process stopped.
  
  Ten pairs of legs were already running towards him.
  
  Dahl was last, exhausted, but Hayden was ahead, stretching every tendon as she reached for the Hawaiian. Together they dragged him through a large gap, Drake, Alicia and Kenzi still peeking inside to triple check that no one was inside. Moments later, they retreated to the parking lot, and then to the grassy patch that had grown up around the border. Everyone collapsed on their backs.
  
  "We are fine?" Drake was breathing heavily. "Anything serious?"
  
  "Nothing that a shower and a pack of painkillers wouldn't cure." Dahl was already sitting and surveying the chaotic scene. "It looks like a war zone down there. Surgeons operating between wrecked cars." He lowered his head. "I really hope we didn't contribute to that."
  
  "No way," Drake said. "Webb pulled out Amari, and with that came madness."
  
  Lauren straightened up. "And we don"t know how it will all end."
  
  "And we won't be for some time," Dahl replied.
  
  "On the far worse, unimaginable side of it all, there is another possibility," Hayden said. "Amari knows that Webb has escaped and now they are heading for the final showdown. After that," she looked at the wreckage, "I can't imagine what's going to happen next."
  
  The team worked to restore their depleted supplies while watching the crowds of orderlies, doctors and nurses arriving to provide assistance. Police cars pulled up and filled the highway. Ambulances sped past and helicopters began to arrive. The sight was at the same time inspiring at the sight of human strength and kindness, and depressing because so much effort - if not for the whim of a madman - could move mountains elsewhere.
  
  Hayden called Argento and DC. Although they knew about the disaster, they knew little else. Eckernfeld, while not entirely secluded, was small enough not to have a video surveillance network and other security mechanisms. Drake believed that Amari would not let this end. Most likely, he would have assumed that Webb had survived, especially since they were now at the end of the mission. The most recent clue led straight to the Philosopher's Stone, the secret to eternal life, invisibility, and teleportation. Webb and Amari were both convinced it was real and that made it real for the SPEAR team. More than anything, they persecuted people. The rest was just flames during a hurricane.
  
  Of course, the Arab had to be hunted down. Their work was far from complete, even if Webb did lie under the rubble.
  
  "Amari?" Dahl said.
  
  Hayden lowered her head. "More than anything," she said. "But the penultimate clue was here. Now we don't know anything. I wonder if even he knows."
  
  "The bastard has to show up somewhere," Smith growled. "We'll grind it to powder."
  
  Drake watched as the policeman separated from the group of doctors and ran towards them. An expression of urgency distorted the man's face.
  
  "Get up," he said. "Here comes the full bowl of trouble."
  
  "OU". Alicia seemed to be back to normal. "Sounds like a description of a Little Elf."
  
  Mai watched as the policeman approached.
  
  Hayden rose to meet him, Dal too. Drake was close enough to raise his head and listen to what the man had to say.
  
  "Someone down there," he said breathlessly, "says he knows you. They want to talk."
  
  Drake assumed it was someone they had helped. "It is not necessary. We-"
  
  "The woman is dying."
  
  The team went silent. Drake closed his eyes. "Certainly".
  
  "She also said that you would respond faster if I told you her name. Sabrina Balboni."
  
  Drake felt his throat tighten. It was their team that put the Italian master thief in this position before Bo betrayed them all. Now...
  
  As one, they raced back down the hill, hot on the policeman's heels. Together they carefully made their way through the crowd.
  
  Separately, mentally at least, they surrounded the stretcher Sabrina lay on. The Italian barely moved and showed no sign of dust from the wreckage. Drake went to the doctor. "How?"
  
  "Knife in the stomach," the man said heavily. "As if the explosion wasn't enough."
  
  Drake tried to ignore the twist in his soul and leaned over the stretcher. "Sabrina? Can you hear me, love?"
  
  Eyelids fluttered. Black eyes were full of pain. He could tell that Sabrina recognized him immediately.
  
  "Hello".
  
  Her lips trembled. "He...he left. Beau... Bo did it to me."
  
  Drake's fists clenched, but he suppressed his rising anger and threw back the terrible curse Alicia had muttered. He had no right to ask this woman to help them again, but if Webb was free and the Amari cult was after him, then nowhere in the world would be safe.
  
  "You know where?" he asked.
  
  "He's gone..." Sabrina went into a coughing fit, gasping for breath that made her wince and bleed that stained her bedspread. The medic intervened. "She needs to go to the hospital."
  
  "How far?" Dahl asked.
  
  The doctor shrugged. "Ten minutes".
  
  They couldn't risk it. Drake leaned in close enough that his lips almost touched Sabrina's forehead. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's a pity, but we need to know everything."
  
  "He's gone..." Sabrina suddenly said in a strong voice that startled Drake. "Where Saint-Germain still lives. Actually it's obvious. The greatest treasure is still with him to this day."
  
  Drake moved away. "Still... still alive? What the hell is he-?"
  
  Hayden came in from the other side. "Where?" she insisted. "It doesn't matter what Webb believes. Where did he go?"
  
  "Believes... believes he lives in the French Quarter. New Orleans. Germain has a house."
  
  "And the treasure?"
  
  "Says Germain chose... the French Quarter because of... variety. The ingredients he needs. He said it was a kind of variety." Sabrina raised her hand and Drake shook it.
  
  "Call Bo," she breathed. "Repay him for me."
  
  Alicia pushed her shoulder towards Sabrina. "This is going to be my job, and girl, I'm going to get credit for it."
  
  "What... thank you."
  
  "Hey, no need to thank us," Drake said quickly. "We'll visit you when we're done."
  
  "Grape". Sabrina tried to force a smile, but all Drake saw was the paramedic's worried frown. "No. Wine."
  
  "I'll bring a whole shelf," Drake said.
  
  "My--cough again, hero."
  
  "We have to go". Hayden pulled away.
  
  "One more thing," Sabrina said as the medic ran over to her. "Another". She squeezed Drake's wrist.
  
  "Webb is in his endgame. Now it's all over. His life. His vision. All for this. He told Bo...told him to call and cash out every single resource. That's what he said."
  
  Drake exchanged a look with Hayden. A sentence with absolutely terrible connotations.
  
  They let the medics take care of Sabrina and got together. Hayden made the call.
  
  "We need a fast flight to Louis Armstrong Airport," she said. "And a fully loaded team to meet us there. All threats are possible. Just put this damn city on alert."
  
  She walked towards the police car. "Finally," she said. "Tyler Webb is over."
  
  Drake knew that most people are at their most vulnerable when victory approaches.
  
  All and all resources?
  
  Wait until he tries what the SPEAR team brought.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  
  
  New Orleans smoldered beside the great serpent of the Mississippi River, a city rebuilt and still thriving, not least because of its great community spirit. The French Quarter was New Orleans' oldest neighborhood, a tourist attraction and home to just about every vice and entertainment that man can imagine. Mostly pronounced nyu-oar-lintz, and apparently he didn't know compass directions - the neighborhoods were on the outskirts, in the city center, on a river or lake - he seemed to be subject to his own rules and regulations ... one of the few places in the United States where you could drink liquor on the street, where people rode streetcars instead of streetcars, and where the dead were always buried above the ground in raised mausoleums.
  
  Then this is a good place to collect unusual ingredients and mix old elements, a good place to find the impossible and taste the incredible. The hard part? Almost nothing is pronounced the way it is spelled.
  
  Drake got out of the car first as they entered Bourbon Street, the center of the busy hive. The area was busy, noisy and incredibly busy. He felt insecure, atypical, although no one noticed it. The large van was unmarked, as were the next two, the weapons still hidden. No threats have been made, and no unusual activity has been recorded. The authorities unobtrusively increased their presence and attracted help. Drake wanted to capture Webb before a larger contingent arrived.
  
  But where is the fool? he thought. Where do the psychos congregate across the block?
  
  Their research on board the aircraft, though not quite like Karin Blake's, has yielded some results. Legend has it that Saint Germain rediscovered himself some time ago, moved to New Orleans and faded into obscurity. No questions were asked about why or how, even the simplest ones, but Drake found that this was usually the case with the legends that survived. Webb himself believed this and was on the last hunt for the elixir of life right here. The gloves were actually taken off.
  
  The team spread out around him and behind him, Alicia at his side. As a group, they have been quite depressed since leaving Sabrina and haven't received any updates since. Alicia saw this as a good sign. During the long flight they either slept or pretended to; no one wanted to face the issues raised by Webb directly.
  
  Drake noticed that Alicia was looking at him and winked at her. Then he saw that Mai was also watching and it reminded him of the last time they were together. In bed. The sudden memory made his mouth dry.
  
  Hayden got up on the sidewalk first. "So, instead of wandering aimlessly, we have a plan." She spoke into the communicator for the benefit of the other teams present. "Don't forget that Amari will be here, and potentially he is an even greater destructive threat than Webb. Don't forget that Webb staked his entire twisted life on this particular day and night. They both have resources - Amari's are as vast as Webb's used to be. And Beauregard Alain? Don't underestimate him. Lethal force may be required. I think that's it. Maybe we should move out?"
  
  The question was rhetorical, but then a voice was heard. "Hmm, not quite yet."
  
  A new car has arrived. Drake lowered his hand and moved closer to the cover. Dahl and Kinimaka took the lead; Smith and Lauren are in the back. The doors opened and three serious-looking bodyguards stepped out, surveying the area. The black sunglasses and suits spoke of the government, while the intense surveillance screamed of the Secret Service. Drake tried to tighten his jaw.
  
  Hayden failed. "This...? This is a woman. Oh shit. Not now. We cannot guarantee her safety."
  
  But Kimberly Crow was unstoppable. The new middle-aged Minister of Defense was a slender, fit woman who clearly played sports. The bones on her cheeks stood out, the heels were quick and sharp. She walked up to Hayden, then stopped just a meter away from him.
  
  "You think it's inappropriate, don't you?"
  
  Hayden considered her answer. "Is this a fleeting visit, Madam Secretary?"
  
  "I'm here to help."
  
  Drake saw the determination on Crowe's face. No one would say the obvious out loud, so he began to wonder how to formulate an answer, when Alicia intervened.
  
  "Our track record is not so good among Defense Ministers."
  
  "Protecting you, madam, would affect our effectiveness," Hayden corrected.
  
  "I have my guards." Crow waved her hand towards the three men.
  
  Dahl snorted. "You steal them from kindergarten?"
  
  "And you might be exposed to some rudeness," Hayden quickly added.
  
  "We can take this. And I can fade into the background. She waved her hand. "Lead on."
  
  Realizing that Crowe's appearance could mean anything from a curious visit, to a brief appraisal, to a full appreciation of the team's value to the nation, Hayden turned away. The secretary knew what he was risking.
  
  It's time to hunt.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  
  
  The plan was simple and much easier than digging through thick layers of digital dust and digital highways. Hayden explained this to the secretary as they left.
  
  "As with all enemies, we usually discard Webb's beliefs, crazy or not, because they won't help us here. But his life's work? This is the key. This man oversaw the creation of an alchemical formula called the Philosopher's Stone, a substance also known as the elixir of life. Once the most wanted prize on the planet, now it's Webb's ultimate goal."
  
  "I heard about it."
  
  "But his story is fascinating. This can be traced back to Adam, who received knowledge from God. Passed down from generation to generation by the biblical patriarchs, this is how they achieved their longevity. It is connected with the temple of Solomon and the psalms from the Bible."
  
  "But you put that aside, right?" Crowe said. "Like a little crazy."
  
  "Yes and no," Hayden said. "In this case, it might help. The Internet is huge and full of lies. Who knows which facts are more real facts? Especially when they concern the three-hundred-year-old count. If we had time to properly study old books, old libraries, museums, and the like, we could find out. But we never do. Real life moves too fast to take a breather. Real soldiers and real teams need to think and learn as they go."
  
  Crowe followed Hayden between groups of revelers. "Has the meaning. But I still don't understand your point of view."
  
  "Fine. Webb believes that by learning the secrets of alchemy, teleportation, invisibility, and following the advice of the Freemasons handed down from their last founder, he will be able to create this Grand Work. That's why he only started this task after he found Leopold's scroll. To make the liquid, he will now need the right ingredients."
  
  "To make the Philosopher's Stone?" Crowe looked extremely skeptical. "And you know what it is?"
  
  "We believe. I believe that knowing how they are combined changes the outcome. In any case, during the flight, FBI specialists tracked local purchases of phosphorus. Certain urine. Special morning dew. ammonium nitrate. magnesium chloride. Several other materials from which sophick is made; salt, sulfur and mercury. Yes, some establishments in the area are extremely secretive about what they sell, but others are either complacent or carefully cooperative."
  
  "I understand. So you're telling me we're here to follow the shopping list?"
  
  "Quite right."
  
  They delved into the French Quarter and beyond. Run-down shops with dirty green shutters and cheap souvenirs boasted the names Church of Voodoo, Leveaux's and Hoodoo Shop. By design or negligence, every establishment was in disrepair, and some looked downright unattractive. Drake had long since learned that innocent façades can often hide haunts of terrible lawlessness. But tourists were coming in and out of the open doors, taking pictures, selfies, most of which were suffering from intense heat.
  
  Hayden stopped. "Blue Voodoo," she said. "Here, apparently, we can find decomposed urine."
  
  Alicia rested her head on Hayden's shoulders. "Really?"
  
  "Hey, this is not my barbecue."
  
  The team prepared and kept in touch with the local SWAT guys who also showed up. By this time they were all wearing bulletproof vests and helmets and holding their weapons in plain sight. The area quickly emptied as people left. Drake took the lead.
  
  "Go." The order whistled through his communicator.
  
  Drake crossed the threshold, pistol raised, and went to the left. Dahl went to the right. They were followed by two, and then Kinimaka walked straight down the center. The saleswoman stared at them in shock.
  
  "Backdoor?" Drake asked.
  
  But everything was empty. If Webb was ever here, he moved on. Hayden called the manager over and took him aside.
  
  Drake listened and quickly answered her question. "Yes, yes, we sold it less than half an hour ago. A strange man with a tall friend. We don't question it."
  
  I was drawn to another store two blocks away that sold ammonium nitrate. Inside, Drake looked doubtfully at the many chemicals, urns, mixing bowls, mortars and pestles, vials of hair, teeth, and animal remains, jars of eyeballs, tongues, and toenails, plastic bags of mandrake, zombie flesh, and royal blood. The owner looked like he had swallowed them all.
  
  "Yar, yar," he drawled in an obviously fake English accent. "The man passed quite recently. I bought saltpeter, magnesium, a little phosphorus. Said he needed the morning dew." A giggle, a gleam of blackened teeth, and a bunch of dreadlocks. "I said, 'You mean special dew?' He said 'yes'. I said 'Don't sell it.' He looked pretty offended."
  
  Hayden struggled to confuse him a little. "Will you recommend any place?"
  
  "True, true. Magic Lounge. There must be some... shit in there. Oh, and why are these guys dressed like men in black?"
  
  Drake winced at the mention of Secretary Crowe's bodyguards, but leaned closer to Dahl. "Dude speaks better than you."
  
  The Swede sighed. "Told like a true northern peasant."
  
  Kimberly Crow turned to the team. "So what is special dew? Dare I ask?"
  
  The owner snorted. "Precipitation was collected at dawn from the petals of a deadly plant. Is it deadly or not? Could you try something?"
  
  "Doubtful." Crowe backed away. "Very doubtful."
  
  "Depending on how you screwed up the night before, huh?" Alicia blurted out before she remembered who she was talking to. But then she just shrugged. "Damn right, isn't it?"
  
  The whole unit moved on, Hayden crossed off items from her list. When they stopped in the square behind the Magick Lounge, a steaming sun trap that stank of fried chicken, marijuana, cigarettes and jasmine, the SPEAR team leader spoke up.
  
  "After the dew, only elements of the sofa remain. Be ready ".
  
  "We should go straight to the next one," Smith chuckled. "Looks like we're still ten minutes behind."
  
  "Our luck?" Drake said. "We would miss him. In addition, the cops are looking at three possible locations."
  
  Mai patted Smith on the shoulder. "And what if he's on his way? Our presence might alert him."
  
  Smith grunted silently, throwing a questioning glance at Lauren. The New Yorker's face was open, smiling slightly. He smiled back.
  
  Drake followed Dahl into the Magic Room. The wide-open doors confused them a little, but once inside, there was again no sign of Webb. Hayden made an instant decision to quickly take care of the remaining cases.
  
  "Let's split up," she said. "We're here at the Last Chance Saloon."
  
  Nobody resisted, nobody hesitated. Instant movements followed, and dozens of pairs of legs ran out of the doors. Location tracking was carried out using portable GPS devices. Drake and the team shot straight for the nearest one with an arrow. It was speculated that they were less than five minutes behind Webb. The narrow streets between shops and restaurants, some abandoned, some no doubt destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, though the French Quarter had been given extra protection by fortified levees, were a labyrinth, a seething labyrinth of coffee smells, heaps of rubbish and stinking corners. Drake was sweating heavily under his helmet. Hayden called out that there was a minute left to their final destination, and the team slowed down.
  
  But they didn't stop.
  
  They turned into an alleyway so narrow it rubbed their shoulders on both sides, then carefully walked out in front of a shuttered store that was two stories high and had three balconies running the length of it. It seemed to Drake that it was closed, but the fact itself alerted him. On one of the fences, without the slightest breath of wind, an American flag hung, attached to it. A row of well-kept potted plants lined another balcony. The odd street layout, from shop to restaurant, from private garages to beautifully painted shuttered houses and rough drinking spots, has never been more evident when Drake looked at a series of conflicting images. But the store?
  
  It stood still and sunlit, the paved sidewalk faded and the windows closed as if ignoring the world. He stepped out into the open and raised his hand for a pause. Two crowds of tourists moved slowly to the left, a few people noticed Drake and stopped to stare. The main group moved closer.
  
  And then they broke up.
  
  Webb and Beau walked out slowly at first, looking bored, but then headed straight for the seemingly closed store. Maybe they called in advance, promised more money for privacy? That's how it was done, right? In wealthy circles?
  
  Drake lowered his Hong Kong dollar. "Hey chumps!"
  
  Webb broke into a run. Bo threw something from his clenched fist that slashed through the brick above Drake's skull, showering him with dust. A second projectile followed, confusing the Yorkshireman, and then a Frenchman, a ninja in black, a person of phantom death, was nearby, and Drake felt the HK escape from his hands.
  
  He landed a lower kick, hitting Bo in the ribs. Alicia pushed him in the back, trying to push him out of the narrow alley, but Bo held him there, landing punches almost as fast as his mind could work. The assassin hit Brick as often as he had hit Drake, but none of the blows hit him.
  
  Drake found that his only option was to get past Bo. This allowed Alicia to come to the fore and forced Beau to focus on her. The man's face, familiar and sometimes smiling, sometimes grim but part of their team, now showed no signs of recognition, sympathy or mercy. He might as well be a robot programmed to kill.
  
  Alicia kicked in the shins and punched in the stomach and groin. Bo danced beautifully, master puppeteer. Spins and sweeps knocked Alicia onto her back, then Drake followed close behind, Kinimaka trying to get out of the alley.
  
  Crap. Big Hawaiian is fucking stuck!
  
  Distressed as always, Mano Kinimaka couldn't move forward as the brick walls pinned him down on both sides. The soldiers chuckled behind him, Crowe and her entourage behind. Drake dived at Bo, landing a kick in the thighs, and Alicia parried the kick, but the Frenchman drove a chipper into Kinimaki's stomach, which effectively turned him into a panting, immobile lump.
  
  Hayden yelled, "Webb's already inside!"
  
  The muzzle of the pistol rested against Kinimaki's armpit, but Bo dodged before the shots could be fired. Kinimaka groaned loudly as Dal pushed him in the back. Bitten flesh and torn material. Bo jumped between Drake and Alicia, trying to keep them in place.
  
  Drake slammed his fist on the man's thigh, delighted at the fact that he elicited a heavy grunt. So that bastard was still human after all! Then Bo somehow managed to poke him under his eye and kick him in the stomach at the same time. Drake collapsed, rolling to the side.
  
  Alicia was on her feet, but Drake saw that Bo was now jumping after Webb and decided it was best to free the rest of the team. Without looking the Hawaiian in the face, they grabbed his jacket and pulled while Dahl pushed.
  
  A look of mischief appeared on Alicia's face. "You better hope it works, big man. As a last resort, I'm going to spin these nuts."
  
  With a scream of terror and a whistle of air from Mano's mouth, he fell among them. Dahl and Hayden jumped out immediately, followed quickly by the others.
  
  Bo ran into the store.
  
  Drake looked around the area. Minimum escape routes, large crowds. Kenzi appeared over his shoulder.
  
  "Have you seen a real sword shop around here yet?"
  
  "Umm, no love, I don"t have it. You definitely have no love for weapons."
  
  "Prepare me properly, I'm a firework."
  
  Drake coughed. "Right. Greetings. I will definitely remember that."
  
  Finding no sign of Amari and the tourists retreating, Hayden ordered the shop stormed. The team, as one, rushed to run, lined up in a protective shroud. Drake pulled the door. Dahl and Smith rushed in with their pistols raised. Hayden followed him, then Drake squeezed his way in front of Kinimaka for a moment. Inside the store, darkness reigned, blinding them for a few seconds. Drake saw Webb yell at the man behind the counter. He saw the madman rummaging through the box, which the owner had placed on the counter; vials, bags and small jars were flying everywhere. He saw Webb turn in triumph, a bright red package clutched in his hand.
  
  "Where are the others?" He said. "Ingredients. Now quickly."
  
  Drake aimed his gun. Where was...?
  
  A shadow fell on them, as if from heaven. Webb burst into shrill laughter. Bo landed two feet from his perch above the door, kicking and pounding with his fists, sending them at each other. The weapons shattered, but the jackets cushioned their fall. Webb grabbed another red bag and screamed.
  
  "Don't you have salt? This is the simplest component!"
  
  Webb grabbed the man's shirt and used it to throw him aside. Then he circled the counter, heading towards the back. Bo kicked Mei, who had just entered the door, knocking her back towards Kenzi. Then, like living smoke, he slithered behind his boss. Drake reached for his gun, stifling his disappointment. Both he and Dahl managed to parry the blow, but they were calculated and aimed high because of the fallen shopkeeper.
  
  "What are you idiots trying to do?" Alicia groaned. "Drop a shelf on a bastard"s head?"
  
  The team ran; Drake and Dahl raced around the bar, the others following. A narrow passage led to a back door that was wide open. They were forced to slow down in case Bo was in for another nasty surprise, but then they ended up in a small courtyard that opened directly onto another store.
  
  The back door has been broken into.
  
  Another race turned into a chase when they saw Bo speeding through the antique shop ahead. Another door rumbled open, and then the street was open again, pushing pedestrians aside and crashing through another door and another store. Bright sunlight and subdued interiors. Blue sky and flashing colorful lights.
  
  The team thinned out, then huddled together, then paused for a minute before realigning in the costume shop. Through this one, and then across a large courtyard filled with Mardi Gras paraphernalia. Winding between floats and hanging figures like demons; black goats and gaudy men in top hats swaying as if they were alive.
  
  Another appearance by Bo and then Webb, but there was an entire crowded platform in their way, making progress difficult. Drake found himself climbing over the green dragon's head while Alicia used its long red tongue to pull itself up behind it. Then they climbed over a huge crowned crocodile with the whole team behind them.
  
  "Looks like a fucking nightmare," Drake muttered.
  
  "Are you kidding?" Alicia breathed heavily in response. "Have you seen the size of that tongue? More like a dream."
  
  There were broken jesters and windowless trams, a woman blowing a trumpet. The platform went on and on, which was even more annoying because they could see the exit from the yard straight ahead. The final obstacles were the evil clowns, which caused quite a few screams from Alicia, Lauren and, of course, Kinimaki.
  
  Drake jumped down, drenched in sweat. The exit door was wide open. The doorway of the store across the road was split in half, the bottom panel swaying. He cursed. If only for an accurate shot! He crossed the road, entered the store and saw the unfortunate shopkeeper.
  
  "Which way?"
  
  "In the backyard".
  
  Again running and chasing. Glancing at Webb, I saw him clutching another bag and grinning more viciously than any possessed clown in all ages.
  
  Running down the long, slicing street, Drake smelled the river much more strongly. Their loot turned right, broke into another store, and knocked over another shopkeeper. The team raced hard in pursuit, their sweat spattering the dusty floors behind them. Only twice did Drake reach line of sight for the shot, but both times he passed for fear of hitting bystanders or getting rebounded. Only once did they venture past other policemen who immediately followed them. Kimberly Crow was at the back of the line and it was hard for her to keep up.
  
  "Webb heading for the river?" Hayden asked out loud. "Is it purposeful?"
  
  "You're pretty damn sure a helicopter can't land here," Smith said. "And the roads are narrow."
  
  They broke into two more stores as they moved closer and closer to the river. Lauren, sitting in the back, fumbled on her cell phone. Now she called out, "It's easy to get into the river here. There is a moon path and something like a pier. Steamboat. It's pretty open."
  
  Kenzi left the store one time ago and is now back with a flushed face. She held a katana in her right hand and a short ninja sword in her left hand, both sheathed. "Now I'm ready for this sausage." She chuckled. "We'll see how he fights without the skin."
  
  And, with a certain amount of ceremoniality, she handed the ninja sword to Dahl. The Swede looked like he was about to refuse, but then he saw formality and hope in her and held out his hand. He quickly attached it to his back, following Kenzi's lead. Crowe didn't have the strength to question it.
  
  They stepped out into the street, to their left a wide scenic view of the mighty Mississippi River.
  
  "This can't be good," May said.
  
  Webb and Beau approached the water, close enough to still make out the packets clutched in Webb's hand.
  
  To their right, a huge squad of mercenaries poured out of the door of the church, rushing in pursuit. Bullets began to form a lattice in the air.
  
  Amari.
  
  Drake said, "Well, at least it brings all the Zealot parties together. But it won't end well."
  
  "Nope," Alicia said. "It will end bloody. Very bloody."
  
  Dahl swept the entire team with one glance. "Be safe, my friends. And pray that we all get through this."
  
  Drake ran with all his might, he did not like the sudden silence around him.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  
  
  On Moonwalk, a well-lit path that ran along the banks of the Mississippi at the edge of the French Quarter, offering great views, questionable smells, and measured romantic walks, a new version of the madness broke out.
  
  Bo led Webb to the railing, then turned and threw several invisible objects that hit the fleeing mercenaries in the skull and neck and forced them to roll over with force directly on their colleagues. Drake noted that every bullet fired at Webb missed its target, and logically deduced that Amari should now know everything.
  
  The Arab knew that Webb had figured out every clue, collected every ingredient, and was closer than anyone in history to creating a dose of Magnum Opus, the elixir of life. Now, Drake thought. Amari wants it for herself!
  
  The theory has been controversial. Webb jumped high, seemingly straight into the murky waters. Bo twirled and twirled and twirled again in an incredible fashion, taking down several mercenaries before sliding over the railing, still facing the mercenaries and arms outstretched, throwing projectiles even as he fell into the water.
  
  Drake and the team approached the mercenaries. Amari saw them and called out an order.
  
  "Break!"
  
  Drake soon realized what he meant. The mercenaries did not turn around and did not open fire. What they did was move as a group to the right and to a gap in the fence, where a narrow dock stretched like a wooden airstrip towards the Mississippi. Amari ran among them, plus the people Drake remembered as his six assistants. The whole gang was here. Fine. This simplifies everything.
  
  When Drake reached the fence, a powerful engine started. Leaning over the top rail, he saw Webb and Beau sitting in a bright yellow motorboat, the Frenchman stepping on the gas, her nose up in the air. The spray flew in his direction, leaving him blind as Webb's transport pulled away.
  
  "There's always a plan," Smith growled. "What's next?"
  
  "Where is he going?" May was worried. "Remember the phrase 'everything and every resource'? We haven't seen anything like it yet."
  
  "But now we know how Amari got here," Dahl said, nodding toward the slipway.
  
  There was a swaying mass of boats moored there, crowding together and rattling their sides against each other. Even now, the mercenaries moved from boat to boat, using them as a passageway to get to their own, starting them and starting the engines, readying weapons and rifles.
  
  Hayden called the authorities. "Police boats," Drake heard her say. "As many as... Damn, that's not enough."
  
  "Helicopters!" Alicia was crying so loudly that Drake almost laughed before he realized what she meant. "Yes," Hayden called out, running forward. "Get all your helicopters too."
  
  They hurried to the dock, grappling with the mercenary rearguard and driving it back. Shots rang out. One man fell with a wound in the thigh, the other with a crushed shoulder. Smith hit the vest. Yorgi almost broke his thumb while wresting a rifle from a much larger man.
  
  In the end, when Kensi approached the dock and slowly drew her sword, the last squad of mercenaries turned their tails and fled. Alicia, Mai, and Kinimaka were hot on their heels, believing that the right way was to introduce them to the Mississippi, preferably head to head.
  
  The weapon was gone and the focus was lost. Nobody died. Drake noticed that the boats were moored to the left and right, and the loss of the mercenaries cleared a place among them.
  
  "Stay on the mission." He opened his communicator. "We're after Webb."
  
  On the right, they broke and copied the earlier antics of the mercenaries; moving from swaying ship to ship, heading quickly towards the outer ships. Each was moored to the next, so that when Drake found a suitable vessel, all he had to do was untie a short length of rope.
  
  They occupied four speedboats, brought them in and pushed off from the pier. Drake saw a SWAT team clambering over to the other boats, and another walking along the Moonwalk, yelling at the Amari and the mercenaries as if it might scare them away. Having shown unusual intelligence, the mercenaries did not open fire on the fleeing special forces soldiers and began to retreat further to the center of the river.
  
  Webb was already hurtling through the murky, churning waters, passing a huge white riverboat called the Delta Queen. All as one, about ten Amari boats were in hot pursuit, engines roaring as the water parted around them. The mercenaries held their weapons high or behind their shoulders, without masks and indifferent when the bright, scorching sun was beating down.
  
  Drake stepped on the gas and held tight, Alicia clutching at the windshield, her eyes fixed on their prey. Three other boats suddenly surrounded him, rushing past him, trying to close the gap. The spray and walls of water gave him the best shower he'd had in days.
  
  Drops dripped from Alicia's face. "I hate this damn boat. It's pink, Drake. Fucking pink!"
  
  The Yorkshireman kept a straight face. "Didn't notice."
  
  "Of course you did." Alicia blew off the water, flapping her lips. "Probably chose it on purpose."
  
  "Why the hell am I supposed to do this?" Drake maneuvered in the center of the fairway, sharply stepping on the gas just ten meters from the Amari boat following behind.
  
  "I don't know. Does this remind you of Sprite?"
  
  Drake choked. "For the sake of fu-"
  
  "As usual," Hayden's voice interrupted them, "the connection is wide open. Thought you should have learned by now."
  
  Alicia shrugged, spilling the waterfall. "I don't care".
  
  "Maybe you should." Drake leaned lower, holding the steering wheel with one hand while he readied his pistol with the other. It was the Heckler & Koch UMP, a lighter and cheaper successor to the MP5. Used by various agencies, including the Border Patrol, it was the easiest weapon for the Traveling SPEAR team to get their hands on in the shortest amount of time. However, it provided more stopping power, larger cartridges, and was easier to carry. The disadvantages were less accuracy at range and slower rate of fire, but Drake considered these less important.
  
  Until he jumped on a speedboat and sailed down the broad Mississippi, chasing more than a dozen other boats full of mercenaries and lunatics, surrounded by his colleagues in a similar position.
  
  You can't plan everything.
  
  Webb was visible ahead, betting on strength; Bo watched the pursuing teams. Drake was pumping all the energy out of his pink boat, glancing at Dahl, who was at the helm of the lime green boat.
  
  The corners of the Swede's mouth turned up slightly. "If you're nice to them, maybe they'll let you take the boat for the weekend," he purred over the comm.
  
  "Oh, you're so damn funny, I'm going to break." Drake looked past the Swede at the other ships. Hayden and May were driving mostly in a yellow car and seemed cramped by Crowe and two bodyguards. Kinimaka, Smith, Lauren and Yorgi were packed into an orange boat, the Russian was the pilot as the soldiers prepared with H&K. her shoulders.
  
  "Damn, this can't be good," Alicia's voice brought him back to reality.
  
  The two Amari boats had broken away and were now turning in an arc back toward their pursuers. Alicia adjusted her rifle and Drake increased the distance between his boat and Dahl's. The last thing they needed was an evasive maneuver leading to disaster. The first of the Amari boats headed straight for Drake, the mercenaries had already opened fire. The bullets flew past or bounced into the Mississippi. Alicia took aim.
  
  Both boats were rushing towards each other at a combined speed of over 80 miles per hour. Faced with a strong wave, both boats took off, their pilots struggled with the wheels and returned back for more.
  
  "Drake..." Alicia began.
  
  "They don't stop, mate." Dahl's voice.
  
  Drake stood still, breathing deeply through his mouth. "Go to hell," he said.
  
  The enemy boat was now a gray wedge blocking the horizon. It wasn't until Drake saw the fear in the eyes of the most advanced mercenaries and the determined look on the pilot's face that he realized what was really going on.
  
  "Kamikaze," he shouted to warn the others, then turned the steering wheel hard. Alicia swayed to the side, crushing her shoulder and head. The stern spun around, skimming the falls, the bow trembling and trying to move forward. Drake stepped on the gas. The enemy boat was moving forward. At another important moment, Dahl managed to see his weapon during control, aim and incapacitate the pilot. The boat has veered off course.
  
  And then it exploded.
  
  Drake was already low; Alicia tapped on the legroom. Terrible fragments hit their boat and flew overhead or flew straight into the air. Drake assumed the pilot was wearing body armor, but the action was still shocking.
  
  Dead man's trigger.
  
  The mercenary boat lay dead in the water, debris still falling down. Drake jumped up and unceremoniously opened the throttle. Once again, their beat-up boat raced through the center of the Mississippi.
  
  Amari's second boat took aim at their third in line, coincidentally a yellow one, carrying Hayden, May, and the Secretary of Defense. It was hard for Drake to imagine that a United States official of her stature would put herself in such grave danger, but then, when she made the rash decision to go to New Orleans and meet with the SPEAR team in the middle of a mission, could she really have foreseen what would happen? Not even a chase through the French Quarter set a man up for a motorboat battle along the world's third-largest watershed.
  
  This time, the enemy pilot survived as Mai steered their boat in a wide circle to one side and then turned back. Drake could see the mercenaries yelling at the man holding the steering wheel, then tearing open his jacket and flinching in shock at the dynamite strapped to his chest. At that moment, someone threw himself overboard, but the pilot blew himself up anyway, throwing the wrecked boat into the air, and then staggered back.
  
  "With Amari his fanatics," Drake said soberly. "This is our warning."
  
  Kinimaki's boat was approaching the last Amari boat in line, close enough to engage in a firefight. The Hawaiian's boat tilted slightly on the oncoming wave, but he managed to manually return it to its place. Smith fired carefully, each bullet popping at regular intervals. Mercenaries fell, bleeding. The return fire sent Lauren and Yorgy to the floor, the thief let go of his new Glock. Kinimaka continued to attack and Smith managed to disable the pilot. Mercenaries fell all over the place, and some fell overboard when the ship lost speed.
  
  Kinimaka brought the past into action. They couldn't afford to lose a second. Webb raced ahead unimpeded, although Amari in the lead boat may have been slowly catching up. The Arabs seemed to do this every day at home, which gave them a slight edge, although never on a river as mighty as this one.
  
  "Still no sign of Webb's resources," Drake muttered.
  
  "No, but ours are on their way," Hayden yelled back over the roar of the engine and water.
  
  Drake looked up and back, saw the helicopters taking to the skies and a veritable fleet of new ships whizzing by behind them.
  
  "If Webb thought this was an escape route, then it looks like this asshole was a bit wrong."
  
  "But Webb is nowhere to be seen." Lauren used field glasses. "Bo is driving the boat."
  
  Drake narrowed his eyes. Indeed, only one person was visible on board the lead boat. Hayden spoke her mind. "He's so desperate that he's already preparing a potion," she said. "This is my bet, guys. Whatever he believes will give him strength, I don't know, but that's what he does."
  
  "Immortality?" Lauren suggested. "Invisibility?"
  
  "Oh, I'd love to try some of that." Alicia shook her head. "The damn elf wouldn't know what hit her. And the samurai Sheila." She stared at Kenzi, then feigned shock. "Oh shit. Did I say it out loud? In touch?"
  
  Mai gave nothing in return. Kenzi gave him an appraising look. "So nothing has changed, right, Alicia? Maybe, just maybe, one day you will need me to help save your life."
  
  "Unbelievable."
  
  "Then... let"s see who is bullying whom."
  
  "I never-"
  
  Drake closed it. "On a mission," he rasped. "We have to deal with threats to global security."
  
  Kinimaki's and Dahl's boats now scurried among the mercenary boats. The Swede opened one of them wide, causing it to veer toward the third, fiberglass and steel crumbling. Kinimaka crashed into the rear third of the other, causing the front to turn around and sending three mercenaries, akimbo, into the hungry belly of the river.
  
  The enemy ship turned around and heavily attacked Dahl. Drake was already close, almost touching the Swede's stern. A head-on collision looked likely. More casualties on the part of the Amari, although this pilot was clearly an ordinary mercenary.
  
  Dahl tensed, and Kensi sank into her seat. The mercenaries screamed frantically, and Drake slowed down. Hayden appeared on the right, running from the side. As the ships nearly converged, Hayden's yellow boat collided with the back of the mercenaries' boat, physically throwing it aside. Dahl's boat swept through the clear water, and Hayden turned sharply to starboard to join the chase, her bow torn but holding on.
  
  The mercenaries were dead in the water, only able to wait to be picked up.
  
  Drake approached the stern of the next boat as Alicia fired her H&K. Smith fired his Glock and May killed the mercenaries one by one. Helicopters began circling the sky above , and motorboats surfed the waves in pursuit. Ahead, Amari led the charge behind Webb, stone-faced and bellowing fanatic threats.
  
  And Webb himself, crouching low, was already mixing the first ingredient of the alchemical concoction that Leopold's Scroll and Saint Germain's "strict list of clues" showed was the only sure way to prepare the greatest treasure ever imagined - the elixir of life.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY
  
  
  The great wave of the Mississippi River had never seen or heard anything like it. As soldiers, Drake and the SPEAR team were often on the brink of death. Most of the time they deceived him. But there were no illusions in Drake's head. No one cheated death forever.
  
  Nobody.
  
  The final chapter was approaching, maybe not this year, but soon enough, when they would all rise and die together. He wasn't afraid of it. A man or a woman could not live such a life forever, and he simply could not imagine himself voluntarily retiring. So what was the alternative?
  
  Jumping from wave to wave, he counted the boats. Webb, and then six Amaris and four of their own. All shabby. The waters were violent and deadly. Amari's mercenaries swung wide from time to time to unleash several bursts of machine-gun fire, piercing the air with lead. Kinimaka and Dal rushed along with them, removing the strange body, but made very little progress.
  
  The mighty river curved gracefully to the right and then to the left, forming a wide bend of undulating water, flanked by grassy banks and dikes, docks and busy shipyards. Its immense breadth spanned their horizons, its gloom growing only darker as the sun passed its zenith. Drake scanned the horizons ahead and to either side, always aware that Webb had a plan and potential reinforcements.
  
  How does he intend to escape?
  
  Propellers cut at the top, and motor boats swept past, all laden with various versions of law enforcement. One of the mercenaries tried to throw a grenade at Dahl's boat, but missed, and the Swede and the Israeli only got wet through. Dahl shot the man in the shoulder, and no one else tried to do it.
  
  "Can"t you make this thing move faster?" Alicia complained. "At this rate, we'll be here all day."
  
  "Oh, of course," Drake said. "I'll just flip the nitrous oxide switch."
  
  "I don't even know what that means."
  
  "Damn, one day we'll have to invite you to the fast and the furious festival."
  
  "Isn't that what we do every night? Sometimes twice?
  
  Drake shook his head slowly. Alicia squeezed his shoulder tightly. To their right, the boat carrying Hayden, May, and the secretary of defense skidded across the surface of the Mississippi. Drake saw Kimberly Crow crouching low to the ground, with her two bodyguards surrounding her. Yes, she somehow managed to get into the thick of this whole mess, but he could not shake her courage.
  
  "Could you translate the secretary?" he asked Hayden on the comm.
  
  "Perhaps," came the reply. "But I don't feel like launching a maneuver when we're blind to what's next."
  
  "Send helicopters," Dahl said. "Get them all out of the water."
  
  Drake saw Hayden nod. "I think that's where it's headed."
  
  Another Amari boat separated, this time it tipped to the left and went straight in a circle. It was rapidly approaching Drake's boat, its swept prow intent on cutting it in half, but on Hayden's orders, one of the SWAT helicopters descended and opened fire. The boat shattered into detonating fragments, still coasting forward as it shattered. A column of fire and smoke marked his death.
  
  Drake didn't even look at it a second time. Webb turned.
  
  "Wait. What is he doing?
  
  Behind Amari, the lead boat seemed to turn too late, so sharp was the angle at which Bo forced it to turn. The whole vessel tipped to one side, spray flying out from under it.
  
  The SPEAR team reacted instantly, following Bo's maneuver, then Amari began yelling orders through the rolling waves. As a result of the movements, Drake's boat ended up next to the boat of one of the mercenaries. Alicia fired her pistol twice, sending two mercenaries into Mississippi before returning fire. The bullets slammed into their body and pierced the windshield. Drake turned away. Alicia held on and wounded another mercenary. The boats collided violently, slamming into their hulls, leaving widening cracks and a flood of water.
  
  "We're sinking," Drake said.
  
  Alicia stared at the foam filling the boat and at her boots. "Now my feet are wet. Damn it, Drake, get a grip on yourself."
  
  The Yorkshireman cursed. He was rushing at full speed as the water flooded not only the boat, but the engine as well, heading for the sandbar that bordered where Beau was heading. A mercenary leaned out of the car with a raised pistol, but Alicia kicked him aside as they closed again, slapping him in the face just to make it more convincing. Drake glanced over the horizon and saw exactly what Bo was running towards.
  
  "We need to get ashore anyway, guys. Water kills the engine."
  
  Kinimaki's voice came through the communicator at exactly the same time. "Guys, is this a private airport?"
  
  "Must be," growled Smith. "It's definitely not for the public, damn it. Lauren can barely see it on the map."
  
  Makes sense, Drake thought. In an ideal world, Webb's short hop across the Mississippi from the French Quarter couldn't be easier. And then... in the air. Private flights meant questionable flight plans and the possibility of disappearing entirely, depending on where you landed.
  
  Alicia fired again. Water covered Drake's boots, and the boat rocked. He clicked on the throat microphone.
  
  "We're about to crash. Or drown. Or both."
  
  Dahl replied. "Stop whining. Just send us a damn postcard."
  
  Drake struggled with the rudder, driving them straight into the sandbar. The hull hit hard, momentum lifting them into the air. Water ran off the boat, clearing the sand of a protruding finger many meters above the pursuing mercenary boat. Drake saw the SWAT guy lean over the skids of his helicopter, take aim at the mercenary boat and fire as it flew by. The bullet killed the pilot and caused the boat to veer madly. Drake had a hard time.
  
  "Now there is a policeman who can use his cleaver..." Alicia said, then grunted and exhaled as the body grated and bounced. The momentum of the boat skidded ashore, and as it hit, Drake and Alicia jumped ashore. They turned and rolled, but still landed hard, bruised and bleeding in the face. Drake got up and looked around.
  
  The boats rushed to the makeshift pier. Beau and Webb were already there, the American jumping ashore, a heavy leather bag clutched in one hand. Webb looked both haggard and elated, like a man who had reached the end of a long search. Now Amari was approaching the dock with his boats full of mercenaries and assistants.
  
  Drake and Alicia ran with all their might along the muddy shore, trying to cut off the path of their enemies. Two helicopters flew overhead, reconnaissance of the airport, but Drake had no connection to their communicators. The area was closed off by a row of trees.
  
  Shots were already being fired. Futile attempts to shoot down Webb or Beau before they get to their plane. Of course, they understood that the game was over. They would never have been allowed to take to the air.
  
  Hayden got in touch. "I see Webb running through the gate into some complex at the back of the airport. I lock it up. Amari is coming. I take the lock. Drake, be careful, you're only a few feet away from me."
  
  Covered by a line of trees, Drake and Alicia crept around the last of the thick branches. He counted about twenty mercenaries and four white-clad acolytes and Amari. The airport's rear security gate had been destroyed, and the mercenaries were now passing through, spreading out across the compound. Drake saw helicopters landing, plane wings and two large hangars. He slipped around the corner.
  
  Hayden asked them to wait, and then, eight seconds later, joined the whole team. She turned to Kimberly Crow.
  
  "Please. Wait here."
  
  The secretary remained motionless. "No problem".
  
  That should have been enough. A team of SPEARERS rushed to the back gate and the backs of the fleeing mercenaries. Webb was already crossing the center of the territory, heading for a large group of men. Everywhere in front of him, activity was in full swing: people jumped into and out of helicopters, ground crews rushed to the rescue, propellers warmed up. Even the small jet roared with its twin engines.
  
  Any and all resources.
  
  Drake looked from Webb's army to the Amari mercenaries, the police and SWAT helicopters hovering overhead, and the firepower all around. Jumping right into the middle of this madness would be like jumping into an active volcano.
  
  However, the SPEAR team did it with gusto.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  
  
  "If I die today, I hope I do well. If I survive this day, I hope to see my loved ones again. If my friends and colleagues stand over my lifeless body at the end of all this, I hope they will be strong. And remember me, my family. Remember my living heart, my sense of excitement, my sparkling eyes. Now I'm just a memory, but still in you I live on. I can live forever."
  
  Kinimaka silently repeated the words as they ran towards the large battlefield.
  
  Drake blinked away what could only be river water. "Looks a bit long for a proverb, mate."
  
  "I wrote this when my mother died," he said. "And think about it whenever our friends have died. It seems like today is a good day for great songs."
  
  Before anyone could answer, all hell broke loose. However, no event was limited to one lifetime. Through Drake's eyes, the fusion of violence and intense action was a nonstop fatal rollercoaster ride. Webb ran to the waiting helicopters, which were lined up four abreast. His own ranks of mercenaries thundered past, shooting at the Amari troops. The Arab dived for cover. Spetsnaz helicopters swooped in from above, people leaned out of the doors and sent volleys of lead into the thick of the battle. Oil cans, vehicles and crates were strewn everywhere, allowing soldiers and mercenaries to seek cover.
  
  Drake saw Bo pushing Webb toward the first helicopter in line, his propellers already throwing out a huge jet. It was wonderful. As Webb boarded and the plane began to climb, Drake shot and killed the pilot.
  
  The black beast crashed back, landing hard on both skids. Beau dived in and roughly pulled Webb out. Drake saw Hayden fire another shot at them. The guard fell. The SWAT helicopter swept in again, cutting its way through the mercenaries, but now another contingent was lining up RPGs, causing the helicopter to swerve to the side. Smith managed to disable the rocket launcher before it fired.
  
  Other helicopters were also ready to take off, three more on the far side of the airfield and two nearby. A sleek gray jet taxied slowly to line its nose up with the runway. Webb could break through in any direction, but Drake still couldn't figure out how he could have escaped.
  
  Then three more RPGs appeared, and the sky was filled with white smoke and death.
  
  Amari's mercenaries fought hand-to-hand with Webb's mercenaries; punched, kicked and stabbed in the back. Shots rang out around the containers, bullets pierced the territory of the complex. Drake, Alicia and Dahl got into the back seat of the Amari mercenary. Drake hurt his neck and then his ribs, turned his enemies around and knocked one of them unconscious. The other did not give up, pulled out a knife and looked shocked when it was stuck in his own stomach.
  
  Dahl hurled his man at the crate, shattering it, and then he had to dive quickly for another. Alicia used the pieces of sharpened wood he had just made to fend off her own attacker. Her H&Ks then swung right and left, lining up the mercenaries and taking them out. She killed two just as they took aim at her, and then dived behind a barrel of oil, no longer tempting fate. Kinimaka watched Amari as the cult leader hurried to the jet. Hayden looked only at Webb.
  
  "Second bird," she said. "He's on board."
  
  Drake couldn't see the man or Bo, but fired a volley that damaged the propellers. A moment later, Webb appeared, shouting, and pointed to their hiding places. Immediately, two RPGs were aimed at them. Warning cries rang out and the crew ran by the time the drums and boxes exploded into walls of smoke and flame.
  
  Lauren fell to the ground, knocked off her feet by the shockwave. Yorgi staggered head first until he collided with a mass of Kinimaki that stopped him. The special forces helicopter approached, its men opened fire from grenade launchers. Drake waved him back, but it was too late. The first missile hit its bottom and knocked it down, fortunately undamaged, its occupants shaken but alive. The helicopter bounced and trembled, scratching the concrete.
  
  Smith got up and fired at the man holding the flare gun, then shook his head. "There's always someone else stupid enough to take it on."
  
  "Then shoot them all," Kenzi said.
  
  A wave of resisting mercenaries surged into their group. Drake found himself pushing away two fighting men while trying to watch Webb and Bo. Dahl and Alicia stayed by his side. Hayden moved forward, tracking down Amari and his lieutenants, followed by Kinimaka, Smith, and Yorgi. A group of mercenaries emerged between the two sides.
  
  Drake fired at the mercenary at close range, then took down another. One of Webb's pieces and one of Amari's. A third helicopter took to the air, but Drake already knew it was a ruse. Webb and Bo ran through the crowd straight to the plane.
  
  The jet itself was also closing the gap, heading for the top of the runway. The bow and stern doors were wide open, currently filled with two large masses of RPGs. Special Forces helicopters dodged.
  
  The noise was deafening. The roar of the propeller was combined with gunfire and the screams of people, periodically interrupted by thunder from a jet aircraft and low grunts of people grappling in mortal combat. Drake saw the gap and ran towards it, aiming at Webb, now only thirty meters separated them. Webb carried his precious bag. Dahl was there, and so was Alicia, jamming left and right.
  
  Bo, part of the shield around Webb, saw them approaching and yelled at his guards. Eight people, as one, separated and stood against three. Drake didn't slow down, just hit them in the forehead, firing and taking a bullet in the chest that knocked him sideways. He always recovered quickly from his injuries, but the bullet hitting his body armor was nevertheless a stunning blow, causing him to fall to his knees and gasp for air. Two mercenaries stood over him with grim faces.
  
  "No hesitation!" Bo yelled at them.
  
  They pulled the triggers, but at that moment Kenzi was next to them. The Israelite was the epitome of death in skill, her katana swinging down and stabbing back and forth as her body turned twice. As the mercenaries lay dead, she held out her hand.
  
  "Cheers," Drake said.
  
  "Cold-blooded killers deserve a cruel end," she said. "And I'm happy to be of service."
  
  Mai stood nearby, pushing back another guard. "Are you injured?"
  
  "Well, my nipples are getting a little tighter."
  
  "He's all right," Alicia said. "We eat bullets for breakfast."
  
  Before anyone could answer, Dahl tossed two mercenaries in their direction. "Stop talking and finish these two guys, okay? I already have a lot of things to do." The Swede hit two more, breaking bones, nose and kneecap. One huge forearm knocked the man's jaw out of line, scattering the incisors. When they all looked up, Webb was climbing the hastily lowered ramps of the plane.
  
  Bo was waiting on the airfield, looking at the SPIR crew as the plane swallowed his boss and then began taxiing again.
  
  Hayden was approaching Amari.
  
  The last RPG-wielding man had been taken out, and now two more SWAT helicopters were rushing towards the cluster of resisting mercenaries. Angry voices shouted over the loudspeakers, warning the fighters to retreat, ordering them to lower their weapons.
  
  Drake couldn't get rid of Kinimaki's words: If I die today, I hope...
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  
  
  Hayden fought in a flaming pit.
  
  With fierce sunlight from above, melting asphalt radiating from below, and dazzling brightness all around, she worked her way closer to Amari. The Arab and his remaining four assistants were weak but insane, untrained but desperate, which made them as dangerous in her eyes as their mercenaries. Nobody knows what they can do.
  
  She jumped at the scarred man with the goatee, fired first, and felt him fall. Her vision was filled with a different jacket, a different Merc, always different. Kinimaka moved between the boxes and drums to her right, and Smith to her left. Lauren and Yorgi walked a few paces behind. Hayden went around another metal barrel, dodged the blow and fell backwards.
  
  Kinimaka led the mercenary out of the car, walking behind her. She pulled herself together and moved forward. A helicopter flew low overhead. The bullet whistled straight through the oil drum, ricocheting past her and Smith before either of them could blink, spewing out a thick stream of viscous liquid. They reached the end of the barrels and Amari was right in front of them, turning away to face the plane Tyler Webb was on.
  
  "Stop that! Stop that plane!"
  
  His assistants screamed and rushed forward, holding a bunch of grenades in their hands.
  
  "The ascended master must not be disturbed!"
  
  Four acolytes, four men devoted to Amari and his madness, held grenades in the air.
  
  "Master of Alchemy! Mystical Adventurer! Masonic guide! I beg you to forgive me for letting you down!"
  
  The pins were pulled out. One grenade in each person's hand, for a total of eight. They either threw them away or ran with them on the plane. Their bones were cast long ago.
  
  Smith was on one knee. "All we need is a leader."
  
  He inhaled, let it escape, and then fired. His bullet blew off the top of the leader's head, causing his body to stretch and the loaded grenade to bounce off. Everyone who was nearby fled, except for the other novices. Their mission was divine... and blind.
  
  Two grenades exploded, shrapnel blew the remaining three acolytes to shreds on their steps and sent their own bombs into the air. Then explosion after explosion was heard, flames burst out and fragments scattered. Amari watched it all with his mouth open and his face flooded with tears. Whether for his friends, or for the Count of Saint-Germain, Hayden did not know.
  
  Amari turned to her with a squeal.
  
  Hayden aimed her weapon and stepped forward.
  
  Amari ripped the front of his shirt to reveal wires, dynamite, and duct tape.
  
  "No! We can-"
  
  Kinimaka leaned on her with his entire body as Amari detonated both the bomb and herself.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  
  
  Hayden felt shrapnel hit Kinimaki's body. She could barely breathe as he leaned on her with all his weight. Not a ray of this dazzling light penetrated inside; she lay in a safe cocoon of darkness amid the chaos. Time passed, and then the main part was removed from it. Hayden looked at the dying day.
  
  "Mano?"
  
  Lauren fell to her knees. "He... he..."
  
  "I'm fine," came the rumble of his voice. "Shabby but ok."
  
  Hayden swallowed in relief, then sat up. The stage around them was bloodstained, boxes and oil barrels emptied. The liquid spread in streams on the ground, and all kinds of objects fell out of the boxes. Smith fell next to Lauren.
  
  "Are you okay?"
  
  "I am doing well".
  
  Kinimaka crawled over to Hayden. "It's good to be alive."
  
  But then Hayden reached out and grabbed his jacket and pulled him towards him. Their eyes were inches apart, their noses touching. She could feel the beating of his heart, the warmth of his skin, and the blood that oozed from his wounds right onto hers.
  
  "Stop saving me, Mano."
  
  "I don"t... I... I..."
  
  "Get it in your head. We're done. Stop hovering, chasing and covering. That's why I went to Dubai without you. To get some fucking space."
  
  "I saved your life. I..."
  
  "May be. Maybe not." Hayden knew then that there would never come a time as significant, as poignant as this. If she wanted to get rid of the Hawaiian, then she needed to use this moment, this event that he clearly hoped would reunite their feelings, to get past the point of no return.
  
  "I don't fuck with rule followers, Mano. I only fuck with winners who break them.
  
  The Hawaiian stared in shock, horror. Smith and Lauren quickly turned away, while Yorgy pretended not to hear. Hayden dusted herself off and was left alone. Her eyes, clouded with tears, scanned the battlefield.
  
  "Get your asses ready guys. We are not finished yet."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  
  
  Drake and Dahl dealt a heavy blow to the remnants of Webb's mercenaries as Alicia, Mae, and Kenzi raced past. The plane was moving slightly faster now, still trying to taxi into position for the runway. Bo didn't move and was clearly the last line of defense as Webb no doubt continued to mix his potions.
  
  So Beau is willing to die for the Webb cause? Drake couldn't comprehend it.
  
  Dahl ducked behind a beam embedded in the ground at the end of the hangar. Bullets ricocheted past, sending sparks into his exposed cheeks. He fired from behind the beam, blindly. Drake looked low, almost face down. The corner confused the mercenaries, and he laid down two.
  
  "Last," Dahl said.
  
  Help came from the heavens as the helicopter descended rapidly, people opened fire on the mercenaries' hideout. A scream and a thud, someone yelled "all clear" and Drake appeared in pace. The helicopter released its special forces contingent.
  
  Drake saw the women pounce on Bo, and it only took him one second to see the explosive three-way cauldron bubbling around this confrontation before noticing a change in the sound of the plane's engine.
  
  "This can't be good," Dahl muttered.
  
  "Something's wrong," Drake sang in a little Yorkshire.
  
  "The nose is completely aligned," Dahl said. "Are you ready to sprint?"
  
  "Damn, it feels like I've been skipping all day."
  
  "If you defeat me, I will teach you how to drive a boat!"
  
  "Hey-"
  
  But Dahl had already taken off and ran straight for the plane as it taxied away. Drake accelerated as fast as he could, chest still throbbing from the impact of the bullet. They were joined by a couple of SWAT guys, and the helicopter pilot decided they might need a little help, especially if the plane had gone. He lifted his sled and slid alongside them, now being the tempo aid to their race or the goal to be reached.
  
  Drake and Dahl quickly ran up to the plane, ran side by side, but after a few seconds it began to move away.
  
  Both doors were bolted shut, but then the one just behind them slid open, revealing a tattooed hand holding a pistol. The bullets flew haphazardly, not aiming, but deliberately, causing anxiety among the runners. Drake tried to aim with his rifle, then with his pistol, but jogging prevented him from aiming.
  
  "Fuselage," Dahl prompted. "Cockpit".
  
  Engines roared.
  
  "No time!"
  
  Drake knew he needed to get closer. Without hesitation, he jumped backstage, seeing an open door and an unseeing hand as the way in. The only way. His jump was timed just in time. As he landed on the rounded edge of the wing and grabbed the flaps to lift his body, the plane accelerated again, shortening Dahl's jump by two feet. The Swede hit the asphalt hard.
  
  Drake ran his fingers through the valve, praying it wouldn't close, and pulled his whole body up. First the chest, then the hips, then the knees; he arched and raised his body on a smooth wing. A swift current of air beat him like a living being, like an enemy. Loose clothes flapped and tried to throw him aside, and at that speed, falling onto the runway would have been a fatal blow.
  
  Drake crouched down and looked back to see Dahl rise and signal the helicopter. Then he stared at the door. The huge hand was still there, firing random shots. He confidently, like a crab, climbed the wing to the plane, trying not to fall and lean towards the gusts of wind.
  
  Dahl's voice crackled over the communicator. "Problem, mate. They won't let the plane take off. They would rather destroy him than let Webb escape. You have very little time to free yourself."
  
  Drake cursed. The decision was made only when the plane gained a certain speed. Now he had a real chance to make a clean takeoff, and the next step was fighters shooting him down in the air, which no one wanted to risk. Drake took three more steps forward.
  
  "Is your bird nearby?"
  
  "Yes. We have missiles."
  
  The Swede seemed pleased with this. Drake cursed.
  
  "Buddy," Dahl said. "You have less than two minutes and then we will destroy the plane."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia deliberately slowed to a stop as she approached Bo. There was no recognition on the Frenchman's face, no trace of guilt, no glimmer of regret. She knew that he would most likely kill her, but she didn't hesitate for a second.
  
  The irony was that the two people she found to support her were Mai Kitano and Kenzi. Of all her colleagues around the world, these were the two she least trusted and with whom she had the most disagreements. She backed away from Bo a little, if only to catch their eye.
  
  "You are mocking me, right?"
  
  "Only a team can defeat this man," Mai said. "Acting together. Today it is us."
  
  "There are no enemies here," Kenzi said. "Then for today."
  
  Alicia felt a surge of pride in the camaraderie. Together they would defeat the invincible. She met the Frenchman's dead eyes.
  
  "You better go get your armor, you bastard. You'll need it."
  
  They set in motion. Mai took Bo down on the spot, her ninja skills being as lightning fast as his own. Alicia came in from the left, delivering a sudden and steel-hard blow. Kenzi pushed to the right, swinging her katana in a blur to distract Bo and attack him.
  
  If they were hoping that Bo would fold quickly or have a bad moment, they were disappointed. The slender body writhed and slithered among them, the smoke moving again, and striking with fingers like knife blades and blows as hard as boulders.
  
  Mai deflected a throwing star that Alicia didn't even see until it hit the ground. Kenzi slashed down with her katana, but then held it trembling in the air as Bo somehow managed to push Mei's arm in an arc. The stop motion left her open to a triple strike, causing her to fall to her knees, gasping and groaning, sword on the floor.
  
  Bo jumped around her, using her shoulders to turn a straight run into a turn and spin, landing with both feet on Alicia's stomach and sending her tumbling. Then Mai came face to face with him, delivering blows that would have knocked down a lion. Bo took them and brought back more, bruising Mei's chest and thigh bones, making the recently healed scar on her face burn brightly.
  
  Another shuriken saw the light, swinging its brows and plunging its razor-sharp blades into Mai's wrist as she raised her hand in front of her face. The Japanese woman left it there and lunged at him, stabbing with her wounded arm, Bo's own shuriken blade cutting into his skull. Blades pierced and blood flowed. Bo staggered away.
  
  "First blood," Mai said. "For me". For now, the shuriken closed its own wound.
  
  As Bo retreated, Kenzi stood up and stepped forward with a katana. A feint to the left, a double turn of the blade to the right, and then she struck hard and fast right at the man's nose.
  
  Bo raised his hand to deflect the deadly blade.
  
  Kenzi brutally dealt with him, not sparing him. Her mouth dropped open in shock as the katana slammed into Bo's arm, but instead of cutting off the limb, it only slid to the side. For the first time, Bo smirked slightly at her.
  
  "You can"t compare to-"
  
  Alicia didn't want any of that. She attacked her former lover, striking every part of his body she could reach, bloodying his nose and breaking his finger. He twisted his ankle, falling to one knee, then landed an uppercut that made her jaw tremble and her gums bleed. Alicia spat a red liquid into his face. Bo hit her so hard that she fell to the ground. Her own previously spilled blood stained her face.
  
  Mai stabbed Bo twice more, the shuriken he had inserted tearing the flesh of his cheek right down to the bone. Kenzi then landed a swift blow, the slashes of the katana causing him to recoil and finally look worried.
  
  Alicia crawled after him, catching her ankle as he tried to slip away. Her outstretched arm tripped him up. Mai kneeled first at his solar plexus, while slamming her finger into his bare throat with such force that he couldn't speak for a week. Then Kenzi landed a third blow and timed it perfectly, the katana staggered in her bruised hands, and the hilt hit him squarely in the forehead.
  
  Beauregard Alain lay shattered, defeated. Alicia tried to stand up, but her legs gave way. Mai swayed in place. Kenzi looked at both of them.
  
  "What... what should we do now?"
  
  "Tie up the idiot," Alicia breathed. "They will want to know why he defected. Twice."
  
  "And you?"
  
  Alicia grimaced. "Formerly, I would like to see how his French onions are cut. But the new me? She says put that asshole behind bars."
  
  "How?" Kenzi asked quickly. "I don"t have handcuffs, do you?"
  
  "No, just for fun." Alicia was on her knees.
  
  The defeated Cavalier came after them again. Rising, he dismounted from May, then writhing like a snake as he slithered along the ground, finishing with a kick that tore the skin off Alicia's cheek and tossed her head to the side. Straightening his body like scissors, he landed on two legs and collided with a shocked Kenzi.
  
  Tore the sword from her hands.
  
  Alicia stared at the indomitable figure. "Bo," she said. "Why?"
  
  Then he paused, blood covering his face and bones showing through, sweat on his forehead. "Ask Michael Crouch," he said. "He is the key."
  
  Alicia's eyes widened. Crouch was Drake's old boss and her new boss; beloved, respected ex-leader of the British ninth division. No man was superior to her. "What does it mean?"
  
  Bo didn't answer. He tossed Kenzi's katana into the air and caught its pommel on the way down. He then stabbed her left and right, diagonal cuts that nearly shaved the hair off her arms. Alicia jumped up with a rush of adrenaline.
  
  Mai screamed as she plucked the shuriken from her wrist. Blood gushed out in fountains, splattering the ground. But then she ran towards Bo, dodged his katana and drove the metal star into the flesh of his throat. Bo dropped his sword, and then all three women also fell; exhausted, bloodied and beaten.
  
  But winners.
  
  Alicia's eyes finally focused and saw the final battle. "What the hell is this? Hey girls, there"s a movie title right there."
  
  Kenzi covered her eyes with her hand. "What?"
  
  "Drake on the plane."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  
  
  Drake slowly moved towards the body, legs sliding under him. He had one minute and thirty left. The plane was flying at breakneck speed. Drake held on to the window braces, then imagined himself gliding through the wind to grab onto the door. A difficult maneuver when the plane was standing still, not to mention approaching takeoff speed.
  
  "Fifty seconds". Dahl's voice.
  
  "Damn, I need more time."
  
  A face moved in the window, noticing him, and a hand moved from behind the door, pointing the gun in his direction. The face in the window belonged to Tyler Webb and was huge and grinning. A red bag appeared, which he held in his hands like a trophy. A smoking goblet came into view, smoke rising from the rim. Webb opened his mouth in the widest of insane grins. Drake read the moving lips.
  
  "I told you! I told you that I would kill one of you today!"
  
  The pistol fired. The bullet whistled past.
  
  "For me and my eternal future!" Webb gulped down the mixture.
  
  Drake threw his body back. The second shot flew overhead.
  
  "Blow it up!" Drake was crying. "Blow up that damn plane. We cannot let this maniac go free again."
  
  Dahl returned: "On the count of three. But what about you?
  
  "Just bring me that damn chopper."
  
  The helicopter described a quarter circle in the air. The plane rumbled down the runway, its wheels pounding on the ground, its engines roaring like trapped monsters. The shooter fired again. Drake climbed out of his skin on the wing of the plane.
  
  He wasn't going to stop.
  
  The helicopter released its entire arsenal, three missiles hit the front of the aircraft with a screech. The impact area disintegrated in less than a second, replaced by fire. A fiery plume of red and black swept the entire length of the plane, knocking out the windows and melting the base, destroying everything in its path. The whole body was covered, many parts flew apart and broke off.
  
  Drake's rapid sprint came to an end when the plane exploded. Metal buckled under him as the wing collapsed. In the split second before the very last moment, he jumped high, flames chasing his back. The bottommost part of the chopper was its skid. Drake's hands wrapped around the smooth metal, squeezing tightly and stopping the movement of his body. The fire pursued him, flickering flames licking his back, setting his jacket on fire and searing the back of his head. Drake screamed as the fire touched his skin. The pilot takes the helicopter away from the explosion, but he was already moving away, his energy was used up. Drake held on grimly, eyes closed in agony, fingers holding on until they no longer clenched.
  
  Then he fell. Fell to the ground and collapsed. The destroyed plane was carried to the right, off the runway, the broken body, engulfed in fire. Webb was inside it and is now gone forever, all his twisted schemes destroyed with him. Drake tried to look up as footsteps approached him.
  
  Dal.
  
  "You fucking idiot! What were you thinking? Hey, you're still on fire, damn it!"
  
  Something slapped him on the back. Drake felt the fever subside, but the agony continued. Did he move away? Was it all too much? In truth, it didn't matter. He trusted his team, his family, more than he ever trusted anyone in the world. They would take good care of him.
  
  More bodies surrounded him, and he heard the voices of Alicia and May, oddly enough they were hard to separate. He had a deep hope that Kinimaka wouldn't trip over him. He heard Dahl's voice again.
  
  "Get up, asshole. The vest saved you. It's just that the hair on your thick skull is a little burnt. Drake?
  
  Touched by the sheer concern behind his usual emotionless mask, Drake slipped his hands under his body and pressed hard. Reality has returned. He was lying in the center of the circle, covered by his team, helicopters were landing all over the place, and the cops and medics were rushing upstairs. All had injuries. Mei bled in torrents, but she still stood shoulder to shoulder with Alicia, supported by the Englishwoman and Kenzi. Drake wanted it to be like this forever.
  
  Today. Not tomorrow.
  
  The whole team was together. In the end, Webb did not fulfill his own prophecy. He thought again about Kinimaki's song.
  
  I see my loved ones again. All of them. Drake felt truly blessed.
  
  He turned to Dahl. "Are we done?"
  
  Hayden answered for the Swede. "There is another little intrigue and mystery that we must solve. Then we'll all have a day off."
  
  "And where is it?"
  
  "House of Saint Germain".
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  
  
  Rested, dressed to some extent, and rejuvenated to another extent, the SPEAR team headed back to New Orleans' French Quarter. When all unfriendly parties were either left without a leader or were captured, resistance was crushed. The cultists are gone forever; the surviving mercenaries are in custody. Another threat has been eliminated from the world. The entire team was patched and bandaged, fed with painkillers and even stitched. And on a happy note, they learned that Sabrina Balboni survived the operation and will fully recover in time.
  
  Everyone moved carefully as they walked down the middle of Bourbon Street, making wide passes around the groups of tourists.
  
  Hayden looked tired. "The backtrack of Webb's movements in New Orleans showed that he was visiting the area for the first time," she said. "And especially this house."
  
  Drake stared at the unassuming two-story building with white shutters and a small garage nearby. There were potted plants on the windows. Even the door locks shone like new. Alicia patted Hayden on the shoulder.
  
  "Why are we here?"
  
  "Webb came to this house for a reason. Don't you want to know what it was?"
  
  Lauren stepped forward. "We know from our research that the fanatics thought Saint Germain was still alive and living in New Orleans. Are you saying this is his house?"
  
  "Again-" Hayden smiled- "why else would Webb come here?"
  
  "Last clue," Mai said.
  
  "From Germain himself?" Drake laughed.
  
  "If not because of the man," Hayden spread her hands, "then perhaps because of the place where he lived." She shrugged. "Legends often contain a grain of truth. If Germain did come here, then he may have left a clue."
  
  They searched all around; they searched modern, untouched furniture, unmarked walls and paintings. They checked for hidden passages and false walls, the basement and the attic. If Tyler Webb did visit this room, he did so with the utmost respect, another oddity. They gathered as a team in the living room.
  
  "Nothing," Smith grumbled.
  
  "Shame," Hayden said. "And a surprise. You know, Amari became obsessed with the legend of Saint Germain when he was privately educated in Europe. Took the obsession home and fanned it until it turned into something terrible. Now it's all gone. Everything he knew is lost."
  
  "And why this search?" Smith asked. "Why not finish reading that damned scroll and go straight to New Orleans?"
  
  "Treasures along the way pointed the way," Hayden said. "You cannot achieve one without achieving the other. Linguistics helped to translate the essay found later. Alchemy helped mix the potion. Freemasonry has opened more doors. From one you give birth to the next."
  
  "So the mystery of Saint Germain lives on?" Lauren asked.
  
  "Some legends never die. Many will outlive each of us."
  
  Drake winced in pain. Mai touched her cheek and Alicia limped over to the couch. "It won't be too difficult."
  
  "Though strange," Lauren said. "In fact, this house is over two hundred years old."
  
  "Where? Every detail looks new." Hayden looked puzzled.
  
  "And more interestingly, it was built around 1780; history tells us that during the same period Germain negotiated a truce and helped install new kings. Many of the buildings here were built around that time."
  
  "Are you trying to scare me?" Smith smiled. "Because it doesn't work."
  
  "Do you understand anything?" Dahl said. "The reign of the Pythians is finally over. They're all gone and Webb is dead. Can I get five? He searched for a raised hand among his wounded friends and saw none. "Maybe later".
  
  "Now we have neutralized most of the known threats," Drake said. "Maybe we can get some rest."
  
  "Whatever you do," Dahl put in. "Don't go on vacation."
  
  There was laughter, followed by groans. Kenzi held on to her ribs. Hayden looked around the small group.
  
  "Back to reality."
  
  Drake felt the uncertainty returning. Nothing was decided for them personally. Alicia and May were in trouble; like Hayden and Kinimaki. Smith and Lauren fought for prisoner Nicholas Bell. Even Drake thought the New Yorker had a soft spot for a terrorist. Kenzi loved Dahl.
  
  He grinned. I can work with it. They briefly talked about the new secretary and her assertive demeanor, how she rightly took a backseat as the battle reached new heights, the secret base and the new location. They wondered if anything would change. Kinimaka didn't say anything - it was almost as if he had already left.
  
  Changes are coming.
  
  Drake looked up and saw what looked like a face looking down at them from the top of the stairs. White and middle-aged, he knew that face. His heart was beating wildly. It was a janitor from a German hospital. He began to yell a warning, and then the face disappeared, merging into the background.
  
  Has he ever seen it? No. Of course not. Just a play of light. Somehow, he subconsciously matched the janitor's eerie disappearance with Lauren's story about the old house and began to see ghosts. He chuckled to himself.
  
  "Drake?" Alicia noticed his concern.
  
  "Strange," he said. "I just want to check upstairs." The hair on the back of his head still stood on end. At least the ones that are left.
  
  "Why?"
  
  "No, don't worry-"
  
  There was a roar in the house. The street shook. The team stared at each other in surprise as a small earthquake rocked the city. After a moment, the echo stopped, but that was enough for Drake to change his mind.
  
  No need to check at the top. Stupid, exhausted brain plays cruel jokes with me. Now he was sure that all he saw was a patch of light, a play of color.
  
  "Hayden," he said. "Let's get the hell out of Louisiana."
  
  "There is one last point to discuss," she said.
  
  "Oh yeah? Then lay it out, love."
  
  "Webb talked a lot. He was clearly a special case heading for an insane asylum. But he was also a stalker, an observer and a gatherer of information. He said things about us that may or may not be true. But guys, whatever it is, true or not, there's a little nasty stash out there somewhere, and it really needs to be found."
  
  Drake understood her fears. Webb taped everyone but May and Dahl, he thought. In compromising ways or not, it all had to be dug up and destroyed.
  
  "We'll do it, Hayden."
  
  "And what he said about us..."
  
  "Sounds like our own crosses to bear," Drake said. "But if someone wants to share, I, for example, will not back down."
  
  "Me too," Dahl said. "Anything".
  
  The team expressed their support, agreement and warmth. Drake wanted it to always be like he imagined all mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters did in the perfect family moment.
  
  But life has changed everything.
  
  "So," he said. "Let's see what tomorrow brings us?"
  
  
  END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  David Leadbeater
  tomb of the gods
  
  
  
  
  PART 1
  What makes a hero...
  
  
  CHAPTER FIRST
  
  
  Outside the tiny window of the plane, the bruised sky reflected the state of his soul.
  
  He glanced around the cabin. Pretty flight attendants in red skirts and white blouses served microwaved food and offered drinks to passengers. The fragrant smells of cooked meat and vegetables hung in the air. The couples and their children chatted animatedly, but not as much as they had a week or two ago. It was the return flight of the plane. The one who will bring them all home.
  
  In London.
  
  Drake turned his head slightly back towards the window. His face was expressionless, but his mind was replaying recent events faster than it could absorb the information. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of frustration. He needed to slow down. He needed to sum up. A twelve-hour plane ride should give him time to do so.
  
  Two days had passed since the defeat of the Blood King at Diamond Head. Since then, Drake and his friends have been flown to the CIA office in Los Angeles for a detailed report and then promptly escorted to a meeting with Jonathan Gates, the US Secretary of Defense. There, Gates told them that undercover operative Russell Cayman, the man who had led Thorsten Dahl's archeological investigation of Iceland's first tomb of the gods, had invited them all, including Gates himself, to an explanatory talk at a neutral building in Los Angeles . At that meeting, he told Gates, he would reveal the reason for Dahl's usurpation and provide them with some details about the group he worked for.
  
  The Swede Dahl was already on his way, having flown in from Iceland.
  
  They were initially suspicious, but were all subdued when Cayman agreed that the Minister of Defense and his retinue of bodyguards could accompany them without question.
  
  Hayden was optimistic. "Maybe Cayman isn't such a bad guy after all," she said. They all worked on the location of the third tomb of the gods, but the map was too old, slightly worn out and needed to be translated. She thought that a frank conversation with Caiman would advance their joint goals faster than a hundred scientists.
  
  Drake was torn between wanting to meet Cayman, a man they were certain was connected to Wells somewhere in the future and thus involved in Alison's murder, and having to make a quick trip to Wells' London flat to find what only he could find.
  
  A clue to what the hell Wells was up to. And why.
  
  Wells was an SAS officer at heart and a patriot. Drake always knew this. Above all, Wells put his country first.
  
  For him to know about Alison's death and not tell me...
  
  What could make a man like Wells do this?
  
  Cayman may know. But the flat in London is where the real evidence should lie. So Drake, along with May and Alicia, set out on a journey to London that they hoped would lead to clues to the real answer. Drake asked Ben to accompany him, and the young man thought for a long time, but decided to stay close to his girlfriend. Ben had been fighting for her for months now and wasn't about to let her go. Karin remained with her brother, her excitement at defeating the Blood King and the seven-layer trap system before discovering the second tomb of the gods was badly damaged when her new friend Komodo was immediately sent back to his Delta base, destination unknown.
  
  Drake returned to the present and looked at his watch. Three hours later they landed at Heathrow. Wells' apartment was on the outskirts of Mayfair, close to Park Lane and Piccadilly. Easy tube journey from Heathrow. As soon as they landed, Drake, Mae and Alicia were ready to hit the ground running without delay. Mai's transgressions with her bosses at the agency were forgiven - the Japanese understood the importance of finding the third Tomb of the Gods and the hint of the doomsday weapon it might contain. She was given full authority to handle the situation however she saw fit. Agents were at her disposal. Alicia remained part of Drake's unofficial team, a team that had evolved since they first met Jonathan Gates in Washington, D.C., Drake realized.
  
  The stewardess leaned over him. He refused snacks. His gaze lingered on the glasses: whiskey, vodka, quick fix. Very slowly he shook his head. When the stewardess clicked on the sale, mistaking unbridled need for playfulness, he closed his eyes and waited for her to leave.
  
  In the depths of his eyes, those eternally sad eyes, he saw them both as he liked to remember them. Beautiful and full of life, love and happiness. Alison has always been like this. With Kennedy, satisfaction only began to shine through when...
  
  ...When...
  
  I miss you both so much.
  
  He moved on. To some extent, anyway. To drink their memories was to stain them. To forget the happy times they shared was to waste them. And the former SAS soldier was stronger than that. Deep inside it was a rod of pure steel.
  
  Now he is embittered. There was a promise of hard work ahead. Not only for him, but for Hayden back in LA, she's going to meet Cayman soon, and then this shit might really hit the fashion. He thought about calling Ben on the satellite phone, cracking a few jokes about his band finally getting into the spotlight (without him), and maybe cracking a couple of old Dinorock quotes. But then Alicia caught his eye from the other side of the aisle.
  
  "Damn it, Drake," she whispered. "Stop shutting yourself off from us. We are here to fucking help you."
  
  "The least you could do," Drake said. "Considering..."
  
  "Given what? The only thing I pay attention to is the size...
  
  "Considering... that you two lied to me for seven years."
  
  "I haven't seen you for seven years. I became a robber, remember? And I only heard about it a couple of years ago, Drake. Just like May. I think we both thought it took a long time to tell you."
  
  "So you made the choice for me."
  
  "We didn't know anything! Well, nothing, other than the fact that Alison didn't die in an accident and that Wells knew about it."
  
  Drake frowned. "But how could you know that I moved on?"
  
  "Don't be so naive. I knew where you were and what you were doing. I'm sure Mai does too. The world has become smaller when around Facebook and Twitter. And before these two, there was still a network and guys who knew how to use it."
  
  Drake leaned back in his chair. Deep down he knew that what she said made sense. Time flew by quickly, and sending a man back to the worst place of his life after five years of healing could be more of a curse than a blessing.
  
  The "fasten your seat" sign came on. The plane began to descend.
  
  Drake met Alicia's wild blue eyes. "The investigation will be even more difficult," he said, "now that we know that Wells was not controlled by the British government, but by some larger secret organization. Now that we know he wasn't the person he claimed to be."
  
  Alicia buckled up. "Oh, I'm pretty sure he was a pervert, Drake. But I think that he's dead doesn't help us much."
  
  Drake stared at her, unwittingly a little amused. "I think no".
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Passing through passport control and past the baggage carousels, Drake immediately headed into the depths of the subway. The old, tired escalators groaned as they descended, carrying them past dozens of photo frames, all hung with advertisements for the latest shows, movies, and exhibitions. Walk with dinosaurs. Hobbit. Eurogamer. Once below, the web of signs seemed perfectly crafted to confuse newcomers. Drake, May, and Alicia spent a few minutes deciding which line to take and then which direction to go. Hordes of Londoners and tourists of all colors flowed past them without stopping. A busker was playing a cheerful tune at a nearby intersection.
  
  "Piccadilly Line," Alicia finally said. "He takes us all the way to Green Park. Isn't Wells' house right next to this one?"
  
  "On the other side of Piccadilly," Drake said. He slipped his cell phone back into his pocket and calculated the time difference in Los Angeles - only about seven in the morning in a land of sunlight and celluloid. Hayden and her CIA colleagues were supposed to meet Dahl at the steps of the plane at nine in the morning, and then leave for a meeting with Cayman at ten. Drake's suspicions of the dubious DIA operative grew with every mile he walked. He wasn't just afraid for Ben; he feared even very capable people like Hayden and Kinimaka. And Dahl. What was his Swedish friend going to go into?
  
  Who was Russell Cayman? And how far up the food chain have his bosses built their no doubt luxurious and immoral nests?
  
  So high, Drake thought. They were creatures of mist and shadow, fleeting like ghosts. The power behind the power.
  
  They found the right station and waited behind the yellow lines of their subway. Mai shifted to his right, Alicia to his left, unconsciously erecting a barrier between them. Alicia stepped forward as the subway whistled past.
  
  "Fuck that, it's full of people. If I get scammed on this thing, some bastard will get off without a couple of balls." She paused. "Unless he looks like Boreanaz. Then... we'll talk."
  
  "Or Belmonte?" Mai said, her soft, sweet voice belying the intentional poison. "I'm surprised you didn't stay in LA, Miles. You knew your old lover was coming with Dal, didn't you?"
  
  "Was there," Alicia said. "Fucked on this. It's been better."
  
  "Oh, I'm sure hundreds."
  
  "Bloody Hell" Drake exploded. "If I knew it would be so hard with the two of you, I would fucking come alone."
  
  The train rumbled in the darkness, bright windows illuminating the pipes that writhed and snaked along the tunnel walls. Studying his fellow travelers, Drake was surprised to see how many of them stole glances at each other when they assumed they weren't being watched. And the traditional open paper is long gone, replaced by Android phones and Amazon Kindles.
  
  Green Park arrived quickly. They left the underground station and found themselves on a busy London street near the sprawling Ritz Hotel. Drake passed out for several minutes when a black Bugatti Veyron turned right at a traffic light to exit the famous landmark.
  
  "Land to Drake," Alicia muttered. "It has four wheels, a hood and a windshield. It's just a machine."
  
  Drake rolled his eyes. "Don't push it, Alicia. I still haven't forgiven you for shooting Shelby Cobra."
  
  "You mean the one with the bad guy in the trunk?"
  
  "You could have easily shot him and missed the car, Alicia. I'm not that stupid."
  
  Mai spoke as they crossed the road. "Or maybe she's not as good as you think, Matt."
  
  "Back off, tiny elf." Alicia strode forward, heading for the street where Drake had pointed out to Wells' apartment. After walking for a few minutes, they stopped in front of a nondescript three-story building built of gray stone, with cast-iron gutters and thick tinted windows.
  
  "I guess I'm not that bad after all." Alicia raised an eyebrow at Mai. "This is the right place. I've only been here once, maybe seven or eight years ago. But this is definitely Wells' house."
  
  Drake checked the address he had been given. "Yeah."
  
  They started up the stairs.
  
  "We better hurry up," Mai said softly. "A pack of thugs has been following us ever since we entered this street. They are staying away for now. Probably just guards hired to keep watch over Wells' house. They won't rush to check on us, or they'll get to us in a few minutes, depending on orders. I assume the first. After all, we could be anyone. Keep walking." She hissed as Alicia faltered.
  
  Matt Drake knew better than to look back. He looked back and deliberately remained stagnant for seven years.
  
  It's time to move forward and make full use of the strength, violence and great skill he was born to use.
  
  He could be a force of nature. Savior of the worlds. Deep down, he always knew this. The time was coming when he would have to prove it.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  Hayden Jay was cut off from the conversation around her for a few moments. Ever since Dimitri Kovalenko ordered the attack on the CIA safe house, killing most of her team and taking her hostage, events had moved at such a crazy pace that she had barely had time to take stock. Even the weeks of recovery from her first stab wound passed in a blur as she tried to piece together everything that had happened and what the Blood King's next move might be.
  
  But now, as she slowly healed from her second stab wound-a wound that hurt less and healed faster thanks to intimate knowledge that Ed Boudreau was dead-she deliberately used as many free minutes as she could to sort out her feelings for Ben Blake.
  
  He was too young for her. He was too immature for her. On a professional and career level, they were opposites. If it was a business decision, it would be easy.
  
  Hayden wondered if the spirit of the old James Jay was still behind her, pressing her nose to the ground so she couldn't see straight. But I didn't feel that way. Her heart was telling her that the relationship was wrong, not her mind. But what was the problem? Could she let something that at first seemed so right dissipate without a fight?
  
  And here she is, about to meet not only the famous Thorsten Dahl, but Daniel Belmonte - one of her old admirers - while Ben and his sister wait at headquarters, ready to process any information Dahl might bring. with myself. The big Swede had been hard at work inside the Icelandic tomb for many weeks and had actually stepped up operations when Cayman showed up and took over. But Dahl kept many secrets to himself, and, as Hayden believed, he even managed to infiltrate a trusted person there.
  
  As for Belmonte, it seems that Gates was so impressed with his secret burglary at Kew Gardens that he immediately decided that Belmonte's set of special skills could prove useful even before this increasingly desperate operation was over.
  
  Belmonte, ostracized for years, jumped at the chance to return to the fold of government, albeit under the leadership of another country. He even offered extra help to his égé protégé, a woman known only as Emma.
  
  As passengers began to leak in, Hayden put her life on pause again. At this rate, the damn pause button would be obsolete before she even finished her analysis.
  
  Perhaps she analyzed her problems too carefully.
  
  In any case, she stepped forward with a genuine smile as the Swede Dal walked towards them.
  
  Torsten. She held out her hand, then felt herself being grabbed and embraced in a friendly way.
  
  "Hayden!" Dahl exclaimed hotly. "So nice to see you again. I am sure that the circumstances are not the same, but nonetheless good."
  
  Hayden allowed herself to be hugged for just a moment, enjoying the safety offered by the big, kind Swedish Special Forces officer. The sanctuary she sought was the sanctuary her father had once given her. It is an absolute sense of security and a deep knowledge that if she ever gets hurt, she can always find shelter.
  
  And now she knew why she couldn't stay with Ben Blake. No matter how hard he tried, he could never offer it to her.
  
  Hayden pulled away, smiling. "To hell with these shitty circumstances. Good to see you." She waved away Kinimaki. "Over there, Jonathan Gates, US Secretary of Defense."
  
  While the couple shook hands, Hayden assessed their situation. She had people stationed at each exit and scattered around the room. Despite Cayman's assurances and his insistence that even the Secretary of Defense and a host of Secret Service agents were invited to accompany them to this meeting, her crappy radar remained on full alert.
  
  "We have to leave soon," she said. "Meeting in forty-five minutes. We don't want to give this shit any excuse."
  
  "Agree". Dahl nodded. "I met with said asshole and I must say that I cannot but agree with your statement."
  
  Dahl's rhetoric was already irritating her. She suddenly understood why Drake teased him endlessly. It wasn't out of malice; it was just a way to cope. And Dahl, in his own way, understood this.
  
  "And meet Mano Kinimaka, my partner." Hayden stepped aside as the large Hawaiian stepped forward with a rude hello.
  
  And then her heart jumped as a familiar face flashed through the crowd. Daniel Belmonte, master thief, her former lover, the Englishman that every woman wanted to hate but always ended up wanting more than they bargained for.
  
  Beside him walked a thin blond girl with her hair curled into tight ringlets. Big blue eyes added to the archetypal resemblance to a pretty blonde, but Hayden knew that if this woman accompanied Belmonte to a permanent job, then prettyness would be the least of her attributes.
  
  "Daniel," she said with forced neutrality. "Thank you for coming".
  
  "How could I resist?" His eyes flashed, then faded. "But no, seriously. I couldn't resist. I was ordered to come here."
  
  "A?" Hayden frowned. "But who-"
  
  "Gate. Jonathan Gates." The Minister of Defense walked up beside her. "Glad you accepted my invitation."
  
  "Well, when I say "ordered," Belmonte lowered his voice to a whisper. "You know I've always used the term in a broad sense, right?"
  
  Hayden took a deep breath. It promised to be a long day.
  
  Gates turned and led them outside to a waiting limousine. The hot air of Los Angeles hit them as soon as they left the building, and a dusty wind blew along the road. Hayden took a second to introduce herself to Belmonte's friend, not wanting to exclude anyone, and learned that her name was Emma and that she was Belmonte's ward, not to mention his student.
  
  What? Hayden thought about it. Was Belmonte Blas é enough to desire the life of a thief for such a young girl?
  
  As the limousine pulled away from the curb, Dahl began to speak.
  
  "Sorry about my manners. I know the submissions are not yet complete, but I have information that I need to share." He nodded to the secretary. "It was a long flight. I was hoping Drake would be here, but I guess he felt like he should be in London, right?"
  
  Hayden nodded. "Right. He's on Wells' trail."
  
  "Hm. Well, good luck to him. But now...as concerns the eight parts of Odin. Do you remember them?
  
  "Eight?" Belmonte immediately interrupted. "I think you mean nine, don't you?"
  
  "No. I mean eight. The ninth part, the Shield, was lost at Eyjafjallajokull."
  
  "It's easy for you to say."
  
  Dahl blinked. "I once said that to Drake. It wasn't funny then either. Now please shut the fuck up and let me talk." Dahl shifted in his seat, leather creaking loudly. "The remaining eight fragments of Odin have been transferred to the Swedish Museum of National Antiquities in Stockholm for evaluation and careful protection before a decision can be made on their final destination. All standard procedure."
  
  "I am aware of all this." Gates looked from the Swede to the road ahead. The road that led to Russell Cayman. Hayden wondered what percentage of Gates' brilliant mind was on the job. He had barely begun to grieve over his murdered wife.
  
  "Fine". Dahl looked around the limousine. "Then does anyone know that all eight items were seized by the US government a few days ago and moved to a military base in Stuttgart, Germany?"
  
  Gates turned his head sharply. Hayden felt her mouth go dry. "What?"
  
  "How the hell could the US government authorize the removal of Scandinavian artifacts from Scandinavian soil?" Belmonte considered.
  
  "Because someone..." Dahl's voice dropped even though he was among friends in the limousine. "Someone very powerful in the Swedish government allowed them to do this. The same someone-I guess-who gave them control of my research."
  
  Gates shook his head. "I haven't heard anything about it. If the order came from Cayman, then I don't think it came directly from the US government."
  
  The big Swede widened his eyes. "This is where you lost me, sir. Isn't Cayman DIA? A man from the Special Weapons Department? Doesn't he work for a US agency?"
  
  Gates pursed his lips. "We're going to find out, Dal. My philosophy for survival on the hill has always been simple - don't trust the bastards."
  
  Dahl was silent for a moment. "The good news is that I was able to include one of my trusted people on the research team before I left Iceland. He's nothing more than an expert on ancient languages, but..." Dahl paused, deliberately waiting so he could gauge who was the smartest in the machine.
  
  The limousine exited the 405 onto I10 and headed towards Santa Monica. Gates and Hayden were the first to speak. "Curls? Are they the key? Hayden said. "So the key to everything is deciphering the language that was written by the ancients? I swear by the gods?"
  
  "Isn't it always like this?" Dahl said with a smile.
  
  Gates frowned. "So you're betting everything on guesswork - that the gods wrote down their intentions - from the map that shows the location of the third tomb to the method of starting and stopping the doomsday device? Forgive me, Dal, but this is one big bet."
  
  Hayden felt a sharp pain in her heart as it immediately occurred to her what Kennedy Moore would have said. "Pussies don't last long in Vegas, baby."
  
  Even Kinimaka cringed. Hayden quickly turned to her boss. "I mean the bet is justified enough to warrant a payout, sir." She turned to Dahl with genuine pleading in her eyes. "Is not it?"
  
  "Exactly". Dahl managed to keep his composure. "Well said".
  
  "Your man." Gates was clearly thinking hard. "Could he translate all of this and warn us before the Cayman guys?"
  
  "He's capable of it, sir."
  
  "Perfect". Gates nodded. "Then we may have an ace up our sleeve."
  
  "We can have more than one." Dahl smiled. "I bring more than one gift. After all, I am Swedish. This," he pulled out his cell phone and pressed a few buttons, "a picture of a card I found in the tomb of the gods." He glanced at Hayden. "Is Ben still helping you?"
  
  "Certainly".
  
  "Give me his cell number, Hayden. He deserves a chance to decipher that too."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Ben Blake smiled to himself as he watched his sister Karin fight off the second jerk of the day. Before leaving for their meeting, Hayden made sure that the couple was not only safe, but also able to come to the rescue at any moment. So she hid them in a small room full of other super geeks in one of the CIA buildings in Los Angeles. At first, Ben rebelled, citing that he stayed to help Hayden and not to be hidden in the geekdom's stronghold. Drake would never leave him alone in the midst of so much angst and pimples. But Karin had coaxed him into doing so, showing her cruel sisterly love, and now she bore the brunt of ninety percent of the room's bubbling hormones.
  
  Pay.
  
  "Have they never seen a girl before?" Karin leaned over and whispered in his ear.
  
  "Not someone they could physically talk to." Ben grinned widely. "It will be interesting when I have to go out and use the men's room."
  
  "Don't leave me here alone." Karin hissed. "Unless you want to see a room full of virgins singing sopranos."
  
  "Oooh sister." Ben laughed. "What would dad say?"
  
  Karin pointed to his cell phone. "Ask him. It is he who is calling now."
  
  Ben chatted with his dad for a bit before a message appeared on the computer screen in front of them. Karin reached out to click the mouse, but Ben slapped her arm.
  
  "Mine," he whispered. "Maybe from Hayden."
  
  "Like I want to see what you two are mailing to each other."
  
  Ben ended the conversation quickly. "Well, I will say this, sis. There's no way it could be as dirty as you and Komodo texting each other. Or is it now called sexting?"
  
  "Shut up".
  
  "Yes that's it. Sexting. "
  
  Ben clicked on the message and was delighted to see that it came from Torsten Dahl and that it consisted of several attachments, each of which was an image of a map discovered by the Swede in the first tomb of the gods.
  
  Karin muttered about how her contact with Komodo had been interrupted for a while due to a damn mission while Ben looked at the map from different angles.
  
  "We need to find out where the third tomb is," Ben said seriously. "And fast".
  
  Another jerk made his move against Karin.
  
  "Back off!"
  
  Ben's sister stood up, tossed her hair, and addressed the audience. "Take it. I am not one of you. I don't think like you. I have a really big brain, but it doesn't focus around the penis. I don't like nerds. I love soldiers. I am not a secretary. I have a fucking black belt. So unless you're into S&M a lot, I suggest you don't fucking get in my way."
  
  Karin sat back down and sighed. "Okay, Ben. Now we can focus. Let's find that third damn tomb."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The limousine pulled up outside a tall, nondescript building far enough from Santa Monica Beach that they couldn't even smell the sea, let alone see it. Gates' three-man Secret Service patrol went out first, followed by Hayden, Kinimaka, and Thorsten Dahl. Hayden saw Belmonte put his hand on Emma's knee as she was about to follow him and watched as the British thief waited for Gates to get permission for everything.
  
  Hayden approached Gates as he walked around the back of the limousine. It was quiet outside. There were only a few cars on it, and the sidewalks were relatively deserted. They were far from the shopping area, and most of the office workers were already chained to their eight to five watches.
  
  "Any other contacts with Cayman?" Hayden asked softly.
  
  "Nothing. But Kayman is a man of principle. We all agreed on a time and place. He will be there."
  
  Hayden looked up. A forest of tall buildings filled her vision. She glanced at the Secret Service agents and received a weak nod in return.
  
  "Good," she said. "Let's go to".
  
  As they walked, Hayden thought back to what Caiman had told her. He called out of nowhere the day after they pulled the Blood King out of the depths of the Diamond Head volcano. At first, she was very suspicious of him, listening without comment as he explained that he would reveal everything he knew about the ancient language of the gods and the map Dahl had found in an Icelandic tomb. He said he wanted to tell her who he worked for and what he knew about the doomsday device. He was a good speaker. It was then that his words began to make sense. He told her that he had invited Thorsten Dahl to the meeting as a peace gesture. And then he told her that he also invited her boss, the secretary of defense, along with the secret service.
  
  Hayden was impressed and convinced.
  
  Perhaps Cayman was working under deep cover for the DIA or even the CIA and wanted them on board. Their actions so far have certainly deserved some recognition.
  
  Dahl walked beside her. "I sent the photos to Ben. We need his intelligence, my dear, so please tell me that you haven't fucked all his brains yet?"
  
  Hayden coughed. "Come on, Dal. Let's focus, okay? Gates may suddenly fall in love with this guy, Cayman, but we both know that his judgment can be twisted."
  
  "I really wondered. Why not take a vacation?"
  
  "He wants to see it through to the end. For his wife as much as for himself, I suppose. And he is very good at what he does."
  
  "And you, Hayden. What do you think of the Cayman?"
  
  They entered the lobby. A man in a smart suit sat at a table opposite, looking surprised at the sudden influx of people into his building.
  
  Hayden let the Secret Service take over. "Caiman? Well, he talks about a good game. But then-" She smiled. "Aren't we all?"
  
  "This man is below dirt," Dahl said. "I met him."
  
  Kinimaka tried to get her attention. "We're going up, boss," he said, pointing to the elevators ahead. "Are you ready?"
  
  Hayden nodded and glanced at Dahl. The big Swede nodded his readiness. Belmonte and Emma were busy inspecting the premises and its security cameras, as well as windows, doors, vents, and any other means of entry.
  
  "Let's use the elevators," Hayden told him with a grimace. "It's much easier that way."
  
  "You might think so, Miss J," Emma said in a thoughtful tone, "but basically it"s just another way to control and oversee the masses."
  
  Now Hayden remembered the most annoying thing about Belmont. He was a big conspiracy theorist. Obviously, he conveyed much of what he believed in.
  
  "Let's try them anyway."
  
  The large group moved towards the nearest elevator. The Secret Service insisted on checking it out and then made noises indicating that only the secretary and themselves should travel on the first one. Hayden agreed to keep the peace and went into the second elevator. Kinimaka jabbed at the button for the top floor.
  
  They ascended in silence. The weapon has been checked. Belmonte pointed to the location of the cleverly hidden camera. Emma stood on her tiptoes to smear her with chewing gum.
  
  "Always let them know they can't beat you," she said with a cheeky smile.
  
  Belmonte smiled happily, as if to say it was my girl. Hayden stared firmly at the flashing floor numbers, trying her best not to think about the weeks she'd spent with the British super thief.
  
  But truth be told, those were good weeks. It's hard to forget.
  
  The elevator slowed down. The doors slid open. Hayden came out and saw Gates with his Secret Service guard right in front of them. She looked around the room. Kinimaka approached her from the side, uttering a few selected curses in surprise.
  
  The entire top floor of the building lay before them, unfurnished and empty except for two men dressed in combat gear and full-face helmets, who were walking towards them, weapons loosely at their sides.
  
  Gates was just turning to her with a puzzled face when fire and fury erupted around him.
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  Drake broke into Wells' apartment and then retreated while Mai moved to disable the alarm. They were ready for the people following them to take a step, but nothing happened. In less than a minute, they had complete freedom of action. Drake remained motionless for a while, studying the layout of the site. A short corridor led to the living room, beyond which were the kitchen and bedroom. The living room was furnished in a Spartan style. There was nothing that didn't have a purpose. There was no trace of a woman's touch. All the colors were dark, making the corners hard to see - a mirror to the soul of the owner of the apartment.
  
  Alicia stayed out the door, using the well-placed windows in the hallway to her advantage, and set about cataloging their potential enemies in the street below.
  
  Drake gestured for Mai into the bedroom, then walked into the living room. The irony that a Japanese agent finally snuck into Wells' bedroom after the man was dead didn't escape either of them, and they exchanged grim looks. Mai must be going through more than just internal anguish, Drake thought, since she was the one who pulled the trigger.
  
  He would bet money that it was Alicia. But then, this girl never ceased to amaze him.
  
  A large oak table dominated the back of the living room. The only object standing on its polished surface was a framed photograph. The picture showed Wells and several of his army buddies holding each other by the shoulders, most likely at the end of some covert operation. Or something like that. An operation for the British government? Drake considered. Or this secret group that he and Cayman worked for?
  
  Drake moved on. In front of the living room was a two-seater leather sofa and a forty-inch television. The drinks bar was well stocked. Drake suppressed the urge to explore. He rummaged through another cupboard but found it to be nothing more than a tasteful front for a DVD/CD rack. One by one, he checked each drawer for hidden contents. As he worked, he listened to Mai rummaging through the bedroom.
  
  He heard her approaching him. "Find anything?"
  
  "A set of unusual DVDs. Several books on erotic art from Japan. Autographed photo by Kylie Minogue. Nothing unusual."
  
  Drake raised an eyebrow. "You think?"
  
  "I meant Wells. So, did you check it out?"
  
  He guessed where she was pointing. "Turn it on, Mai. We'll have to check, but I have a feeling that Wells has always been old school. If there is something here, it will not be on his computer."
  
  Mai pressed the button, and the big machine began to click and whir. "This place," she said, "is already chosen. The author is a professional. You can say?"
  
  Drake looked around again. "Not really. No".
  
  "Little things," Mai said in her quiet, unassuming voice. "Mostly a faint scent of women's perfume in the bedroom."
  
  "You said it was a professional."
  
  "She was," Mai said with a half smile. "But even a professional has a ritual of cleanliness, Matt. Besides, it is so weak that most would not pick up the scent."
  
  Drake abandoned the DVD/CD cabinet and approached her. He gently sniffed her thick, shiny hair.
  
  "Be careful," May told him. "I keep a small needle with a poisoned tip in there."
  
  "Another reason not to date a spy." But she smelled good. Slightly smells of anise and vanilla. As he leaned forward, he noticed a framed painting hanging on the wall, a photograph of a coyote standing in the foreground among the bare desert, snow and bare trunks of dead, frozen trees all around. He was about to come over to take a look when Mai pointed past him. "Wells also has a PlayStation. You think-"
  
  Drake snapped back to the present. "No need to check, Miss Sheeran. He definitely owned that game."
  
  "Wells was a lonely man. Just look around. He didn't have anyone to take care of him. There was no one special in his life."
  
  "Men who keep secrets are always alone," Drake said. "And people who also betray their friends die alone."
  
  Mai leaned in as the screen came to life. "So we're looking for anything that could lead us to who he worked for and how he knew Cayman."
  
  "And for knowing about Alison's death, if anything. What I need to know is who gave the order and who carried it out."
  
  As he said those words, Drake felt his blood run hot through his veins. Someone ordered the murder of his wife and unborn child. If there was one thing that could be certain in this whole world, it was that all those involved would die for their sins.
  
  Mai clicked on a few icons. "Look at this," she said, surprise in her voice. "Wells had a Twitter ID, a Facebook profile and was a member of Goodreads. I think this proves you were wrong, Matt. He didn"t belong to the old school at all."
  
  Drake clicked on 'history'. The last entry, dated the night before Wells' flight to Miami, consisted of one line. One link to one site.
  
  Hot mail. A change of the pin code.
  
  At that moment, Alicia stuck her head in the door and told them in characteristic style to hurry the hell up. The assholes outside wouldn't stand around and play with their dicks forever.
  
  "I have a crazy idea." Drake pushed past Mai and began to move his mouse across the plush rug. "We were always taught to leave messages where they couldn't be found." He clicked on Hotmail. "Except for the person who shared the account."
  
  Mai squinted at him as he hovered over the password field. "Do you know what it is?"
  
  "If Wells had something to hide and wanted us to find it..." Drake bit his lip. "Then this is how he would do it. If not, well, we haven"t lost anything."
  
  He typed in the password slowly. Mai's eyes widened. "Maytime? Really?"
  
  "What else could it be?"
  
  The Hotmail website appeared on the screen. Drake clicked on the 'Drafts' folder and paused as three messages popped up, each in bold to show they hadn't been viewed.
  
  "These must be exact copies of the emails Wells sent to..." He paused. "A Man Called Andrew Black" Drake scrolled through the text of each e-mail. "Nothing more than a simple message," he said with a hint of disappointment. "I am sending the latest version by regular mail, my friend. Needless to say, I know, but for all of us, keep it safe. We'll be in touch when we get back."
  
  "Hm". Mai pointed to a snippet of an email where Andrew Black had replied. "Do you have some free time, my old friend?"
  
  "Expectations are high as always." Wells replied.
  
  Drake flipped through Wells' online catalog. An address was given for one Andrew Black in nearby Sevenoaks in Kent. "We have to see this through to the end. If Wells had sent something to an old friend before leaving the country, it would have made a huge difference to him."
  
  Mai nodded and was about to answer when Alicia stuck her head in the front door. "Time to stop fooling around, people. The bandits have just received reinforcements."
  
  "We're getting closer." Drake turned off the computer. "How many are there?"
  
  "Enough that we might have to fight our way out of London." Alicia chuckled. "Just the way I like it."
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  Hayden ducked instinctively as the row of windows to her right exploded. Shards of glass scattered across the room in a deadly wave. Two black-clad fighters walking towards them ducked and began to open fire. If the attack was meant to dull their senses and slow their reactions, it had served its purpose. The entire team crawled and clambered across the polished floor as glass rained down on them and bullets hit the walls behind them. One of Gates' secret service men managed to stand between his boss and destruction. His body danced for the last time as it was riddled with bullets, and he fell back on Gates.
  
  Hayden rolled onto her healthy thigh, wincing at the pain piercing through her wounded side, and drew her gun. Before she could aim, she heard a loud gunshot and looked back to see that Dal was already firing. Belmonte knelt behind Dahl.
  
  Hayden saw one of the fighters turn around as a bullet hit him in the shoulder. She fired at the other, crawling forward as she did so. Her bullet hit his helmet, knocking him back. Dahl fired again, but another of Gates' Secret Service agents screamed.
  
  Blood spurted from his neck, dousing Hayden.
  
  The CIA agent fired more bullets. Now both fighters were defeated. Belmonte screamed.
  
  Was he hit? Hayden thought about it. Gates barely moved, but then his last surviving bodyguard pinned him firmly to the ground.
  
  "Evacuate!" - shouted the guard. "This is a fucking ambush!"
  
  Even now, Hayden could hardly believe her eyes. Did Russell Cayman, the DIA agent, just try to remove a US senator? Where did this psycho get his orders? Or was it some other terrorist plot? Either way, they screwed up.
  
  A high, piercing sound preceded the impact of something large against the wall of the building. Hayden suddenly realized that this was far from over and collapsed onto the deck.
  
  "Cover up!"
  
  A powerful explosion shook the building to its very core. Behind them, the elevator shaft groaned and shuddered. Hayden saw the elevator warp. In the next second, it shook and seemed to hang at an unreliable angle.
  
  "There is no way out," she whispered.
  
  "Yes!" Belmonte suddenly screamed. "Yes, I have. There is a freight elevator on the other side of the building." He pointed to the space of the ruined room. "Over there, opposite."
  
  He stood up, holding Emma in his arms.
  
  There were tears in the thief's eyes.
  
  Hayden gasped. "That's her? Is she..."
  
  "Dead," Belmonte said quietly. "Yes, that's her."
  
  Gates threw off his bodyguard. Dahl figured out how much land they would have to cover in order to build a freight elevator. "Challenge," he said. "This is the only way. And fast."
  
  "Do it!" They were running in close formation, Hayden, Kinimaka, and Dal outside, pistols at the ready, pointing at the broken windows. Gates, Belmonte with Emma in his arms and the last Secret Service agent inside. As they passed the windows, a powerful flash preceded the launch of another rocket. This projectile hit where they were a few moments ago, destroying the elevator shaft.
  
  They all managed to stay on their feet, climbing and fighting on. A flurry of shots rumbled through the holes in the side of the building, and they found themselves actually bumping into a glove of hot lead. Hayden felt something flash against her temple like a hot breath of air, and another tore off the hem of her jacket. Dahl grunted as something brushed against his hand, but he still managed to burst into insane laughter.
  
  "Move!" he shouted.
  
  "Who the hell are these people?" Hayden screamed.
  
  Bullets whistled around them, a forest of whistling death. A third rocket exploded against the side of the building, and something inside its structure suddenly lurched. Hayden backed away for a second. The last Secret Service agent was shot in the thigh and collapsed beside them. Dahl reacted instantly, grabbed him and dragged him through the destruction.
  
  Hayden ran over the edge of the last window. The rest of the team rushed after her, reaching safety without further casualties. Gates reached out to press the button to call the elevator, but hesitated.
  
  "Name it," Dahl said. "But we're going down the stairs."
  
  "And fast," Hayden said. "Looks like even Cayman's Plan B has a back-up plan. If Cayman is behind this."
  
  "Too convenient not to be," Gates muttered. "God, does he have a god complex?" I"m going to see his ass burn in jail for this."
  
  "Those damn alarm clocks are driving me nuts," Belmonte said. Hayden assumed he was not used to hearing them.
  
  "No. This means that people will be evacuated," Dahl told him. "A good thing".
  
  "I do not understand this. The American Cayman government," Hayden said. "As we are. CIA. DIA. It doesn't matter which agency you belong to, we all serve the same boss."
  
  Gates looked at her. "I'm guessing not."
  
  Behind them, gunfire erupted again, the walls turning to crumbling confetti.
  
  "Do you think these crazy rumors about an elite group guiding world governments are true?"
  
  "I'm betting my career on it. And my life seems to be too." Gates looked back at the dead agents. "There's been too much death around me lately."
  
  "Maybe you should take a break." Hayden followed Dahl as he pushed open the exit door and started down the concrete stairs. At that moment, a deep roaring explosion came from the room behind her, a noise that not only frightens a person, it causes a feeling of such intense horror that the heart can stop between beats.
  
  "Bomb!" Dahl was crying. "Oh God, run!"
  
  They ran for their lives. The deep, ominous sound of collapsing beams and load-bearing walls burned their ears. A terrible crash preceded the collapse of the ceiling behind them, and for just a second, for one deadly, heart-stopping moment, Hayden saw the entire room begin to tilt and shift.
  
  The horizon moved. The entire top floor of the building collapsed!
  
  They clattered down the stairs. Gates stumbled and rolled, but Dahl twisted mid-flight, grabbed the US senator and threw him over his shoulder without breaking his stride.
  
  A supersonic mass of glass, concrete, brick and plaster exploded in all directions, shattering windows in surrounding skyscrapers and scattering debris across the block. A deadly heap of slate slid off what was left of the top floor and crashed to the ground, leaving behind dust, shards, and wreckage. The pile smashed into the parking lot below, raising a pillar of rubble. Tiny fragments of debris fluttered in the wind.
  
  Hayden heard it all. They all heard it. The roar of the explosion and its consequences were like a dinosaur advancing on its heels. Smoke billowed around them, and that was all they could do to see the path ahead. Pieces of debris, compressed as the roof collapsed and then scattered to the sides of the explosion, flew past faster than bullets.
  
  Belmonte nearly dropped Emma's dangling body, but caught it and flew headlong down half a flight of stairs before stopping his fall. They rushed down the stairs nonstop, without even a hint of fatigue, until they reached the lobby.
  
  Dahl seized the moment. "Everything is fine?"
  
  The agent he had saved groaned.
  
  Belmonte stared at him. "Back off, you toffee-nosed jerk."
  
  Dahl let it go. He scanned the parking lot and the roads outside the lobby, then turned to Hayden. "His people will be there."
  
  "I know. But there is no other way."
  
  Dahl cast a dispassionate glance at Belmonte. "If they give chase, you'll need to leave her behind. Or die with her."
  
  The Swede walked through what was left of the front doors. A thin cloud of dust swirled around them as they carefully entered the parking lot. Hayden glared, practically peeling the paint off cars and building facades, such was the intensity of her appraisal. Kinimaka, as always, walked beside her, and Thorsten Dahl took up position in front - the target man, as always. The civilians stood outside, coughing and staring dumbfounded at what was happening. Ambulances howled, and police cars with flashing lights arrived on the scene.
  
  Dahl suddenly pointed. "There!" He headed straight for the nearest car, the family's Chevrolet.
  
  Hayden saw crowds of people pouring out of three black sedans parked at the curb. Fear gripped her throat like a clenched fist. These guys were here to finish them off. Caiman had absolutely no intention of letting them leave this place alive.
  
  Kinimaka crashed into a large Chevrolet. "We must run!" he shouted. "Let's!"
  
  The next minute, Kinimaka revved the engine, making it roar, then swerved the car across the grassy median and onto the road. Hayden checked her gun and relayed her support to Dahl. She watched him check the store, his face as hard as Icelandic stone.
  
  "They're coming for us."
  
  Kinimaka slammed down on the accelerator, moving into the light traffic and making sure his own weapons were ready as the three large cars with their killer passengers began to give chase.
  
  Right into downtown Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and ultimately Hollywood.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  Drake was the first out of the apartment and down the short stairs that led to the street as the darkness began to stretch its inky tentacles across the southern sky. The noise of traffic and the hubbub coming from the subway station could be clearly heard several hundred feet away.
  
  On the sidewalks on both sides of the elite street, young people walked, brandishing a variety of weapons, among which were baseball bats and tire irons. A few more young people came out into the middle of the road.
  
  Mai stopped at his left shoulder, Alicia at his right. The Englishwoman let out a happy laugh. "A little sparring practice. It was a long time ago." She glanced at Drake and May. "Don't hurt them too much, lady."
  
  More cars screeched around the corner, screeching to a halt halfway up the road. The doors swung open and more gun-wielding youths burst out, their hoarse grunts of defiance nothing more than caveman bravado.
  
  Mai smiled at Drake. "And now they're giving us an easy way out."
  
  "It's usually done by amateurs." Drake watched her slither away and then ran into half a dozen rough-looking guys stalking towards him. "You need to stop," he told them emphatically. "Whatever they pay you, it's not worth getting beat up."
  
  Two of them did stop, but more out of embarrassment than prudence. Drake hit the first one high and stole his bat, used it to catch the second's swing, and slid into the man when his strong swing made him overplay. Drake slung it over his shoulder right at the third attacker, and by that time the remaining three had gone wide-eyed. One found the courage in himself and entered with a flourish. Drake used him as an example. He caught the tire iron, squeezed it hard, and slammed it hard into the young man's face. Blood from a broken nose splattered everywhere. He fell down crying.
  
  To his left and right, May and Alicia were giving similar lessons. Drake walked over to one of the still running machines. He heard the youth inside calling for more reinforcements, and thought that the next group might not be so inadequate after all. He took the bat and jumped into the passenger seat.
  
  "Whom do you call?" He hit the end of the bat on the young man's cheek, pressing him against the window.
  
  "Percy". The young man gasped. "Don't hurt me, dude. I didn't do anything to you."
  
  "That call," Drake nodded at his discarded mobile, "has hurt us more than all these kids put together. Get out of that damn car. Now."
  
  The youth disappeared after a second to be quickly replaced by Mai. "Shall we go?" she asked, clenching her fist.
  
  Drake glared at her. "Yes, get up. Did one of them spot you on the clock?"
  
  She grimaced. "Splinter"
  
  Alicia jumped over the hood and then climbed into May's lap. "Stop talking to the servants, Drake. Let's get the fuck out of here."
  
  Drake turned quickly, reversing the car around the corner and merging into the traffic. There was just enough room for him to make sure they weren't going to set anyone up. He slammed down hard on the accelerator just as two silver BMWs slammed into the car behind them, setting off a flurry of tire screeching and horn-screeching horns.
  
  Drake saw the men in the rearview mirror. "They are behind us."
  
  Alicia seemed happy enough sitting on May's lap. "Haven't done this since I was a kid."
  
  "They're behind us, Alicia. And this time, they will have more than just sledgehammer shafts and baseball bats."
  
  May shifted uncomfortably. "You are a child?" She shook her head. "I do not believe in this".
  
  "Did you two hear that I just-?"
  
  "I heard you knocking on the door, Drake." Alicia glared at him. "Maybe it"s best to leave it there, huh?"
  
  "Still a child." He grumbled. "Always been a kid."
  
  "If it helps me cope... Then yes. Always."
  
  He was driving. Piccadilly hummed at this time of the night, teeming with cars and buses and taxis, the sidewalks crowded with people. Yet Drake managed to push forward at some pace, fast enough that their pursuers couldn't stop and follow them on foot, but still maintaining a reckless pace. The world was kind to them. Even the big open-top red double-decker bus packed full of tourists moved aside so they could pass. Drake began to wonder if the siren was on the roof of the car.
  
  But their ruthless pursuers did not lag behind. They passed the lower end of Bond Street and Fortnum and Mason, the Royal Academy and Le Meridien.
  
  "Do you know where we are going?" Alicia turned to look behind them, and then forward again. "Circus Pikka is a fucking dilly. Great job, Drake. You have led us to the biggest bottleneck in the country."
  
  Drake knew she was right. But Plan B was already seeping into his subconscious. "Sometimes, Miles." He sighed. "Your stupid metaphor rings true-you know, stupid blonde?"
  
  Alicia cringed. "Bullshit".
  
  Mai chuckled. "Please stop rubbing your bony ass against my thighs."
  
  This made Alicia think for a moment. "Never heard that before." She confessed. "Usually it's the other way around. And skinny? Sexy, full and round would suit me better."
  
  Drake glanced furtively, but as a bottleneck in Piccadilly Circus loomed ahead, he quickly swung the car to the left and pulled up to the curb. "Faster. Pedestrian traffic here is in the thousands. We will lose them among the herd."
  
  They jumped out, hurried down the sidewalk and quickly joined the crowd. The London air blasted them with a sharp gust. Hundreds of heads and bodies bobbed all around them. Drake walked to the corner of the circus and cut along the front of the Sting. The bright light and music from the clothing store blinded his eyes and ears for a second, poured in from the open doors and surrounded him. Then he passed by, joining another crowd waiting to cross the road to the little island that separated Regent Street from Glasshouse Street.
  
  "Go to Glasshouse," Alicia pointed out curtly. "We can take a shortcut through Soho and use the Leicester Square subway. I'll google car rentals."
  
  Drake nodded approvingly. "Sounds tempting."
  
  They were crossing the road in a crowd of tourists, locals and sightseers as the bright lights of large screens in Piccadilly Circus flashed above them. There was one moment of relaxation as Drake's thoughts drifted away from their pursuers and refocused on what they might learn about Wells as they tracked his friend Andrew Black to Sevenoaks, and then from deep in the heart of Piccadilly Circus came the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
  
  Many people stopped, their faces frozen in fear. Even now, in disbelief, they didn't react, just listened, waiting for the second shot that would confirm what they feared and possibly end their lives.
  
  But Drake, Alicia and May reacted instantly. Drake said, "There's a hundred kids around here."
  
  Alicia's face was no longer playful. Instead, she had the air of a cold-blooded killer. Mai's voice, always light, was barely audible: "I know all about blood and death, but this can't stand it."
  
  As if by telepathy, they knew what they needed to do. Drake quickly worked his way through the restless crowd, his training helping him to navigate where the shooter was. Mai and Alicia quickly made their way towards his colleagues, blending in and out of the crowd like deadly ghosts. In rapid motion, they struck and retreated, leaving behind crushed men, but not attracting immediate attention.
  
  Drake disappeared behind a group of brightly dressed women, all wearing tight zebra-print leggings and yellow jackets, all part of a bachelorette or work party. He slipped past the group as they passed a man with a gun he held at his side. Although he tried to hide it, he couldn't hide from Drake.
  
  The shot was designed to get them outside, and it worked. But much better than their persecutors could ever know.
  
  Drake wrapped his hand around the man's throat and yelled loudly, "Hey!" as if to say hello, while breaking the wrist that held the gun, then raised his free hand, squeezing his throat with the pincers.
  
  The man gargled his throat, fighting back furiously.
  
  Leaning straight towards him, Drake whispered, "Twenty of you bastards didn't stand a chance." He held the man tightly until he began to sag, then used his immense strength to gently drag him towards the steps that surrounded the fountain.
  
  Sirens sounded in the distance. It didn't matter to the Londoners and the tourists, for, now convinced that the shot had been returned, they went about their business.
  
  Drake left his man slouched, made the quick decision to throw his firearm into a nearby trash can, and met up with Alicia and May outside the local cinnabar store.
  
  Alicia was licking the icing off the bun. "You took your time, Drakester."
  
  "Back off".
  
  The sirens were coming. Mai turned towards Leicester Square. "That friend of Wells," she said, "has no idea what kind of trouble he's gotten himself into, does he?"
  
  "We hope so." Drake warned her. "As far as we know, he's just as perverted as Wells was."
  
  "One thing is for sure," Alicia said with a mouthful of cinnamon frosting. "In about an hour he will tell us everything he knows."
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  Kinimaka planted his foot on the floor as three black sedans loomed in the rearview mirror. The cars were chock-full of bad guys, seated three abreast in front and vying for a seat in the back. Kinimaka caught a glimpse of at least two of them holding microphones to their ears and listening intently, nodding with faces as impassive as granite. One of them took out a gun and slipped through the window.
  
  "Oh," he muttered, "I think they just got a kill order."
  
  "No way," Gates told him from the back seat. "We're heading towards central Hollywood."
  
  Kinimaka spun the Chevy into a sharp curve. Tires screeched from behind as all three sedans struggled to close the gap. Dahl turned in the back seat. "Well, we're in the right place for a car chase."
  
  There was a ping and a quick burst of noise. Dahl shook his head impassively. "So now they're shooting. Damn Americans."
  
  But Belmonte was far from calm. "Shooting! Move, big man. My God, take one step outside of London and you are in the Wild West!"
  
  Kinimaka didn't say anything, just rolled his eyes towards Hayden in the passenger seat. As they made another turn, passing two SUVs, Hayden's window went opaque, a web of tiny cracks.
  
  Gates cowered in the back seat. Kinimaka accelerated again, but he was close to becoming dangerous, and there were hundreds of civilians around, both mobile and on foot.
  
  Hayden pointed to the sign. "Merge onto I10, then head towards the hills." She sighed at her own choice of words. "If they want a fight, we can give it to them there."
  
  A black sedan roared past them, just an inch from their rear bumper.
  
  Kinimaka dodged the vehicle by quickly shifting to the left. "If we can get there," he said, and at the last moment turned the car off the ramp onto the I10 freeway. The car shot up, spun dangerously before he got it under control, and crashed into traffic. The sudden maneuver widened the distance between them and their pursuers, and Kinimaka took advantage to drive into the empty lane and run over the Chevy.
  
  But the sedans were powerful, and they were reckless. They began to close the gap almost immediately. Another shot rang out, this time from the side.
  
  Hayden pressed the speed dial button on her cell phone. Ben? Tell me, do you have anything about the location of that third tomb?"
  
  The answer made her forehead tighten. "Well, work faster. We screwed up here. Time has simply become our enemy." Then she shook her head in annoyance. "I can't talk right now, Ben. This is real fucking life!" She ended the conversation with a sharp shake of her wrist.
  
  Kinimaka slammed on the brakes as the BMW wheeled haughtily into their path. The driver's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw all the weapons pointed in his direction and quickly turned away. The Hawaiian drove smart, always using other cars to block the sedans and using different speeds to confuse them.
  
  "Get down here!" Hayden screamed. Kinimaka saw the sign that said "Hollywood Highway" and took a late turn again, hitting the ramps at speed and pulling onto the hard shoulder to avoid a white Chrysler being carefully driven by a couple of tourists.
  
  The sedans screeched down the ramp. One of them clipped the Chrysler and sent it crashing into a concrete wall. The sound of metal crunching through the air, loud even over the roar of the engine. The sedan went into a tailspin. Hayden took the chance to break her window, leaned out and fired a whole clip into it, hitting the chassis, windows, wheels and engine. The next moment it hit the curb and rolled over, tons of metal flying into the air and landing with a death-sounding thud. Debris is scattered all over the road.
  
  Two other sedans left him behind, still in hot pursuit.
  
  "Those other people-" Dahl said.
  
  "It's a Chrysler," Hayden told him. "They'll be all right."
  
  The 101 Freeway took them north past West Hollywood and into the famous hills. Hayden used the time to call her local CIA office in the pursuit, and Gates finally worked up the courage to sit down and make a few calls.
  
  Ten minutes later, they both leaned back with awkward expressions on their faces. "If I didn't know better, sir," Hayden said, looking back at her boss. "I'd say our asses were hanging in the wind."
  
  "You underestimate," Gates almost whispered, turning whiter than a cloud. "I would say it's more like a hurricane."
  
  "Are we on our own, boss?" Kinimaka asked, concentrating hard on the winding paths in front of them.
  
  "Not so verbose," Hayden replied. "I can't believe they really left us."
  
  "Aren't you familiar with the government?" Dahl snorted. "That's what they do."
  
  "Not for the US Secretary of Defense," Hayden retorted. She would like Gates to work to his fullest right now, to the limit of his abilities, and not wallow under the weight of weeks of hell, deprivation and untold losses. If he was in great shape, they could dig their way out of this.
  
  What would her father do? What would Drake do?
  
  "Fight," she said out loud. They will look for the group behind all this and they will make them pay dearly. Drake found the Blood King, for God's sake, a myth become reality, and pursued him through the gates of hell. Drake had shown her the way - now she had to learn her lesson.
  
  The exit to Mulholland flashed from the right - her first route into the mountains. "Get out of the next convention," she told Kinimake irritably.
  
  The Office reacted to her call with restrained concern. They didn't ask any questions. Didn't give her any instructions. They didn't let her through.
  
  Were Ben and Karin safe?
  
  Kinimaka slid down the slope hard, causing Hayden's head to hit the window frame. Her pistol fell to the floor and it took her a moment to pick it up and check on the whereabouts of their pursuers. By the time she looked around, Kinimaka was darting frantically between the rows of crawling cars and staring tourist vehicles through the wide entrance, and suddenly they were inside a gated driveway, heading uncontrollably towards a row of cash registers and flimsy barriers.
  
  "Dude," Hayden said in an embarrassed voice, "why the hell are you heading to Universal Studios?"
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  "I did not want!" Kinimaka was crying. "It was the only way to get through traffic without stopping!"
  
  "Well, you're going to have to stop soon," Hayden said sarcastically. "Personally, I prefer the Jurassic Park level. Kind of reminds me of work."
  
  Belmonte shifted uncomfortably from behind. Emma's body hunched in the recess between his knees and the back seat. "Can we get out?"
  
  "This might work," Hayden said, thinking hard. "We could lose them walking around the city." She turned to Dahl, "What do you think?"
  
  City Walk is an urban entertainment complex with a lively mix of restaurants, bars and shops that are usually crowded.
  
  Dahl bounced in his seat as they climbed a series of ramps and almost hit a high concrete wall. A multi-storey car park opened in front of them.
  
  "I don't like any of this," the Swede said doubtfully. "Come closer. The authorities will be under our tail any minute."
  
  "Yeah, but what powers, mate?" Kinimaka muttered.
  
  At that moment, a shotgun blast rang out. Hayden's side mirror vanished in an explosion of lead and plastic. The rear window then shattered and shards of glass were scattered all over the car. Kinimaka ducked and twisted the steering wheel, crashing into a parked SUV. The Chevrolet flinched as it came to an abrupt halt.
  
  Dahl was the first to move, unfastened his seatbelt, opened the back door, and yelled at them to hurry the hell up. The two chasing sedans screeched to a halt about twenty feet from us. Hayden and Kinimaka rolled out of their doors, weapons raised.
  
  Hayden ducked behind her door for cover, yelling at Gates. "Get down!"
  
  The sounds of gunfire echoed throughout the parking lot.
  
  Cayman's men charged forward, ten of them, ducking and firing constantly. Behind them, newly arrived vehicles slammed on the brakes or turned around and sped away. The sound of many folding wings cut through the air.
  
  Bullets hit Hayden's door, crashing against the metal. She fired blindly at the frame. Kinimake was luckier, leaning on the roof of the Chevrolet and picking targets. Three of Cayman's men had already collapsed, groaning. But the rest came too. There were too many of them to stop them all.
  
  Dahl sped off after the SUV they crashed into. He was moving so fast that no one but Hayden could see him, and a few seconds later he reappeared from the far side of the car, trotting heavily towards the advancing men, but it was a flanking maneuver on their part. He fired four bullets, four shots to the head. The surprise attack sent Cayman's remaining three men ducking for cover. One of them rolled over and fired at Dahl, but the bullet hit the concrete ceiling overhead and bounced off the hood of a parked car.
  
  Dahl looked around, shaking his head. It was a family place, a sanctuary for children. He would never let them enter City Walk; he would have given up or died first. Some operatives and even some governments have taken on collateral damage. But he would never allow that.
  
  Beyond the parking lot, he saw a long escalator filled with families. Past her he saw the flickering lights of the City Pass by themselves. Too close. This battle not only had to be stopped here, it had to end here.
  
  At that moment, there was a roar of an engine, and one of the black sedans moved slowly forward. Drivers! He forgot about the bloody drivers. Doesn't matter. Before the car could pick up any speed, he ran up to him and jumped on the hood, landing on his side facing the driver with a gun pointed at the man's face.
  
  With a big smile he usually reserved for killing megalomaniac fashion designers.
  
  The driver's expression darkened. Dahl pulled the trigger. The windshield exploded and blood spattered the interior of the car as it veered sideways. Dahl allowed himself to slip, rolling as he hit the concrete.
  
  Just in time to hear the second saloon roar.
  
  Behind him, he heard Hayden and Kinimaka firing at the remaining three Caiman puppets. One of them screamed. Best wishes. He fired at the sedan's tires, puncturing one, but then the gun ran out of ammo. However, Dahl was not alarmed. As the car sped toward him out of control, the Swede jumped feet first onto the hood, and then, with the grace of a dancer rather than the bulk of a six-foot-six SWAT soldier, jumped lightly onto the roof itself.
  
  A second before the vehicle crashed, Dahl jumped to the side, rolling until the momentum dissipated. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the driver crash into the windshield, not with full force, but with enough force to knock him unconscious.
  
  Dahl approached, slightly disoriented, and saw Hayden fighting hand to hand with one of his attackers. Hayden was still at a low level, Boudreau recently stabbed him again. Dahl leapt forward and rushed in, leaving Caiman's soldier no chance. A knee to the back, a huge hard hand across the throat, and a judoka throw ensured the man hit his head hard on the concrete floor and put an end to any evil intentions he had ever had.
  
  Hayden was breathing heavily, holding her side. "Thank you".
  
  "No problem. But, just to be clear, I would not advise getting stabbed more than once a week."
  
  Hayden is already used to leg pull-ups. Drake and Dahl were from the same army, with different backgrounds or not.
  
  Kinimaka looked over the top of the car. "Aloha. We seem to be running out of bad guys."
  
  "Get in." Dahl put Hayden in the passenger seat before running over to the driver's side. "Are you okay, buddy?"
  
  "I'm fine". Kinimaka got behind the wheel again. "Where?"
  
  Dahl checked on Gates. "Are you okay, sir?" Then Belmonte. "Our thief friend seems to be fine. Is your friend still dead, buddy?"
  
  The lack of an answer told Dahl what he needed to know - that Belmonte, the famous British thief, did indeed have a heart. Climbing into the backseat, he turned to Kinimaka. "Turn her on, my friend. In the words of most Hollywood couples, let's split up. "
  
  The car's engine rumbled to life. Kinimaka turned the hood in the direction they had come from and drove down the exit road. Sirens blared over the high concrete barriers, dangerously close.
  
  "We should have searched them." Hayden looked back at the bodies strewn across the concrete.
  
  "There is no time," Dahl said. "We"re not likely to get out of here without a good electric shock. Kinimaka," he said with a smile, "try to take a look...for tourists."
  
  Hayden quickly dialed Ben's number as they drove. "How are we doing?"
  
  The words spoken softly in the distant ether hit her brain like warm syrup. "We have the location of tomb number three."
  
  Hayden suddenly forgot all her pain. "What?"
  
  She could tell that Ben was smiling as he repeated his words. "We have the location of tomb number three."
  
  Hayden thought quickly. "Listen, Ben. We're on the run. I don't know who we can trust. Come out of the building and meet us in Los Angeles. Do it now. Plan B. Do you understand me?"
  
  Of course it was Drake's idea. By now, Ben was happy with the concept of Plan B, the "drop everything and get the hell out of there" scenario. That was it. Dahl signaled to her.
  
  "Terminal?"
  
  Hayden nodded and asked. "What country, Ben?"
  
  "Germany. Believe it or not, we are looking for an extinct volcano under one of the oldest castles in the world. Amazing, right?"
  
  "Fine. We will find you. Be..." She stammered. "Be safe."
  
  "I will do".
  
  Hayden heard him mutter something to Karin as he disconnected the link. She watched Kinimaka thread a needle between two slower machines and approach the exit. So far everything is going well. No one came out to stop them. Of course, in the last few minutes there has been a mass abandonment of cars. Their misfortune was now their safety. Flashing blue lights were just entering the park as they left. Large unmarked black vans pulled up to the ticket booths.
  
  Dahl shook his head sadly. "It's going to ruin some poor kid's day," he said meaningfully.
  
  Belmonte looked sideways at him, still holding Emma. "You stupid Viking." He muttered. "How can you?"
  
  "I'm sorry," Dahl said, to everyone's surprise. "But she is dead, my friend, and your love for her will not bring her back. You can only get even now."
  
  "Love?" Belmonte said quickly. "She was my protectorégé. My friend's daughter. This is all."
  
  "I think not, but have your way. Anyway, I believe in the magic of places like this. Cynics call them big business hangouts, places where fat cats get even richer, but one thing I'm proud of is the ability to see like a child sees. Disneyland can bring tears to my eyes. The universal and sea world can fill me with wonder. I don't see anything shameful in this. And I feel sorry for the person who can't feel at least a little miracle in their hearts as they walk through the Magic Kingdom because there's no magic left in their lives."
  
  Belmonte stared at him.
  
  "My children," Dahl said, "will experience all the wonders of childhood. Because you've been an adult for a very long time."
  
  Belmonte nodded to him, then carefully placed Emma's body on the rear legroom. "I understand what you are saying and you are right. I also wish. I underestimated you. You're right about getting even. Cayman killed Emma?
  
  "He ordered it, of course," Gates spoke up again now that the action was over. Hayden could see the darkness in his eyes and black circles around them. The secretary faced two paths - exhaustion and depression. It was just a matter of time.
  
  "But someone ordered him to order it," Gates finished. "And those are the people we need to find. These are the people who are looking for the third tomb and the doomsday weapon inside."
  
  Dahl nodded in agreement. "I'll call my man in Iceland," he said, pulling out his phone. "Look how lucky he was to decipher the ancient language."
  
  Hayden looked at her own phone. "If we're on our way to Germany, heading for the third tomb," she said, "I think it's time to call Matt Drake."
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  Drake pressed a button on the center dash to answer his cell phone through the car's Bluetooth connection. "Hayden?"
  
  "Ben and Karin have figured out the location of the third tomb, Drake. It's in Germany."
  
  He felt Alicia and Mai suddenly rise from their respective resting positions. Hayden spoke about the events in Los Angeles as quickly as she could. Alicia whistled. "It sounds like we're missing out on everything that's going on here."
  
  Drake didn't look at her. "We took some action of our own."
  
  Alicia snorted. "We joined playtime in the nursery."
  
  Drake told Hayden about their day. "Which leaves us about twenty miles away, in the middle of nowhere. Approaching Sevenoaks and Wells' friend's house."
  
  "According to our online gurus, we will land in Germany around 3am German time. Can you do it by then?"
  
  Drake did some quick calculations. "If we are lucky with the flight time, we will not be far behind you. As long as Wells' old friend is willing to cooperate."
  
  Mai said, "Excuse me. You say you're on the run now. Are you from the CIA? Are you running from your own agency?"
  
  "No. Now it's a brand new game. We choose to run because we don't know who to trust at the government level. Because every second counts if we want to get ahead of Cayman and get to this tomb, and because we have the resources to capture it."
  
  "You think?" Alicia seemed surprised. "From what I've heard, Cayman is up to his neck in resources."
  
  "The secretary has some influence, as you know," Hayden said. "The only problem is that when you start showing this kind of attraction, almost everyone hears about it."
  
  "So..."
  
  "So we're reaching out to people in small units that owe us. Detachments from Europe. Some of Dahl's friends. Komodo people. Whoever and whatever is available, they drag their asses to meet us there."
  
  "I know some people," Mai said softly. Drake steered his rental car, a posh new Nissan Juke, off the back road and onto an even quieter B-road. He pointed to a stretch of soft garden light ahead. "We are here".
  
  Hayden pushed one last time. "The race is on guys. We need to get to that tomb and find that doomsday weapon before Cayman does."
  
  "Understood," Drake said. "I will find a few people. Wells was not my only friend in SAS."
  
  He turned off the engine and the phone call. They quietly got out of the car. Drake took a moment to look around. The moonlight cast a bright light on the stage. In front of them was a large two-story house with curtains drawn to keep out the night, soft light coming from a room on the first floor. Scattered shrubs dotted the garden, as if planted on a whim. Drake noticed that the garage door was only half open , a sure sign of someone not used to late-night visitors and unconcerned about local thieves.
  
  They huddled warily at the front door. "Eyes opened," Drake said and knocked.
  
  A few moments later, a light came on on the porch. Then a voice came from behind the door, a shadow outlined through the patterned glass. "Yes?"
  
  "Andrew Black?" Alicia spoke because a woman's voice coming through your door on a pitch black night would always be less menacing than a man's.
  
  "Who is this?"
  
  "We are friends of Wells."
  
  "Who? I don't know of any wells. Now please-"
  
  Mai shook her hair, unbuttoned her coat, and stepped out into the light. "Just check, Mr. Black. Just check any hidden camera you have. I am Mai Kitano. Maybe Wells mentioned me."
  
  Moments of silence passed, measured only by the uncontrollable gusts of menacing wind and the torn gusts of thunderclouds in the silvered sky. Finally, the shadow returned. "There should be a password here," a mysterious voice whispered. "I pray to God that you know this."
  
  "It's either Maitime or a sprite," Mai said impatiently. "Now open that damn door."
  
  The appearance of the old man's head in the frame was preceded by fuss. Andrew Black was bald and probably in his sixties, but when he came into view, Drake saw that he was still healthy, perceptive and capable.
  
  "The legend itself" Black stared at Mai with genuine delight. "I never thought I would enjoy it this much."
  
  "You won't do it," Mai said. "But try Miles here. If you live in the UK, you are probably related to someone who has."
  
  "Oooh." Alicia laughed, not in the least offended. "The sprite clicked funny. What's next? Stories about her years of undercover work in Thailand?"
  
  Andrew Black led us into a warmly lit living room. There were pristine leather sofas and overstuffed armchairs everywhere, as if trying to take up space. The walls were filled with old family photos. Wells' old friend had all the trappings of a man who had raised, loved, and liberated a family, and now lived only for the eternal memories that remained imprinted in his heart.
  
  "Wells did talk about you." Black pointed them to chairs. "To tell the truth, sometimes he talked about almost nothing else. But he was very clear in his instructions. If you ever come, someday, I had to give you everything. Every bit of his research."
  
  "Study?" Drake frowned. "What the hell would Wells be researching?"
  
  "The shadow elite, of course." Andrew Black looked at Drake as if he were a shop dummy. "Wells has done a thorough investigation of the small group of people who run our world, Mr. Drake. And he was making some remarkable progress."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  "Shadow Elite"? Mei's voice was the epitome of politeness, but made Black get down to business.
  
  "I know very little." The old man's eyes darted nervously to the paintings that hung on his walls, perhaps fearful of the consequences.
  
  "No one will ever know what you told us," Mai quietly assured him.
  
  "I know only a few things that I overheard, and what Wells said in moments of anger or inattention. It's all here." Black reached under the large, swollen arms of his chair and pulled off a strip of tape. A small black device fell into his hand and held it out to Mai.
  
  "Dictaphone?"
  
  "He wrote everything down there. Never recorded anything. My old friend had his faults, Miss Kitano, but he never forgot anything and was a gifted commander."
  
  "Before we hear this," Drake said, "please tell us what you know, Mr. Black."
  
  "This Shadow Elite - that"s what they call themselves - is made up of people from a group of old families. A very old group that goes back to the days when rude and uncouth people were just starting to make their fortunes. Their wealth is ancient. It goes beyond heritage, beyond royalty. This is the original wealth of our world. And thus, it can never be defiled."
  
  "Continue". Mai gently nudged him.
  
  "That's most of what I know. One night Wells spoke about the origin of the families. Their leader is called a Scandinavian. He is, so to speak, God. Supreme ruler."
  
  Drake shook his head. "With the third tomb, the moving of eight fragments, and now this one, I'm starting to think we're far from done with Odin's bones."
  
  Mai reached out and pressed the recorder's play button. Drake frowned as he heard his old commander's voice fill the empty room. It took him a few moments to come to his senses.
  
  "First of all, I am a patriot. Servant of Britain. When Caiman first came to me, he convinced me that the Shadow Elite was actually the ruling organization of this world. Simply put, they gave every government its own orders, including my own. So didn"t I really become a great patriot by serving them?" There was a long pause. "A question for a more discerning mind than mine. But later it became clear to me that the Shadow elite did not take the interests of the people to heart. I hear you ask what the government is doing? I would like to think - my own. I believe that every Briton who becomes a politician starts with a desire to help his fellow man, no matter where he ends up." Another pause.
  
  Alicia asked, "How long has he been digging?"
  
  Blake shrugged. "Seven? Eight years? Wells became a different person." He shook his head regretfully. "It has changed terribly."
  
  It was around the same time that Alison died. Drake didn't miss May's meaningful look.
  
  After completing the doubling operation, I decided to delve a little deeper into the motives of my employers and perhaps find out their intentions. Were they just people playing chess with civilian lives? Or did they have hidden, noble aspirations?"
  
  Mai paused the recording and looked back at Drake. "Have you ever heard of doubling?"
  
  Drake felt an icy trickle of unpleasant memories crawl up his spine. "It was an operation that I led. My last. At first we made excellent progress. It all fit together perfectly and it seemed like we were going to finish in record time. Then..." He shrugged. "She was closed. No explanation. We were ready to attack this big guy."
  
  Drake remembered the past. "He had some kind of mansion in Vienna. Wells then came in and told us we were done. Pack up your things. First flight home. Even get some rest. Then, about a week later-" He sighed. Alison is dead.
  
  "The doubling seems to have acted as a catalyst of sorts," Mai said. "For Wells and for you, though you didn't know it at the time."
  
  She turned on the recorder again. Drake tried to drown out the sound of the wind that blew along the dark garden paths and scraped against the trees outside the windows. The ghostly tones of Wells filled the room.
  
  The Norwegian is a key figure in the Shadow Elite, although it is clear that all six of them are the main figures. However, I don't have names, but I do have a possible location and other more personal revelations that won't put me in a good light. But I can't tell it all here. Even this is too public. There are files there. Lots of files"
  
  The voice broke off. Drake and the others in the room looked at each other.
  
  "You old bastard," Mai said furiously. "Not like this one."
  
  But then the voice spoke again. "At a secret SAS facility in Luxembourg, there is a cache of old and new materials. It's in my zipped file. I know because I put it there. I ask you not to judge me, Mai, whatever you find. I remain, above all, a patriot, and I have done what I believe best served my government and my country."
  
  Drake took a deep breath. "That doesn't sound good."
  
  "What bloody piece?" Alicia exploded, unable to keep her cool any longer. "Wells' admission of guilt? The fact that all of his documents are on the damn SAS database! Or his hint that even worse lies ahead? Crap!"
  
  "Exactly," Drake said. "My friends in the regiment would do anything for me, but I can't ask them to steal for me."
  
  "Of course," Mai replied without hesitation.
  
  "So, we'll have to commit a theft," Drake continued. "If we want to know what Wells found."
  
  "Maybe he found the Shadow Elite," Mai said, and Black nodded in agreement. "Six people who rule the world. And they're connected to Wells, to Cayman, to the tomb and the doomsday weapon. We can't ignore them, Drake."
  
  "So you intend to infiltrate the SAS base, steal some documents, and then escape unnoticed?" Alicia hissed. "Are you serious? These guys invented stealth." She chuckled. "I mean, us guys. "
  
  Drake smiled. "But even the best of the best have never seen anything like us," he said with conviction in his voice. "What did Wells usually say there? Heroes never give up. They stay strong until the end."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The trip to Heathrow did not take long. Drake tried calling Hayden again, but didn't expect to get through to her. She was in the air, on her way to Germany, where good guys and bad guys alike discovered the last and deadliest tomb of the gods. The third tomb contained all the most vile gods. Worst of its kind.
  
  The race to get to her first was indeed in full swing.
  
  "Bad luck," Drake said and hung up the call. He looked at Mai swiping her 3D smartphone. "Departure at three in the morning, you say? This will happen two hours after Hayden. I hope she waits."
  
  "She will wait." Alicia echoed back. "This girl has faith. And, of course, she needs us." Her blond curls swept to the sides with a surge of energy.
  
  Drake dialed another number. He was not surprised when the Hereford man answered after the first ring.
  
  "Drake?"
  
  "Hi Sam. Thanks again for guarding the Blakes for me, mate. A debt like this-" He faltered.
  
  "Never needs a reckoning between friends." Sam finished for him. "You saved my life a hundred times. So what's the matter?"
  
  "How are you doing with the German operation?"
  
  There was a short pause. "Not too good, mate. Of our people, I can get three for about two days. Four, including myself."
  
  "Then go now," Drake told him. "Meet me in Singen, Germany as soon as you can."
  
  Drake saw the bright lights of Heathrow turning left and ended the conversation. He raised an eyebrow at Mai. "I have four of them. What about you?"
  
  "Two". She smiled slightly and then cast a glare in the direction of the back seat. "What about you, Alicia? How many friends can you count on?"
  
  Alicia snored loudly, as if she were sleeping.
  
  Mai snorted. "That's what I thought."
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  Russell Cayman has known hardships. His drug addict parents abandoned him in a ditch when he was four. They were caught and put on trial, but that didn't stop Cayman from being passed from one cruel, uncaring foster family to another. Having never known love, he would never have known how to give it or acknowledge it.
  
  The children of the "system" have always been on the radar of the most secretive sections of government agencies, and especially those who end up demonstrating a brilliant set of skills in one area or another. The CIA moved in with him when he was fourteen, and with no real guardian or family, Cayman was happy to accept their friendship. Many years later, he realized that this was supposed to be a friendship with the fangs, from which there was no way out.
  
  So Cayman tossed the keys on the tiny table by the door and headed back to his apartment. This place would make any Spartan happy. There was no furniture, no homeliness, only a chair to sit on, a bed to sleep on, a table to eat at, and a TV to keep up with the world news. But it brought him some peace. Here he was happiest.
  
  Cayman had no social skills other than those taught by the agency. So now, stressed to the point where he felt like it was necessary to kill, he went into the kitchen and quickly began to select pots and pans. He rummaged through the refrigerator and pulled out a chicken breast, some Italian chorizo, peppers, celery, and green beans. He began to stir the meat broth furiously while sautéing the onion and adding the fresh garlic.
  
  Gradually, the tension subsided.
  
  The combination of concentration, aromatic scents, and simple exercises helped relieve tension from his body. Cooking was his only release, and that only when he was at home, because nowhere else did he feel the way he does now.
  
  As he sliced the pepper, the knife slipped off, slicing a tiny piece of the flesh from his finger. He left it nestled among the peppers as he transferred them to a large skillet and let the blood drip into the mixture. Time has ceased to exist. Jambalaya was his masterpiece, the pinnacle of his many years of culinary excellence.
  
  After a while, Caiman laid out his knife and fork on an empty table, the noise echoing through the empty apartment as if to mock him. He sat down, studiously not thinking about anything, still dressed in his standard suit and tie, and began to eat with mechanical, measured movements.
  
  Hayden and Gates escaped his trap in Los Angeles, where will they be next? Their associates, Ben and Karin Blake, left the CIA building just twenty minutes before Cayman's men arrived.
  
  He stopped eating. His excitement made him want to throw the food on the floor. He felt like plunging a fork into the flesh of his arm and sucking on blood and torn flesh for comfort, using his arm like a grotesque mannequin. He did it before.
  
  But the intoxicating aroma again took possession of his senses. He returned to the meal. He finished his bowl, got up and went to the window. The neighborhood outside was busy, full of parents and children going about their daily business. Cayman chose to live among a noisy civilian population, though he didn't know why. Was it the need to feel like he was a part of something? Something real, unlike the dark, merciless world in which he thrived?
  
  He watched the young mothers, already familiar figures. Children. He was a monster among them, a Halloween ghoul come to life. But the government indulged his whims and allowed him to live among them.
  
  No, not the government. The people behind the government. They had no conscience. They didn't care where he lived as long as they got what they wanted. The American government, the top brass, actually objected to the idea of allowing him to use the place...but their decision was overruled.
  
  Shadow Elite. They were a towering silhouette behind the monster. Blackness in the heart of darkness. Cayman knew that the group of six people who were playing the governments of the world were like puppets. Their interest, already fueled by the discovery of impressive tombs and preserved bones of so many legendary gods, soared to the stratosphere when they learned of the doomsday device. The answer followed immediately. Firstly, it must not fall into the hands of anyone else, as that person could then have some influence over them, and secondly, they must be the ones in control of it, since they have always been and always will be in control. organ of the world. Caiman knew it was ironic to them that they should have the power of the old gods, since they were the new gods. And the Norwegian, their leader, was an unstoppable force. On a whim, he could start a war. With a single toss of a coin, he could wipe out a village - anywhere in the world. Cayman was personally convinced of his power. The memories still gave him nightmares.
  
  Cayman turned back to the emptiness of his house as his cell phone began to chirp the standard ringtone.
  
  Cayman is listening.
  
  "This is Mackenzie, sir. I am in charge of coordinating all the data we collect from tombs one and two that may relate to tomb number three."
  
  "I know exactly who you are. What do you want?"
  
  "This is the third tomb, sir. We have a location."
  
  Cayman was careful not to show his excitement. That was it! The shadow elite would literally be in ecstasy.
  
  "Get everyone together." He spoke slowly and concisely. "Send them all to the place immediately. So - where is she?
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  Drake's plane landed at Zurich airport shortly before six in the morning Swiss time. He'd already gotten the in-flight coordinates from Hayden, so once they'd cleared security without issue, they found a taxi stand and gave the driver a local address. Twenty minutes later they turned Zurichstraße into Wiesenthalstraße and disembarked at a gray, nondescript building with the initials IMI written on a very old, very shabby sign that hung precariously over the front door.
  
  Drake, Alicia, and May were looking around suspiciously as the cab pulled away.
  
  "It's an awful lot of level ground," Alicia said cautiously. "Are you sure about this, Drakes?"
  
  "I didn't choose it," he said irritably.
  
  The door opened and Thorsten Dahl appeared on the threshold. There was a wry grin on the face of the big Swede.
  
  "Yeah, that's a crazy Swede," Drake said warmly. "I remember the same stupid grin that was on your face when you stood on the edge of Odin's grave, looking at his bones."
  
  "So are you, my friend." Dahl stepped forward. "When I finally let you take a look."
  
  The couple shook hands. "Damn A-Team," Dahl said. "Together again".
  
  "Well, apparently," Drake said seriously, "we'll be needed."
  
  "Jesus!" Alicia said, waving them away. "Make sure his thong doesn't cut your lip, Drake, when you pull it together with your teeth."
  
  Drake stared after her. "The bitch has always been good with words."
  
  Mai followed Alicia. "Let's see who else came to the party, shall we?"
  
  Drake allowed Dahl to cover his back and followed May through the ramshackle door. Once inside, the building changed dramatically, everything looked more modernized. A reinforced, bricked passageway led to another door-this time a large, steel-bound one-with a keypad beside it. Hayden was waiting for them, and after a brief, tense greeting, she punched in a sixteen-digit PIN to unlock the door.
  
  She led them inside. Drake tried to put aside his ideas and plans for an upcoming trip to the SAS facility in Luxembourg and focus on his current work. Wells' materials may contain a clue to Alison's killer, but it could also blow the cover off the Shadow Elite, an organization even now immorally involved in trying to get their hands on the doomsday weapon that may be located inside the third and final tomb of the gods.
  
  He saw Ben right away. The young man stood awkwardly in the corner of the large room, next to his sister, a pint of Coke in his hand, looking like a douchebag hanging out at the school disco. The bar behind him gleamed with one-litre bottles full of the sweet nectar of oblivion. Drake's gaze lingered for a moment too long.
  
  Dahl patted him on the back. Hard. "Check it out, buddy."
  
  Alicia sauntered into the middle of the room, like a capable and confident model, eyeing the invited audience, who for some reason never realized it was actually prey until she came face-to-face with Daniel Belmonte, the British master thief, her former lover.
  
  Drake could hear their conversation. Belmonte, to his credit, recovered the fastest. "It's always nice... to run into you, Miles."
  
  Drake noticed that Hayden was also watching them. And Ben is watching Hayden. Such a strange rectangle of former and current lovers.
  
  However, Alicia did not miss a single blow. "The only thing you're stealing tonight, Belmonte, is the looks." And she walked right past him, continuing to walk towards the bar without looking back.
  
  Mai also watched the exchange of remarks. "She is good. Although I would never tell her."
  
  "I'll keep your secret, Miss Kitano," Dahl told her, a wide smile lighting up his face.
  
  Drake took a moment to study the room. Obviously, it was some kind of safe house of the local police. Someone, Gates or Hayden or even Dahl, has probably asked for a favor, an event that will likely happen frequently over the next few days. After thinking about it, Drake decided it was Dal. The Swede was the least likely to come into the sight of the enemy, and no doubt he had a huge number of friends and colleagues in continental Europe. The room was furnished with a pair of large sofas, a massive oak table long enough to accommodate a Viking horde, and at least three makeshift beds in the corners. The bar, of course, was a highlight, especially for those who had to deal with terrible new knowledge.
  
  Dahl took out his wallet and took a moment to study a photograph of his two sons and wife. Still holding it, he turned to Drake. "That's why we fight," he said. "That's why we try to make things better. So that our children can grow up in a safer world."
  
  Drake opened his mouth to answer. A sudden, unexpected lump of emotion stuck in his throat. Dahl glared at him. The Swede did not know that Alison was pregnant. Even now, Drake was still dealing with the fact that he would never have children and that the child he had produced had been so cruelly taken from him.
  
  "I will kill them all," he whispered. "No one can get away with what they did."
  
  Dahl hesitated for a moment, then returned the photo to his wallet. Maybe he thought Drake, in his own way, was just agreeing with him. "I have a man inside," he said with a grin. "In Iceland. He is translating the ancient language as we speak. I should hear from him at any time."
  
  "About what?"
  
  "About everything. Damn it, why are Yorkshiremen so dumb? That's the whole story, mate. Why the gods lie down to die. About the time travel devices you found near the Bermuda Triangle and in Hawaii. About the doomsday machine. About how they created destiny. They jumped in time, Matt, literally jumped, like we were visiting different stores in the mall. Do you remember this poem related to Odin?"
  
  Drake pulled himself together. "Vaguely."
  
  "The ending was: "Forever you will be afraid of this, listen to me, sons of men, for to desecrate the tomb of the Gods is to begin the Day of Reckoning."
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "We believe it has begun. The day of reckoning is fast approaching."
  
  "Day of reckoning? Something to do with Armageddon. Or Viking Ragnarok?"
  
  "Exactly. Ragnarok. Either the heroes will rise up to save the day, or the villains will put an end to this."
  
  Drake stared at his Swedish friend. This proposal struck a chord in him. Either the heroes will rise up to save the day, or the villains will put an end to this. "In this way, we will remain strong until the end," he said. "And we will win this day. For our children and our friends."
  
  "Despite everything". Dahl squeezed his hand, and the two men shared a moment that would connect them for the rest of their lives.
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  Drake watched Hayden move through the crowd like Alicia did. But this time the crowd parted with respect and expectation.
  
  He saw how she attracts attention with a look, a sigh. He saw Ben looking at her and suddenly felt a wave of sadness for his young friend. There was no future. Ben, though exceptional in his own right, was not the right person for Hayden Jay. And expanding his field of vision, he noticed Komodo - the leader of the Delta team, who helped him defeat the Blood King in Hawaii. Drake caught the man's eye on purpose and nodded in respect, though Komodo seemed to be more interested in talking to Karin than noticing Drake.
  
  Scattered around were people Drake didn't know. Probably Maya's colleagues and loyal soldiers attached to Jonathan Gates, the US Secretary of Defense, who couldn't really trust anyone but a few people in this very room.
  
  "We are going through desperate times," Hayden said. "You all know that the third tomb of the gods contains the most disgusting creatures of their kind. So, we have no idea what to expect. Worse yet, it could also contain some kind of doomsday device. We don't know with any certainty, so we can't rule anything out. What we do know is that Russell Cayman - under the command of some all-powerful group - will stop at nothing to get to the tomb. The race to get to her first has already begun. If you're willing to risk your life to be a hero, then stay in this room. Otherwise, just leave."
  
  Not a single listening man or woman moved a single muscle.
  
  Hayden smiled. Everyone was scared, but they still stayed. She nodded towards her boss. "The US Secretary of Defense would like to say something."
  
  Jonathan Gates didn't move, but his voice carried through the room. "I can only confirm what Agent Jay has already told you. The tomb is vital. The remaining eight fragments of Odin, now in Stuttgart, are vital. Russell Cayman is vital and, if at all possible, he must be captured alive. We don't know," he paused, "whether we're considered the bad guys here in the eyes of the authorities. But we're following the news services and nothing has come up, so maybe someone somewhere has our backs. There is a group called the Shadow Elite who think they own the whole world. Let's shake it up and show them who it really belongs to. People."
  
  Approving cheers were heard. Drake could hardly imagine the variety of characters a man like Gates could bring in to find the Shadow Elite. Something was about to break free soon. As Gates fell silent and the hall began to gather for their short journey to the tomb, Drake approached Ben and Karin.
  
  "I heard you two located the tomb. Not bad for a thug and half-educated."
  
  Ben's face fell. "Don't remind me, buddy. Just don't remind me." He sounded like a suicide.
  
  Drake blinked rapidly at Karin. "Did he get a diaper rash again?"
  
  Karin smirked. "Worse than ever. But on top of that, he just heard that in his absence the band released their CD when they got out of police protection and were invited as a guest to a festival near Leeds."
  
  "Isn't that good news, mate?"
  
  "Not when I'm here," Ben whined, "saving the world."
  
  "The worst thing is-" Karin couldn't hold back any longer. "The festival will be headlined by two of Ben's favorite bands. Pretty reckless and fleeting."
  
  Drake whistled. "Bummer. Don't worry. Maybe by then the world will be over."
  
  Ben stared at him. "I thought you would at least understand."
  
  "Life is hard, Ben." Drake glanced sideways at Hayden. "And if you don't realize it pretty soon, you'll find out about it in such a way that your knees buckle." Drake turned away, the old memory of Kennedy playing through his mind. "Keep working on the Internet, Blakey."
  
  Karin placed a hand on his shoulder as he turned to leave. "He, too, is worried about something else. Well, for both of us. This Shadow Elite - we found literally everything about them on the net. No trace, no path. Not the slightest hint of digital footprints."
  
  Drake nodded. "I understand". Ben and Karin, working together, could hack the NSA without breaking a sweat. He led them to where Hayden, May, and Alicia were talking. "Now, if you"re ready for this, then this is the last tomb of the gods to be raided."
  
  Hayden heard his last comment as they approached. She looked up, her gaze hard. "You better be prepared for this. Do you think you've been through hell already? You haven't seen anything yet."
  
  
  
  PART 2
  Tomb, thief and train
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  The industrial city of Singen in southern Germany had no idea the storm was coming. Set beautifully and picturesquely under clear blue skies, surrounded by forests, lakes, and mountains, overlooking the landmark for which it is famous-the volcanic bulge upon which the now-destroyed fortress was built-it was bathed in dangerous ignorance.
  
  Some of the most ruthless men and women in the world were approaching. Some of them were already there.
  
  They made the journey in less than an hour. During this time, Drake, Alicia, Mae and Dahl exchanged stories and jokes to ease the tension. Drake listened with half an ear to the conversation, but focused mainly on checking the equipment he had been given at the safe house. Of course, as always, Dahl chose this place for an important reason. It was not only an SSG facility, but also a military bunker that held enough weapons to equip a small army. SIG and Glock pistols, American M16 and M4 carbines. Pump-action shotguns, rocket launchers, grenades and flares.
  
  Alicia and even Mae approached the stash with the eagerness of children at Christmas, but Drake took the bare minimum, making sure both Ben and Karin were armed with easy-to-use point-and-click pistols. At first, he tried to convince them to stay, or at least stay hidden.
  
  Ben immediately shook his head. Karin, like a close sister, put his thoughts into words. "We've come this far. We may be scared, but we do it anyway."
  
  Drake looked at them, looked at them all. "That's what makes a hero."
  
  "My life," said Karin, "wasn't worth living until I drove a madman into a black hole in a tropical paradise. Until then...I deliberately ruined my life."
  
  "Why do you do it?" Drake asked.
  
  Karin shook her head. "I have lost faith in people. Even now I can't find it. I just can not."
  
  "We'll try to help." Drake told her, painfully realizing that two months ago his words would have been trust me. I will save you. But not now. Never ever.
  
  "Like I said, we're coming with you."
  
  Now Drake began to mentally prepare for what was to come. Their toughest battle ever. The streets of Singen rushed by, the stump of Hohentville now looming on the horizon. Lush fields, green spaces, and a few houses surrounded the volcanic rock and its old castle, and more as they approached.
  
  Something completely inappropriate.
  
  Chatter began to fill the airwaves almost immediately. "I see three helicopters, sir. All military." Voice from the lead machine.
  
  Dahl's voice. "Signs?"
  
  "Sir, I think you should know this first. They're just landing. As I'm talking, people are leaving by email. I think we should consider an immediate strike."
  
  A stunned silence followed. Drake's adrenaline shot up and he caught the look Alicia and Mae exchanged. They were ready for it too. They all nodded to Dahl.
  
  "We will attack them before they can prepare," Drake said. "Before they can prepare, regulate or plan. So even though we came in second, we still have an element of surprise."
  
  "Break through their ranks." May joined. "Break through, outflank them and destroy them. We will stumble upon those already inside the tomb without warning."
  
  Alicia frowned. "In an ideal world, little elf."
  
  Dahl was already speaking into the radio. "A plan is an action. We are doing it now. Without delay."
  
  "Lock and load." Hayden's voice came over the radio. "Nothing changes. We'll hit them harder, that's all. Remember, this is one of the most important military strikes in living memory. We're talking about a third tomb of the gods and a possible doomsday device acquired by an unknown group. We just cannot afford to fail."
  
  The military convoy picked up speed, leaving the city and approaching the old volcano. They made a final check of the weapon, set the live ammunition in place and tried to achieve the mental focus that was required to win that day.
  
  At the bottom of a steep hill they abandoned their cars and took cover behind the trees. Beneath the invaluable cover, a special multinational force was rapidly advancing towards the top of the volcano.
  
  "We're aiming for helicopters." Dahl exhaled into throat microphones. "Caiman and his men either found the entrance or made it. It wouldn't be too risky with proper GPRS systems."
  
  Drake remembered that ground penetrating radar was a Swede's specialty. He listened to the chatter, but scanned every inch of the surrounding hostile territory as he ran. The competence of the people around him gave him confidence. He was used to going into the unknown and hitting a supposedly superior target. Although Kennedy's death was avenged, and even now Bloody King Dimitri Kovalenko is suffering in prison for all his terrible sins, Drake couldn't help but look forward to the dark violence to come. He was forced to accept this for the sake of Kennedy.
  
  It will always be a part of him.
  
  From somewhere above came a deep rumble. For a few seconds the ground trembled, and in between the small gaps between the trees he strained to see the plume of spreading smoke. Caiman and his men got inside, possibly even destroying part of the ancient castle. Nothing will stand in the way of their arrogance and their progress.
  
  Except us. Drake saw four SAS men point-blank, Sam and his colleagues. All four had once worked with Drake and Wells. He trusted their judgment with his life. Next were two Japanese friends of Mai and four of Gates' Secret Service agents. Komodo and three of his Delta soldiers volunteered to watch their backs and allowed Belmonte, Ben, and Karin to join them.
  
  Hayden, Kinimaka, Gates and the rest formed an imposing center column. They went upstairs, keeping a sharp lookout for trouble, but it was their ears that easily located the Cayman. Loud screams and curses resounded all over the slope. The mercenaries who worked for Cayman hurried, making no effort, to keep their presence a secret. The DIA operative must have known that Gates followed him, and no doubt left orders to secure the perimeter quickly.
  
  Soon they were among the many old ruins that were now approaching the castle. There was a signal for absolute silence and readiness. Whispers boomed from the throat microphones, demanding that half a dozen people surround the stage for the production. Drake crouched behind a rough, freestanding concrete archway that might have once been a window. A cursory glance ahead, and he saw a staging area. Cayman's men scurried around, setting up a communications system and a makeshift HQ. They were hauling equipment from three stationary helicopters, their rotors spinning gently. The dilapidated walls of the old castle created a crazy backdrop for what was happening, its gaping doorway emitting clouds of smoke that rose from somewhere deep inside.
  
  Drake heard a Bluetooth beep that signaled the readiness of the flanking team. Mai, Alicia, and Dahl knelt beside him, ready. In the grove of trees behind them lay Komodo and his crew, among them Ben and Karin.
  
  Hayden looked at them all with an enigmatic expression on his face. "Doomsday Device and Caiman," she whispered, a ghost in their ears. "That's what we're here for."
  
  They broke through the cover with crushing force, advancing on Cayman's men from three sides, dozens of professional soldiers firing in short, accurate bursts. Screams began immediately, bodies and equipment collided and crashed to the ground. Even then, Caiman had the foresight to hide a few snipers in the castle itself. Shots rang out and the grass around Drake's feet was littered with shots, clods of earth flying up as if they had popped out of the ground. Immediately, one of Mai's men fell, and the rogue Japanese agent went down on one knee, firing shot after shot, each through a different window, to neutralize the shooters.
  
  But the mercenaries were hardened fighters. Showing no sign of panic at the sight of the advancing force, they found their weapons and held their ground. Drake plunged his rifle into the face of the first who came to his senses, realizing that Cayman was already aware of the enemy's arrival and would be hatching a plan.
  
  As the man fell, Drake shot him and moved on to the next one. Hayden wrestled beside him. She hadn't healed yet, she had no choice but to fight until they found someone to help them, someone they could trust. Drake toppled his man and looked around. Several dozen mercenaries were put out of action. Helicopter pilots were either dead or marked and gagged. Alicia was already following the SAS soldiers as they ran towards the wide entrance to the castle. Mai fired without a pause, and now more people joined him. There seemed to be a couple of snipers still left, but the SAS would take care of that soon.
  
  Dahl kicked the man's knee. When the man fell and let out a scream, the Swede hesitated. But Daniel Belmonte didn't. Approaching with a rearguard, he bypassed Dahl and shot the man at point-blank range in the head.
  
  When Dahl turned to him with a confused expression, Belmonte's cultured tone was distorted by pain. "One of them killed Emma. It spoils them all. None of them deserve to live, not here and certainly not among civilized people."
  
  Drake grabbed Dahl by the shoulder. "There is no time to argue. Go."
  
  They ran along the path and passed under the walls of the castle into thick twilight. Alicia was just coming down the stairs to the left, hissing in disgust.
  
  "The bloody outfit got to them first. This leaves me with zero body count for now." The Englishwoman looked gloomy.
  
  May caught up. "So get the point and stop your whining."
  
  "With pleasure".
  
  "Fine". Drake noticed two exits. He was about to follow Hayden and Kinimaka as they headed for the farthest one when a stream of enemy soldiers suddenly burst out of both doors. Drake rolled as the shooting started. Everyone dodged as best they could, jumping to the side or even falling back. A hail of bullets is not something that can be countered standing up. But when Drake hit the deck, he was already aiming and pulling the trigger on his M16. His skull hit the concrete, but his target didn't flinch. Bullets fired at the room, whistling from wall to wall. The boots came close to his face. With a rifle in hand, he had little chance of defending himself.
  
  He braced himself for the impact and hoped he wouldn't lose too many teeth.
  
  Then the boots slipped sideways and folded. A second later, a body landed next to him. He found himself looking into the recently dead eyes of a pockmarked mercenary.
  
  A hand appeared. Voice. "You owe me. Saved your looks." Then breath. "The way they are."
  
  Alicia got her first kill. Drake jumped up, saw a man dressed in leather, jumping at him, pounding hard, gun raised. Drake was moving faster than his opponent's eye could follow. Punches to the body and head, all deliberately directed and weighted to rip apart organs and break bones. Another enemy body crashed down on him, but his focus was solely on those parts of the body where he could deal the most damage in the least amount of time. He didn't even see the face of the man he killed.
  
  He finally earned some breathing room. Hayden and Kinimaka fought at the front of a pack that included four SAS soldiers. Dal fought on the other side of the room, assisting Komodo and his Delta Team, as well as protecting the non-combatants. Alicia fought herself. The combined prowess of his team members impressed him, and they quickly overtook their opponents.
  
  But it was Mai Kitano who cut them down. Wherever she went, men lay convulsing at her feet. Fear spread among their enemies as the Japanese woman slowly approached them. When the man tried to spray machine gun fire into the room, Mai grabbed his arm and lowered it down, so that the first round hit the floor. With superhuman speed, she twisted his wrist, breaking it but keeping the barrel still so that the second round devastated his closest colleagues. When he fell to his knees, Mai made sure that the third round hit him in the skull.
  
  Between them, Mai and Alicia eliminated the remaining attackers. When they finished, the two women stared at each other.
  
  Alicia said, "Maybe we should start counting the number of people. Winner Gets-" Her eyes turned to Drake as Hayden's scream drowned out everything.
  
  "Go!"
  
  Mai ran to the hole in the wall, looked inside, and then gave a signal that everything was clear. They ran after her, leaving their dead enemies behind. The castle was a labyrinth of rooms, some partly furnished and some left empty. Modern displays and cabinets clash with ancient austerity. The empty rooms seemed ghostly and lonely, things that could not be seen moved among the dirt and dust, befitting a structure built atop the tomb of the most evil gods ever known. The wind whistled through cracks in the windows and through hidden slits in the battlements. More than one empty shadow made the group turn their heads as they ran past.
  
  Mai paved the way, following the trails, smoke, and destruction left by the modern invaders. Bluetooth communication kept them organized and highly alert. Drake changed his magazine to a new one. The vote count confirmed what they all already knew-three of their number had fallen. Both May's agents and one of the Gates. Sam was still human and cool enough to glance at Drake as May led the SAS team forward. The regimental commander seemed to be in awe. Oh no, Drake thought. Not another.
  
  Through another room where tapestries and paintings had been torn from the walls and thrown to the floor. Cayman must have been looking for something. Maybe something is explained by curlicues - an ancient language that they found in other tombs. Drake wondered if Dahl, the language expert, had tried to contact them.
  
  Finally, they burst through the open door of the great front hall, throwing stun bombs in front of them. Mai could hear the voices of whispering guards from two rooms away from us. As soon as the guards were led out, they finally reached the punched hole in the wall - a wide, uneven void through which a cold, piercing wind rushed in intermittent gusts.
  
  Drake paused for a moment and looked at Dahl. "One more time, mate?"
  
  "Let's hope so." The serious face of the Swede spoke of pessimism.
  
  Ben's low voice came from the back of the group. "Can you tell why they chose this place to break through? Any hints are good right now."
  
  Drake looked up at the ruined wall for the first time. The far edges and some of the upper blocks remained intact. There was a picture carved on the wall. It was hard to decipher at first, but then Thorsten Dahl's eagle eye figured it out. "Look at both edges of the wall and the bottom where part of the wall is left. You have the base and the far side of the triangle. This is-" he said.
  
  "It was a carving of Odin's symbol, Valknott." Ben finished. "Symbol of Death"
  
  "And there". Karin moved closer to the wall. "Curls again. The language of the gods. Odin seems to have indeed been the father of the gods."
  
  "He sacrificed his eyes for wisdom." Ben remembered their search for the first tomb. "For future knowledge. He knew what was about to happen."
  
  "In that case," Hayden said, "his eight items-those that seemed superfluous after we found the first tomb-may be more important than we thought."
  
  Mai and Alicia were itching to move forward. "We'll find out that there was nothing here," Mai said softly, and Alicia chuckled.
  
  Drake and the other soldiers agreed. The enemy should not be given more time to prepare.
  
  Mano Kinimaka looked around the hole and the narrowing passage behind it. "I"m not even sure I can fit in there."
  
  "But the gods are waiting," Hayden said carefully. "And the Cayman too. Sir-" She half turned to Gates.
  
  "Damn it, Jay. I'm going."
  
  Darkness beckoned them, darkness that teemed with the presence of evil gods, evil devices, and evil people.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  The four-man SAS team took first place with Mai Kitano followed by Hayden and Kinimaka. Drake kept a close eye on the big Hawaiian, impressed by the big man's nimble movements as the passage began to descend rather steeply. Walls of smooth stone turned to jagged earth and then to rough stone as they descended. The wind died down for a while, and then began to rush past them again, carrying with it the stench of centuries, the stench of spoiled old things.
  
  They heard a whisper in the wind. Weak voices that tugged at their ears, that drew their attention, like the suggestions of a vicious temptress. The corridor ran further and further away. Their feet crunched on ancient rubble, their heads brushed against bruised rocks. The path was already lit, but the SAS team left nothing to chance, regularly stopping the team while they were scouting.
  
  Everyone knew they were heading into a trap. There could be no other outcome. It was just a matter of when and if they could identify and counteract it.
  
  Time flew by unnoticed. The real world is gone. There were no traps that they could see. The ominous air would be enough to warn most people. They passed the high Gothic arch with the greatest care. The disgusting miasma rose up and began swirling around their bodies as if sniffing, tasting, and touching, and even the SWAT soldiers flinched.
  
  "I do not like it". Alicia was the only one who spoke, mouthing her words like bullets, probably trying to ward off her own sense of fear with her kind of ammo.
  
  Farther down, under another gothic archway, they still couldn't hear their enemies. Drake began to wonder if this passage was a false lead, and that Caiman was somewhere else. The back of his calves were on fire. Several times something fell on his head, something that slid or slipped away quickly, making him swallow hard to hide his disgust.
  
  Then, from afar, they heard faint voices-many men screaming. The team paused for an agonizing five minutes and then proceeded even more cautiously. Drake knew that even screaming could be a trick. As far as Russell Cayman was concerned, nothing could be taken at face value. Behind him, he heard Komodo whisper to Ben and Karin that they should be prepared for absolutely anything now, even running back the way they had just come.
  
  Finally, after endless minutes of slowly making their way through the terrible creeping darkness, a huge archway could be seen ahead. There was still some way to go, but Drake, craning his neck behind Kinimaki and Hayden, could see the floor of the well-lit cavern. He could hear people shouting back and forth. He could hear heavy equipment being moved.
  
  But he didn't see anyone.
  
  he whispered to Hayden. "They can't risk a shootout in the tunnel. This can cause a cave-in and trap them. They will wait until we show up."
  
  "Agree".
  
  Kinimaka chuckled. "So get ready. I need to do a Christmas luau soon. Free time and all. Nothing beats Christmas in Hawaii, man."
  
  Drake got a glimpse of how lonely his Christmas could be, even though just a few weeks ago it had been so promising. Whoever said "a life can change for a dime" probably knew what he was talking about. He thought about the dynamics going on in their little group and couldn't imagine anyone looking forward to cast iron Christmas bliss. Except Kinimaki.
  
  "We'll do our best, Mano." There are no guarantees.
  
  The whispers returned in turn as they approached the light. "We're going to punch her. Fast and hard. Keep moving."
  
  Another moment of pause followed, and then the SAS team left the cover with prejudice. But they didn't just run and shoot, they threw stun grenades and smoke bombs, staying in perfect battle formation, covering each other as they ran. Mai fit in perfectly with them, as with any specialized team. Hayden and Kinimaka come out next, keeping calm, then Drake, Alicia and Dahl, ready for the fight of their lives.
  
  They were confronted by chaos and violence. Heavy equipment for ascent and descent was piled in a heap in the center of a huge cavern. Caiman's men lined up around her and along the far walls, weapons spewing fire as they unloaded their weapons. Drake and Alicia veered sharply to the right, firing into the enemy's central mass. The SAS team advanced at a pace. A second later, Komodo and his men break through, increasing their firepower. For a few moments, the floor of the cave turned into a war zone, a death match for all, where skill outnumbered ten to one thanks to sheer luck.
  
  Drake dropped to one knee, the rifle pressed to his shoulder, squeezing out a shot every second after minor adjustments. His bullets hit bone and flesh, only being knocked off his target when hissing chunks of hot lead whistled too close for comfort. He was well aware of the stunning architecture of the tomb around him, but he didn't even have a millisecond to appreciate it. His team had no cover, but they more than made up for it with sheer ferocity and perfect aim. Within minutes, the men Cayman had positioned in the center of the room retreated, intimidated, annihilated, and left their only cover. The mercenaries at the walls were less wounded, but even they tried to retreat an inch.
  
  Then the SAS team got hit, a young soldier fell on his back with a headshot, and one of the Komodo Delta team collapsed, clutching his throat. Gates' Secret Service squad was reduced to just one when a third member of his guard was hit by a staggering bullet in his body armor, and then, as he was choking, another in the face.
  
  Drake looked up for the first time. Of course, this tomb was multi-level. Still unable to comprehend it, but fully aware that it was one of the wonders of the world, Drake ignored the tomb and pinpointed the exact locations where Cayman's men were sniping at them. He nodded to Alicia and Dahl, and the three of them continuously fired at the hiding people as the mysterious storm blew and raged around them again.
  
  "Whatever you do," Alicia screamed, "don't hit any of those fucking coffins!"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden fanned to the left as he spotted the impressive staircase. Wide at the bottom, it narrowed sharply all the way to the top of a huge cavern, ending at the point where it touched the very heights. The stairs offered to climb several ledges and tiers that surrounded this round tomb, and many niches beyond. Kinimaka followed her, taking down the mercenaries standing near the stairs.
  
  As she approached the first step, a mercenary ran up to her. Hayden shot him at point-blank range, desperate not to get involved in hand-to-hand combat. Her knife wound hurt terribly. It only takes one strong, accurate blow to disable it.
  
  But she still fought. She fought to win the day for her country, for her father, but most of all, for her friends. As the bullets flew, she prayed for them all. When she stepped onto the high stairs and saw a dozen mercenaries suddenly jump from the ground floor and rush towards her screaming, she began to pray for herself.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Ben Blake was standing right behind the Delta soldier who had fallen. He fell with the soldier, knowing that Karin and Gates were by his side, and tried to see the wound. But the man's hands gripped his own throat in a death grip. His eyes were wide open, full of pain, focused on nothing. Ben gently touched the man's wrist, feeling the blood run down it like dark oil. A few seconds later, the man died, his hands unclenched, revealing a mortal wound.
  
  Ben watched, choking on tears and bile. It was as close and bloody as a war can be. Ben was sure there were more horrifying aspects to it, but this soldier, lying motionless and dead where a strong young man had stood a few moments before, shook him to the core. This showed him how out of place his daily worries and struggles were. How to savor every second of life. How terrifying death can be.
  
  He rose to his feet, temporarily left alone. The surviving Delta player moved slowly forward, covering his international teammates with accurate shots. Karin stood next to him, saying nothing. They knew how they felt for each other. Gates was still on his knees, holding the dead soldier's hand and whispering something of grief.
  
  Ben's gaze was fixed on the cave itself. The huge structure towered hundreds of feet and was as wide as it was high. It was a huge bowl, consisting of three different levels, not counting the floor. There was a wide ledge around each level. Behind the ledge, carved into the rock of an ancient volcano, there were hundreds and hundreds of niches. Tombs.
  
  Tombs of the gods.
  
  The floor level was also surrounded by tombs. Ben squinted at several opposite ones, but unlike the niches in the first two tombs, these were sparsely furnished, containing almost nothing but the largest coffin and a few austere carvings. Of course, this place was the place where the gods imprisoned the worst of their kind. You don't have to pay tribute.
  
  Komodo looked back at them. "Stay close!" He gestured for them to join him before returning to the battle. Ben saw Hayden stuck on one of the two stairs with Kinimaka nearby, surrounded by the enemy, holding her side in agony.
  
  Komodo sent his team to her.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake held off the snipers as best he could. When it became clear that even their marksmanship would not be able to delay the enemy for long, Dahl rushed to the second staircase of the cave in a crazy, winding run. Drake yelled a warning, but the crazy Swede was already at full speed. He rushed to the stairs as fast as he could, jumping over two steps at a time. Drake saw no other choice but to follow. The Swede was reckless, but their team really needed to go higher.
  
  The bullet whistled past, cutting through the air in front of his nose and then in front of Alicia's. Drake on the run with one hand blindly shot at the enemy. He ran up the stairs, six steps behind Dahl and one behind Alicia. Even amidst the chaos, his pride took a hit. A man then flew up from the side and collided with him, knocking him to the ground. The rough steps scratched his face. Drake stabbed into his opponent's eyes and throat and raised his knees to protect his stomach. The knife flashed. Drake put it aside. The sound came again, but Drake moved inside him, caught the man's wrist and broke it. Even then, the assault did not stop, but Drake did not expect this. The knife went flying with a clatter. The mercenary leaned forward with all his weight, trying to pin Drake against the stairs, and hit him with his big forehead down.
  
  Drake slipped to the side again. The mercenary's forehead pressed firmly against the stone edge of the stairs, temporarily stunning him. Drake flipped him over, finished him off with a stiff-fingered jab, and looked up.
  
  Dahl and Alicia were already halfway to the first level. Fierce resistance forced them to take refuge in one of the niches, next to the coffin pierced by bullets.
  
  Drake winced. Alicia wouldn't be happy.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden staggered as pain shot through her side. Oddly enough, it wasn't the enemy's blow that hurt her, but the wrong step on the stairs that sent her and her weapon to the ground. The mercenaries were instantly among them. Hayden forced herself to her feet, gritting her teeth to hold back the pain, and threw the first one off the steps with a sweep of her rifle. The second she hit with a club right on the nose. A bullet fired from a pistol bounced off the concrete between her legs and went through. Kinimaka was a giant next to her. The men actually ran into him and bounced right off the stairs, landing heavily in the dust below. But Kinimaki's real strength was his amazing speed. The three attackers fell before they even realized that the man had grabbed them.
  
  Then Komodo and his people were with them. They moved up the stairs. Hayden remained in place for a while and used her elevated position to fire down on the disordered mercenaries.
  
  Then Ben was next to her. "Are you okay?"
  
  "No. It's you?" The boy's face was deathly pale.
  
  "Death is everywhere." His gaze darted from the fallen soldiers to the tombs of the gods.
  
  "This place was built for death." Hayden fired another shot, sending the other mercenary to the ground in a wheezing heap.
  
  "Look at the floor," Ben said quietly. "Just look."
  
  Hayden paused for a moment and looked away from the scope of her gun. What she saw made the hairs on her arms stand on end. The floor of the tomb, dusty and littered with debris, was slowly covered in blood. Thick red puddles from many dead and dying people spread over a wide area, making it slippery for men's boots. Even the SAS soldiers down there were losing their balance, getting wet in their uniforms and blushing themselves.
  
  "And look."
  
  Ben pointed to something Hayden still couldn't see in the chaos. Outside the cave, several small altars were arranged in a circle, each with a different shape carved into its surface.
  
  Hayden looked down at them, momentarily speechless.
  
  "There are eight of them," Ben said, as if in explanation. "And curls." He pointed to all the walls of the first floor. "They are everywhere."
  
  Hayden's gaze traveled up from the first floor, past three levels of niches, and that's when her gaze landed on a figure she partially recognized.
  
  She patted Ben's arm. "This is Russell Cayman," she said. "He's up there, watching it all happen."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake ran up the stairs twice, pausing on a ledge as two of his teammates opened covering fire and then jumped into an alcove. Instantly, it felt like a sticky hand grabbed his skull and squeezed it between icy fingers. He started.
  
  "Not quite Starbucks."
  
  "Shut up," Alicia whispered. "This place gives me goosebumps."
  
  The niche was long and narrow, cut into the rock for about forty feet. The general impression was that it was built quickly and without much thought. The walls and ceiling were irregular and jagged, as if shattered by a mighty weapon or a hand.
  
  Alicia shook her head, looking down at something below. "Your baby is giving us trouble, Drakes."
  
  Drake looked back and saw Ben distracting Hayden as she tried to deal with the bad guys. "I'll talk to the little fool."
  
  At that moment, Dahl appeared from the back of the cave. Drake looked at him, "A bit of a risky place to take a piss, mate."
  
  "For you, maybe." Dahl flashed a short smile, then became serious again. "I found some relatively crude carvings there. And a statue. I think this is the tomb of Amatsu, literally the god of evil. This is a very bad place, my friends."
  
  "In the meantime," said Drake, "let's deal with the evil that we can see."
  
  He refrained from throwing a grenade at the enemy, but leaned out and fired an automatic burst. The store is gone. He tossed it aside and put another in its place. "One-two combination?"
  
  "Do it". Dahl followed him. Alicia stood in the rearguard. Firing together, they burst out of the niche and rushed to the next one, knocking down the frightened enemy soldiers, and then taking cover behind the next large coffin.
  
  When they briefly ran across the ledge, the entire cavern opened up before them. Drake saw the SAS team and Mai right below, crawling among the heavy equipment as they took cover, shooting bullets at the few remaining mercenaries. He saw a huge staircase to his right. A detachment of Kaiman's men was pushed back by the Komodo Delta team and Mano Kinimaka. Hayden sniped at the snipers, her eagle eye searching for every niche.
  
  Gates and Belmonte took cover at the arched entrance, armed but holding their fire for fear of harming a member of their team.
  
  And two levels up, standing still, he saw a figure watching them. The figure, he suggested, could only be one person.
  
  The figure watched until the last of its men on the ground floor had been killed and the group on the stairs had been pushed back. Only then did he raise his hand.
  
  "Stop it," it screamed. "Your efforts, though meritorious, are trivial. You cannot win this battle."
  
  Then hundreds of people suddenly appeared around the third tier, silent, with carefully aimed weapons. Cayman started laughing.
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  Drake took a deep breath. Cayman hopelessly outnumbered them. It was do or die or run as fast as you could. Behind him, in ancient stillness, stood another coffin.
  
  "We have a chance for a virgin in hell," commented Alicia. "That means fu-"
  
  "We know what that means." Dahl and the Englishwoman still did not have the opportunity to get to know each other properly. Of course, for each of them this idea had a completely different meaning. Dahl pointed to the stairs, and a wicked grin curled up at the corner of his mouth. "This is our game."
  
  Drake stared and understood. "Never. You are fucking crazy, Dal."
  
  "Yes, but good madness." The Swede looked around the cave and touched his Bluetooth microphone. "Let the bastard talk while you think about your move. Then follow my signal."
  
  The crackle of static conveyed understanding. Caiman, the ghost of the DIA, the wet work specialist, the business part of the Shadow Elite, shouted in a voice that oozed contempt.
  
  "I was a child of the system," he said. "A child in time, nothing more. Now I occupy a position above the presidents. You should feel honored to be able to die at my word." He spread his hands. "I am the voice of the Shadow Elite. No ordinary person could have achieved more."
  
  Drake glared at the man. There was a chance that soon he would be able to hold the fate of the world in his hands. Caiman looked like an ordinary person, thin build, average height, nothing outstanding. But he was surrounded by an aura of menace. The feeling that this person has never known compassion, love, or forgiveness. That all his days were filled with icy fantasies.
  
  Caiman laughed again, the sound tight and alien. Drake realized then that Russell Cayman had never had a good hour in his life.
  
  "You would still be late. I sent for eight pieces of Odin. They are already on their way here, and as soon as they arrive, the doomsday device will be ours."
  
  "Are these eight parts important?" Alicia grumbled. "What an asshole. Dahl, you really should have stuck with those bad guys."
  
  "Advice duly noted. I will ship it to where I think it belongs."
  
  "Don't get annoyed, Thorsten. They are in Stuttgart, right?"
  
  "They were".
  
  "Well, he couldn't get them that far. Maybe we can intercept them."
  
  Drake shushed them. "We have bigger problems." He pointed to eight altars on the floor below. "Ben just connected me to Bluetooth. He assumes the pieces will fit in there."
  
  "And that powers the device?" Dahl shook his head in disbelief. "So, the most disgusting tomb holds the most disgusting weapon. And it all seems to somehow revolve around Odin and Norse mythology. You know, we really need to learn more and talk to my language specialist at the Icelandic tomb."
  
  "We will," Drake said. "As soon as we get out of here."
  
  And then he stepped forward. "Hey! Caiman!" He stared at the unfeeling man. "You know me?"
  
  The silence stretched like a tight wire, then Caiman shrugged. "I know all your names. But the names of dead people mean nothing to me."
  
  "Ah, but I'm not dead yet," Drake said. "You will find that I am quite difficult to kill. Possibly one of the toughest you'll ever face. You know why?"
  
  Cayman said nothing.
  
  "Because I'm looking for the man who ordered the murder of my wife. And for the man who killed her. And I think you know something about it, Cayman. You and Wells. What is it that you know?"
  
  Cayman licked his lips. "You're dying, Drake. Do it with honor and stop whining."
  
  "Is this about the Shadow Elite?" Drake asked. "Are they connected to her death? Who is a Scandinavian?
  
  With just that word, Drake received a reaction he could never have imagined. Caiman's body literally twitched in shock. His face and clenched fists turned white as bone, and he opened his mouth to call out an order.
  
  Dal was faster. "Move!"
  
  All hell broke loose. Dahl jumped out of hiding and ran for the stairs, Drake and Alicia right behind him. Drake and even the daredevil Alicia were grinding their teeth in anticipation of Dahl's next move...
  
  ...at the same time, Mai and the SAS squad jumped to the walls of the tomb and the weapons of the soldiers who were standing above them, reaching for the ropes that Caiman's men had attached earlier to help move the heavy equipment. They attacked the enemy...
  
  ...while Hayden and her team stood their ground and focused all their firepower on overwhelming odds!
  
  Dahl dashed to the top of the stone stairs and then jumped into space. Anyone watching would stop in shock, wondering what the hell the Swede was up to. Did he commit suicide? But then he landed, pointing his gun and firing, at the stone railing that ran down the stairs, and slid, picking up speed, firing bullets, screaming and with his hair flying around, at high speed towards the first floor.
  
  Drake appeared next, followed by Alicia, who also screamed to help ease their anxiety. The trio slid down the stone railing, their weapons firing at full auto.
  
  Mai and one SAS soldier grabbed the ropes and ran up the walls as fast as they could while Sam and the remaining men unleashed a devastating volley of covering fire. They flew only twenty feet and then threw timed grenades into the air. It seemed like a random, hopeful move, but it was actually carefully calculated to disorganize the enemy.
  
  Then they let go, jumping to the ground...
  
  ...and Hayden's team broke through to the exit, using the chaos as cover. The Delta Soldier took a bullet that killed him instantly, but for a second his legs kept moving on their own and he took another bullet meant for Komodo, the man who saved his commander's life even after he was dead. Hayden dropped to the floor, and then Gates, his last remaining agent, and Belmonte slid out of cover and added their firepower to the lead-filled fight.
  
  Mai and the SAS soldier landed together, rolled over and got up just as the grenades they threw exploded in the air in the center of the cave. The fragments scattered in all directions, hitting the bodies of enemies on all sides of the tomb.
  
  Dahl, Drake, and Alicia hurried down the stone railing, but even at that speed, their targets were accurate. Enemy soldiers writhed and fell from the third level, tumbling over the edge and falling to the ground. Others danced like puppets as they were riddled with gunshots, falling back to their brethren and knocking them to the ground. Dahl flew off the railing and, as nothing could stop him, crashed into the ground at speed, his graceful flight turning into a devastating landing. Drake and Alicia couldn't help but follow suit.
  
  "Fuck me." Alicia muttered to the ground. "It's one way to show a girl how to have a good time."
  
  Drake raised his aching body. Most of their enemies, in shock at being attacked by weaker forces from three sides, were in temporary confusion. Those who were not ready prepared their weapons. Drake spotted the exit.
  
  It was now or never. No choice
  
  "Hurry up".
  
  He headed towards the exit. A few bullets hit the stone at their feet, but not nearly as many as they could have been. Even the best soldiers among their enemies were knocked down by their screaming accomplices. Drake knew that no soldier, no matter who he worked for or what program he followed, could remain completely focused while his comrades screamed and died around him. Drake then saw that Hayden and her team were already there, providing first class covering fire. As he passed one of the eight altars, he slowed his pace to get a better look.
  
  A stone rectangle embedded in the stone floor of the cave, with an oval altar set at the top. The exact shape was carved inside the altar. Cayman, as it turned out, was right. Eight pieces of Odin were to be attached to eight altars to presumably activate the doomsday device.
  
  And eight fragments were already on their way.
  
  It seemed that the game and the scenery on the Cayman. But so far they don't match. Not far from here. And judging by Caiman's reaction, the Shadow Elite and its leader, the Norse, were not only fully involved in the terrible events unfolding around the tombs of the gods, but also responsible for the horrors of Drake's past.
  
  Just like the Cayman.
  
  Drake needed to get to that SAS facility and find Wells' research. The way things unfolded, everything was interconnected.
  
  Hayden greeted him with a sickly grin. "Survived again, huh?"
  
  "At least until she is avenged," he said with a grimace. "How many did not do?"
  
  "Too much," Hayden said, and Drake saw Ben standing behind her. The young guy's face was as white as glass, his hands were covered in blood. Just at that moment, bullets whistled down the sides of the archway behind Drake.
  
  He pointed the way back down the long corridor they had come down here. "We must move."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The team returned in their tracks. At first they moved quickly, but without haste. Hayden then voiced her concerns about Odin's eight pieces.
  
  "They can't be that far away. It all depends on how the Cayman transports them. I assume that he will have to do this discreetly and quietly, since that is how his masters work. So it will take a little longer. But even then-" She left the obvious unsaid.
  
  "They need to be intercepted," Dahl said. "It is imperative that we get to them before the Cayman receives delivery. And as soon as we get out of here..." He looked ahead through the deep darkness. "I need to talk to my man in Iceland. By now he had time to decipher at least something."
  
  "What is a doomsday device?" Belmonte spoke now. "And how does it work? Somebody knows?"
  
  "Not yet". Dahl caught his breath as he began to pick up the pace. "This is part of what my language expert does in Iceland."
  
  "I bet it has something to do with Odin," said Karin. "Scandinavian gods in all of this. It all seems preordained, as if we are following a path laid down in ancient history..." She paused. "But for what purpose?"
  
  "If, as you say, it has something to do with Norse mythology - Odin and Ragnarok - that would be amazing," Dahl told her. "Ragnarok was the last battle of the gods. If they all lay down to die before that happened, then-"
  
  "That hasn't happened yet." Belmonte finished for him.
  
  Karin nodded. "I bet it was Odin who first saw the future and realized that the gods died differently. At first he would have laughed and ridiculed it, but maybe... Seeing it happen, he made it happen. "
  
  "Wow". Ben tried his best to keep up. Drake half smirked as Komodo half dragged the boy along. "This is some very deep shit, sis."
  
  "Very, very deep," Karin replied. "But it's probably true."
  
  "And the shield started it all?" Hayden considered. "Your brother and Parnevik always said that this is the main part."
  
  "The discovery of the shield set off a chain of events," Karin told her. "This led to the discovery of the third tomb. Of this I am sure."
  
  "And as for the Shadow Elite." Jonathan Gates was aided by his last agent and the last remaining Delta soldier on Komodo. "We still don't know who to trust."
  
  "Speaking of fragments," Hayden said, wincing as she held onto her injured side. "Let's move."
  
  They started to really pick up the pace, the lights bouncing as they ran. The transition had been tense and at times painful, but now they all knew what was at stake.
  
  Every minute counts.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  Daylight met their gaze as they emerged from the eerie tunnel. The dead and dying still lay everywhere. One enemy soldier managed to crawl to the edge of the tunnel shaft, weapon in hand. He looked startled when the entire team appeared in front of him.
  
  Hayden pointed out. "Get this guy. His reward for perseverance will be to tell us everything he knows about Cayman's eight-part plan." She nodded towards other rooms. "Gather all the other survivors as well. Check outside."
  
  Kinimaka, Komodo, and another Delta soldier escaped. Sam and his SAS colleagues followed after a short consultation. Drake took a moment to bask in the sun, enjoying its soft rays through the many windows and the disturbed motes swirling in the still air. Outside the walls of this old castle lay a bustling city, packed with men and women who had no idea of the great conflict going on around them.
  
  Torsten Dahl went to one of the windows, took out his cell phone and pressed a few buttons. Drake, Ben and Karin joined him and Belmonte soon joined them. Alicia and May stayed behind to cover the tunnel.
  
  Dahl looked doubtful as the phone rang and didn't stop ringing. After a minute, he glanced at his own screen and switched it to speakerphone. "Bloody hell. Doesn't he have voicemail?
  
  "Maybe he doesn't know how to use it." Ben smiled. "These Krustys don't know much about modern technology, do they, Matt?"
  
  Dahl heard a click. "Hello?"
  
  "Ja?"
  
  "It's me, Dal. Are you okay, Olle?"
  
  "Ja.I'm good. Where are you? I thought you were dead."
  
  "It will take more than a few gorillas with guns to kill me, Olle."
  
  "I have something for you. In fact, more than anything. I have many things."
  
  Dahl made a face at the others. "He's a weird guy."
  
  Drake nodded. "You dont speak".
  
  "Ackerman". Dahl added some weight to his voice. "If you can speak freely, now is the time."
  
  "Speak fluently? Bach. I'm lucky that I can talk at all. No, you're in luck. Because if they killed me Torsten, you would be who I came for." He made a pause. "To pursue. Like a ghost."
  
  Dahl frowned in concern. "Do they know you work for me?"
  
  "They could do. They have never trusted me since they caught me with all these pictures."
  
  "What pictures?"
  
  "Those that belong to your wife. Ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha."
  
  "Ackerman..."
  
  "Ja, ja. Okay, I got the hint. The language of the tomb is very complex. You know it. I had to take pictures and work on them in my room. It was the only way."
  
  Dahl shook his head. "Continue".
  
  "It's a mixture of ancient Akkadian and Sumerian. Maybe some old Babylonian, just for fun. My conclusions are still very preliminary, but I can at least say that. It is possible that ancient languages actually first appeared when some enterprising soul discovered this so-called language of god. As you know, Old Akkadian was written on clay tablets using cuneiform script borrowed from early Sumerian. As soon as I translated the frequently occurring logograms, I left."
  
  "Logogram?" Drake considered.
  
  Karin whispered. "Pictures that represent words."
  
  "Fill in the gaps?" Dahl said with a gentle smile.
  
  "It's a little more difficult than that, Thorsten. I know most of what you soldiers do is point and click, but translating into an unknown language-well, it takes a bit of skill."
  
  Dal waited.
  
  "Anyway. Once I discarded the logograms as something of an afterthought and realized that the rest of the language was in fact a solid syllabary, I began to make some progress."
  
  Drake looked at Karin. The blond girl Blake said: "A syllabary is a set of symbols that represent all the syllables of a language. Complete writing system.
  
  "Admittedly, there is some ancient Greek, some Nushu of ancient China, and even some Maya, but it seems to fit together quite well."
  
  "It makes sense," Dahl said. "The tombs are full of gods from all lands."
  
  "After rummaging through some rubbish, I began to collect it piece by piece. To make it easier for you Thorsten, I will stick to the simple things."
  
  "Nice of you, Ackerman."
  
  "I know. It was preordained that the discovery of Odin's shield would set in motion a series of events that would lead to the opening of all three tombs. This includes the portal devices found on Blackbeard's ship and the gate you found in Hawaii. You see? They were not discovered at this time by chance."
  
  "It crossed our minds," Drake muttered.
  
  "But-" Ackerman shouted the word. "It goes on to say that the sequence of events will reveal all the secrets of the god and 'mankind's decision to save or destroy itself'"
  
  Belmonte whistled. "I don't like the way it sounds."
  
  "Humanity's decision?" Dahl said in surprise.
  
  Karin sighed wearily. "To use or not to use a doomsday device," she said. "All in our hands".
  
  "Certainly. Odin's poem - forever you must fear this, listen to me, sons of men, for to desecrate the tomb of the Gods is to begin the Day of Reckoning. Ackerman, go on."
  
  "As for the gods themselves? One was the one who saw the future - then literally traveled through time. Once it happened that he went to a time when the gods did not exist. They were dead. When he returned his findings to his Council and his sons, they laughed at him. They wouldn't believe him. It was then that he created the teleportation devices and allowed several of his most trusted individuals to see the future. What should have happened will happen. You see? Until that moment, the gods considered themselves eternal, undying generation. But the harsh truth can reveal the true mortality of man, and so it was with the gods."
  
  Karin smiled at her brother. She was right.
  
  "They say no god is truly evil," Ackerman continued. "But some are definitely more disgusting than others. Of course, it was these few who wanted to use the teleportation devices for their own purposes - imagine the havoc they could cause - and thus Odin's plans quickly developed. The great gods and he built the third tomb first to nullify the threat. Then the one in Iceland. And then the one in Hawaii. Apparently, there is some kind of throne there?"
  
  Drake nodded at Dahl's questioning look. "Yes. A huge dark throne rising above the largest cave you have ever seen."
  
  "This is where Odin sat," Ackerman told them. "Before he died. The last of the gods, pondering his fateful decisions. And then he returned to his country to die."
  
  This is where Odin sat. Drake's heart pounded in disbelief. I climbed over the throne Odin sat on. For a moment, his vision blurred.
  
  "One created destiny," continued Ackerman. "He created the fate of the gods and mankind, and, I have no doubt, laid many turning points in the course of our history. Not only this one."
  
  "Do the texts explain anything about the device itself or how it might be related to Norse mythology?" Karin asked impatiently.
  
  "Who said that?" Ackerman exploded. "Doesn't matter. The woman is aggressive, but I guess I may have gotten a little carried away. And yes, it is. My main focus was, of course, on this part of the text." Ackerman coughed awkwardly.
  
  "Go on, old friend," Dahl said softly.
  
  "The doomsday device is a weapon designed to cause an overload of the elements. The earth will shake. The air will be split by megastorms of incredible ferocity. Chains of volcanoes erupt. And the oceans will rise."
  
  "The worst scenario we can imagine." Ben nodded. "Naturally".
  
  "Thor was the god of thunder and lightning. Poseidon is the lord of the seas. Loki is from fire. And both Loki and Poseidon are also known as gods of earthquakes. You found them all, didn't you?"
  
  "Among thousands of others." Dahl's eyes were dark.
  
  Drake wanted to comfort him, but the words turned to ashes in his throat. Confidence was beyond his strength now.
  
  "In fact of the matter. The device will use natural elements to tear the planet apart. But it is based on the Scandinavian version of the apocalypse - Ragnarok. Ever heard of it?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden had no desire to hurt this man, but her obligations were much deeper than his pathetic desire to cling to life. A right he gave up the moment he decided to become a mercenary.
  
  If he chooses this, Hayden thought, remembering the plight of many of the Blood King's men.
  
  She looked into his eyes. "What do you know about the eight parts, huh? Where are they?"
  
  His expression didn't change. Hayden tapped his skull with the barrel of her gun. "Tell me. Now."
  
  Cayman sent for them. The man finally spat out. "He... They were in Stuttgart. Near."
  
  "Of course I know all this. But how does he transport them to Singen?"
  
  As she said this, the answer popped into her mind. There was only one way to do it quickly, safely and quietly. But she needed confirmation.
  
  The man shook his head. "I don't know".
  
  Hayden frowned. She looked around. Kinimaka was working on another man a few feet away. He coined a similar expression.
  
  Then Sam, the SAS commander, appeared in a nearby ramshackle doorway. "We found their communication system and processed one of the operators until he came back with a response. Cayman strove for secrecy and secrecy, probably at the urging of his masters. The fragments are transported by land, by a civilian train."
  
  Hayden jumped to her feet. "Get ready for another battle guys. We must stop this train - at all costs."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  At Dahl's urging, Ackerman explained as quickly as he could. "Ragnarok is a great battle of battles. The one that ends it all. In fact, this is the last battle of the gods. The last battle of all heroes. Heimdall blows his big horn. The Guardian Serpent thrashes about, causing huge tidal waves. The rocks are separated. People are on their way to hell and heaven is falling apart. The Great World Tree, Yggdrasil, trembles. The gods fight the invaders. Odin dies in the mouth of Fenrir. Freyr fights Surt and loses. Another son of Odin, Vioarr, avenges his father and spears a huge wolf. Thor, Defender of the Earth, fights desperately with the great serpent and defeats it, but after that is only able to take nine steps before falling dead, poisoned. People are leaving their homes. The sun turns black, violent storms shake the land and it sinks into the sea. The stars are disappearing. Fire and steam rises, and flames touch the heavens."
  
  "But that never happened," Dahl said.
  
  "Maybe not. Maybe not yet. Odin has always been considered the wisest of all beings. Perhaps he had found a way-that way-to delay the inevitable. Either way, your battle, our battle, is real. As real as it gets. This is our Ragnarok, my friend."
  
  "How interpreted?"
  
  "Heroes must rise up to save the day, or the villains will put an end to it. Whatever you believe, it doesn't matter. The final battle is coming. Battle of battles. You must stand together and you must win."
  
  Drake suddenly felt the presence of May and Alicia. They heard and looked suitably shocked. "The Shadow Elite is behind all of this," he said aloud. "They want eight parts to hold the world for ransom. We will stop them."
  
  "So why bring the shards here?" Dahl momentarily turned away from his call.
  
  "To prove the value of what they have," Karin said with disgust in her voice. "They want to give the world a little flavor."
  
  Drake thought it was a little ironic that eight pieces that they once considered out of place are now becoming decisive. He watched, lost in thought, as Karin broke away from the conversation to speak to the approaching Komodo.
  
  Hayden joined them. "It's time to move."
  
  Dahl thanked Ackerman, told the Swedish language expert to leave Iceland immediately, and ended the conversation. "So," he said. "Who wants to take the train?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Karin intercepted Komodo as he walked to join the group and pulled the large soldier aside. They passed through a narrow, crumbling doorway and into a quiet alcove with more windows and ruined masonry than walls.
  
  "I missed you, Trevor."
  
  The big man paled a little when he heard his real name. It was Karin's way of teasing him. They didn't know each other for long, but they knew each other long enough.
  
  "And I love you, Kazmat." His nickname for her was based on an acronym for Hazardous Materials, the family he said she belonged to.
  
  Karin kissed him hard on the lips. The soldier had to bend down to reach her. By the time they pulled away from each other, they were both out of breath.
  
  "You are the first thing I believed in since Rebecca died." Karin said those words again, as she had said them to him many times. "Don't make me regret it."
  
  "Never".
  
  "I wasted my life all these years." She buried her head in his shoulders, not caring about the dust and soot.
  
  "When this is over," Komodo said softly, "we'll think of something."
  
  "I tried to help. I have tried. But I was so young..." Karin blocked the memories that surfaced now, she thought, in response to the danger they had just escaped and her feelings for Komodo.
  
  "It wasn't your fault. These were others. Adults who ignored you."
  
  "I really know it." Karin exhaled. "But-"
  
  "It was their fault." Komodo repeated, trying to make her believe.
  
  "We need time for this to work."
  
  The soldier stepped back a little. "We will have time. I promise you".
  
  "Your job-"
  
  "All this nonsense won't hurt. There are other tasks as well."
  
  Karin looked doubtful. "For a six-foot-six, tattooed, muscular Delta Commando who looks like a biker and goes by the name Trevor? Unlikely."
  
  "I will guard your body." He moved closer.
  
  Karin suppressed a laugh. "And sometimes he talks like a nine-year-old. Ugh."
  
  "Do you want to fight me?" Komodo pulled away with a laugh. "Do you really want to mess with this shit?" He puffed out his chest
  
  Karin glanced at the foliage outside the window. "Just grab my ass and drag me to those trees. Then we'll see who wants to fight."
  
  But at that moment, they heard the unmistakable sounds of their team breaking up and leaving. Ben's voice was over the hubbub. "Sister?"
  
  Komodo shrugged. "And what? We'll go save the world first."
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  The team climbed out of the castle and headed back down the hill to the waiting cars. Hayden believed that Cayman, since he remained below with his men and showed no signs of being pursued, had called for reinforcements. But that wasn't the main reason they moved twice.
  
  As they ran, she swallowed the painkiller dry. Every movement sent a fiery arrow into her wounded side. To date, she has taken so many painkillers that it would be enough to drive a horse, but adrenaline spurred her on. The twisted bush under her feet and the thorny bush to her side tried to send her into a precipitous fall. When she emerged from hiding, the entire city of Singen opened up before her, stretching to the horizon.
  
  Kinimaka supported her with a huge hand. "If you let me carry you, boss, I would."
  
  "I know, Mano, but not today."
  
  Jonathan Gates tapped his phone thoughtfully on his leg. "So I'm standing here, US Secretary of Defense, trying to decide who to turn to for help." He gave them all a rueful smile. "But I can't think of a single person - with the right connections - that I would trust."
  
  It took Hayden a moment to calm down. Over the past few weeks and months, she felt like she had lived a lifetime. Her hopes, her dreams, her future, everything has changed. She kept imagining that one day she would wake up and find that it had all been a crazy dream. That Matt Drake, Ben Blake and Alicia Miles didn't really exist - they were nothing more than twisted and inflamed ghosts of her imagination.
  
  But here she stood on the tree-lined hillside of an ancient castle, above what had once been a volcano, long ago. Her boss and colleagues were with her. The world was at stake.
  
  The train ran between Stuttgart and Singen, carrying civilians, mercenaries and death. One way or another, she had to get on that train.
  
  She turned to Ben and Karin. "Get me the train data. I need the exact time. I need all the changes. Work."
  
  "On her," Karin replied immediately. Ben gave her a bleak look before fishing out his iPhone. She didn't smile at him. As if he knew her thoughts. I knew that they were finished anyway.
  
  Time to grow up, Ben.
  
  Drake was talking quietly to his SAS buddies. Now he caught her eye and moved closer. "You're grabbing those bits," he said in his Yorkshire accent. "Or destroy them. Or hide them somewhere. Just fuck these bastards. Whatever it takes."
  
  "Aren't you coming?"
  
  "Alicia, May and I will go to Luxembourg. Wells has been spying on Cayman and this Shadow Elite for a decade. He worked for them. They knew their moves. I see that there will come a moment in the very near future when this knowledge can be useful."
  
  "And will you find your wife"s killer too?"
  
  "I hope to establish his identity. I will not follow him until this story with the tomb of the gods is over."
  
  "Make sure you keep in touch."
  
  "Each hour".
  
  Drake gave her a look of respect, admiration, and even a little love. She knew right then, in the world after Ben, that Matt Drake would remain her friend. She watched him leave.
  
  She turned to Kinimaka, hoping for some soul-warming camaraderie, but Daniel Belmonte stepped between them.
  
  "Until now, you have not needed my services," he said with a mischievous smile. "But here comes a man who just might." He nodded after Drake. "You do not mind, do you?"
  
  "Certainly. Why should I object? Hayden sighed. "You are here because the current has taken you. You are useless to me."
  
  "I'm the best at what I do."
  
  "Stop the ambiguity, Belmonte. We had sex. Just one time. It was..." She met his eyes. "Not bad, to be honest. But above all, you are a thief." She looked at Drake. "So go and be one."
  
  "With pleasure".
  
  "But Belmonte," she warned, "I know you think you're a godsend and all, but take my advice?"
  
  "Test me."
  
  "Stay away from Alicia Miles. She is... a blue-eyed disaster."
  
  As Belmonte left with a deep thought on his face, Ben and Karin approached her. Kinimaka gave her an upturned look. Gates put his arms around her gently.
  
  Ben said: "From Stuttgart to Singen is over four hours away. We have time to drive to the Zurich railway station, where it stops for forty-five minutes, and board there. The trip from Zurich to Singen takes one hour..."
  
  "Give us sixty minutes to search the train, find the pieces and neutralize them." Karin finished in classic sisterly fashion. "Anyway".
  
  Dahl ended his telephone conversation with his Minister of State and listened to the last part. He, too, looked after Drake. "Don't say it again, but I would give my career to have this man with us."
  
  "This is a team," Hayden said firmly and felt Gates squeeze her shoulder tightly. "This is not the work of one person. Between us, we'll get on the train, find the pieces, and expose the assholes behind it all. Now," she started toward the cars, temporarily forgetting the throbbing wound in her side, "sit down.
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  Drake hurried to say goodbye to Sam and his SAS buddies. The man they left behind, Rob Ingles, was silently mourned like a soldier. Mai also lost true friends and silently stood aside. Drake waited for the dark moment to pass.
  
  "We're leaving," he said at last. "How are you doing on standby, Sam?"
  
  "At the moment, buddy, we're fine. We can stay in Europe for at least a few more days. But within a week..." Sam grimaced. "Some shiny ass will understand, and this case will have to be explained."
  
  "It will," Drake said, thinking of the influence of Jonathan Gates and Wells' covert research. Then an unpleasant memory of his time in the SRT surfaced, a bone-white hand rising from under the bed in the dead of night to wrap cold, clammy fingers around a man's ankle. This was the time when his unit was ordered not to interfere in the interrogation of the villagers. orders from above. Orders from who, though? Perhaps he will find more than one answer among Wells's papers.
  
  "We'll wait as long as we can," Sam told him. "Currently there are three more teams operating in Europe. Just to let you know." He winked.
  
  Drake thanked his friend and jumped into one of the cars along with May, Alicia and Belmonte. In a few seconds they were already leaving Hohentwil and their friends in the background and driving fast to a private airstrip on the outskirts of Singen. Dahl's people have secured a special charter for Drake and his friends to travel to Luxembourg - the general feeling is that the sooner he gets there, the sooner he'll be back.
  
  Silence reigned in the car. Belmonte tried to throw in a few barbs to get some conversation going, but for the other three it was downtime. The trip gave them a chance to unwind and restore a small part of their battered supplies.
  
  While he was driving, Drake found his brain sinking into waters so murky that he would rather have left them untouched. Old fears were raised, and with them the unresolved new fears. Mai Kitano, who was by his side, gave the teleportation device to the Blood King in exchange for her sister's safety. An understandable act, of course, but she still had to answer for it. She also kept the secret of his wife's death from him for years.
  
  And then there was Alicia Miles, lounging in the back seat, her head thrown back, her blue eyes fixed on the window, her eyes gazing unseeingly at the fields and trees passing by. Not only did she keep the same secret, but she was part of Abel Frey's gang of assassins, and he was sure she was still heavily motivated by cash. What she had done for this in the past, he didn't want to know.
  
  But what can she do about it in the future?
  
  His thoughts turned to Ben Blake. They started this adventure together just a couple of months ago. Now they were opposites, separated by love, loss and need. Drake didn't even ask Ben to accompany them to Luxembourg. He knew what the answer would be, and quite frankly, he thought they were better off without him.
  
  The judgment of a soldier, not the judgment of the civilian he thought he had become. Life has turned around again. As it often happened.
  
  But now was not the time to think about any of that. If Dahl's man in Iceland was right, then some battle is coming that will end all battles, and its outcome will decide who rules the world. Factors were already fighting in the narrowing theater of war. It was only a matter of time before they all met. The Shadow Elite had already shown their strength for the first time in an era, and were maneuvering towards the gruesome ending of the game. Drake and his friends were isolated, massacred and thwarted. Their window of opportunity was shrinking.
  
  Hence Hayden's crazy plan to take the passenger train.
  
  "Do you have any thoughts on how we are going to do this?" Alicia spoke without changing her posture.
  
  "It's a 'suck and see' scenario," Drake told her.
  
  "My lovely".
  
  "All I know is that the facility is close to the airport. Nothing special, just a way station of sorts. The only problem is that it will be guarded by the best soldiers in the world."
  
  "Mr. Belmonte, it's time to show his character." Alicia watched the scenery pass by.
  
  Drake stopped outside the airfield. "Are you ready?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The flight lasted only thirty minutes. All Drake could think of was Hayden, Dahl, Ben and the others, who were currently racing towards the crazy meeting. He wanted to be with them. But the fact that Wells had researched the Shadow Elite and taken the time to hide his findings in such an inconspicuous place suggested to Drake that he would be better prepared to have it. And Alison's ghost had more than a chance of being buried.
  
  The aircraft descended and then landed smoothly. Although the airport was an expected thorn in the side of concrete and steel, the surrounding area looked picturesque and pleasant. A few minutes after getting off the plane, they were escorted to a waiting vehicle. Then they were left to their own devices.
  
  Drake programmed the sat nav with the numbers he took from Wells' recording and drove out of the airport. The secret facility was only twenty minutes away. About ten minutes before they got there, they passed a nondescript pub. Battered cars and shiny bikes were strewn about the parking lot. Even as they passed, Drake saw the man crash into one of the windows and land head first in the dirt. The burly brute filled in the new gap, grinning as he poured half a pint of beer over him. He drank the other half with pleasure.
  
  "A place of its kind." Alicia chuckled.
  
  "Hello Belmonte," Drake said. "Do you want to drive past now and rest a little, or stop and come up with a rough plan?"
  
  "Rexy," Belmonte replied immediately. "It's better to see what we're dealing with."
  
  "Well, don't get your hopes up," Mai said. "This secret object does not come with its own guide."
  
  Drake slowed down when the satellite navigation signaled that they had reached their destination. The car circled the back of the airport, where an industrial area had grown up. Warehouses and fast food stores, car dealerships and walled businesses. To their right was a long, low warehouse surrounded by spiked iron gates and a high wall topped with barbed wire. Indescribable signs were affixed to the wall and roof of the warehouse itself. Horn production.
  
  "Good place for me." Belmonte started commenting. "There are many places to hide here. Many places that can be used as a springboard and backup point. There are three entry points available, the fourth one is hard to win against another unit. Do you see there? Flat roof. Another plus. The warehouse is also not too high. There is barbed wire everywhere, but that won't be a problem. I spotted an inconspicuous guardroom inside the main gate, behind the pillars. The heightened security there excludes it for our use."
  
  Drake nodded. "Discard anything that takes time."
  
  "The best don't take long. In any case, we are left with walls, air or another element. Do you have any idea what the other unit might be?"
  
  Drake shook his head. "My suggestion? Part of the same object. From what Wells said, there are several storage areas at the back of the large warehouse. Nothing special. After all, we're talking about the army here. He hid his research there."
  
  "Why here?" May asked.
  
  "Opportunity," Drake said. "His status often brought him here. It's basically a way station, which means it can be used for literally anything. Wells would often be called here."
  
  "But it's still just a warehouse," Belmonte said. "The people guarding it are nice, yes, but it's basically a brick, block, and metal structure with the same basic design as any other. They would not reinforce the structure."
  
  "No. But they wouldn't be happy with internal security either."
  
  "One issue at a time," Belmonte said. "Trust me. After all, I am the greatest thief in the world." grin. "The weak point is the place where the walls of the first and second blocks converge. There's a branch on the wall there - you see - that leads back to the building and could give a good person access to the grounds and the roof." Belmonte drew an imaginary tick in the air. "The first problem is overcome."
  
  Alicia groaned. "And I let this clown get into my pants. In my defense, I was furious at that moment."
  
  Belmonte didn't even look at her. "There are no windows here. The door we can see is closed. This leaves us with only one game. Roof. But I need a special tool. And it will be noisy."
  
  "Then come up with another plan." Drake let the impatience show in his voice.
  
  "There is no other plan. This is a warehouse, not Buckingham Palace. There are only a limited number of entry points. Also, a roof plan would work. We just need to relax."
  
  His eyes wandered over May and Alicia. "And what could we hope for to have a better distraction?"
  
  "You"re not seriously thinking of sending us to... take care of the guards, are you?" Mai asked with a hint of disbelief.
  
  "Oh no. Nothing like this. What I have in mind is much more dangerous."
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  
  If chasing the Blood King through the Gates of Hell was the most dangerous moment in Matt Drake's life, then going to a bar full of truckers, junkies, thugs and thieves is not far behind. Belmonte, a prim Briton, went first. Then Drake appeared, and last of all came May and Alicia. Drake drifted through the smoky bar like a trickle followed by a forest fire. Sturdy men with big arms and tattoos turned their shaggy heads to look at the girls, their pints still raised to their lips. The scantily clad caged dancers ceased their tortured spins, gripped the bars, and stuck their heads out for a better look. Hefty bouncers dressed in T-shirts and imitation Levis jeans patted their naked tasers and stood to attention, feeling the mood swing. The men propping up the bar stopped their conversation and turned around as if they, too, had sensed something out of the ordinary. Behind the counter, the two bartenders slowly extended their hand under a wide strip of chipped wood.
  
  Silence fell into place. After the men had checked the girls, their cruel eyes searched for any opponent they could find - Belmonte and Drake.
  
  Drake didn't even have to scout the place. There were knives on the tables. Lines with cocaine and heroin, laid out in the most visible place. A man with long hair and a Metallica T-shirt sat in the corner, kissing one of the girls hard while twirling a gun around his finger.
  
  Gangster bar. Serious. He was surprised. In general, Luxembourg was a safe country, a reasonable place to live, with the exception of a few areas around the railway station and airport. Like this.
  
  Smoke and cruel intentions thickened the air. The clicking of the safety switches being turned off made a sound like a frightened rattlesnake. Drake imagined that any outsider who even tried to order a drink here would be lucky to leave this place alive.
  
  Drake then pulled out a wad of one hundred euro notes, too thick to hold in his hand. He waved them slowly in the direction of the hardest table in the room.
  
  The bullet passed through the numb fingers of one of the bikers, and the man's mouth opened faster than a spring-loaded manhole cover.
  
  "So," Drake said, "we want to make you an offer you can't refuse. Who do we need to talk to?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  They were going to carry out the operation in three directions. For Drake, participation in it was considered too dangerous. The consequences of being caught would be bad for any of them, but for Drake it would be infinitely worse. Belmonte used his connections and skills to find the nearest place where they could get a laser cutter and a few select tools with which to connect the control board to the electronic panel. At first, Drake doubted such tools could be found so easily, but as he saw their everyday nature and the ways Belmonte could adapt them for his own use, he soon found his confidence in the thief beginning to grow. Even the laser cutter itself was not a special tool. Most tool outlets sold them.
  
  So Alicia joined the bar gang, an experience she seemed to enjoy. Drake, hanging in the back rows of the crowd, had already flinched several times in anticipation of some of her most subtle insults, but it's no surprise that they only made the bikers love her even more. He has already noticed the exchange of numbers and the transfer of mobile data via Bluetooth - photos or videos. He shook his head.
  
  Alicia enjoyed danger, reveled in it. She was in her element tonight as a mob of bikers and thieves approached a secret SAS facility.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  At first, Belmonte and Mai stuck together. Keeping to the shadows, they circled the warehouse until they reached the point where the two buildings converged. Here they hid for a while, impatiently waiting for the signal.
  
  Now Belmonte, in addition to stealing, had another hobby. admiration for beautiful women. Proximity to Mei was another reason why he decided to join this operation, and now seemed to be the right time to take action.
  
  "You did the right thing," he said. "You pulled your sister out. Then you got Kovalenko."
  
  "Actually, Drake got him," Mai said nonchalantly. "I got Boudreaux. And Chica will always be my first choice."
  
  "And what does your agency say about that?"
  
  "My freedom of action," Mai repeated, "gives me some slack. Because they know what I'm capable of."
  
  Belmonte wondered for a moment if this was a veiled threat. But he was a confident man, and the more he talked and planned and used his mind, the less he focused on Emma and what had happened to her. "I heard you are one of the best. I guess you've heard the same thing about me..." He paused.
  
  When Mai didn't answer, he continued. "People like us should make the most of our time. Who knows how much we have left?"
  
  Mai didn't even look at him. What movie is this from?
  
  "I'm good at what I do. Everything I do ".
  
  "It's so original. Save it for the next time you get drunk with someone like Miles."
  
  Belmonte looked around at the dark outlines of the swaying hedgerows and the ugly brick walls blocking out the dim stars. "I really believe you are right. It's not exactly the best environment."
  
  "You seem desperate, Belmonte," Mai said calmly. "And I think we both know why. Get it into your head and then try again." She gave him an unexpected smile. "A girl can't be prettier than this, can she?"
  
  Belmonte was about to answer, his own face breaking into a smile as a loud explosion shook the air.
  
  Alicia's signal.
  
  Mai nodded at the wall. "Put on your mask and move."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake watched from the shadows, an action that now seemed completely alien to him after being constantly called to action over the past few months. He could not even listen to what was happening in the earpiece for fear of interference on the delicate communication frequencies of the object or Belmonte. The object was of unknown magnitude, so they had to base their plan on a few educated guesses. It had never been broken into or even challenged before, so it was assumed that when the mob attacked it, most of the personnel inside would be sent to investigate and solve the problem.
  
  Most, but not all.
  
  There would be no dedicated guards in the warehouse. Trained people inside would have been enough, especially since there weren't any classified materials there. Drake watched Alicia run with the pack, flirting with drug dealers and arms dealers, and reminded himself not to get too complacent in her presence. Or with her loyalty.
  
  She was a separate woman. The one who lived, worked and played only for herself.
  
  His mind darted back in time to Kennedy Moore and the short months they shared. Her loss was a scorched and jagged hole in his heart that he tried to fill with oblivion, but was now trying to overcome. God, it was hard. Even in the midst of it all, when he had only a second to think, grief and loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. And now Alison's memories also rose from the bottom of the deep abyss in which he had buried them, clinging to a foothold in his already wounded brain.
  
  And Ben Blake. Poor old Ben was left to his own devices from the moment his hands were literally stained with Kennedy's blood. Drake couldn't help it. It was a tough growing up. But at least she grew up. At least that was life.
  
  Ben still has a chance with Hayden, Drake thought, and he needs her. He needed everything good, stable and fighting that was in her. Hayden was a woman who knew how to fight for all the good things in her life. Real warrior. But Ben's chances with her were rapidly diminishing.
  
  At that moment, one of the lead bikers launched his petrol bomb into the wall of the compound. There was a sound of broken glass and a short flame, then smoke escaped and aggressive shouts were heard. Even Alicia joined in. Drake shook his head and hid in the shadows.
  
  The British elite troops hurried to the gates.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Belmonte got up first, Mai a foot behind. When he reached the horizontal wall, he straightened his body and darted over it like a rat through a narrow drain. His balance and technique were perfect. He stopped at the edge of the warehouse roof, sticking to the curve, just another shadow against the black background. Mai slid beside him.
  
  Belmonte unhooked the device he had concocted and carefully lowered his body until he was level with the junction box, his feet hooked on the building's eaves and brick wall. Mai jumped over it and quickly found the position they had determined from the ground earlier. If she had gotten in here, she could have gone down to the warehouse, to the section containing the folders with the boxes. She now took out her laser cutter and, without waiting for Belmonte, quickly began cutting through the sheet steel roof deck. Belmonte said it will be made of 1mm thick metal overlaying Rockwool sandwich panels with a polyurethane backing. The laser cutter made short work of the metal, cutting through it in seconds, then allowing her to remove the stone wool in one thick piece, leaving her free to replace the roof elements if they managed to escape without drawing attention.
  
  "Wait," Mai whispered as she saw more people heading towards the burning fires at the gate. "Give them all a chance to get out of there."
  
  Then she signaled him and it was suddenly do or die. Belmonte had told them in advance that in such a short time and without special equipment he was unlikely to be able to bypass the alarm system, but he could build something that could be connected to electronics. Not the main problem.
  
  He flipped the switch and the main door of the room slammed down with a bang. Now most of the soldiers were locked outside.
  
  Mai had already made her descent vehicle, the most complex and expensive item they had to procure. Now she threw herself through the hole on the floor of the warehouse. As she fell, she hurled half a dozen of the gang's makeshift smoke bombs in all directions, her sharp eyes fixing the positions of six people. There would be others.
  
  She landed softly, bouncing on the soles of her feet. Despite the limitations of the mask, she could clearly see the orderly rows of folders that stretched out to her left and right. The box directly in front of her was labeled C.
  
  Then she heard the sounds of men choking and the clatter of boots. Of course, someone saw her. Even in the midst of the smoke, they would know how to search, track, and corner her. She had to act quickly.
  
  Rushing to the right, she followed the letters F and the intersection with the box. She could either go down it and look for W, or keep moving. At that moment, a figure emerged from the gathering darkness. With the advantage of surprise, Mai made sure her first strike was effective, causing the man to fall to his knees. Even then, he somehow blocked the second one, but Mai wasn't easy, and her third knocked him unconscious.
  
  She ran down the intersection. Another passage opened up. She caught a glimpse of the letter S. She ran in that direction and soon reached the W. She got lost among the aisles between the boxes. She skimmed her way until she found a small box labeled "Wells," an unassuming cardboard box that could hold secrets that could reveal the secret organization and the killer. Mai emptied out the contents, set the box carefully in place, and tucked Wells' research into her backpack.
  
  Then she sat down and waited, letting her feelings flow in all directions. It was always better to control yourself and wait to scout out your aggressors, rather than rush headlong, hoping for the best.
  
  They made their way down the main aisle. They couldn't stop the smoke from entering their throats, even with their training. It was just too thick, too tart. Mai stepped back into a crouch, flattening herself on the floor, ducking as she exited her passage and began to turn in a wide arc towards her original position.
  
  She was not a woman who usually relied on hope. But it was a quick, well-oiled and risky operation. She hoped the escape cable had not been found. The image of the building's floor plan had been firmly etched into her mind as she descended just a few minutes ago. Now she deftly made her way around a long wooden table littered with cups, plates and cutlery and surrounded by dozens of abandoned chairs. One of the guards, a man with red cheeks and teary eyes, passed within a few feet of her, but her crouching, motionless form fell out of his line of sight. To help her cause, suddenly there was a pounding of multiple fists at the door of the main warehouse, followed by screams for her to return.
  
  The SAS would be done with this in seconds. No doubt they had weapons, but even if they didn't, they would quickly build some kind of device that would open the door. And then the smoke would quickly dissipate.
  
  But Mai was nimble and reached the fixed black line of descent in a matter of seconds. With a quick movement, she attached it to her seatbelt and pressed the button. The machine lifted her up to the rafters, now over the heads of the seekers below.
  
  And went out into the cold night. Smoke seeped through the crack behind her. Mai spent twenty seconds replacing the roof components and wedging them tightly, then slid back onto the brick wall.
  
  Belmonte crouched at the far end, waiting. "Poetry in motion".
  
  They quickly jumped down to the pavement, hiding in the deep shadows. Drake and Alicia were already waiting ahead.
  
  Mai nodded at Drake's questioning look. "I took everything. If Wells had anything on that elite group of Shadows or your wife's killer, it's right here. All that's left is to read it."
  
  The Englishman almost smiled.
  
  
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  
  Dark and haunted places beneath our chaotic world are inhabited by evil people who are plotting diabolical deeds. It's not that there is no light in their lives; the fact is that they experience great joy in bringing darkness to others. The more limitless their power, the more it consumes them, corroding their hearts and souls until only an icy, indifferent shell remains.
  
  Russell Cayman was once a child, a blank slate. But even the fact that his drug-addicted parents didn't leave him to die in a ditch turned him into the person he is today. Nature or nurture might have molded him differently, but he had neither. Instead, the system swallowed him whole and threw him away, a forgotten child, a lonely child. A vulnerable adult who could be manipulated by the government through deceit.
  
  Now he was a machine, but ironically, a machine working for the people who owned the very government that had deceived him. Down here, in the dark pits of the earth, he felt at home. The only reminders of his life were the men who wandered around the tombs. If they were gone, he might well lie down in one of the coffins, in the arms of Kali or Callisto, finding solace among the long-dead, evil gods he had never experienced in life.
  
  He led his people. He oversaw the clearing of the floor around the eight altars so that they could receive the eight items unhindered. He analyzed the points that may arise in his upcoming appeal to the Norwegian - the boss of bosses.
  
  But his gaze lingered on the tombs. Of their spartan, uncluttered perfection. He needed this lack of clutter to calm his mind. He was told that behind him was the tomb of Amatsu, a deity literally called the God of Evil. Taking advantage of the moment of calm, Caiman ventured inside and used all his strength to pry open the lid with a crowbar. He didn't get very far, but the ancient dust hit Caiman right in the nostrils.
  
  The Shadow Elite Defender took a deep breath. A soft whisper rippled through the rough-hewn room. Cayman could have died quite happily here. He leaned over the edge and peered blindly inside. Something clattered over in a dark corner. His sharp eyes saw nothing. A tiny whirlwind swept across the floor, kicking up dust and debris, emerged from nothingness, and exploded a moment later as if it had never existed.
  
  Caiman's fingers closed on hard bone. It was cold and rough. The edges were sharp and could cut him if he had time to press his wrist against them.
  
  But an alien sound signal brought him back to the present. The sound of his watch's alarm clock.
  
  It's time to return to the surface and call the Norwegian.
  
  Caiman withdrew his hand with a suppressed sigh. The feeling of old bones still lingered with him as he walked back out of the darkness into the sunlight. The ideal tomb squeezed his heart, but the Shadow Elite's claws were much stronger and went much deeper. Once he followed the old protocol and checked his perimeter, then locked himself inside one of the military helicopters and turned on its frequency blocking system, he finally used an untraceable satellite phone to contact the Scandinavian.
  
  "Where are we?" No greetings, no compromises, just deep melancholy tones that require a status report.
  
  "Shards are already on their way here," Cayman said with equal bluntness. "To date, there have been no problems. The tomb is ready."
  
  "What about the fugitives?"
  
  "Scattered. No doubt he's trying to thwart us again. Their kind will never leave well enough alone. But our discipline will win that day."
  
  "Your discipline," said the Norwegian after a pause. "That is why you are our disciple and our word. It is your discipline that will rally your unruly people and help win this day."
  
  "Thank you".
  
  "That's not a compliment, Cayman." The Norwegian sighed. "This is a threat. You see?"
  
  "Yes". Cayman kicked himself for not being able to concentrate. With half a brain still communicating with Amatsu in his tomb, a former DIA man was no match for someone as formidable as a Norwegian. Claiming to be a descendant of the great Viking explorer Eric the Red - and who was there to refute him? "Scandinavian was an outstanding personality who inherited untold wealth and a high position in the Shadow Elite Council after the death of his father. Since that time, decades ago, the Shadow Elite has not stagnated or regressed. They have taken great strides forward in securing their already formidable position.
  
  "They may know about the train." The Scandinavian has always been pragmatic. "They might even try to stop us. This is always their way - to flounder and obstruct. The elite is gathering in Vienna right now. You know where."
  
  "Where they always congregated." Cayman is accustomed to the chatter of the Norwegian. He believed that a great leader enjoyed hearing his own thoughts spoken out loud and used Cayman as a mouthpiece.
  
  "Old place. Grey. Aldridge. Thomas. Leng. And young Holgate is always an upstart. But lately his behavior has changed. This is what I will turn to once I get to Vienna."
  
  "You are not there?" Cayman immediately kicked himself for the stupidity of the question. If any of his men had asked such a question, Cayman would have been tempted to shoot him on the spot.
  
  But the Norwegian seemed to be lost in expressing his thoughts. "I'm home. The Prague fortress is impregnable. Not even an army could get in here. As soon as I know that the parts have been activated, I will go to Vienna. Now tell me, Cayman, has that Wells thing been cleaned?"
  
  "Yes, sir. Everything is checked and clean. There are no leaks."
  
  "Fine. And Drake?
  
  Cayman hesitated. "Drake?"
  
  "We have known him since ancient times. You know it. If he ever found us..."
  
  Cayman was truly stunned. He had never heard even the slightest expression of fear in the Norwegian's voice before. The former DIA employee remembered Drake's prowess in the tomb and quickly changed his mind.
  
  "If he shows his face again, sir, I will destroy him."
  
  "Then we cannot fail." The Norwegian's voice was as close to happiness as it was possible for someone like him to be. "Except for a miracle, the shards are unstoppable. The whole world will shrink before us. Our reign, already absolute, will be preserved forever."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  
  Hayden and her team barely made it to the Zurich train station. Once inside, even as she ran and skimmed through the big blue boards looking for the platform number, Hayden was amazed at the spotless cleanliness of the station. The huge floor seemed to glow, the arched niches leading to the outlets looking cozy and warm and inviting, unlike most of the train stations she'd ever visited. Whimsical and colorful balloons hung from the ceiling. Tourists dressed in all sorts of clothes drifted and bumped into each other, focused on their own schedules. The noise level rose and fell as the groups passed them.
  
  Karin noticed it first. "Singen!" She raced toward the platforms, with Hayden and the others rushing after her, painfully aware that they had only minutes left to catch the train. When they found the big engine purring loudly, the CIA agent breathed a sigh of relief.
  
  Karin sent a questioning look.
  
  "Just keep going," Hayden called out. "We'll worry about 'where' later."
  
  A red and white streak ran across several carriages at the point where she had jumped onto the train. She noticed the huge green Starbucks logo as she stormed through the door. The desire to eat Macchiato with double strength caramel hit her like a bullet, but at that moment she heard the sound of closing doors and the increasing roar of the engine. They were on their way.
  
  Dahl spoke immediately. "We have one hour," he said, "to find the pieces and prevent them from reaching Shingen. Let's move."
  
  Hayden took a step forward. She led me through the first car, and then, in a strange answer to her prayers, the Starbucks logo reappeared, and she suddenly found herself in a coffee shop right on the train. Fully functioning shop.
  
  Ben's voice was heard from behind. "I've never heard of Starbucks on a train before."
  
  The barista darted out from behind the counter with astounding efficiency, causing Dahl and Kinimaka to flinch and reach for the weapons they decided not to risk carrying through the busy station.
  
  "It's a test train," she said, her blond hair pulled back tightly. "Built here in Zurich." The melodiousness in her voice betrayed her pride. "If it works, it could go global."
  
  "Clever idea," Ben said. "Are free drinks offered on test trains?"
  
  The barista's eyes twinkled. "I'm afraid we'll settle for waitress service. And that's just in court."
  
  Hayden stopped as she reached the next car, studying the passengers. All places were occupied. But all she could see were women and children, students and tourists. There are large backpacks everywhere. A muffled musical rhythm heard through tiny headphones. A young man talking loudly into his cell phone.
  
  She went on, freeing the car in a matter of seconds. The next one was a mirror image of the first. When they got to the third, and it too was jam-packed with a motley group of carefree tourists and nonchalant locals, Dahl ordered them to stop in the corridor between the cars. He quickly rolled down the window and poked his head out.
  
  "Three more standard carriages," he said after closing the window. "Then two extra carriages at the back of the train..." He paused. "With tinted windows."
  
  Kinimaka chuckled. "Could they be more obvious?"
  
  "These are the type of people who can pull the right strings to put two extra cars on a civilian passenger train as soon as possible," Hayden said grimly. "They don't care, Mano. They believe they are omnipotent."
  
  Dahl nodded. "Hayden is right. These people are waiting - they are not asking. Go."
  
  "So we"re going to just walk up to their carriage and rush in?" Karin asked, her quick brain trying to think of alternatives. "That's a big risk to take."
  
  "We are soldiers, miss," Dahl told her. "That's what we do."
  
  "And to the valley of death..." Karin recited, then, to the blank looks, she said: "This is a poem. "Attack of the Light Brigade". Six hundred people entered the valley of death. Do you remember?
  
  Dahl nodded. "This is a poem about great heroism."
  
  Karin nodded. "Prepare for weapons... Don't forget that these guys were on horseback and only wielded sabers. Cannon to their left, cannon to their right, cannon in front of them. While the horse and the hero fell."
  
  There was silence for a moment. Then Hayden shifted his gaze to the next car and what lay behind it. "Let's go to".
  
  They passed the next three cars in silence. Tension grew among them. They had no weapons, no plan. All they had was courage in their hearts and the knowledge that the eight shards could either hold millions of innocent people for ransom or destroy them. Nothing else mattered right now. As they entered the last carriage, Hayden felt Dal nudge her with his shoulder and for a moment she felt a little offended, but then she realized that the Swede hit the mark not because he doubted her, but because he was just a man, who will always take a step forward. He didn't know any other way.
  
  At the back of the last civilian carriage, Dahl slowed down. Hayden peered over his broad shoulders. The next carriage could be entered through a sliding door, but all the windows were tinted. In the compartment behind her, even the most vague outlines were not visible.
  
  Hayden put his hand on the Swede's shoulder. "Just wait a minute." She looked around, desperately looking for inspiration. Anything that meant they wouldn't have to blindly walk into the dragon's lair.
  
  At that moment, she heard a voice behind them.
  
  "Excuse me. Can I get through? I have coffee for the back car."
  
  She turned around. The voice belonged to the barista they had passed a few minutes ago. Hayden smiled. "I really hope the coffee is good and hot."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  A few seconds later, Hayden donned a green tunic and held a tray full of paper cups in one hand. The barista was sitting by the window, looking at them with pleading eyes and hinting that her district manager would be very angry, because it was the first flight and all.
  
  Kinimaka held her wrist. "Uh, boss. Are you sure about this? You know, they have male baristas too."
  
  "Mano, I'm fine. What the hell is wrong with you? You didn't care before I was stabbed. Twice."
  
  Kinimaka turned away. Hayden stared after him for a moment, then met Ben Blake's gaze over the huge Hawaiian's shoulder.
  
  He nodded to her, no expression on his face, but love shining in his eyes. Hayden didn't have time for that. She took a deep breath, faced her fear, and stepped forward.
  
  Right into the dragon's lair.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  
  Matt Drake could barely contain his sense of dismay and dread as he walked into a restaurant near Luxembourg Airport and headed straight for the bar. It was all he could do to avoid ripping Mai's backpack off her back and flipping through its contents.
  
  Alicia pulled him back. "Wrong way, Drakes. You're supposed to be trying to give up the good stuff, remember?"
  
  He let her lead him to a dimly lit booth, keeping his eyes on the amber nectar the whole way. It took a great deal of inner effort and several as yet unresolved disputes about the depths that Mai and Alicia had already settled on over the past few years to solidify his resolve.
  
  Mai traded the time travel device for her sister. Not only that, she gave it to a crazy, crazy billionaire. She also killed Wells, Drake's former commander and the man Drake even now believed his research would exonerate.
  
  Alicia was part of Abel Frey's plot to steal Odin's bones. She kept too many secrets for too, too long. Drake had yet to figure out her true motives and still couldn't decide if she would stay loyal or sell him to the highest bidder.
  
  But it was all light entertainment compared to the secrets they had to uncover.
  
  Mai unzipped her bag and sat down in the corner. Drake took a seat opposite. Alicia squeezed in next to her. Belmonte looked and then went to the bar to order food.
  
  "He really took Emma's death hard," May said. "That's the only reason he's helping us."
  
  "He's good," Drake admitted. "The way he found these pieces out of nothing. Breaking into. And not forgetting the money he gave us to pay off the bikers."
  
  "That's part of what worries me," Mai said as she unzipped her backpack. "Belmonte is a thief. He takes what he wants and gives nothing away."
  
  "Perhaps Emma's death has given him some perspective." Drake restrained himself from reaching for the sheaf of papers that had fallen on the table. Mai took a moment to divide them into three parts.
  
  Belmonte returned with four glasses of water and black coffee. "Ordered a bunch of tapas," he said with a shrug. "Looks like a plan."
  
  Drake barely heard him. Wells' handwriting was small and sprawling, hard to decipher. After a while, he realized that he was reading about Wells' secret investigation at the Shadow Elite's headquarters. Reading it like this, all at once, lessened the danger and skill that Wells used. Almost every paragraph was written in a different pen. Drake remembered that the wells had been dug for a decade.
  
  One paragraph spoke of a trip to Vienna. Another story about how a man named Russell Cayman was accepted into the "inner circle" - an achievement available only to one outsider in a lifetime. This outsider will fight all his life to advance the goals of the organization and hide his identity. After initiation, that would be all he lived for.
  
  "If ever there was any doubt," Drake said aloud, "it confirms that Cayman is our path to the Shadow Elite. Maybe we should have grabbed him back in Singen."
  
  "I"m not even sure we could handle it." Alicia snorted.
  
  "No. But Dahl is a machine." Drake smiled. "Just point and order."
  
  May spoke. "I don't like what I read here." She looked at Drake. "We're talking about Operation Double Penetration."
  
  "What?"
  
  They brought tapas. Belmonte cleared the space, letting the waitress arrange the small bowls neatly on the table. As she left, Mai began to read aloud.
  
  "The operation went smoothly, but then it took an unfortunate turn. Suddenly the roads began to lead to the house, and Drake was not going to give up."
  
  "Doubling was my last operation," Drake said to the table. "Everything was perfect, and then we got the order to leave." He made a pause. "We were going to investigate someone who we thought might be an undercover terrorist. A man who lived in Vienna."
  
  May read to herself. "Oh Matt. It's getting worse. The operation would eventually lead straight to the Shadow Elite. Wells was under deadly pressure to stop it. Anyway. The interrogation you witnessed..."
  
  Drake recalled that horrific day as part of the SRT team, when he witnessed a group of soldiers interrogate several villagers. Worse, when he immediately called Wells, his field commander, he was told to leave it alone. Leave it alone. This was the beginning of his disillusionment with the army and seriously changed his priorities.
  
  "I remember". He noticed Alicia's nod. She was there too.
  
  "That day also had something to do with the Shadow Elite. They were looking for someone, looking for information. "Their arrogance," Wells wrote. "Their righteous, self-serving, disgusting arrogance." These people," Mai looked up, "they do whatever they want with whom they want."
  
  "I understand that," Drake said. "What else?"
  
  Mai read on and then suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened. The color drained from her cheeks and she looked at Drake with her mouth open. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I am so sorry".
  
  Drake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Continue".
  
  "I...I will read this word for word. Drake was just too stubborn. Doubledown was his brainchild and he loved it. This had to be stopped, and stopped quickly. The council gave me an ultimatum. I compromised by coming up with a new idea. I suggested the 'accidental' death of his wife. In the middle of the operation, I called a short break, sent everyone home and gave the order. I got Coyote and set him free. It happened on the night of the fight, which was perfect..." Mai trailed off. "That's not all. But-"
  
  Drake opened his eyes and stared at her in horror. "Welles ordered Alison's murder? Wells?"
  
  "To distract you - us - from the Shadow Elite," Alicia said in an undertone, even her firm resolve shaken by this revelation.
  
  Drake's throat tightened as he said, "So Welles knew about the doubling and what it was leading to. Which was Vienna. He knew about the dead villagers. He ordered Alison to be killed. Wells was a fucking snake."
  
  "Who gave his life to the Shadow Elite," Belmonte said. "But what did they give him in return?"
  
  "Wells was a patriot," Drake said. "A true English patriot. It would take quite a bit of effort to convince him to betray his country."
  
  "I don't believe he thought he was betraying his country," Mai said as she read on. "There's something else."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  
  Hayden squeezed into the darkened carriage, smiling as a dozen suspicious looks pinned her in place. But then she saw the true power of the Starbucks logo as each of those hard-faced bad guys leaned back and relaxed at the sight of her, like toddlers lined up waiting for their celebratory drinks.
  
  "Venti misto, two extra servings, topped with whipped cream and drizzled with caramel sauce." She stepped forward into the middle of the crowd, taking advantage of their uncertainty as the train hummed and rocked on the tracks.
  
  Most of Caiman's people turned and stared at each other, confusion clearly written on their faces. Hayden saw skepticism in only two pairs of eyes, and it was to them that she quickly stepped.
  
  And threw two paper cups with boiling coffee. She had already thrown back the lids, and the steaming liquid poured out in a scalding stream. The men screamed, raising their hands to their faces. Hayden jumped into one of the men's laps, drew his pistol from its holster, and spun around, firing all over the car.
  
  At the same time, making a lot of noise, Dal, Kinimaka, and Komodo burst through the door, which was a terrifying sight on any day, and rushed at the mercenaries. Caiman's people were experienced and quickly came to their senses. Dahl smashed the first face with a hay mower, but when he turned to the second opponent, he was already poking with his elbow. Dal hit him in the eye, growled and grabbed the man by the neck. With no time to stop and choke him, he simply threw him over the car to fall among his compatriots.
  
  Green trees and fields flashed past the double-sided windows. The pistol clattered to the floor, right at Kinimaki's feet. The Hawaiian was hit in the head with a baton and fell, but drew his gun and fired in one motion before collapsing to the carpeted floor. The mercenary fell, crushing one knee. Kinimaka lay prone, looking forward and at his boss.
  
  Hayden dealt with two of the mercenaries before they even had a chance to move, but two more used those precious seconds to draw weapons from hidden holsters. Now, as Hayden looked at those cold guns, she saw the men who held them were thrown aside as the bullets went through their skulls. Kinimaka saved her life by shooting from the floor.
  
  Hayden rolled to the floor a fraction of a second before the other man fired, passing at knee level, close enough for her to take a bite. She then felt a huge presence above her and watched in awe as Komodo charged at full speed and annihilated the remaining line of mercenaries like bowling balls. He landed at the back of the carriage with a groan. Wounded mercenaries smashed their heads against the windows or fell to the floor after him. Hayden wasted no time in finishing them off, shooting each head in cold blood. They all knew what they were doing when they signed up for this party.
  
  The first private car was released, they ran straight to the second. Hayden heard a noise behind her. The passengers apparently heard the gunfire and began raising the alarm. One of the salutary moments of this operation was that there were no civilians in the line of fire. She saw Ben and Karin get into the first car and start collecting weapons.
  
  Then she ended up in the second car. But the reception this time was not so woozy. She found herself standing face to face with half a dozen men with raised weapons. Half a dozen more sat in seats at the back of the carriage, with the eight figures of Odin arranged around them.
  
  One of the men frowned. "You are on your own?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Dahl stopped in the corridor separating the carriages and raised one of the windows again. Within three seconds, he slid out, grabbed onto a tiny ledge that ran along the top of the speeding train, and climbed out. Instantly, a strong wind began to beat against his body, causing him to sway dangerously. A tree flashed past the track, one of its branches lashing across his back, tearing his clothes and drawing a line of blood. With a quick lunge, he threw himself onto the roof of the train, crouching for balance.
  
  A short gap separated him from the rear car. Ignoring the wind that hit him like Thor's hammer, he jumped over the gap and, even as he jumped, studied his options through the nearest window in the roof of the car below.
  
  Komodo landed behind him. The two big men stalked forward, pistols in hand.
  
  The train suddenly emerged from a mountain pass into a long sweeping turn. There was a freeway nearby. Dahl saw cars and a bus riding alongside them, their passengers goggling as they saw people on top of the rumbling train.
  
  Dal moved as lightly as he could, keeping his eyes fixed on his impending victims. He moved to the second skylight, watching the group of mercenaries at the back of the car, leaving the first group in Komodo's care.
  
  A moment of extreme tension pulled over the trigger.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  It took Hayden a second to get their attention. "Now it's just me."
  
  She saw that they were visibly relaxed. There were even a few smiles. None of them looked up. She deliberately let her gaze wander to the window where the freeway had just appeared, knowing that most of them would follow suit. She stared.
  
  Silence fell over the carriage like a leaden curtain. Hayden let her gun dangle between two fingers.
  
  The sound of gunshots and cracking plexiglass broke the silence. The men were wounded high in the chest and near the head. Blood and bones shot up into the air, drawing patterns like random hieroglyphs. A cloud of red almost destroyed the front group of people. Hayden regained grip on the gun in a millisecond, but found she had nowhere to aim. She couldn't even see the rear group of men.
  
  A moment's delay as first Dal and then Komodo jumped down through the shattered skylights, landing like cats, on their feet, but weapons at the ready. Dahl, in his usual manner, calmly reloaded his weapon in free fall without thinking about it.
  
  Silence fell again. This one was filled with relief that you were alive. Hayden looked around at all the fallen men. Kinimaka followed her, Ben and Karin tagging along behind her.
  
  The smell of blood and death enveloped the carriage in a cloying stench, like a shroud. Hayden moved forward, glancing at the eight pieces of Odin. Everything seemed to be in order, although the Valkyries received a couple of random hits. People were spread out around them.
  
  And then Hayden saw one of the men reach out to grab a cell phone. In a fraction of a second, he held it in his hand, and his black eyes, full of malice, met with her ...
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Mai looked up from what she was reading and met Drake's gaze. The look she gave him was full of disbelief, indignation, incomprehension that even the best and most experienced Japanese agent alive could hardly believe.
  
  "These people". She exhaled. "They will stop...at nothing."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  "No!" Hayden screamed.
  
  But the man's finger pressed the call button, sending a signal to fly into the atmosphere. The bomb exploded almost instantly. It exploded in a huge, spiky cloud of metal and fire, completely destroying the underside of the first private carriage where it had been installed. The blast wave pierced the bottom of the cars, completely clearing the back of the last civilian car lift from the rails. People were thrown across the aisle and crashed into the seats in front of them. Bags and laptops, water bottles and mobile phones, Kindles and magazines all swept through the air. The screams of panic and pain grew louder like an infernal choir.
  
  Hayden and the rest of her team were thrown to the floor, landing in disarray among the dead and dying mercenaries. Their weapons flew to the side. The force of the explosion momentarily knocked them unconscious.
  
  Then the worst happened. The last civilian car slid back onto the rails, but did not hit the rails. Instead, it hit the wooden sleepers, ballast, fasteners and subgrade with a powerful grinding sound and caused the entire train to swerve to the side. From afar, it was clear that all the wagons tipped to one side and began a nightmarishly slow collapse on their side. When the train hit the ground, it was still going fast, but the sudden impact on the mercifully soft ground caused it to slow down rapidly. A nose wave of mud swept over the engine, the driver's compartment and the first car. The last few cars pulled away from the skeleton of the train, and even as Hayden lifted her head, still dazed and staggering, her heart nearly stopped at what she saw.
  
  The last two cars left the railroad tracks and crashed into an earthen embankment, causing the last car to veer up and sway so that its rear end entered a parallel freeway. The vehicles swerved and came to an abrupt stop. Frightened motorists steered their cars in any direction but forward.
  
  A small luxury car crashed into the tail of the train. The Land Rover veered sharply to the side, but still hit the Smart with the back. Another car hit the Land Rover.
  
  Hayden wanted her body to respond, but she felt a heavy blackness about to take over her. The explosion seemed to not only disorientate her, but also robbed her of her sense of balance and common sense. Even Dahl lay motionless to her right.
  
  And then, incredibly close to her ear, she heard a voice crackling over the cell phone of one of the dead mercenaries.
  
  "This is the Cayman. The train is damaged. We're moving on to Plan B. Repeating Plan B. Are you there?"
  
  The answer from the third party came immediately through the open line. "We tracked the train along the road as instructed, sir. The rear wagon...well, it"s actually in front of us."
  
  "Get in there," Cayman ordered. "Pick up the pieces and..." He paused. "New orders from the Norwegian. Bring on the bastards who tried to stop us. Bring them to Prague."
  
  As the blackness engulfed her, Hayden had only one thought left. Call Matt Drake. Putting every ounce of her training, every tense second of her battle to match her father's name to bear, she attempted to make a call.
  
  Kayman's last words stayed with her. "Prague is a fortress. Not even the army could have gotten to us there."
  
  
  
  PART 3
  Shadow Elite
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  
  Mai flowed at full speed, and no one dared to interrupt her. "This group" . She spat out the word. "Targeted Wells so they could infiltrate the informant into the British Army. They convinced him that they were the ruling organization of the world, that they controlled the British government. Not only that, it was Caiman who recruited him and convinced all governments to follow the orders of the Shadow Elite. I think Wells has gone too far in patriotism."
  
  "Weak men always have big secrets," Alicia said with a knowing smile. "There will be dirt on Wells on the Cayman, rest assured of that."
  
  Drake tried to stick to the facts he knew. "So Cayman is DIA, right? Working undercover for the Shadow Elite. If this is the case, then we must assume that the CIA and the White House have similar "moles" like any other agency in the world.
  
  "That's why Gates can't take the risk of wasting time checking everyone above and around him," May said. "Which then leaves us here, defenseless and alone."
  
  "But it also takes us right into the middle of the game," Drake said with a slight smile as he piled chorizo sausage, patatas bravas, olive oil and bread onto a small plate. "We know where the Cayman is. We know what the Shadow Elite wants. Now all we have to do is find them."
  
  "Vienna," Belmonte pointed out. "You used to be pretty close to those bastards. Do you remember anything related to Operation Double Penetration?"
  
  Drake took a few moments to think. Time tended to get hazy around Alison's death. He shook his head. "Maybe Sam will remember something. I can't."
  
  "We could go there," Mai suggested. "Call your buddies and ask them to meet us. We are still within the window they gave you."
  
  "This is the plan. But that's a hell of a stretch, Mai. Especially since Hayden and the boys are straining their balls to get their hands on those eight fragments."
  
  Drake checked his mobile, despite knowing that all communication methods were running at the highest level. "I thought we'd already heard something."
  
  "A risky mission," Belmonte said with a blank expression in his eyes. "People are dying".
  
  "People are dying while crossing the road or in car accidents," Drake said fiercely. "I wonder who this coyote is."
  
  "This is another mission," Alicia said. "Next day".
  
  "Whatever happens," Mai said, "The shadow elite cannot be allowed to continue. I work for one of the best intelligence teams in the world and I have never heard of them. And yet they are puppeteers. If they answered our best interests..." She shrugged. "Maybe watch them from afar. But people who covet such weapons of mass destruction should never be allowed to rule."
  
  "Damn right," Alicia said. "At least the elf and I agree on one thing."
  
  Elf and me. Drake corrected her instantly.
  
  "Don't encourage that bitch," Mai said pointedly. "She is hard enough to bear. For now, I only want to kill her once a day."
  
  Belmonte looked from one to the other. "So I sense some friendly history here?"
  
  "Back off, Belmonte." Alicia began to eat. "A thief like you knows nothing about friendship, only connections."
  
  Belmonte slammed his glass on the table. "Don't pretend to know me."
  
  Alicia glanced at him. "But I do know you, Daniel, as you often point out. I know you so well."
  
  "I care about people. Cared for." The thief sighed and shook his head. "I think the only bad thing that has ever happened in my life is going to be the worst thing that has ever happened in my life. I don't even know why I'm with you people anymore. What good will revenge bring me?"
  
  Drake tried not to stare at the bar. "I will let you know. Soon."
  
  "I'm not like you, Drake. I am a man of cunning and sophistication, not of action and muscle. I'm not a hero. Will never ".
  
  "The hero should be determined by his actions at the moment." Mai spoke as if she were reciting an old Japanese proverb. "Not what they usually do or don't do."
  
  It was at that moment that Drake's cell phone rang. He quickly reached out and grabbed it, looking surprised.
  
  "Karin?"
  
  The young woman's whisper conveyed tension, fear, and urgency. "We are in captivity. They got us. All of us. I..." Pause. "I'm going to try and leave my phone on..."
  
  Then silence. Drake looked up. "We need to move now. Hayden's team was captured. Go."
  
  Without looking back, they rushed off into the unknown to help their friends.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
  
  Hayden tried to concentrate while her exhausted body protested in every possible way. The concussion from the explosion knocked her unconscious for a moment, but it further upset her balance. It made her sick, made her grope through the viscous fog to remember where she was. The same thing happened to Dahl and Komodo, which resulted in Kinimaki, Ben and Karin's position improving slightly, but there were still stability issues.
  
  Now she lay bouncing on the hard metal floor of the van. The movement of the car as she quickly drove through the curves and bumps in the road did nothing to quicken her slowly regaining sense of balance. Her eyes were inches from the floor.
  
  Her hands were tied behind her back, her ankles too. Dal and Komodo rolled listlessly beside her as the journey continued. She was vaguely aware of Karin trying to free her hand, then a short conversation before the blonde closed her phone and tucked it deep into her pocket.
  
  Some time later, when the van skidded, it slowed down and began a stop-start motion. She heard curses from up ahead. They were stuck in traffic, possibly passing through or near the city. Some sharpness began to return to her head. She still had no idea how much time had passed since the train crash followed the terrifying explosion. She could never have imagined that the Shadow Elite would plant explosives in one of their own train cars, but it was a lesson she had now learned and would always remember. She prayed to God that none of the civilians would be hurt.
  
  Ben's voice came through the thinning fog. "Hayden. Hayden, are you okay?" A dull monotonous sound she'd known about for a while but couldn't stomach.
  
  Her nose cracked on the rusted metal floor, and tears welled up again. "No, not at all". She managed to mutter.
  
  She felt a great relief when Thorsten Dahl's voice rang out. "Do we know where we are or where we are going?"
  
  Negative answers came. Karin spoke softly. "I was able to call Drake and leave my phone on so he could track us down. The batteries should only last a short time. But the rear window is tinted. They would know if I touched her."
  
  "Untie us." Hayden knew the fog in her head explained why Karin hadn't tried yet.
  
  "How? We are secured with plastic ties and the van is empty. And-" she muttered, "they were testing us."
  
  The van tilted around the corner. Hayden rolled over, crashing into Kinimaku. She was vaguely aware that a Hawaiian had driven into Komodo and pinned the poor Delta man against the side of the van. Not the best position to be caught.
  
  "I'm sorry, buddy." Kinimaka said.
  
  A panel in the forward bulkhead suddenly slid open and a man appeared. He was bald, clean-shaven, and sinister looking. A scar ran across his forehead. "I hear gossip," he said. "And I do not want to. The Norwegian wants to see you, but he didn't say anything about your languages. Keep it secret. We are almost there."
  
  The head disappeared along with the Eastern European accent. Hayden felt the shockwave go through her entire body. She turned to meet Dahl's gaze.
  
  "Scandinavian?" She exhaled.
  
  "End of the road," Dahl said. "The leader of the Shadow Elite wants to punish us for ruining his plans. No prizes for guessing what happens after that."
  
  "Of course, but I'm more concerned about what's going on at this time." Hayden struggled to wrench her hands out of her bonds, but nothing came of it. She thought of the civilians, Ben, Karin and Gates behind her. She thought about what those terrible people could do to them.
  
  Please, Drake, she thought. Come follow us.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  At this point, Matthew Holgate, the sixth and youngest member of the Shadow Elite, was being served a light lunch at an upscale restaurant inside the Vienna Museum of Natural History. The menu was short and lacking variety, but that didn't matter. They knew what he wanted. He spent a few minutes chatting with the kind waitress, then turned to the coffee that was waiting for him.
  
  Looking into its black depths, he saw his own reflection floating there, locked up. Symbolic image. Not so long ago, Holgate was one of the richest playboys in the world, a man with a house, five cars and a dozen women in every major city around the world, a trendsetter and even a philanthropist. Behind all of this was the Shadow Elite, the group to which, figuratively speaking, he belonged from the day he was born, the son of his father. In fact, he had belonged to them for decades, loving their unlimited power, enjoying their irresponsibility, enjoying the times when their leader - a melancholic Norwegian - let them play games with the lives of random people. Even in a world of jaded rich, there was nothing better than choosing a person or family and subjecting them to endless indiscriminate torment.
  
  According to the Norwegian, this helped build the band's belief in their own strength. The end has always justified the means. So if the landfill was just another peasant family, who would notice?
  
  But recently, a chance event has changed Holgate's life in and of itself. The world at large knew this as a recession. But Holgate knew what it really was-the decision makers had decided that the world was moving too fast and needed to be slowed down, that progress was moving too fast, that ordinary people were just getting too rich and their lives too painless. The decision was made at the very top, below the Shadow Elite, who discussed with the group its measly cost, but decided to let the austerity period set in. It wouldn't affect them. This would really help solidify their position and broaden their scope and their games.
  
  But then, in his blind arrogance, Holgate fell into one of the big bank crashes. After that, he lost much more due to falling real estate values. He invested heavily in hedge funds and start-ups that simply disappeared.
  
  Everything is so fast. All this virtual wealth is gone. When he realized the extent of his real paper wealth, he almost threw himself from the top step of a marble staircase covered with Italian carpet to the roof of his shiny black Maserati MC12 supercar. But caution saved him. He thought of his Elite comrades and believed that they would help him. Only later, after asking a few carefully thought out questions, did he realize that they would surely crucify him, their lifelong colleague, if they ever found out.
  
  And then the whole Odin thing happened. Over the past two months, the Shadow Elite has met more times than in the previous two years. Holgate sat and listened and contributed, not really getting too carried away, constantly aware that his five brothers could find out about his bankruptcies at any moment.
  
  But, like a predator lying in wait, ready to attack, the answer came to Holgate in the form of eight pieces of Odin. Is it so important. The heart of everything.
  
  Holgate smiled as the waitress placed his warm meal on the table. He then took an untraceable mobile phone that had recently been given to him by one of the most dangerous people in the world.
  
  When the call was answered with a short: "You?" Matthew Holgate took the first steps in the devilish path that was his master plan.
  
  "I can get them. All is ready. So, how many of the richest and insane terrorists in the world can you really gather in one place?"
  
  He paused for a moment.
  
  "So much? Fine. Now sit back and listen."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden mustered her courage as the van came to an abrupt halt. Laughter, deep and rough, came from up ahead, and then two doors slammed. The screams echoed outside the van. Then the back door swung open and the man started laughing.
  
  "Bound like turkeys. And here it is, not even Christmas yet."
  
  She heard screams and guessed that her colleagues were being dragged out of the van by their feet and let them collapse to the ground. She thrashed herself out of her restraints again, and helplessness washed over her as she felt her own ankles seized and her body roughly thrown to the floor of the van. There was a moment of weightlessness, and then the solid earth rushed towards her, face to face. There was more laughter. The laughter of many men.
  
  She quickly turned over. The harsh sunlight hit her face, making her eyes water. A moment later, a shadow blocked the light. "Up".
  
  Strong arms wrapped around her armpits and pulled her to her feet. She stood there for a moment, swaying, unaccustomed to her new position and trying to let the nausea subside. Dahl stood beside her, looking furtively around, Kinimaka and Komodo beside him. Behind them, she saw Gates, Ben, and Karin before lowering her eyes again, feigning trembling.
  
  A boot kicked her in the spine, causing her to stagger and scream in surprise. Dahl turned in anger, but found himself face to face with the brilliant company of Heckler & Koch. Hayden pushed past him, elbowing him as she went. More on that later.
  
  They were led through the gate into the courtyard. The Scandinavian mansion surrounded them on all four sides, built of old brick and stone, with custom-made windows and doors. The gate itself was a solid structure, surrounded on both sides by massive stone columns and a guardroom. The ground beneath their feet was littered with tiny white gravel; the sky above them was cloudless and bright blue. The men stood around in casual poses, each carrying some sort of automatic weapon.
  
  No way out, she thought, then scolded herself. There was always a plan. And Plan B. The only obstacle was her fear.
  
  The boot slammed into her spine again. This time she stood her ground, turning and glaring at the withered mercenary kicking. "Untie me," she said evenly, "then try it again."
  
  All this time hoping he didn't know about her stab wound...
  
  ...but the older one only smirked, revealing a mouth full of holed black teeth and a tongue missing a square inch piece. He beckoned her over to him, aiming his rifle at the sights.
  
  Hayden took advantage of the break to analyze their surroundings a little more. The Scandinavian's mansion not only surrounded them on four sides, but also rose to three floors. Wherever this place was, no doubt it was among similar dwellings in a wealthy area. From her vantage point, Hayden was unable to establish any indication of their location.
  
  She turned back again, heading for the long brick wall. Her comrades were already lined up opposite her, facing the court. She, too, took her place at the end of the line.
  
  Twelve men stepped forward and raised their weapons.
  
  No! Her mind screamed. It was too soon. They haven't even met a Scandinavian yet. Why drag them so far only to shoot them on arrival?
  
  The sound of a dozen rifles being cocked echoed through the sunlit courtyard. Hayden looked instant death in the eyes with a last thought of disbelief.
  
  I didn't even have time to talk to Ben.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake was quick on his feet, faster than at any other time in his life. The immediate goal was to find a GPS tracker, something they could sync to Karin's repeating signal and get back home. Thanks to Belmonte's experience, it was an easy job, but they had to return to the "hot zone" around the airport warehouse area, which they had just left. Drake didn't think twice. He went first, buying a tracking device and returning to the airport in less than half an hour, just in time to catch the next plane to Prague, a journey that would have taken them less than seventy minutes.
  
  Drake didn't waste any. "I have two plans," he told them. "A and B..."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden didn't close her eyes. Instead, she stared down the unshakable barrel of the gun, defiant to the last. Her thoughts became inwardly focused, her perception dulled. Time stretched out in front of her like a piece of rubber band tense with anticipation.
  
  In the sky above the courtyard floated a hot air balloon, blood red, with a long rope dangling and twisted as if it had been torn right out of a child's hand.
  
  The movement attracted everyone's attention. When Hayden shifted her gaze again, she was startled to see a man slithering through the gun barrels.
  
  Norwegian. He stood in front of his soldiers, long blond hair blowing in the wind, wrinkled face expressing what one might take for sympathy, but Hayden knew it was nothing more than cautious indifference. It was the attention a young psychopath might give to a fly caught in the web of an approaching spider.
  
  "One," he said. "He was the Father of the Gods. Because I am the father of our council. We are alike, Odin and I."
  
  Hayden shifted uncomfortably. Next to her, Dahl managed to burst out laughing.
  
  The Norwegian's face twisted. "My wealth goes back to Viking times. The origin of my wealth is the oldest known. I am a descendant of Beowulf, although doubters would like you to believe that he never existed. The great poem, written in 800 AD but rediscovered only in the seventeenth century, tells of a real king and a real land. But Beowulf, they say, did not exist. Well, here..." He tapped his foot on the ground, the foundation of his house. "I have proof that he existed."
  
  "And that he fought the monster?" Dahl said sarcastically.
  
  "We all fight our monsters. I only said that Beowulf was real, not Grendel."
  
  "You're Norwegian," Hayden said, still shocked despite herself.
  
  "The man behind it all." His face showed nothing. "The shadow that towers over the Shadow Elite. Yes."
  
  "And would you use a doomsday weapon?" Hayden asked.
  
  "Use?" The Norwegian sucked in the word as if it were mint toffee. "Use? Such an ambiguous word. Yes, I would use it my dear, but in what sense do you mean?"
  
  "To destroy this fucking world."
  
  The Norwegian's eyes barely blinked. "Don't be such a fucking dumbass. Why should I do this? Why should I destroy what I own?"
  
  Dahl laughed. "Because you're even crazier than shit, mate."
  
  Hayden winced. She heard Ben suck in a sharp breath, and even Komodo swallowed hard.
  
  The Norwegian did not flinch. "The doomsday device will be used as our safety net. Once in place, she will never need to be addressed." Then his gaze darted into the distance. "But imagine. Imagine if one day this was released. Fire and water, storms, lightning and thunder, earthquakes and mega tornadoes that swept the world. What a beauty. What an end!"
  
  Hayden knew he wasn't joking. This man had no inclination to joke.
  
  "One faced Ragnarok," the Norwegian told them. "Together with his sons, he went into battle. He faced monsters. Real monsters -"
  
  "No". Dahl interrupted the most powerful man on the planet. "He didn't."
  
  The Norwegian fixed his gaze from under the hood on the Swede.
  
  "I saw the bones of Odin," Dahl said. "I touched them. I saw where he lay down and died. He certainly did not die fighting on any battlefield. Ragnarok," he said quietly, "is a true myth."
  
  "He's right," Gates spoke for the first time. "Ragnarok is now, not then. Odin once prevented this by causing the gods to die. But the discovery of his shield set off a chain reaction that was to end in the opening of a third tomb and a doomsday weapon. Now this is our choice. We're deciding. It is the decision of mankind to save or destroy itself. These words are written in an Icelandic tomb."
  
  "You mean the day of reckoning." The Norwegian studied the US Secretary of Defense dispassionately. "But it's all debatable. Do you remember the cold war? The days when Russians and Americans pointed thousands of nuclear weapons at each other and waited for fate to take its course? Bad times, even for us. We can't control every itchy finger, and one gaffe, one moment of rage could plunge the world into nuclear war. But now... we will be the only superpower and we will have all the weapons."
  
  "What if we blow your bluff?" Gates dared.
  
  "We are the Shadow Elite," the Norwegian said simply. "If even one voice rises against us, he will be pacified. If many voices rise up against us...then we will wipe these bastards off the face of the earth."
  
  The Norwegian stepped back and looked at them for a long time. Hayden held her head high. The Norwegian turned away and passed through the line of riflemen.
  
  All weapons, as one, leveled, aimed and froze.
  
  The voice said, "Fire!"
  
  The sounds of gunshots, screams, and the impact of bullets on brickwork disturbed the peace of an idyllic winter day.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Before the plane landed, Drake and his friends squeezed past the other passengers and rushed through customs. If someone thought they were rude, they, of course, kept silent. But then their stern faces would turn off all but the most persistent or oldest complainers.
  
  Stepping out of the airport into the crisp cold, the four of them could relax a bit. Drake waved to the cab and pulled out a tracking device that Belmonte had expertly crafted.
  
  "Still strong," he said.
  
  Mai, who was sitting next to him, studied the map of Prague. "Device." She taxied out of the suburbs of the old city, and the taxi quickly moved off. On the way, they thought of a plan. It was rough, it was risky, but it was the best improv they could come up with under such time pressure and pressure. Drake was sure that their friends would be killed today. It was just a matter of time.
  
  "And the eight pieces of Odin?" May said.
  
  "Secondary," Drake said again. "Our friends are above all."
  
  "We should at least try-"
  
  "May," Drake said decisively, "I'm sorry. But you lost your voice when you acted alone. You risked everything to save Chica. Now it's my turn".
  
  Alicia turned her shining eyes to the Japanese woman. "Hello. Look at it the other way - a bitch who screwed up like you - usually they would just put you to sleep. So you get a second chance."
  
  "Let me go?" Mai echoed. "And who is going to do it? You?"
  
  "I'll put you both to bed if you don't leave." In fact, Drake knew they were only mentally preparing for the coming battle and violence. He glanced at Belmonte.
  
  "You would probably be better off staying in the car. Another car, if you know what I mean."
  
  The thief nodded. Drake's plan was suicidal, but that was all they had. At that moment, Drake's cell phone rang, an old Dinoroc tune, something about smoke over water.
  
  Drake listened for a moment, and then his face fell. "Oh no," he said. Then, "And there's no chance that-?"
  
  The Englishman listened a little more. The news didn't look good. At the end, he nodded and switched off his mobile. "It was Sam. His team can't meet us here in time. Balls."
  
  "That doesn't change the plan one bit," Alicia said with some pleasure.
  
  Drake nodded. "They are heading straight for Vienna. Later they will meet all of us there. Assuming..."
  
  "We survive," Belmonte finished, shaking his head. "Oh my God".
  
  "Whatever happens, buddy," Drake turned to him, "You should meet them there and tell them everything. If we die, the pieces of Odin will be blown to the wind."
  
  Drake closed his eyes. "I just wish we knew if they were all right."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden's hands, still bound with plastic ties behind her back, were loosely tied together and threaded through a metal ring that was built into the uneven brick wall behind her. The rope was tied. Her team, shaken but alive, lined up next to her.
  
  So, at least to begin with, it was supposed to be psychological torture. The firing squad was accurate enough. Their bullets slammed into the wall above their heads, showering them with masonry and hot shrapnel from their jackets. The Norwegian's face didn't even flinch. They were then roughly dragged inside the mansion and pushed into an unfurnished room on the ground floor. Concrete floor. Brick walls. Large drain in the middle of the floor.
  
  A kill room that is easy to clean up later.
  
  Now the men were hauling large industrial hoses into the room with grins on their faces. Usually used for flushing, they were now aimed at captives. Hayden braced herself for the impact. Then more people crowded behind them, some carrying submachine guns, others armed with oddly shaped weapons. Large-barreled and stocky, for some reason it looked more menacing than the Heckler and Cox.
  
  "A gun with rubber balls," Dahl said without emotion. "Hits harder than most men. It's probably best to duck."
  
  Hayden looked at the Swede tied up next to her. "Options?"
  
  Before he could answer, the Scandinavian soldiers began their version of fun. The hose was on, it slid right in as the water gushed through it. The two men held the bait, unable to contain their amusement, as the torrent of water rushed out and crashed down on the helpless captives. Hayden was hit in the face and her head hit the wall, causing her to see the stars. The power of the water stopped her breathing. She felt herself sinking as she stood up.
  
  Panting, she swallowed water, shaking her head from side to side and trying to turn away. But the flow of water was inevitable and terribly strong. The last breath of air was forced out of her lungs. She had experienced waterboarding before, but it had nothing to do with that. On the brink of consciousness, she heard a rumble as rubber-ball guns began to fire.
  
  The unmistakable sound of Ben's voice, screaming, reached her ears.
  
  She gulped down more water, coughing, unable to shake it all off in the face of the relentless current. Then, when she had just passed the moment of surrender, the flow moved on to the next person, Kinimake.
  
  Hayden lowered her head, almost exhausted. Her knife wound throbbed again, pain cutting through the cloud of helplessness that surrounded her. She thanked god that one of the rubber balls hadn't hit her yet, because if one of them hit the wound... not even the discipline of the CIA and all the training in the world could stop her from begging for mercy.
  
  So she hung on to her bonds, showing defeat, pretending to be vulnerable as she fought hard to regain her breath and wishing for strength to return to her body. She checked the plastic ties again, hoping the water might have loosened them. But, for that matter, it seemed to tighten them up, causing the edges to cut into her already bruised skin.
  
  Despair invaded her heart and tried to take over it. Her mind struggled with it, looking for an escape route, but deep down inside, the terrible truth could no longer be denied.
  
  There was no way out of this.
  
  She let her head turn to the side and saw that the water cannon had just reached Karin. Will the flood damage and destroy her mobile phone? If that happened, they would face a long, painful, and stubborn death.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake studied the mansion where his friends were kept until he pinpointed Karin's exact location. This place was harmoniously combined with all other local properties. They were built right on the street, as if wanting to take up every ounce of space they were given, with minimal gardens but imposing outer walls, high and almost impregnable. Narrow, curtained windows overlooked street level, with large double glazing on the second and third floors. Drake couldn't even see the door. Maybe she was on the other side, but it didn't matter. He wasn't about to knock. He knew his plan was risky and full of speculation, but the situation called for an immediate and extreme response.
  
  "There". He pointed to Mai and Alicia's outer wall, then left them to deal with it. Together with Belmonte, he walked around the nearby streets in search of the two most suitable vehicles. Within five minutes he spotted a gray Land Rover and a powerful Toyota sedan. He pointed them out to Belmonte.
  
  "Ready?"
  
  "No, but I'm in the game."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden finally raised her head. The rubber ball bounced off the wall next to her right eye, the man who fired laughed like a maniac and quickly reloaded so he could try again. Left and right, her companions tried to make themselves less attractive targets by bending their bodies, but they were all soaked through and most of them were wounded in the most painful parts of the body.
  
  "We're here all fucking day!" One of the mercenaries laughed, and then burst into laughter like a screeching donkey. He aimed and fired, his shot was accurate. The rubber ball slammed into Komodo's chest, but the big Delta soldier didn't even flinch.
  
  Hayden sighed at his stupidity and saw Karin do the same. Damn martinets and their macho shows. The mercenary's laughter continued. "Now there is a challenge that I accept. Believe it buddy, all the heroes I ever knew are long dead."
  
  Dahl tried to brush his wet hair aside. "Okay, guy. I would do the same."
  
  "Then we'll all die like fools," Hayden whispered furiously. "We need to be smarter than these animals, not stoop to their level."
  
  "Offer?"
  
  Hayden was in despair. "Don't you have a plan? Great Torsten Dahl. Mad Swede. What are you going to say?"
  
  "I'm saying..." Dahl held up his tattered, bloody, and free hands. "Let's go put their fucking heads up their asses."
  
  The crazy Swede ran as if the devil was chasing him. Opening his mouth wide, yelling, with blood streaming from his waving arms and water around him, he attacked over a dozen armed men. Seconds later he was among them, smashing the side of one man's face with a hard elbow and kicking another so hard that he kept tumbling until he hit the back wall with enough force to knock him unconscious. Hayden took advantage of the chaos to twist her wrists again, but the pain of the ropes ripping through her flesh made her scream. How the hell could Dal stand it? This man was supposed to be a superman. She saw Kinimaka and Komodo trying to do the same, their faces twisted but full of desperate determination, and then Komodo tore his wrist out.
  
  At that moment, the whole place went crazy.
  
  The Scandinavian entered through the far door, shaking his head as he saw the hand-to-hand combat, and summoned more guards from the seemingly endless labyrinth of rooms that made up his mansion. To his credit, he stood his ground as he watched events unfold. Then, as if by great magic, Mei and Alicia suddenly appeared behind him, entering through the first floor window. The Norwegian immediately rushed after the detachment of guards.
  
  Suddenly the roles have changed. When Dal, Mei, and Alicia were free to fight, there was no mercenary group in the world that remained confident. The women burst into the room, inflicting wounds and mutilations, as if they were handing out gifts. Hayden stopped fighting the bonds, exhausted from the stress and pain of her wound, and waited for Komodo to find a weapon that would free her.
  
  The Delta Soldier broke free and fell to his knees. Groaning, he quickly ran over to one of the men Dahl had left behind, searched the body, and pulled out a standard knife.
  
  The Norwegian walked further into the room, unarmed, unperturbed, his rough face showing no sign of emotion. What did he know?
  
  Hayden leaned forward as Komodo reached out and cut her bonds. She was in no condition to fight, but she stumbled forward anyway, hoping to take at least one enemy out of the fight. Mai and Alicia made it to Dahl, first targeting the mercenaries with the deadliest weapons and killing them.
  
  The sound of the shot ricocheted across a wide area. One of the hoses was still working, the water hitting the wall and bouncing back in a small wave. Dahl rammed a man's head into it, rendering him unconscious, and left him to drown.
  
  Behind Hayden's back, Komodo freed Kinimaku. The large Hawaiian muttered his thanks, vaulted over the fallen mercenary to approach her, and held out a supportive hand. "You should back off."
  
  "Are you giving me an order, Mano?"
  
  "Yes, boss, it's me. Now get away from me."
  
  Kinimaka held firm as the mercenary took aim at him. A big pistol shot rang out, the rubber ball slamming into Kinimaki's thigh with crushing force, but nothing more than a snort of disdain. Kinimaka reached out and grabbed the mercenary by the neck, lifting him off the ground. The mercenary put the muzzle of his gun to Kinimaki's neck.
  
  The two men stared at each other, separated by a few inches.
  
  Hayden grabbed a small pistol and shot the mercenary between the eyes. Kinimaka winked at her gratefully. "Mahalo".
  
  "Anytime. You do to me, I will do to you. So to speak."
  
  Kinimaka blinked in surprise, but then turned abruptly as a sudden uproar filled the room, loud even through the noise of fighting, gunfire and screaming.
  
  Hayden stared too. Her hopes were dashed. A second formidable group of mercenaries burst into the room, all armed and seemingly out for blood. The Norwegian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. Game over.
  
  A dozen guns fired at once, aimed high as a sign of strength and intent. Dahl stopped in mid-sentence, holding a mercenary in each hand. A deathly silence slowly descended on the room, a sudden silence ringing in their ears.
  
  The Norwegian stared at Mai and Alicia. "I appreciate your efforts. Breaking in here alone, you would be worthy to be part of my team. But this-" He pointed to the dead and dying mercenaries at their feet. "Proves your worth tenfold. But, alas, your heroism is meaningless. You see, there are no more heroes. Not in this world. Your desperate plan B failed."
  
  Alicia kept her balance, ready to move. "Actually, we have a plan A. He is a plan B."
  
  And then there was an all-powerful crash like a mountain collapsing, and Matt Drake crashed through the far wall at the wheel of a speeding Land Rover, absolute determination carved into his face like a foundation in a rock. Falling masonry, plaster and rubble rained down around the speeding car, along with smoke from a dozen mini-explosives Belmonte had set up to weaken the wall.
  
  Everyone fled. The Norwegian jumped aside, quite nimble for an older guy. One of his men was hit by the stone explosion, a large block crushing his skull before he could even blink. Mai and Alicia fell on deck; the rest of Hayden's team followed suit a fraction of a second later. The roar of the powerful engine was the sound of the deadly behemoth in the room, and it was out for revenge.
  
  As soon as the big car lost speed, Drake jumped out the door, picked up a couple of abandoned submachine guns and started firing, a weapon in each hand. Jets of fire burst from the barrels. The mercenaries crouched and pirouetted where they stood, blood staining the floor and walls around them.
  
  The Norwegian crawled among the bodies, brick dust and blood stuck to him. His flight, his anonymity, that was all that mattered to him now. He didn't even try to find a firearm. Dahl picked up where he left off, grabbing the two dazed mercenaries again and banging their heads against each other. Then, with a grunt, he tossed their bodies aside. They will no longer take pleasure in the pain of others.
  
  It was Hayden, soaked, bloodied and limping, who bent down to grab the Norwegian by the scruff of the neck. She roughly jerked his head up until their eyes met.
  
  "You see? There are still heroes in this world."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
  
  Hayden hauled the Norwegian to his feet by the hair. The old man struggled and screamed, but not a single sympathetic look turned in his direction.
  
  "We have to kill him," Belmonte said as he slid off the back seat of the wrecked Land Rover. "He provoked everything that happened. It all started with this evil bastard."
  
  "He's valuable," Hayden said, returning to her perspective on the CIA. "Imagine what secrets he knows." She looked at Jonathan Gates. "Right? Perhaps we will find out who we can really trust."
  
  The Minister of Defense nodded wearily and sank heavily to the ground among the rubble. "We will do. Just give me a minute."
  
  Hayden hurled the Norwegian at Dahl and walked over to her boss, still limping. "Are you all right, sir?"
  
  "Just tired," Gates said. "At first, this whole round-the-world trip seemed like a good idea. I'm afraid I may have lost sight of the purpose of my mission. Form a chain of clean, reliable and trustworthy people all the way to the White House."
  
  "Doesn't matter". Hayden sat down next to him with a smile. "Now that we have a Norwegian, this task will be much easier."
  
  "If we handle it right."
  
  "Yes," Hayden agreed. "If we handle it right." As the adrenaline subsided, the pain in her side intensified. She still had some painkillers in her pocket and swallowed some.
  
  Ben knelt down next to her. "Are you okay, Hayden?"
  
  His girlfriend looked over his shoulder at the men in the room. "I will when the drugs kick in."
  
  Dahl pressed the Norwegian against the wall and held him there. Alicia appeared at his shoulder, studying the leader of the Shadow Elite as if he were a bizarre relic.
  
  "Do you want to say something, you lean old bastard?"
  
  "I demand to speak to my lawyer?"
  
  Alicia looked surprised, an unusual expression for her. "If you weren"t such a vicious jerk, I would actually respect you for it."
  
  But then Drake pushed past and, bending down, butted the man lightly with his head. "Tell me". He growled. "It was you? Were you the bastard who saw me coming and ordered her to be killed?"
  
  The Norwegian stared at him for a minute and then said: "Wells, your unit commander, suggested that her death ... would divert your attention. So yes, as the leader of the group, I take full responsibility for making this happen."
  
  "And Coyote? The man who killed her. Who is this?"
  
  "Do you think it was a man..."
  
  "I'm sorry," Mai interrupted. "I'm really sorry, Matt, but we have a more pressing need. The world is still in danger. Where are the eight parts of Odin? Tell us now, and your future may be less poignant."
  
  "I have survived for so long," said the Norwegian, "by carefully weighing my options and trusting my instincts. I will live longer if I tell you this-the headquarters of the Shadow Elite is in Vienna," he nodded respectfully at Drake, "as you almost discovered many years ago. I can give you an address. The eight parts and the heads of all other families will be there."
  
  Dahl spoke now. "Why did these eight items have to end up in Vienna? You need them to power the doomsday device, don't you? And why did that Caiman jerk move them from Iceland to Stuttgart in the first place?"
  
  "Don't think you're the only one with a plan B. We have unforeseen circumstances too. We, as the governing body of this planet, now have a new plan that any person with an IQ over a hundred could foresee."
  
  "Which one?"
  
  "First, we will try to eliminate the threat, as we always did. It has worked for thousands of years. It will work again. But..." He looked expressionless. "If we are forced, we will hold a demonstration. Vienna is close enough to Singen to suit our customs and facilities perfectly. And..." He shrugged. "The base in Stuttgart was a similar way station. Just a more comfortable place to rest along the way."
  
  "Your new plan sounds like a step back to me," Drake said.
  
  "This is the move I originally advocated," the Norwegian told them. "But the council rejected my decision. Now, taking advantage of the fiasco you caused, I have exercised my power."
  
  "Fiasco?" Hayden said numbly. "We prevented you from using that fucking device. Did you even think about the fact that once you're blown away by starting this, you might not be able to stop it?"
  
  The Norwegian blinked, showing emotion for the first time.
  
  "Your arrogance," Hayden said, "your haughty, disgusting selfishness amazes me. Do you think that since you are omnipotent, you can rethink Odin?"
  
  "The gods were once real," Dahl snapped at him. "Even now you are too presumptuous to see this. Even now."
  
  "Our families have ruled this world for much longer than you can imagine," the Norwegian told them. "When the world was new and unknown, we were already rich. The global map with navigation only strengthened our grip. Our ancient families belong to six prominent families in history."
  
  "Do you think you are gods?" Drake snapped. "This is all?"
  
  "Gods of the people". The Norwegian almost smiled. "I'm sure of it."
  
  "We're wasting time we don't have," Mai insisted. "You give us this address in Vienna, and you give us something else."
  
  "And what is this?"
  
  "At least three different entry points."
  
  "Well, the days of drawing cards are long gone-"
  
  Drake grabbed him by the neck. "Don't worry, old man. You're starting to make amends right now for all your past sins. You are coming with us."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
  
  Russell Cayman crouched like a big black spider in the corner of the dark tomb. He hummed softly to himself, a chilling litany that recounted his life and all his troubles. If any mercenary found the sight disturbing, no one dared comment. But they left him there, creepy and worried.
  
  The scarred grave beside him belonged to Amatsu, God of Evil. While Caiman did not believe in magic, fantasy, or the presence of spirits, he did believe that an old and terrible trauma could leave some sort of residue in the present. Imprinted in time.
  
  As if it were sunlight, he bathed in its warmth. He recently received orders that he and his men should remain in the tomb for the foreseeable future, guarding it from the curious and the outright curious. The shadowy network of the Shadow Elite will take care of any prying authorities.
  
  Lethal force must be used constantly.
  
  Cayman and his men had no problem with that. It was what they were paid for. Now all they had to do was wait.
  
  Cayman was convinced. The eight particles of Odin were always destined to return to the third tomb of the gods. Was there even a weapon or a person powerful enough to stop it? Sooner or later, with a clean hand or an unclean one, with a good deed or evil, they will return to their rightful haven and fulfill their bright and terrible destiny.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Matthew Holgate strolled through the sculpture gardens of Schönbrunn Palace, ignoring the huge fountains, statues, and seventeenth-century architecture that surrounded him on all sides. He walked slowly towards the gloriette, each step was heavy on him and weighed heavily on his heart as he thought about what was about to happen.
  
  His ancestors flourished in Vienna even when this impressive palace was being built. No doubt since then they have known its owners, designers and all its inhabitants. Now Holgate was about to destroy the family legacy. The legacy of the ages turned to ashes and dust.
  
  He thought of the people his family knew. Kings. Princes. Presidents and Prime Ministers. And then he thought about the scum he had to deal with right now. People without conscience, without any moral remorse whatsoever. People who were raised so harshly and ruthlessly that their hearts were made of black ice.
  
  It wasn't that the Shadow Elite could boast of their great humanitarian principles, but at least every leader of the Six Families had a bit of humanity in them.
  
  Holgate was terrified in many ways. He was terrified that he would walk this path alone - for the first time in his life he had to do this - that he would not be able to close a deal, of the consequences of failure or disloyalty to his new benefactors. He didn't have a buffer - Russell Cayman - he was the only person who was selling bring-and-buy.
  
  And, most of all, he despaired of what would happen when the wrong person bought the right weapon.
  
  But time was running out and the rest of the Shadow Elite was running out of time, though they didn't know it yet. Holgate turned to look at the huge fountain and, behind it, the impressive gloriette, his usually pale face flushed in response to the piercing cold, his haunted gaze fixed on the blood-red haze in the sky, an eloquent and silent accusation.
  
  And then his phone rang. Unbuttoning his long black coat and reaching into an inside pocket, he pulled out a chirping cell phone. "Yes?"
  
  "We've taken action," the voice said, heavily accented and clearly educated. "The bazaar will be ready on time. Many, many... visitors, my friend. You better get it right."
  
  "That will be right," Holgate said quickly. "Just send me the people you promised."
  
  "They're already there." The man dictated a contact number. "Waiting for you. My part is done. Again, my friend, even one of these visitors would not hesitate to destroy the city to get to just one person, and you invited more than two dozen to your bazaar - along with their bodyguards. For all of us, don't screw up."
  
  The connection was severed. Holgate stared at the blank screen for a while, and then at the faces of the passing tourists with glowing eyes.
  
  Don't get screwed.
  
  More than one person destroying the city has frozen Holgate's blood in his veins. This was the man who had the ability to destroy the world.
  
  Then don't do it, he thought. Leave. Tell the Norwegian Lord, even warn the authorities.
  
  But the proud leader of one of the six families simply could not expose himself to such exposure. After all, he was privileged. God is among people. He was allowed such quirks of character.
  
  Soon everything will start to take its course. It has always been so.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  
  
  Drake gazed unseeingly at the wintry, sun-drenched streets of Vienna as Karin followed the impassive directions from her built-in sat-nav to where the Norwegian had said the Shadow Elite had held their headquarters for millennia.
  
  All these years ago, Wells gave the order to kill Alison. Time allowed Drake to survive her death, but with the onset of the Odin cycle, it ruthlessly brought the details back to his face. This is and even more.
  
  Drake didn't just lose Alison in that crash. He also lost his unborn child. Apart from strife, hunger, injustice and torture, there was one nightmarish absolute - a parent should never bury his own child, unborn or not. Now Drake was thinking about what could have been and how his life could have turned out differently, and he had to physically suppress the pain that rose inside. The solid wall of soldierly indifference and denial struggled to intervene and share the suffering.
  
  Around him, the streets of Vienna began to darken. Bright, multi-colored lights radiated warmth and inviting against the background of the night. Drake saw small children, dressed in pom-pom hats and mittens, wrapped in scarves, running between stores, their parents doing their best to keep up and keep an eye on them. He saw the vast museum's impressive architecture, its ancient façade artfully illuminated by a modern light show. He saw businessmen and secretaries, tourists and shop assistants jumping out of the metro, many of whom then raced along the wide roads, trying to avoid the metal bullets that flashed everywhere without thinking - a cyclist rarely stops in Vienna.
  
  In some nondescript and unknown place, they stopped on the side of the road and put three men into the car. The men looked stern and rough and carried large black bags. Sam, their leader, nodded to Drake.
  
  "Sam," the former SAS officer greeted his old friend and his team, "thank you for joining us."
  
  "I can't be anywhere else, mate."
  
  After that, the crowd thinned out, but the old buildings with their eye-catching construction continued. To the right was a winding park where, according to Belmonte, there was an excellent restaurant right in the middle. A place visited and reserved for locals, cheap and delicious, not intended for wealthy tourists. More streets, more traffic lights and apartment complexes, and then they were in a tree-lined area. Even further, and the passages became less and less, until ...
  
  The Norwegian said: "Slow down. This is the right place."
  
  Drake noticed a narrow gate surrounded on all sides by the necessary tall trees. The barbed-wire fence at the top was no doubt behind the withdrawal line. He pressed a button to lower the electric window.
  
  "Yes, get up. Well, you better not lie to us, big man. The punishment for lying here is slow and painful, and it's not something people usually come back from."
  
  Mai raised an eyebrow upon hearing this. "A date with Alicia?"
  
  Even the Englishwoman chuckled. "You are closer to the truth than you think."
  
  Drake expected Belmonte to speak next, but the English thief was not himself these days. He didn't say anything, just stared out the front window, tapping the steering wheel. Drake turned in his seat. The second car pulled up behind them. The rest of the Shadow Elite and the eight pieces of Odin were waiting for them.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  With caution, stealth, and the help of a Norwegian, the team passed right through the main gate and quickly disappeared into the darkened area. No one challenged them at the gate, but then the Norwegian entered the combination, his face only inches from the camera. There was a possibility that he had, in fact, entered the "intruder" alarm code, a set of numbers used to authorize entry but at the same time trigger a silent alert. Mai, Alicia and half the team slid to the left, Drake and the rest to the right.
  
  And then they moved quickly, always on the lookout for guards and traps or any signs of movement ahead. For some time they carefully made their way through the trees and ornamental gardens. The Shadow Elite Mansion was shrouded in deep privacy. Then, after Drake began to wonder if there really was any building ahead and that perhaps the Norwegian had sacrificed himself for his brothers, he saw that the main road was making a sharp right turn ahead.
  
  And right at the top of that bend, towering as high and wide and impressive as any house in Vienna, in silence was the secret headquarters of the group that ruled the world.
  
  There was light from almost every window.
  
  Dahl muttered, "Not exactly green warriors, are they?"
  
  Drake got down on one knee and pulled the Norwegian toward him. Moisture from the grass seeped through his trousers. His weapon clanged as it hit the old man on the head. "This is fine?" He hissed.
  
  "No". The Norwegian looked shocked. "It certainly isn't."
  
  "And the front door?" May asked. "Does she usually hang from her nooses like this?"
  
  Drake took a closer look, marveling at the eagle look of the Japanese agent. The front door was small, hung over a large archway and partly hidden behind a column, but the corners of the frame looked completely wrong.
  
  "A good place".
  
  "Something..." - the Norwegian began.
  
  A shot echoed from the house. The Norwegian inhaled sharply. "No. Oh no..."
  
  Drake gave the signal, and the group emerged from the trees like a well-trained and organized unit. Mai and Alicia covered him from the flanks, and Dal covered the rear and dragged the Norwegian behind him. On the other hand, Hayden and Kinimaka took the lead and Komodo and the SAS team followed and fanned out. Right behind them, holding impressively low, came Karin and Ben, Gates and Belmonte.
  
  Drake made it to the house and quickly looked out the nearest window before leaning against the wall. He shook his head. Nothing. May checked the next one, and Alicia checked the next one. Both women shook their heads.
  
  "Front door".
  
  Drake darted past the windows until he reached the open door. He saw that the thick wood had been chopped and gnawed by bullets. The frame and concrete railings were corroded. Even the decorative window above the door and the lintel were shattered with lead fragments.
  
  "So not professionals," said Alicia.
  
  "Which makes everything even worse." Drake looked inside the house and quickly stepped back. "Spray and prey mercenaries are easy to find but hard as hell to keep under control. Let's move."
  
  The Norwegian grumbled something, apparently genuinely worried about his five comrades, but Dahl handcuffed him and told him to shut up if he valued his teeth. Inside, old paintings hung on the walls, and rich furniture stood on Persian and old Egyptian carpets. Suspended chandeliers adorned the sculptured ceilings. Top-notch sculptures of mythical and ancient beasts lined both sides of the corridor. Drake suggested that these would not be reproductions. When he looked more closely, one picture showed ancient Babylon with all its vicious charms, the other - Sodom and Gomorrah in immoral glory. Another showed the devils of hell corrupting the youth while men in business suits stood, sipping whiskey from crystal glasses and watched, naked from the waist down.
  
  "This?" Dahl snarled in the Norwegian's face. "Is that how you live while so many fight and die?"
  
  Drake checked the first room. Hayden cleared the one on the opposite side of the huge corridor. Their ears were attuned to the smallest sounds. From somewhere ahead, they heard low groans, a scream, and an order shouted out in a guttural, alien voice. It seemed to float from the back of the house.
  
  Another room cleared, and then a fourth. Hayden and Kinimaka entered the fifth, with a wider entrance and two huge doors, the kind usually opened by waiting porters. After a tense moment in which neither of them appeared instantly, Drake slithered towards the entrance.
  
  Hayden had her back to him, tense. Kinimaka lowered his head. Drake, already fearing the worst, walked past the big Hawaiian to assess the room.
  
  Fear gripped his legs.
  
  They were nailed to the walls. Four members of the Shadow Elite, arms outstretched, legs bent in a crucifixion position, their palms and feet pierced with heavy-duty bolts right into the walls themselves. Rivers of blood ran down the priceless tapestries, furs and draperies that hung around them, gathering on the floor. The men's eyes bulged, their moans were weak, full of pain.
  
  The rest of the team filed into the room. Even Ben and Karin made no sound of surprise or regret at the sight of the men. Live by the sword... Taste the blood of the innocent... Die screaming, idiot.
  
  Nobody moved to help the men. They didn't stay there long. Now Drake was most concerned about the people who had done it and the location of the eight pieces of Odin. He turned, weapon at the ready, and looked at Sam and the SAS team, who had remained to cover the corridor.
  
  Sam nodded. Best wishes.
  
  He moved away. The Norwegian's voice stopped him. "What? You must-"
  
  Dahl hit his lips with his fist. "We don't have to do anything. You should think about how to stay useful, because once you get old... you will go the same way as your ancestor Beowulf and the Vikings."
  
  "And what does it mean?"
  
  "To the fucking ground. Now shut up."
  
  The Norwegian didn't even flinch from the blow, just stared at his colleagues, and at least some feeling appeared on his face. He seemed to be almost on the verge of tears.
  
  The team fanned out down the corridor and moved forward. Four more rooms were cleared, and now they heard only silence. Drake cursed to himself that they had arrived too late, but moving now without looking back, he could only kill one of them.
  
  He turned to the Norwegian. "We heard a shot. Someone must still be here. What's in the back?"
  
  "Large room that leads to the back garden. French windows are expansive, designed to provide a full view of-"
  
  "Dal," Drake said. The Swede silenced the Norwegian with another punch.
  
  Drake moved as fast as he dared. He noticed a trail of blood that ran along the wall at shoulder height. Could any of the intruders have been injured? If so, it was most likely due to the fact that they were shot by one of their own people.
  
  He stopped at the closed door and signaled readiness. Kinimaka opened it and Drake jumped first, followed by Hayden. A whole wall of glass doors stretched out in front of him, and beyond that a breathtaking view opened up.
  
  But their attention was drawn to the immediate sight of a crawling, bloodied man with a knife in his back and a gun in his hand.
  
  "Holgate!" The Norwegian tried to jump forward, but Dahl clamped his throat with a huge hand.
  
  "Wait".
  
  "Is he one of you?" Drake hissed, never taking his eyes off the room, the man, and the sight outside the windows.
  
  "Yes. Matthew Holgate. The youngest member of our group."
  
  May, Alicia, and the SAS team circled Drake, taking responsibility for maintaining their perimeters. Drake fell to the floor next to the man just as a coughing fit shook his body.
  
  "What's happened?" Drake asked.
  
  Holgate jumped up and turned his head, trying to aim his gun. Drake disarmed him, ignoring his wounds, and repeated his question.
  
  "They...they jumped on me." Holgate coughed. "They made me watch-" He coughed again, his face twisted in pain. "While they... crucified... my friends. The only friends I knew."
  
  The Norwegian fell to his knees next to Holgate. "What happened here? Look, it's me. You have to tell me what went wrong tonight."
  
  "Wrong?" Holgate spat out the word as if it contained poison. "Everything was wrong for many years. Notes? You never noticed. Your plans... your precious, flawless plans had to be carried out. Day after day. Week after week." Holgate groaned and tried to reach for the knife.
  
  Drake grabbed his arm. "Probably best to leave it alone, asshole."
  
  The Norwegian also reached out, but Dahl squeezed his hand like a vise. Holgate paused and then continued, "You never knew." Suddenly he hissed and his eyes lit up as he turned to the Norwegian. "You didn't even know when I lost it all. You were impregnable, an icy statue in a suit and tie. You let me down".
  
  The Norwegian recoiled, looking in horror at what was happening. "I? What? Have you lost your fortune? Family status? Impossible."
  
  Mai reported from her position near the French doors. "We have some movement here. I see people among the trees behind the ice rink."
  
  Drake turned his attention away from the skirmish between the two Shadow Elite fighters. The question was, should they give chase?
  
  "Wait," he interrupted Holgate. "Eight parts of Odin. Do they have them?"
  
  Holgate's face turned whiter than snow. His lips moved, but not a word escaped his lips.
  
  "Do they have shards?" Drake wanted to strangle this man.
  
  "Yes". The confession was like a death rattle.
  
  "Where are they taking them?"
  
  Absolute fear clouded Holgate's eyes. "They deceived me." he croaked, not believing his ears. "They leave me with nothing."
  
  "Where are they taking them?" Drake almost reached for his knife.
  
  "To the gun market!" Holgate screamed. "A huge terrorist market. The exhibits are put up for auction at the highest price."
  
  Drake instantly jumped to his feet. "Forward!" he shouted. "We must stop them!"
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Mai and Alicia moved in sync, slipping out of the half-open door into the patio beyond. Now Drake allowed himself to fully enjoy the spectacle of what lay outside the windows.
  
  The top half of the vast garden had been turned into an ice skating rink, its surface gleaming under halogen spotlights. All around her the trees were decorated with Christmas flowers and lit up with garlands of garlands. Artificial snow lay on the ground, scattered loosely and in heaps everywhere. The old people have created a winter wonderland just for themselves, a lonely, crazy vision.
  
  "Freaks," Hayden muttered as she walked up beside Drake, the omnipresent Kinimaka looking troubled next to her. "Drake, I'm not buying this. Those guys out there are amateurs. And we are told that they found and destroyed the Shadow Elite?"
  
  Drake looked back at Dahl. "Stay with them, please. We need to know what happened here."
  
  Dahl nodded. Drake stepped carefully out of the house into the crisp, cold night. His SAS buddies watched Mai and Alicia as they skirted the high curb that surrounded the rink, heading for the tree cover. Up ahead, among the trees, Drake saw a man appear. At first he looked shocked. It took Drake a second to aim and he fired, but the man shouted a warning a fraction of a second before the bullet knocked him off his feet.
  
  Now other people were quickly darting between the trees, firing furiously. Some looked back, while others moved forward and fired blindly over their shoulders. Drake fell to the deck with the rest of his crew, hiding behind their bodies behind the curb, but not a single bullet hit anywhere near them.
  
  "Go?" Sam checked with Drake.
  
  It was tempting. A strong, well-coordinated team like theirs can cut through a horde of terrorists in a matter of seconds... but if even one of those wayward bullets hit the Lucky...
  
  But eight fragments of Odin were going to auction, which was supposed to be attended by the richest and deadliest terrorists in the world. Something had to give. A soldier was a soldier because he risked everything for the country and the people he loved. The hero was a hero because he felt fear and went in anyway.
  
  "To hell with everything," he said. "Beyih".
  
  As one they got up and ran in double formation around the circumference of the rink, shooting accurately and constantly. The two fleeing men were wounded and fell heavily, slipping on the artificial snow. Bullets bounced off tree trunks and punched through leaves, shattering colorful lights and dropping heavy ropes with clippings to the floor. Huge ice sculptures were hit and shattered, some toppled over and shattered into pieces on landing.
  
  Drake used excellent tree cover to rush forward without stopping. He quickly spotted the rearguard of the terrorists and fired half a dozen shots. The men fell screaming, falling among the scattered Christmas tree garlands and showering even heavier scraps on the floor. Drake raced past them quickly, taking a seat next to May, confident that his team would clear and make sure those who had fallen but weren't actually dead were soon on their way.
  
  He sat down on the snow, breathing lightly, reloading. The cereal crunched as Mai knelt beside him. It was so quiet around them that he could hear her soft breathing. He peeked out from behind the piled branches, pushed the paper lantern aside.
  
  "Like the old days?" May said.
  
  "You and me?" Drake said. "I think yes. In very ancient times."
  
  "Still strong and warm in my memory, Matt."
  
  He stopped for a second to look at her. There was no sign, no warning that she still felt the same way. "Wow, and you're telling me this now. Right now."
  
  Mai fired when the head appeared. "We are both soldiers. This is what we do. And well, it's almost Christmas. What could be better than time?
  
  With these words, she jumped up as freshly as if it were her first day of conflict, and rushed to the next tree. Drake crouched as the bullet whistled surprisingly close, and then rose to fire. A second later, he joined Mai.
  
  "My feelings for you have never changed," he told her. "Never in all the years. But seriously, before we look at it, I have to finish with all of this." He made a pause.
  
  "For Alison?" Mai attacked again, and now Drake was running with her, half a step behind. The terrorists ran ahead of them, their colorful clothes were easy targets, their screams were better than homing beacons.
  
  "Yes, for Alison." Drake breathed heavily as he fired, talked, and looked for prey. "And for Kennedy. The whole Odin thing is what got her into it. So we met. I want all of this to be in the past before I even try to move on."
  
  "Fair enough". Mai jumped over the fallen terrorist, jumping off his back as he tried to get up, and shot between her legs into his body. "I'll still be here..." She shrugged, landing like a cat. "For a short time".
  
  By this time they had passed through the trees and were approaching the back of the garden. Drake could see the high stone wall between the branches. With the speed born of years of war, he spotted an enemy muzzle peeking out from behind a tree trunk, turned around and fired, sending the muzzle flying and the man who held it straight to hell.
  
  The terrorists crowded ahead, gathered at the foot of the wall, some already climbing the half-dozen rope ladders that had been thrown over. Mai dropped to one knee and began to shoot them down like ducks in a shooting range, but Drake frantically searched for any sign of the objects they were chasing.
  
  No, he thought. False trail? Never. These people were not that smart. And Drake was pretty sure that their own presence came as a surprise to the terrorists. But still...
  
  Then, with a deafening sound that could mean the death of the world, there was a roar of a powerful engine starting up. Drake knew immediately what it was. Getaway car.
  
  They were already running off with eight pieces!
  
  "Wall!" he shouted. "Hit the wall with everything you have!"
  
  Hayden, Kinimaka and the SAS team ran together and released the lead wall. The terrorists collapsed to the ground where they were standing. Those who tried to return fire died just as quickly or were thrown aside by their falling comrades. Men fell backward from the walls, falling like empty sacks, crushing those below. Deadly shards of rock flew back as the bullets pierced the stonework, slashing jagged lines across the stone blocks.
  
  Drake didn't hesitate. He reached the base of the wall and rushed to the nearest swinging ladder, grabbed a rung and began to climb. The terrorist rose above him, just approaching the top of the wall. Drake quickly closed the breach and pulled the man off the wall, hearing him scream as he spun through the air and hit the ground hard.
  
  He was vaguely aware that Mai was on the rope next to him, not far behind. He was also slightly surprised to be in front of her, but then the roar of the terrorists' fugitive car and the sight from the top of the wall drove all other emotions out of his body except horror.
  
  The vehicle, a dark-colored van with what sounded like a powerful engine, sped down the darkened boulevard that adjoined the mansion. For a second he turned at the intersection, skidded a little, and then he sped along an invisible road.
  
  A line of about half a dozen terrorists remained behind and pointed their weapons straight at Drake and May at the top of the wall.
  
  Then they opened fire.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  
  
  Drake jumped off the wall the moment he saw the pitiless black eyes of six snouts staring at him. By the time the terrorists opened fire, he was already in free fall. Bullets whistled over the top of the wall, some grazed the top ledge, and shards of stone rained down around it.
  
  He let go of the gun. His searching hand reached out to the swinging rope ladder and caught it. He grabbed her, felt his palms burning, but squeezed even tighter. Suddenly his fall was halted; his shoulder muscles ached and his back hurt as he hit the wall. With a quick kick, he planted his feet on the springy rungs and dropped safely back to the ground.
  
  Hayden was in front of him. "What's happened?"
  
  "The assholes got away," Drake said. "The pieces are gone."
  
  "And we don't have anyone there," Hayden hissed. "Because we are all here! Crap!"
  
  "Secretary Gates has been looking for local assets for several days now," Kinimaka said. "Like Komodo. They have people ready to fight. We need them now."
  
  Sam looked at Drake. "The regiment has two teams within an hour of flying," he said.
  
  "Put them on standby," Drake told him as he headed back towards the house. "Dal also has a lot of local assets. But first of all, we need to find out where they are going and when they plan to make a sale. Events of this nature would be damn impossible to change."
  
  "Right". Hayden kept up with him as they made their way through the snow back through the trees to what was once the Shadow Elite's mansion and now their crypt.
  
  A tense silence surrounded the team as they trudged across the light-filled ice rink and approached the open French doors. The sense of foreboding was strong as every man and woman imagined what a committed terrorist could do with a doomsday weapon.
  
  Dahl met them at the door. "Did you fail? Trust a damn Yorkshireman to ruin everything."
  
  Drake couldn't even muster the willpower to protest. He pushed his way past the Swede and the Norwegian and into the still prone Holgate, who was being courted by Komodo while Ben, Karin and Gates were watching.
  
  "Is he still conscious?"
  
  "Hardly".
  
  "Wake up the fool." Drake growled. "It doesn't matter how. We only need him alive for a minute or two."
  
  The Scandinavian immediately protested. "Excuse me! There is a legal-"
  
  Dahl's fist stopped the rest of his tirade. "You keep opening it, I will keep filling it. No problem."
  
  For a minute Holgate writhed and protested loudly. Drake nodded in satisfaction. "Good enough". He squatted down until he could whisper into the man's ear. "Now you live or die," he said. "And if you don't care, then we can make you die easy or hard. This is our choice. Do you understand? For years, centuries, you people have been writing the law and playing with it. Subjugated her to his whim. But now... now we are the law. There is no one around to help you, Holgate."
  
  Defeated eyes turned to him. "Aldridge? Grey? Leng?"
  
  "All are dead." Drake didn't care. "And they have suffered greatly, Holgate. How do you want to die?
  
  "Shadow elite-" the Norwegian began haughtily, but then began to choke.
  
  "The shadow elite is no more." Drake heard Alicia sigh. "Drive it into your fat Viking skull."
  
  Holgate must have heard it too, for tears welled up in his eyes. "My fault". he whispered. "It's all my fault. I brought the terrorists here. They were supposed to help me steal Odin's parts and take them to the Czech Republic, but instead they tricked me."
  
  "Awesome," Drake muttered. "Tell me more."
  
  "I was bankrupt, my assets were dissolved. But the band would never agree to that. It was impossible. It was even considered impossible. Our families have prospered even in the darkest days of the last thousand years."
  
  "And you drugged it all," Drake said. "I understand it. But I don't give a fuck, you know? What I want to know is where are they doing this bazaar, how many terrorists are involved and when will it happen? Now quickly, Holgate, before I let my team take turns shooting off pieces of you."
  
  "An old, abandoned city in the Czech Republic. Ghost town. Tomorrow at three o'clock in the afternoon, their time.
  
  "And how many are there?"
  
  Holgate winced the first time he looked Drake straight in the eyes.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "All of them".
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY
  
  
  The next day was the battle of a lifetime, and it seemed only fitting that they should spend that night, perhaps their last, in full force, relaxing together. Facing so many people at the same time made the chance of them all surviving the battle less than a razor's edge.
  
  Belmonte chose the Viennese hotel he was used to and rented a dozen rooms on one floor. The thief spent the money like it didn't matter anymore, and perhaps part of it was his way of atoning for Emma's death. To give up what he loved most.
  
  Or - almost loved most.
  
  One thing was clear. Belmonte has experienced a life-changing event and will never be the same again. All his priorities changed forever.
  
  The luxurious five-star Imperial Hotel, lit up at night, was like a golden treasure at the end of a dark, perilous journey. The lobby was a sumptuous, inviting combination of the deepest colors, rich red and gilded edges, dark oak frames and a bright, shining chandelier above it all. To the right of the domed revolving door stood a tall, gleaming Christmas tree, adorned with gorgeous trim and glittering lights. Large, beautifully wrapped gifts were placed all over its base.
  
  "Oh, how the other half lives," said Alicia, stopping and looking around. Even the lively Englishwoman pulled her coat tighter to hide her worn clothes. While Belmonte paid, the rest of the team wandered around the lobby, looking at the wealthy residents of the hotel, who were carrying hand luggage and chatting among themselves. After a while the master thief signaled to them, and they went up a large, red-carpeted, heavy oak-paneled staircase, above which rose another huge chandelier. At the top, they were lined with marble columns and a warmly illuminated statue, above which hung an old, expensive-looking painting.
  
  "Here". Belmonte walked out, making his way down another sumptuously furnished hallway before stopping and waving. "There below. From three zero-zero five to three sixteen. Choose yourself."
  
  "Only one thing." Alicia has never been the type to properly express her gratitude. "I wish I had a pair of those damn fancy slippers and a bathrobe in my room."
  
  Belmonte inserted his entry card into the castle. "I thought you'd be more interested in a free massage."
  
  Alicia's eyes widened. "Damn right".
  
  The group began to disperse, hoping to relax for the first time in what seemed to Drake for at least months. He chose a room, called out, "Lobby in thirty minutes for anyone who cares," and entered his room alone.
  
  He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes.
  
  It was said that when loved ones died, they ascended to heaven as angels to watch over you. He offered up a silent prayer.
  
  The only problem was that he didn't know if he wanted to live or die.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Karin practically dragged Komodo into her room, saving the prim and pedantic image for someone who really cared. In a few seconds the two were naked and stood under a hot, powerful shower. For fifteen minutes they were still naked, but now under thick, luxurious covers in the middle of the second round. Before they were done, Karin switched roles with the big American, straddling him, and yelled, "Jesus Christ, you better find a way to not leave me this time!" before he flipped her over again and brought his lips to her ear.
  
  "Whatever it takes."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden beckoned Ben to her room as the young man halted awkwardly in the hallway with an uncertain expression on his face. When he received her approval, his face lit up. He squeezed past her, confidence restored.
  
  "Damn it! It's only been a few days, I know, but it feels like months have passed since we've been alone."
  
  Hayden walked over to the window, which was literally surrounded by thick curtains. She pulled back the mesh curtain. Outside, she saw a busy sidewalk and a street full of cars. Nothing has changed, she thought. It could just as well have been Los Angeles or Washington DC, no matter where you were. The architecture could have been smarter, the trees older, but the song has always remained the same.
  
  "I can't believe we missed the first show of the Wall of Sleep," Ben said disconsolately. "Remember? Storm Festival in Leeds. Pretty reckless and fleeting. And, of course, the Wall...
  
  "Stop," Hayden said quietly.
  
  Ben didn't hear. "But I guess I really shocked her by finding that tomb under Shingen, huh?"
  
  Over the past few months, Hayden's mind has traveled back to when she first met Ben and Drake in Washington, D.C., and was drawn to the young man's enthusiasm, intelligence, and wit. She saw the person who was inside. She felt an urge to bring him outside. She accepted the challenge... and felt she owed him now.
  
  Her mind's eye flickered over Mano Kinimaka, sitting alone in a room further down the hall, with the omnipresent guard at her side, and the fact that he seemed to be on her mind more and more lately. But it was his job to protect her. She was embarrassed by the care and concern in his eyes.
  
  She turned back to the room, back to Ben. In his boyish way, he was still attractive. She took advantage of the moment to swallow twice as much painkiller as she was prescribed. The wound in her side throbbed almost as hard as the wound in her heart. The knives she had been stabbed with seemed to be a physical extension of her state of mind.
  
  She was hurt, both physically and mentally.
  
  She sat down on the bed next to Ben, careful not to touch him but staying close. Now was not the time for drama.
  
  Tomorrow it might not even matter.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia spent a few minutes in the shower. The water hit her hard and fast, almost like a soothing massage in itself, but she wasn't the type to fixate on luxury. She quickly left, dried herself with a towel, dried herself and redressed, spent a few minutes looking around her hotel room alone, and then headed to the bar. Life is too short to spend alone, staring at four walls and an empty bed.
  
  The first drink she ordered was Jack and Cola. By the time she stared at her fourth, a large figure sank into the seat beside her with a thud.
  
  Mano Kinimaka. She studied him. "You really are a big bastard, you know that?"
  
  "Have you heard of the big Kahuna? My mom used to call me the fucking huge Kahuna."
  
  Alicia laughed. "Do you want to be pissed off?"
  
  "Looking for... a distraction."
  
  "Oh yes? What's on your mind?"
  
  "Let's get one thing straight from the start, Miles, you don't stand a chance with me."
  
  Alicia pouted her lips slightly. "Her wounds are deeper than a knife blade, mate. She's damaged, this one."
  
  "We are all damaged. You must know. And I really don't know who you're talking about."
  
  "Of course you don't understand." Alicia knocked back the rest of her glass in one gulp. "Maybe we should ask Belmonte. He knows her quite well, at least that's what I've been told."
  
  "Back off". Kinimaka half rose from his chair.
  
  Alicia put her hand on his shoulder. "Stay. Please." When Kinimaka reluctantly returned to his seat, she continued. "I'm a disgusting bitch. I understand it. I don't hold back."
  
  "Honestly, I don't understand why Drake keeps you around."
  
  "Drake? Well, because he knows exactly what he's getting, you know? These other people - May, Gates, even Dahl - they all have their own self-righteous plans. I mean, watch Mai trade that device for her sister. But with me-" She ran the back of her hand from her head down her body to her toes. "What you see is what you get. And what I think is exactly what I'm going to tell you. No secrets, no plans."
  
  Kinimaka asked the bartender to leave the bottle. He carefully placed it between them. "Hayden is my boss. There can be nothing between us."
  
  "Bullshit. Everything changes all the time. I slept with most of my bosses."
  
  Kinimaka shook his head but couldn't help laughing. In a moment he was shaking and snorting. He lifted a neat glass, clinked it with Alicia's, and downed it in one gulp.
  
  The bartender thoughtfully brought another bottle.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Thorsten Dahl wandered around the room, which seemed to have become a temporary command center. The SAS guys were talking quietly to each other while guarding the Norwegian, and Jonathan Gates carefully moved around the less trustworthy people until he finally got on the phone to people he could trust.
  
  Commanders. Generals. Leaders of the old school. Brave captains of unknown crews, people who did not seek fame, but earned it every day. The law of misfortune would not allow many of their free men to be within a day's journey of the Czech Republic, but he was willing to bet anyone over dinner at the White House that he would take more than a few.
  
  It was too early to start figuring out who was and who wasn't part of the Shadow Elite's conspiratorial ring. Their limited resources have now been put to the best use to bring back the eight pieces of Odin.
  
  Sam, the leader of the SAS team, contacted two more teams in Europe, both of whom were ready to make the trip.
  
  Now Dahl was pacing back and forth, calling for all the favors he had ever earned in his considerable career. His Minister of State did the same. Sweden was relatively close to the Czech Republic by plane.
  
  Finally, Dahl closed his phone. "Tomorrow," he announced to the room, "we will have a small army."
  
  "The Czechs might not be too happy to see all these foreign soldiers invading their territory," the Norwegian barked at him from his small corner of the room.
  
  "Then they shouldn"t let terrorists run gun markets in their country, should they?"
  
  Dahl paused for a moment. His eyes clouded over, and a semblance of a fleeting smile appeared on his lips. He calculated the time back in his homeland. He took another look at the room and its guards.
  
  A moment, he thought. Just a moment. On this night of all nights, he deserved it.
  
  He went out into the corridor, found the stairwell, and sat down on the top step. He quickly dialed the number. To his right, a large rectangular window looked out onto a darkened street, where fairy lights flickered like wishes made.
  
  The call was answered immediately. Female voice. "Zala?"
  
  "It's me".
  
  Torsten. Oh, how nice to hear your voice. Are you coming home?"
  
  There was such hope in her voice, such confidence. Dahl kept his tone neutral. "Not yet".
  
  But she was his wife, his life partner, and he could never hide anything from her. "You're coming home," she said. "You do not have to do this. Do you hear?
  
  Dahl was silent for a moment. His wife knew him better than that. "Are they still awake? They are there?" He tried to speak quietly so that his voice would not break.
  
  The other phone clanged and hung up. A second later he heard a twin squeal, a full-time slap of bare feet, and then two of his young children were on the line, stammering over their own words in their eagerness to speak.
  
  He let them speak, reveling in their surprise, basking in the excitement they got from life, and wishing that it would always be so. Childhood flew by in an instant, and every moment he spent sharing it with them made him want more. But at the same time, he wanted to defend them with unquenchable fury in a way they would never hear. The child sees through the eyes of his parents, so let those eyes be full of pride and happiness, not sadness, regret or anger.
  
  He sat there, a great warrior, with eyes full of tears, and listened to his children rejoice.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Karin climbed out of bed, slipped on a luxurious bathrobe, and went to the window. "I never felt special," she said without looking at Komodo. "But even when I remember the darkness of my past, I feel great with you."
  
  Now Komodo knew her, knew of the amazing event in her childhood that had shaped her as an adult. "You have lost your faith," he said. "You cherished the loss. You will never have to do this again."
  
  Karin turned around quickly, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you, Trevor? Psychiatrist or guru?"
  
  He jumped off the bed and hugged her. "A bit of both."
  
  Karin hugged him tightly, staring blankly over his shoulder. "What about tomorrow?"
  
  She felt him shrug. "To break up, I'll quote an episode from Buffy: 'Tomorrow we'll save the world. Again.'"
  
  "And then?"
  
  "We will save each other. I will prove to you that people outside the family can be trusted. You'll figure out a way to keep me in bed. "
  
  "For you to be with me. Somehow."
  
  "Yes. But now-" He gently pulled away from her and started looking for his cell phone. "I have to help create an army."
  
  One by one, he began to search for the contact details of his closest comrades.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia didn't hesitate when Belmonte showed his face at the bar. She invited him to join them, and together she and Kinimaka, a thief, drank too much, talked too much, and stared at the gaze of potential chosen ones. Alicia coaxed them both out of their shells - Kinimaku instead of Hayden and Belmonte instead of Emma. The Hawaiian hesitated, waiting for the right moment with his boss, a time that would never come. Belmonte did raise and train Emma to be his shadow and replacement for him, but somewhere along the crazy path of her training, he fell completely in love with her sharp mind, beauty, and fearlessness. He was lost without her.
  
  "An angel with skills, balls and a bloodied face." He described her, and Alicia found herself wishing she had seen the thief's assistant again. Perhaps they could be friends.
  
  Alicia admitted that she needed communication. She couldn't be alone with her thoughts. Nightmares overwhelmed her.
  
  They ended up secluded in a dark corner, still drinking and talking nonsense, becoming more than colleagues, talking all night and all the fears it might harbor, seeing the dawn towards a new day, comrades in arms and reason.
  
  As one, they were fearless.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Matt Drake watched as the Vienna skyline began to brighten. Dawn was fast approaching, the beginning of a brand new day that could very well end up turning the world into a terrifyingly different place.
  
  "Every civilized government in the world should be involved in this," he said, unable to hide his disappointment. "But since those damn Shadow Elite have their claws on everyone, we can"t reach out to anyone. When I was in the regiment, Mai, it seemed a lot easier."
  
  "You were a pawn, a robot programmed to follow orders. You are now a man fighting against a raging machine. This is a more difficult battle."
  
  "I need to sleep". He moved away from the window.
  
  Mai watched him from where she'd spent the night curled up in a plush chair. "Like me, Matt, you will sleep when you die."
  
  This brought a weary smile. "Bon Jovi? Sometimes I forget that it was you and me who invented the DinoRock."
  
  "And like you and me and the dinosaurs, it looks like it's going extinct. Everything is Gangnam style these days."
  
  Another smile. "We will not die today. None of us will. We will destroy their armies and tear the eight pieces from their broken fingers. And we'll do it Yorkshire style."
  
  "Or, in Alicia's case, the doggy..."
  
  "Wow. This enmity between the two of you? This must stop. After a while, she starts to creak. The three of us actually work well together."
  
  Mai shrugged. "May be. But no matter how you look at today, it's still almost over. We've already neutralized the Shadow Elite. Once the Eight Pieces are safe, this will all be over and those of us who survive... will find some peace of mind."
  
  Drake looked at her for a long time, realizing the truth of her words. Ever since he began searching for the bones of Odin, his life has been like riding a hellish rollercoaster designed by the devil and driven by his demons. To think that in a day or two it would all be over.
  
  Eight pieces are safe. The shadow elite has disappeared. Wells is out of the picture. A bloody king behind bars who never officially existed.
  
  Then there would be one thing left - a killer named Coyote.
  
  But first things first.
  
  "It's time for us to start our attack," he said.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  
  
  A Boeing C17 Globemaster four-engine cargo plane made a hard landing and taxied roughly down a patched, potholed runway in a remote corner of the Western Czech Republic. The transport landed as close to the bazaar as possible so as not to arouse suspicion, but the soldiers still had an hour-long march at a fast pace to reach their destination in time.
  
  Dahl and Gates between them managed to get their hands on the large plane, which was currently tethered to a commercial and civilian landing at Vienna International Airport. The money they and their governments offered ensured a quick and high-quality response from its operators.
  
  In total, about sixty people made the flight, most of whom were military personnel. Not nearly as much as Drake wanted, but much more than yesterday. Among them were eleven members of the SAS, a group of Delta soldiers, members of Thorsten Dahl's SSG, and a few old friends Gates had somehow brought here.
  
  The men were suspended from various operations. Some were on special exercises, others looked after civilians. One knot guarded a company of scientists conducting experiments. Still others were assigned to expanded observation posts.
  
  They immediately responded to the desperate call of the people they respected the most.
  
  But they still needed a leader. Most looked at Dahl. But Dahl was looking at Drake.
  
  The Englishman did his best to hide his shock. "Pull the other one, you fruit pie."
  
  "This is your operation, Drake. It has always been that way."
  
  Not even a second passed before he began to speak. The plan lived and breathed within him anyway, as it did for every mission, constantly evolving. By the time he finished, the team had satisfied looks, even if they all still seemed a little worried.
  
  Drake considered himself lucky. The flip side of this mission was huge. They didn't have a bird's eye view of the topography. They didn't know how many people confronted them. They didn't know exactly where the fragments would be stored. They did not know the firepower of the enemy. The terrorist was an unknown quantity on a good day, but this... The list goes on.
  
  But Drake has been doing it ever since he started working in York, when an Apache helicopter interrupted the runway show. Now it seemed like an eternity ago, but in reality it had only been a few months. He was more than willing to do away with Odin and his bloodied bones.
  
  The plane taxied to a stop, bouncing heavily. The moment it stopped, a green light came on and the tailgate of the cargo bay began to lower. People ran out into the cold air, moving quickly to secure the temporary perimeter. The group leaders checked their compasses to determine the direction. Drake followed May and Alicia out of the plane, followed by the rest of his crew, including all the civilians. They were coming; every hand would be wanted and needed today.
  
  Icy air hit Drake in the face. He quickly pulled up his jacket, checked his small pack and weapons, and watched as everyone else did the same. Gates and Hayden took weapons and ammunition from the CIA facility at the Vienna airport, as well as some necessary additional items - grenades, RPGs, Kevlar vests, communications equipment, water, and even several packets of rations.
  
  Hayden stood next to Drake as they made their way to the exit. "You know I'm really in charge, right?"
  
  Drake saw a half smile on the American's face. "Oh yeah. How is it on the side?
  
  "Damn. If I swallowed some more painkillers, I would see Santa and his fucking reindeer coming up behind us."
  
  "Might come in handy as a useful reinforcement." Alicia intervened from behind their backs: "Anyway, it"s probably best not to get stabbed this time."
  
  Drake led them up a steep, grassy slope to the edge of a small forest. "Come here for the cover," he said, and clicked the microphone. "All clear?"
  
  The answer came, loud due to the excess of interference.
  
  "Good," he said. "Let's perform."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The teams split a bit as they marched through the motley forest, each group sticking to their own. It took extraordinary circumstances and even more extraordinary people to assemble such rival units, and Drake was glad to have these people on his side. Circumstances with which he was not too pleased. He took a quick look back to check the position of the Norwegian, who was escorted by two SAS guards. Although the old man was genuinely shocked by Holgate's betrayal and the massacre of his secret group, he was still trying to think of a way out.
  
  For a while they trudged along, staying alert. Drake found his thoughts turned inward. The responsibility for his friends and crew fell heavily on his shoulders, but no terrorist was ever allowed to wield such a terrible weapon as the one invented by Odin and his kind. To think that the search for the tombs, the mad pursuit of the Blood King, the search for Wells' secrets - all this led him to this - a trek through the scorchingly cold and remote Czech countryside, where the dark shadows of the mountains far ahead are nothing but Transylvania's outskirts.
  
  The communicator chirped in his ear. He pressed the chest microphone. "Yes?"
  
  "Beyond the forest, the ground begins to rise," said a discordant voice. "There are dwellings on the top of the hill."
  
  "Village?"
  
  "If the coordinates are correct, yes."
  
  "They are right". Drake thought of Holgate's horror at the end. "Houses tightly pressed together?"
  
  "Yeah. And the village seems abandoned."
  
  "Fine. Wait for us".
  
  The view from the edge of the woods struck Drake with a sense of lost hope and emptiness. Yellowed, withered grass covered a small hill. Around its pitted peak stood disorderly structures, dilapidated and ruined, with walls missing pieces, as if a huge Transylvanian monster was rampaging, destroying everything in sight.
  
  And it was, of course. The civilians-women, children-have long gone to meet some unknown fate. The evil people who wiped out their city left their mark and just moved on to the next one without even looking back. People like them would never show remorse.
  
  Drake thought about the kind of people gathering behind the dais now. Fanatics, yes, but even worse, well-organized fanatics with deep pockets. He clicked the microphone. "Move out."
  
  The team moved, at first like a brand new machine that needed to be oiled and sanded to get into shape, but these people were consummate professionals and immediately began to adapt to each other. The leading SAS team was the first to overcome the climb. Drake saw one of them suddenly pounce on him, and as he ventured higher, he saw a lone terrorist fall with a broken neck. The team melted between the buildings. Drake, May, Alicia, Dahl and two CIA agents made up the middle group with civilians - Ben, Karin, Gates and Belmonte brought up the rear, now with Komodo and a two-man Delta team as guards.
  
  Drake made it to the grassy peak and pressed himself against the cold concrete wall with all his might. Its edges were sharp where a grenade had torn it apart, its surface pockmarked where bullets had pierced it many years ago. Pausing, he listened. Human voices came from somewhere ahead, not close, but conversation and laughter hummed along with the trembling wind.
  
  May patted him on the shoulder. "Up". She clasped her hands. Drake used them as a step and waited for her push. When this happened, he lifted his body up and over the edge of the flat roof, landing horizontally and remaining absolutely still for a minute. The same thing happened on the houses on the left, on the right and in front. Tiny bits of sand and sharp gravel bit into his hands and provoked a quiet but harsh protest as he cautiously crawled forward, head down so low that his nose was less than an inch from being cut into pieces.
  
  He reached the west-facing edge of the roof and cautiously lifted his head over the concrete ledge. Immediately below, he saw another SAS soldier deal with a second wandering guard. The terrorists' perimeter was thin here, but it wouldn't be long before someone made a noise that would carry too far.
  
  Ahead, behind the houses, the ground sloped down to what was to be the center of the village. A paved square was built there, which was once a meeting place for the villagers and has now been turned into a marketplace for extremists. It took Drake time to raise a pair of compact Steiner Rangefinder binoculars and not only study the assembled enemies, but use the built-in laser to accurately determine the distance between the various elements he could see.
  
  Several groups of men were talking or wandering around the square. They seemed to revolve around a dozen different areas of interest. Drake refocused and recognized several stacked crates marked DBA Kinetics among the bodies, and another that simply had Kord written on it.
  
  These were high-class machine-gun companies. Countless boxes stuffed to capacity. Enough weapons to start and end a small war.
  
  A slight adjustment, and he saw a batch of Vektor grenade launchers. One more, and there was a huge fuss about a bunch of anti-aircraft missiles. Each stall was numbered. Drake turned his binoculars a little, admiring the view beyond the square. The land sloped down towards the flat plains. A wide paved road paved an ugly path to the terrorist base.
  
  Here, Drake saw many heavily guarded helicopters, several trucks, and large barrels of what he thought might be oil. Other vehicles - several expensive cars, a military Hummer. And the big tent is most likely the place for the auction.
  
  He saw no sign of the eight parts of Odin. Of course they had to be in the tent. But in truth, he didn't know. And the large mass of people gathered down the slope and among the helicopters behind him terrified even him.
  
  Several rows of large containers lined up on the top to his right, just where the houses ended. Since the terrorists couldn't bring the containers with them, he concluded that they must have something to do with the old village, or someone who moved into it later and then disappeared.
  
  He slowly backed away and slid to the ground. Dahl, Hayden and Sam approached him. "Not good," Hayden said, her voice higher than usual, probably from the painkillers. "The area is not heavily guarded, but going beyond it is just crazy."
  
  "More than a hundred," Dahl agreed. "And surprisingly reasonable. This is their escape route and the location of the auction. The leaders will make their deals privately in the square. Nobody wants a chatty guard to eavesdrop on their cases now, do they?"
  
  Sam looked worried. "Matt, even our team would have a hard time getting close to this tent."
  
  "Let's look at it the other way." Drake shrugged. "The bastards will be overconfident, smug and proud, as terrorist leaders often are. This is our advantage."
  
  "Maybe," Dahl said. "But none of that helps us slip past over a hundred well-placed guards."
  
  Drake met the Swede's gaze. "Who said anything about sneaking?"
  
  A moment passed before Dahl realized. "Damn, you have huge balls, mate, I give you credit."
  
  "Frighteningly big," Drake agreed.
  
  "Wait, hoaloha." Kinimaka forgot himself in his surprise. "You want to attack them. They?" He waved his hand in the general direction of the tent.
  
  "Not exactly an attack," Drake said softly. "More like a storm."
  
  "Are you nervous because you don"t get your daily diet of fish and chips or something like that?" Kinimaka was raging. "We can not-"
  
  Hayden approached Kinimaka and stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. The Hawaiian nearly jumped out of his own skin and turned, eyes wide, to stare at his boss.
  
  "It's all right, Mano," she said softly. "You must listen to him. He is our leader."
  
  Drake squatted down with his back against the wall and looked up, immensely touched that all the people he considered his "team" had gathered around at this last moment. Mai and Alicia sat next to him. Hayden and Kinimaka knelt down to listen. Ben, Karin, and the pursued Belmonte approached him from the other side. Komodo, the soldier who bravely pursued the Blood King with him, sat with Karin. Jonathan Gates stood behind Komodo, his posture, face and eyes radiating grim determination.
  
  And Thorsten Dahl, the crazy Swede, looked at him with something like absolute respect, love and unconditional faith, a hard-earned quality in any warrior, not to mention one as capable as Dahl.
  
  Drake raised an imaginary glass. "We could go home this very minute," he said. "The terrorists won't care. The world would never know. Or we could stay and not retreat. Let's raise a glass to freedom and shove our lifestyle down the throats of these bastards. We've come so far together..."
  
  Drake met every glance, every flicker of interest. "When our dreams die..." He introduced Alison and Kennedy, but most of all he saw the person he most wanted to know but never knew. The man who lived but never knew life is his unborn child, Emily. "We want to die. Or drink. We understand that there are things worse than hell. But I'm still here - and I'm here to tell you this - the last few months have not only hurt us, they've kicked us hard in the balls, but they've brought us here. Together. Right now, with this doomsday weapon less than a mile away." He stood up, raising his rifle. "So, let's go show these terrorist clowns what the expression "balls against the wall" really means.
  
  
  
  PART 4
  
  
  DRAKE'S LAST BATTLE
  
  '...and six hundred rode into the valley of death...'
  
  
  'The gun to their right,
  
  Cannon to their left
  
  Guns behind them
  
  Volley and thunder;
  
  Stormed with shots and shells,
  
  While horse and hero fell,
  
  They who fought so well
  
  Fell into the jaws of death
  
  Back from the jaws of hell
  
  All that's left of them.'
  
  
  Excerpt from ATTACK OF THE LIGHT Brigade by Alfred Tennyson.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  
  
  The team crawled among the empty houses, just waiting for this moment - a step that turned out to be too far. It came quickly. They managed to quietly deal with three more terrorist perimeter guards before that happened, but the finger of the fourth reflexively pulled the trigger as he was dying.
  
  Shots rang out, terrifyingly loud through the grim concrete walls. At that moment, every man and woman was awakened to life. Arms at the ready, the teams rushed between the buildings, spreading out to make sure no one flanked them. Shots rang out as more terrorist guards began to close in. Drake saw a bouncing figure ahead, fired, and blasted away a corner of the wall with a thick, sharp jet. One of the SAS teams climbed onto the rooftops and kept up the pace there. Every corner presented a new challenge, every turn in the street cast shadows and potential hiding places on their faces.
  
  Drake advanced steadily, May and Alicia, the two people he most wanted to have by his side in this situation, kept up. Every few seconds there were new shots. He could only imagine the panic in the square, as weapons were removed and helicopters were heated up. With a quick swipe, he turned on the chest microphone. "Make sure the Norwegian is always at hand. If anyone knows who has the shards, it is him."
  
  He knew the chance was slim, but they couldn't afford to miss even the smallest opportunity here today.
  
  "I miss it," Alicia said happily next to him. "Late nights, days of fighting and rough sex. My lifestyle." She opened fire when a man peered around the corner ahead, blew off a small part of his head.
  
  More streets, and the attackers stretched even further, until their line was dangerously thin. Drake saw the last few houses ahead, where the ground sloped towards the square, and hurried forward.
  
  His microphone buzzed. "Problem".
  
  "What?"
  
  But then he himself reached the top of the hill and looked down. A large number of terrorist guards and those who looked like hired mercenaries ran towards them, ducking and firing in succession, so that not a second passed without a bullet in flight. Well organized force.
  
  Drake looked around quickly. The containers were a few hundred yards to their right, providing advance and cover. He turned on the microphone. "Move to the right."
  
  They quickly retreated to the side, with their backs to the houses, stubbornly firing and throwing dozens of grenades. The bullets flashed in both directions, hitting the walls of the houses like thunder, showering those around with mortars, kicking up mud around the advancing terrorists, turning some around and sending others rolling back down the bloodied slope. Explosions tore rock and soil, flesh and bone. The desperate struggle between death and destruction caused Drake's entire team to rush to the right and take up position among the tall steel containers. Drake threw himself on the solid ground, kicking up dust and rocks, wasting no time in taking aim at those below and unleashing another volley of lead.
  
  The attackers then climbed to the top of the hill, still firing, and suddenly found themselves in their midst. Drake fired twice, still prone, taking down two men, then rose to face a frontal assault. He slammed the butt of his rifle into the man's teeth, felt the blood splatter, raised the weapon and brought it down hard on the top of his head. The man fell to his knees. Drake drew the knife with his other hand and finished him off. Another man lunged at the Englishman. Drake just stood there, not bending, and met the man's flight with a powerful headbutt to the face. Without a sound or movement, the attacker collapsed in a heap.
  
  Gunfire, grunts and screams, cries for mercy and cries of bloodlust pierced the day. Mai unexpectedly received an elbow in the face and staggered back against the metal plating, the weapon falling out. Drake was too stunned to react to help her, but before he could even move, Alicia drew her gun, spun around, and fired at her opponent in the time it took him one breath.
  
  Mai blinked at her. "Thank you".
  
  Alicia simply winked before turning her attention back to the man she was holding by the throat.
  
  Drake shook his head. "It's all just a delaying tactic." Now he could see over the edge, down into the square. The leaders of the terrorists were just finishing their business, as if it were an ordinary day at the local meat market. They weren't in a hurry. Hardly anyone even glanced up at the hill, at the place where people had fought and died for them.
  
  "Damn their arrogance," he whispered furiously. "But it will cost them dearly."
  
  When the onslaught began to weaken, Drake moved forward. He quickly looked around, taking stock. He could not see everyone, but he did not see the dead on their part.
  
  "For me," he said into the microphone. "To the square".
  
  Men emerged from behind the containers, weapons at the ready, determined to make the next push. With high and constant vigilance, they rushed down the slope, shooting at everything that moved ahead. Now, to Drake's satisfaction, the terrorist leaders and arms dealers were on the run, leaving personal bodyguards and crates of weapons and missiles in their wake.
  
  Beyond the square, he saw helicopters with their rotors already spinning and many of the terrorist's security personnel in strategic positions. Some of the weapons he saw at the ready were more than intimidating. The huge tent stood serene, its sides fluttering in the wind, an oasis of calm in the midst of a storm.
  
  To Drake's left, Hayden appeared in his line of sight, galloping alongside the ubiquitous Kinimaka, covering her back. The Hawaiian seemed even more concerned than usual with his boss's safety. Probably because of the painkillers, Hayden would have thought she was invincible. Drake fired into traffic ahead, wishing he felt the same way. Another shot, and an accidental shot hit the box of rockets, blowing it up with such force that it could rival the best New Year's fireworks.
  
  But they were deadly missiles, flying fragments and small, deadly warheads. Drake and his crew, one and all, threw themselves prone into the mud and ducked their heads. When Drake looked up, he saw a fireball whizzing into the sky. Thick black smoke billowed around her. He climbed up. Enemy troops, twisted pieces of metal and smoldering logs now littered the square.
  
  Drake stepped onto the square, roughly paved surface, occasionally firing a shot when something moved. A man ran out at him from behind a burning pile of ruined logs, but Dahl quickly met him and stopped him on the spot. Literally.
  
  The team crossed the area on foot, surrounded by flames and destruction, looking for any signs of life or enemy snipers. Dahl found an intact box of RPG launchers and rockets, which he quickly distributed. Drake saw Ben, Karin and Gates now running down the hill behind them. Belmonte, to his surprise, was already part of the assault team, holding a light machine gun and a pistol in his hands.
  
  So far so good. He thought about the eight figures again and felt a surge of fear. What if Holgate lied, even under extreme regret and duress? What if the fragments have already disappeared or are even on their way to Shingen by now?
  
  May the Lord help them all.
  
  Then he climbed the last climb and for the first time really looked at the valley below. Death Valley, he thought. On the plains, more than a dozen helicopters were waiting to land. One broke away while he watched. The slope descending into the valley was densely strewn on both sides of the road with small groups of people armed with every conceivable weapon.
  
  They dug in and waited, knowing that if Drake's team wanted to advance further, they would have to get past them.
  
  Drake's entire team was lined up in a checkerboard pattern, in two rows along the edge of the valley. At that moment, the doors of the large tent moved aside, and a small detachment of stern men stepped out, dressed in thobs - or robes - and keffiya - a headdress. Behind them came soldiers with machine guns, dressed in jeans and jackets, and they were followed by the last group - a scurrying group of European men - probably mercenaries - who carried all eight parts of Odin among themselves.
  
  The sale has been completed. The helicopters were already warm and eager to take off.
  
  Drake saw no other way. He looked at Dahl and Sam and their people and thought about the future of their world, their children, nothing else. For our children, he thought. "For the sake of our future!" he exclaimed loudly.
  
  The charge has been turned on.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  They were plodding down the exhausting slope, feet clinging to bloody clumps of dead grass, guns pressed tightly to their shoulders, bullet met bullet, war cry to war cry. And death filled the air. Helicopters rose ahead like black birds of prey, only to be knocked out of the sky by skillfully aimed grenade launchers. Fire rained down from heaven. A creeping column of explosions and a deadly wall of lead marched in front of sixty unsung heroes, a people eaten by fear but moving forward against all odds among them. And even as they fell, they continued to shoot, even as their dying bodies fell to the ground, they threw the last grenade or took another bullet for those who were still alive and still running headlong into the face of death.
  
  All along the hill they lined up in a line, rushing towards the cannons. None of them flinched, but fought fire with fire and overcame the deadly onslaught, like a wave breaking on a reef.
  
  Drake felt several bullets pierce his face. A massive fire blast lit up the hill in front of him, but he cut through it. Something hit his ear, probably shrapnel, but he barely felt it. Each step brought the enemy closer to the limit of reach. Each step brought parts of Odin closer to safety. Conducting accurate fire and skillfully changing the store, he brought down shell after shell on the attackers. Bullets, grenades and rockets shot high into the air as the men staggered back, startled the very moment they pulled the triggers. At some point, the helicopter crashed into the heart of the terrorists' defenses, breaking apart on impact and scattering metal fragments, people and terrible flames outward, demonstrating horrific chaos.
  
  The same explosion destroyed more enemy fortifications from the rear. Drake's team fell among them, ready for blood and battle, offering no mercy. Drake jumped over a high hill, landing among the people, and shot his enemy three times in the chest from three directions. They fell back with heavy blows. Mai landed next to him. Belmonte descended from the other side. The thief shot at a masked man coming out of the smoke down the hill. Drake raised his head.
  
  "Keep walking." He turned on his microphone. "We have momentum. Don't stop now!"
  
  
  But at that moment, there was a terrifying sound of heavy shooting, such a sound made by a large-caliber weapon that seems to be shooting straight from the bowels of hell. They fell to the deck as gigantic chunks of earth were thrown into the air, chewed up by huge projectiles.
  
  "Fuck me!" Mai screamed. "What is this?"
  
  "Some kind of heavy machine gun," Drake yelled back. "Bullshit! They take our position. We're pinned down."
  
  "No time!" Mai screamed, but at that moment the big cannon coughed again and a shell exploded next to her, sending her body through a shallow depression.
  
  "Mai!" Drake screamed.
  
  Belmonte ran up to her. Suddenly a shadow blotted out the sun, and Drake looked up to see four enemy soldiers galloping towards him.
  
  The big cannon was used as a distraction.
  
  Now Drake, alone, rolled over and rose to his knees, shooting one of the men. But the others were too close. One of them knocked the gun from him. Another reached for his throat, but too slowly. Drake grabbed an arm and twisted it down, breaking it at the elbow, then pulled it up sharply so that the man's body slammed into one of his brethren. Another approached him from the side. Drake leaned back, watching as the hand holding the dreaded scythe cut the air a millimeter above his nose and rolled into his body until it was behind the man. Then he drew his own blade and plunged it into the back of his head.
  
  The bullet went through a gap between his legs. He looked up. A truly huge soldier stood in front of him, grinning, holding his weapon at the ready, the blood of good people already dripping from his face.
  
  Drake had no choice. He felt a moment of regret...
  
  ... the gun fired, but missed the target. The SAS soldier launched a desperate attack, hitting the giant in the small of the back. The soldier jumped aside. The giant, seven feet of muscle and pure fury, didn't even flinch. He just re-aimed the gun and ended another man's life. But now Drake was on his feet, and Mai, momentarily alert, shook her head and dived in the other direction.
  
  Drake landed a frontal punch, three punches and a kick in lightning time. The giant took them all without flinching, focusing on Mai, dodging her lethal blows but deflecting them anyway.
  
  Drake struck again. "You'll feel it, you bastard!"
  
  The giant chuckled. "I think you need bigger arms, shorty." He kicked Drake in the chest with the force of an elephant, sending him flying backwards, stunned and out of breath. Mai dived again, breaking her enemy's arm, but, still dazed, found herself being crushed by the giant's feet.
  
  Then there was a short pause as he stared at his dangling arm in confusion. "It's not a bovver." He snarled, not even wincing as he poked the jagged bone back through the torn flesh. "I'll fix it later."
  
  The huge man still held the gun in his huge hand. His insane cackling and delight filled even the death-soaked afternoon air with insane malice.
  
  For the second time in so many minutes, Drake met death at gunpoint. Without any hope, he tried to straighten his body. But the giant immediately fired. Not a word, no more chatter, just a spark of ignition illuminating his eyes, igniting the thought that he might end up here and clumsily move on to his next target.
  
  With the speed of a bullet, a shadow darted between Drake and Mei and instant death. Then the shattered body of Daniel Belmonte landed next to them, bleeding profusely where his neck met his collarbone, his eyes full of hope.
  
  "Did I save the day?"
  
  Still on adrenaline... he didn't quite know yet that his wound was mortal.
  
  But the giant just shook his big, shaggy head and raised his pistol again. Belmonte noticed this, and then, against all odds, he got up and wrapped his arms around the big man. The bullets pierced Belmonte's frame, twitching terribly with each impact. As Drake watched, he saw the last action of the thief in this life - he turned his hand and plunged the knife he had taken from Drake right into the giant's thick neck.
  
  Both men fell in one heap. It still took Drake and May almost a minute to get up. They both heard Belmonte's last words, nothing more than a whisper of breath. "Now I will meet her again."
  
  By then, the battle was on. Drake and May checked their wounds, picked up their lost weapons, and continued, nodding to Belmonte's already cooling body.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden destroyed an enemy defensive post along with Kinimaka, Dahl and a few of his Swedish compatriots before looking ahead. Closer to the bottom of the slope, the men escaping with eight pieces left the tent and headed for a place crowded with helicopters. Hayden looked around. Smoke and fire enveloped the area around them. She couldn't rely on anyone else to come to her aid, so she broke into a run, now starting to feel backfire in her side as the painkillers wore off.
  
  "Let me take the lead," Kinimaka insisted.
  
  But now was not the time to worry about that. Kinimaka was beside her, as he always did, and Dahl was also walking beside her. She headed down the rest of the slope, stopping briefly as they ran into stiff resistance from several stacked barrels ahead. Dahl fired his RPG at the barrels, and the opposition went up in flames. Then, ruefully shaking his head, he threw the weapon away from the grenades.
  
  Their clothes were torn, their flesh bloodied, their faces frozen with determination and the loss of colleagues along the way, but Hayden and her small band pushed forward, finally reaching the flat part of the valley and coming face to face with the felling field. The enemy dug in and some were already firing.
  
  "Look over there," Dahl called out. He pointed to a large group trying to carry off the pieces. "Hurry up. We have no time."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The Norwegian welcomed the floating, cloying smoke with its thick smell of spilled blood and death. When the SAS team that guarded him met stiff resistance and fought hard for survival, he managed to crawl through the mud like a venomous snake slithering through the slime until he managed to outflank the combatants. Then, still crouching, he crept to the bottom of the hill. Along the way, he even managed to pick up an abandoned weapon, a fully loaded submachine gun, which brought a thin smile to his bloodless, sad lips. Luck was always on the side of the privileged, and no one was more privileged than he. He looked back up the hill and saw the dying thief, Belmonte. He turned away without a hint of unease. Parts of Odin were still within reach, and although the plan had changed, the plan still existed.
  
  The only plan that guaranteed the continued dominance of what was left of the Shadow Elite.
  
  Get Cayman to put the damn things in the right holes and send out a warning to the world. If there was some minor destruction, it meant little to him. After a few minutes, they stopped the process by removing a part.
  
  But his mind was asking him, it might not be so easy. What if you can't stop the process?
  
  Then so be it. In the true order of things, the death of the Shadow Elite must indeed mean death for the entire world. It would be a fitting end for this planet.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  
  
  As a unit, they attacked the helicopters. Dahl ran, firing at the black-painted Bell 205 as its occupants frantically tried to slam the doors and fly away. A few seconds later, he crashed into the skid at full speed and threw his body forward so that he flew into the cockpit, continuing to shoot. The windshield and side windows were already broken. The bloodied men screamed and fell back as he landed among them. Fists and legs pounded on him, but to no avail. The bullet whistled past his cheek. Dahl squeezed himself firmly into the fat belly of the twitching human body and splattered the rest of the cockpit with lead. Within a few seconds it became quiet and motionless inside.
  
  Dahl looked out the side window, looking for his next target.
  
  Mai and Alicia zigzagged to another helicopter, this one armed and very similar to the Apache, but with a few modifications. As they approached the helicopter, it lifted off the ground, the sleds twitching in the air, the propellers revving at full speed and creating the thrust needed for takeoff. Mai slung her rifle over her shoulder without slowing down and jumped into the rising skid, grabbing onto it and spinning acrobatically through the air until she landed on her feet facing the still-open cockpit door.
  
  Alicia landed next to her a second later. Half a dozen shocked and frightened faces greeted them.
  
  "Flight over, guys."
  
  Alicia shot the guard while he was trying to aim his rifle at a target in a tight space. Mai drew her knife and jumped into the lap of the nearest terrorist, stabbing the blade into his neck and running to the next one. The helicopter lost speed as the pilot screamed for his life and jumped out the far door, crashing back to the ground with a deafening crash.
  
  Fortunately, he had time to get only ten feet into the air. Alicia jumped to the side as the plane began to roll head over heels, then rose, aiming her rifle at the fleeing pilot. One shot sent him headfirst into a drainage ditch.
  
  Mai jumped out of the cab a few seconds later. "Great shot."
  
  "Great job with the knife. Now, isn't it?"
  
  Their next target, the big black Sikorsky, was already twenty feet off the ground and about to take off.
  
  Both Mai and Alicia aligned the screws in their scopes.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake watched May and Alicia play well and take down terrorists better than any team in the world. The escape helicopter they were aiming at suddenly turned around and plummeted out of the sky, plummeting to the ground before being engulfed by a massive fireball. He had to wonder how the hell Mai did it. The Japanese agent had already returned to the front lines while massaging his back and trying to ignore the tears and bruises that had been inflicted by the giant that Belmonte had killed.
  
  Belmonte. The master thief bowed honorably and was now where he preferred to be. Drake knew that he would never know the whole story of Belmonte and Emma, but he thought that for the sake of the thief, he owed it to at least try to find the girl's father and explain. Without Belmonte's experience and funding, they would never have made it this far.
  
  If only he survived today.
  
  Helicopters took off all over the place, four-wheel drive and faster, heavy vehicles skimming through the trampled grass and hurtling toward the road. Drake's team fell to their knees, lining up targets and firing shots. The helicopters banked several feet and made an emergency landing. Large Mercedes and Audis rolled onto their roofs or crashed into each other, passengers fell out, clutched their wounds or screamed madly. It was complete chaos. The military truck bounced on the pavement and began to pick up speed. In the next moment, a loud hiss and a searing RPG passage heralded an explosion that occurred a fraction of a second later. Mangled debris and burning rubber blocked the roadway.
  
  Drake scanned the helicopters with an anxious look. It took seconds to notice a fleeing gang of terrorists trying to smuggle out the pieces. They were a large group heading towards one of the few military helicopters. He set off on a crazy run, signaling to the others as best he could. To his right, a small helicopter roared as it took off, its occupants leaning out of the open door, yelling insults, firing several bullets at its feet. Drake didn't slow down or fire back. Shard recovery was everything now.
  
  With SAS, Delta, and ragtag teams of Dahl and Gates men covering and clearing the rear, Drake's main team rushed to intercept Odin's eight units. That was it. This is the whole purpose of their insane battles over the past few months. Save the artifacts, save the world.
  
  Hayden skipped as fast as she could, holding one hand tightly to her old wound. The other carried a light submachine gun, but like Drake, she did her best to conserve ammo. Kinimaka trotted beside her, his face dirty and bloody, his hair matted with sweat, but his eyes as hard and determined as granite. They rushed past the empty helicopter, and the Hawaiian threw a grenade inside and shouted a warning to everyone. A fortified Range Rover roared forward, its darkened windows obscuring the passengers. Kinimaka stopped to fire a stream of bullets into the engine bay, and only moved on when he saw the first flames. The less transportation these bastards had, the less likely they were to leave this place unharmed.
  
  Hayden met Drake as they slowed down, moving parallel to the fleeing terrorists down an avenue lined with trucks, 4x4s and helicopters. She dared to glance back up the hill, but saw no sign of Ben, his sister, or Jonathan Gates.
  
  Looking ahead, she saw that the terrorists had made it to their transport and were loading Odin's artifacts aboard, while the others fanned out, creating a defensive perimeter.
  
  And with sheer recklessness, Drake burst through the gap between the rear of the Land Rover and the front of the Dodge RAM and fell among the bad guys. Hayden pursued as best she could. The Englishman must have been in contact with Alicia and May, because now they appeared, ghost-like assassins, piercing the enemy like a blade through flesh.
  
  As the sun set behind the nearby mountains, fire and hatred and determination, fervor and heroism lit up the approaching darkness in all the splendor of colossal fireworks.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  
  
  Drake fired twice, then slid into the return fire of one of the men and blew his legs off. Before the man fell into the mud, Drake fired at another and sprang to his feet, stabbing his stiff fingers into someone's neck, then jumped feet first to the next one, landing a hard blow, knocking the man's weapon aside as it bucked and bullets spattered. to the air. Ahead, units were hastily thrown on board, the pilot was already shuffling the team. People leaned out from all available places, holding rifles at the ready.
  
  Drake stopped in despair. They were going to spray indiscriminately, killing everything that moved, just to secure their getaway.
  
  They're terrorists, he thought as he yelled "Lie down!" and rushed headlong just as they opened fire.
  
  Hayden heard Drake's warning, but was half a second too late. Her knife wound screamed as she twisted furiously in a new direction, slowing her movements just enough to be necessary. That bastard Boudreau would have led her to her death anyway. A nightmarish sound tore through the air, and scything death rushed towards her, but in the blink of an eye, something like a mountain stood between it and destruction.
  
  Kinimaka! Her partner, whom she had dated for three years, convulsed as the bullets hit him in the chest, throwing him back towards her. His blood splashed into her face in a terrible cloud. Hayden collapsed with Kinimaka on top of her and started screaming.
  
  Drake remained prone, took aim with his rifle and took down a couple of terrorist guards. Then he saw the others swoop down from behind-Thorsten Dahl arrived, hitting hard from behind, throwing them face-first out of open doors or onto bulkheads with a crackle of breaking bones. Soon there was no one left in the helicopter but the pilot, and Dahl sternly ordered him to turn off the machine.
  
  Drake immediately turned around to check out the screams he knew were coming from Hayden. At first he couldn't see her, but then he saw Mai and Alicia collapse next to the huge carcass and felt his heart sink.
  
  Oh no. It was Mano. Was Gates' CIA contact under him? Did he take a bullet for Hayden?
  
  He rushed to the rescue, momentarily starting the well-being of his friends. The bodies of the dead terrorists lay all around them. He grabbed Kinimaku with May and Alicia and pushed the dead weight aside. Drake caught a glimpse of the Hawaiian's bloodied face and tattered field jacket before his eyes fell on Hayden.
  
  The CIA agent held on to her side in agony, but her eyes were filled with tears of grief and red streaks ran down her cheeks.
  
  "He saved me..." she sobbed. "M...Mano saved..."
  
  Alicia was the first to kneel in the mud around Hayden and put a hand of sympathy and support on her shoulder. "He loved you," she said. "He told me. This man would do anything for you."
  
  Drake wondered why he had never seen her. Most likely because he had been preoccupied with his own horrors lately and hadn't given much thought to the well-being of everyone else. Now, lying across Mano Kinimaki's body, he met Mai's eyes and tried to communicate that he wanted to give their connection a chance.
  
  The Japanese girl smiled tiredly, her gaze wandering around the battlefield.
  
  Drake looked too. Columns of black smoke rose into the sky, marking downed helicopters and wrecked cars. Several helicopters managed to escape and rush towards the last red-gold rays of the dying sun. The dark figures of many men lay scattered and piled on the grass, the nearby road, and the blood-stained hillside he had attacked. Friend and foe were indistinguishable in the semi-darkness. He saw the distinct figure of Sam and two of his SAS comrades trudging toward them with guns slung over their shoulders. The battle seemed to have been won.
  
  Eight fragments were captured by the good guys. The world was safe.
  
  Everything was over. Two months of blood and hell, and this is what it came to - loneliness on the battlefield, horror and loss after it, bittersweet happiness that most of his friends survived.
  
  Where was Ben? Where were Karin and Gates?
  
  He couldn't see them. But then their familiar shapes emerged from the mist floating around Sam and his boys, along with at least half a dozen other men.
  
  There was a deep cough nearby, so sharp it sounded like a cock of a gun to his ears. He turned quickly, saw only Dahl, still yelling at the pilot to turn off the engine, and frowned. What caused this coughing sound?
  
  And then Mano Kinimaki's body shuddered and the big man opened his eyes, staring up at the sky and spitting blood from his mouth. "Damn, dude." He coughed. "It felt like a Kalua pig hit me with all its might."
  
  Drake's jaw dropped in shock. Alicia was at his side in an instant, ripping off the Hawaiian's jacket.
  
  "Kevlar took it all." She said as if nothing had happened. "He's bleeding from several small cuts on his arms." She grabbed Kinimaki's face with her small but deadly hands. "You are a big, lucky, handsome bastard, you. I don't think I've ever seen a jacket take that many hits."
  
  Drake grinned and rushed to help Hayden - broken and delirious at the sound of her friend's voice - crawl towards him. It was nice to see them hugging, and he sat up for a bit, perking up as the moon came out from behind a cloud.
  
  It was almost on Christmas Day 2012.
  
  Ben and Karin finally arrived, the young man staring down at his girlfriend with a look that said he had no idea what to do. "I didn't want to mention it before," he finally said, "but today is the twenty-first, which, according to the Maya and some other cultures, was supposed to be the end of the world." He shrugged. "But what did they know?"
  
  Silence followed his words, silence broken only by Hayden's low-pitched chatter with Kinimaka and Alicia's insatiable chatter with the SAS guys.
  
  And then the terrible rumble of a submachine gun at full auto broke the silence, bullets bouncing off metal and whistling through the air. Drake turned just in time to see Dal jumping out of the helicopter, landing alive but dazed, and then saw a figure climbing out the far door, still firing at random and yelling for the pilot to take off.
  
  "Get out or I'll blow your fucking head to pieces!"
  
  For the second time in five minutes, Drake literally dropped his jaw. The helicopter quickly took to the air, the SAS fighters reacted the fastest, but could not shoot it down, as it descended low and quickly flew into the clouds.
  
  "Norwegian!" Dahl was crying. "I thought you were watching him!"
  
  No one answered. Drake closed his eyes for a brief moment and then forced his tired body back to its feet.
  
  "I know exactly where he's going." He quickly ran towards the abandoned RPG launcher, but Dal stopped him with a hard look.
  
  "What?" Drake said. "He needs to be stopped quickly. It has shards of Odin on board."
  
  "What he needs." Dahl walked past them all, determined hatred etched on his face. "It's an Apache attack helicopter driven right up his ass."
  
  The Crazy Swede stopped to open the door of said car before getting up. "And that's exactly what I'm going to give him."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The Norwegian tried to calm his pounding heart. Overflowing adrenaline made him want to blow the pilot to pieces, but he reassured himself that he could do it later anyway. For now, the man would take him wherever he wanted to go - and that was straight to Shingen, where Caiman was waiting.
  
  "Is there a radio here?" he asked, pointing with his submachine gun. His finger twitched reflexively, almost pulling the trigger. The dead terrorist's hand slapped him on the back, making his flesh crawl. One of Odin's pieces, the carved Spear, fell to the floor with a dull thud. The others stirred unevenly, as if testing his resolve. A shiver of fear ran down the length of his spine.
  
  The pilot handed him a satellite phone. "Suddenly," the Norwegian said in surprise, "but welcome." He quickly dialed Cayman's number and waited.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Russell Cayman, on any other assignment, would have long ago tried every means to contact his unusually absent bosses. But on this mission, he encountered something completely unfamiliar. A strange feeling came over me - a previously unknown emotion of returning home. Never had he felt so happy, so welcome, and felt such a sense of belonging.
  
  To other people, of course, it was just a grave, a secluded place filled with eerie sounds, old bones, and dusty coffins. But loneliness has always been his best friend, his happy place, and the knowledge that he now shares it with the bodies of the most depraved and powerful creatures that have ever existed - the same as himself - filled Cayman's empty heart with that closest to love and belonging he has ever known.
  
  As it had become his habit lately, he led all his people out of the tomb, and then impatiently climbed into the crypt of the Goddess Kali, found his place among her hard, oversized bones and settled his head. He lay there, eyes open, imagining her arm wrapping around his waist in the darkness, her claw fingers stroking the back of his head, those rotten lips whispering in his ear.
  
  "Now sleep," she whispered. "Sleep, my boy."
  
  His chest would fill with love, and he would whisper just two words to the eternal darkness. "Yes mom".
  
  The breeze blowing across his face was her delicious, fetid breath. A rustle in the dark as her bones rearranged and adjusted. The light tickle of spider legs on his upturned cheek was the fall of her shiny hair. The distant chirping of rats and other creatures was the jealous arguing of the Gods, begging for their turn to speak to her.
  
  Which they never got. Kaiman was Kali's own son, her favorite, her best boy.
  
  But Caiman wasn't crazy enough to think that his real bosses would leave him alone with his big dream, no - they would want to destroy it with their expensive nail-shod boots. So he left his cell phone behind a niche, and as he began to call, just as Kali's soft whispers were lulling him to sleep, Cayman's head twitched in guilt, shock, and defiance.
  
  Bastards! They would pay for it.
  
  He hurried out of the crypt and grabbed it. "Yes?"
  
  "This is Norwegian. Where the hell have you been?"
  
  So now they rebuked him, even as he forced himself out of his perfect dream to answer their call. "Connected".
  
  "I'm sorry?"
  
  "I answered as soon as I could."
  
  "Look, don't mind it now. A lot has happened. The shadow elite is no more."
  
  Cayman was momentarily surprised, his interest rising. "What about the tomb?"
  
  "You are allowed to sound a little depressed about this, Cayman. Showing your feelings is great. We made you who you are today. I guess that makes us kind of like a parent figure to you?"
  
  "Yes sir, it is." Caiman imagined cutting off the Norwegian's face with some ancient pieces of metal he had found in Kali's tomb.
  
  "Well, I'm sorry to say that I'm the only one left. Our friends are dead."
  
  Cayman let out what he thought amounted to a sigh of regret. "Where are you now? Should we seal the tomb forever?" Joy filled his heart.
  
  "Don't be ridiculous. Now I'm on my way to you, and the fragments are next to me. We will show the world that we are still serious. This is what we will do."
  
  Cayman felt something more. "And what?"
  
  "And that stubborn bastard Drake is just minutes behind me with a few of his cohorts. You must be ready for me, Cayman. People with weapons. Weapon at the ready. The grave is organized. We won't have much time to carry out our plan."
  
  Cayman smiled into the phone. "Oh, I'll be ready, sir."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake was happy to be behind Dahl, piloting the big Apache through the oily air. The roar of the heavy propellers was like music to his ears, a tenfold Dinoroch. The instrument panel gleamed and sparkled, promising unlimited weaponry. Dahl handed him a pair of ear scarves.
  
  "To hell with that," Drake said. "I enjoy the sound and every second of being inside this car."
  
  Dahl laughed and clicked something in his headphones. He thought for a few moments before deciding to contact Ole Ackerman.
  
  "Ja?"
  
  "It's me again, Olle."
  
  "Oh. It is you again. Still not dead? I've got my eye on your wife, you know. Such a beautiful lady."
  
  "Not quite dead, no. We're chasing shards of Odin, my friend. Do you have anything that could help us?"
  
  "I would say move faster. It helps?"
  
  "Olle-"
  
  Ja. Ja. I know. Well, now do you see? Do you remember the words that I said? 'The sequence of events will reveal all the secrets of God and humanity's decision to save or destroy itself.' The notorious Odin's Day of Reckoning has come."
  
  "Ragnarok?"
  
  "Yes. Odin escaped his own Ragnarok to fight in a future he may have seen using time travel devices. Now it's up to you how we get through this."
  
  "Anything about shards?" Drake asked.
  
  "I know it," Ackerman said. "Shapes are the key. Not just a 'key'. But the key. See the difference?"
  
  "What does it mean?"
  
  "In trying to translate something from the old Akkadian, the so-called language of the Gods, I began to wonder why some logograms relating to the word "key" were represented not only by images of eight parts, but also by diagrams showing the center of a large city. Now I believe this means that the pieces are the most important part. Steal, destroy or even break just one piece and the rest won't work. The device itself will never work without them."
  
  Dahl accelerated the four-bladed, twin-engine attack helicopter a little faster. "That's what I wanted to hear."
  
  Ackerman's last words were lost in the static. "Unless we find another way to launch the weapon..."
  
  Drake watched the war machine in motion, studied the flashing keyboards, the spinning dials, the switches surrounded by red and black plastic. Dahl flipped a few switches on the prime laser-guided Hellfire missiles, but they were essentially backups. The black shark had more weaponry than you could swing a huge stick around. What Dahl really wanted to use was IHADSS - an integrated helmet-and-display aiming system - a system that could connect a Helicopters 30mm chaingun to a helmet-mounted display, making the gun move and fire according to the movements of its owner's head.
  
  Right now, Dahl's eyes were fixed on the helicopter in which the Norwegian was.
  
  "Ready to end this?" The Swede brought the Apache, diving closer, the engine roared, it seemed that he was hovering like a giant deadly fly, his "eyes" were weapon bays, and his "legs" were Stinger and Sidewinder missiles.
  
  Drake sighed. "So, so ready."
  
  The distance unleashed all hell, and the Norwegian helicopter exploded with a huge fireball, pieces of metal, fragments of an ancient artifact and parts of the Norwegian himself flew in the air in all directions. The roar echoed through the mountains and chased the recently vanished sun across the silver-lit horizon.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  
  
  Russell Cayman heard a loud crackle of static as he prepared to end the call. A moment before, he thought he might have heard the Norwegian scream.
  
  Interesting sound.
  
  He carefully raised the phone to his ear. He spoke a few words. He waited. I tried again. Ten minutes later, he ended the call and dialed again.
  
  Nothing but an empty void. As if there was nothing there. Kayman's lips curved into a smile. The Norwegian was dead. Drake, or someone else, took the old bastard out. Everything was over.
  
  Cayman was free!
  
  For now, he thought. If Drake really won, then he would send the wolves to raid the tomb - and as soon as possible. It only took Cayman a few moments to realize that there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he kept the death of the Shadow Elite to himself and told the people to keep fighting. The authorities were powerful enough to eventually prevail.
  
  Excitement spurred him on. He looked around quickly, saw an abandoned bag lying in the middle of the floor below, and hurried downstairs to retrieve it. A few minutes later he hurried back up the stairs to Kali's tomb and struggled to open the huge lid with as much force as possible. The heavy concrete slab creaked like earth was cracking, but before his strength was exhausted, he managed to widen the gap a little more.
  
  Within minutes, he filled the bag with Kali's bones. The larger ones he had to break, but he was sure that the Goddess would not mind - she had been dead for a long time. Having finished the work, he stepped away from the tomb, comprehending all this for the last time, and felt a sharp pain from tears in the corners of his eyes.
  
  The home he never had.
  
  But he's used to moving on. All his life he has been transported from house to house, from school to school, from agency to agency, just a matter of changing from one battlefield to another. And he was always ready to kill to protect his temporary shelter. Now he picked up the bones of Kali and walked out of the tomb of the gods without looking back. It's time to disappear for a while.
  
  A new chapter in his life has just opened.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  
  
  Mano Kinimaka had already suggested to spend Hawaiian Christmas, so when the big man decided to spend recovery time there, the whole team followed suit. Just days after defeating the terrorists and the Norwegian in combat, the grateful US government sheltered them in a posh hotel overlooking Waikiki Beach.
  
  In real life, there were still many difficult questions to be asked, traitors to be lured out across the world, and crossed paths to be re-settled, but at least for one night, the ordeal of reality was gone. and the feast reigned.
  
  Since the festivities were supposed to start at five, it took Drake several hours to reflect in his hotel room. With incredible luxury at hand, he walked barefoot across a floor so thickly carpeted that it looked like he was walking on feathers. The curtains open with a remote control, the air conditioner is controlled by voice control. He walked over to the slightly ajar window and stared at the waves, the sparkling blue sea, and the golden beach for a while, trying to drive all thought out of his mind.
  
  It didn't work. His life was at a crossroads. Where did he go from here? He, of course, could not continue to live with a lodger and pursue a career in photography. If Kennedy survived, then he could build something with her. If Ben hadn't found Hayden, then maybe they could have come up with something. If Wells hadn't ordered his wife's death, then maybe he could have found some fucking peace...
  
  His first thought was to run, to get as far away from the army and everything connected with it as possible. But he had already tried it - it didn't work. The army, the SAS-the regiment-was in his blood, as much a part of him as his wife and his unborn child, Emily Drake.
  
  There was a light knock on the door. He knew who it would be and went over to let her in. "Still here?" he asked, meaning double meaning.
  
  "For now. For tonight."
  
  "And then what? Are you gone forever? Go back to Japan and go undercover? Can you do it after all this? Will you always be a soldier?"
  
  Mai shrugged. "What choice do I have? To sort this out with my superiors, I'll probably have to volunteer for the toughest assignment. Notes? Can you let go now?"
  
  "If I have something to fight for... I think so."
  
  "And what would you fight for?" Her eyes dug into his like heat-seeking missiles.
  
  "We just saved the world," Drake told her. "And not just once."
  
  "Oh, that was yesterday." Mai kicked off her shoes and ran across the carpet, unconsciously following in Drake's previous footsteps. "Today we are ancient history, like One."
  
  Drake caught up and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You can't just leave," he told her. "Or we will never know. Can't you give it some time?"
  
  "My government has requested that I return by tomorrow," Mai said with sadness in her voice. "I'm still their agent. Unless you give me a good enough reason to deny them, or-" She quickly turned around. "They mentioned something about Gates - his 'pitch'. Do you know anything about it?"
  
  Drake blinked in confusion. "No".
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  When Ben Blake entered Hayden's room, he heard the sound of the shower running at full blast. His mind drifted away from the horrors of the war and the disappointment of being fired from the band he had created, the Wall of Sleep, and being replaced by a dysfunctional frontman on the day they played their biggest ever gig as backing for American rock band Halestorm at the O2 Apollo. in Manchester.
  
  He missed everything. This story with Odin ruined all his dreams, and now even forced him to look for his girlfriend through her boss to try to make amends with her. But there was still hope. The shower became a great place for him to do this.
  
  The bed screeched as he bounced off it into the bathroom. Steam and drops of water covered every surface. Hayden has been here for a long time. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Hayden kneeling in the shower, naked, facing the far corner. Ben stopped in the doorway, admiring at first the curved, tanned body, glistening with water droplets, and the hair falling down the middle of the back. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile, but then another noise reached his ears, loud even over the sound of the shower.
  
  Hayden was sobbing terribly, uncontrollably. Her entire body shook from the force of it. Ben ran up to her and was elbowed in the ear for his efforts. Hayden spun, standing over him with fists ready to strike.
  
  "Oh, it's you. Ben... There are things we need to talk about."
  
  But this was not necessary. Ben could see it all in her face. It would mean facing her, facing failure, and requiring more maturity than he was willing to do right now. He saw their future. He saw their life for what it was. They weren't even on the same wavelength. Hayden pulled him to his feet.
  
  "Ben, I'm sorry." She wasn't talking about the elbow, and he knew it. His clothes were wet, but he didn't care. He hugged his girlfriend for the last time. He brought his lips to her ear.
  
  "I'm sorry too, Hayden. Good luck."
  
  And Ben turned, and although he remained on his feet, he felt as if he had crawled out of the shower, trying his best to drown out the sounds of her anguish. He blamed the shower itself for the water that dripped uncontrollably from his eyes as well as from his clothes.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia listened as Dahl called his family, switching instantly from soldier to daddy and then to loving husband. It reminded her of something she'd seen online, a picture of a rough biker with the caption: It doesn't matter how big you are or how big your ass is, when a kid hands you a toy phone, you answer it.
  
  Dahl was that kind of guy. A loving family man who has no equal on the battlefield. She admired him, although she would never say it out loud. For her, a sense of respect was rare and alien. She could count the number of people she admired in this world on the fingers of one hand.
  
  And, including Dahl, three of them lived in this very hotel. The third, Mai Kitano, conquered her despite much internal struggle. Alicia still tried to fight it, but admitted that she was going to lose this battle.
  
  On the other hand, Jonathan Gates was caught up in a series of endless phone calls. His smooth speech seemed to win more often than not. When he noticed that she was looking at him curiously, he smiled and leaned conspiratorially towards her. "I have to make the most of this while I can," he said. "At this moment, this minute, I have more power than the president. My team saved everyone. Not only that, we have unearthed the Shadow Elite and put an end to their machinations. No one will deny me anything for the next few weeks, trust me."
  
  Alicia nodded. "Understood. So, what is this "feed" that I hear from you all the time? Sounds mysterious."
  
  "Oh, it is." Gates gave her a wide, boyish smile. "I got it to go without any problems at all after everything that happened recently. The rest is up to you. All of you."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Karin and Komodo appeared just a few minutes before the party started, literally throwing on a few pieces of clothing and rushing to the elevators. Karin was breathing heavily, still flushed as she smoothed her skirt.
  
  "To be continued?" She arched an eyebrow defiantly.
  
  "Just try to stop me." Komodo smirked.
  
  Karin wrapped a Hawaiian leu around her neck. "Do you look okay?"
  
  "A little hotter and they'd have to put out the fire."
  
  Karin slapped him. "Jerk".
  
  The elevator arrived and whistled open. Karin entered first and waited for the doors to close, making sure they were alone.
  
  She turned to Komodo. His eyes widened, but she shook her head. "No. Not here. Well... maybe later. But-"
  
  "I know what you're going to say." The Delta team leader lowered his head. "What will happen to us next? I know that look."
  
  "So what happens next, Trevor?"
  
  "We will find a way. Worst option? You could live next to the barracks. This is a garrison town."
  
  "That's not what I want."
  
  "I get it. Got it loud and clear. I don't have an answer yet, baby. I just do not know."
  
  Karin frowned. "Baby?"
  
  "It's American for "sweetheart." Or love. Where you're from, is that what they say? I don't have an answer yet, honey."
  
  Karin punched him in the shoulder. "You are a real tit, do you know that? Look, now we're here. Better clean yourself up, soldier."
  
  "Yes, ma'am."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Little by little the crew floated out into the night. Hawaiian music supported the hula dancers as they swayed on stage. Flickering, smoking torches lined the walls that surrounded their private courtyard. Everyone either sat down or stood, grazing around the buffet, contented in each other's company, bonded by a shared experience of action and blood. A girl in a grassy skirt wove flowers into each guest's hair or tucked them behind their ears as each person left. The long table featured the best of the Hawaiian buffet: fresh pineapple, coconut, seafood, pork and spam. Tropical cocktails were placed in every eager hand except Drake. For dessert, pineapple pie, fresh fruit slices and a sweet dipping sauce.
  
  The Hula girls swayed their hips. The fire knife dance took even Mae's breath away, and the men received Alicia's approving whistles. It was the longest time either of them had relaxed without any impending surgery they could remember.
  
  Drake sat alone for a while, soaking up the atmosphere and watching each of his colleagues in turn. Ben Blake, the rock-singing geek who started this journey from scratch, gained so much along the way and then ended it with even less than he started. Karin, his sister, who somehow had a purpose and didn't want to waste her life anymore. Komodo, the gruff-looking head of the Delta team, who spoke to Karin with such respect and love that Drake would tense up every time he heard a male voice. Mano Kinimaka, ensconced astride a makeshift bed, so happy that everyone joined him at his Hawaiian party, now surrounded by hula dancers, but still convinced that Hayden noticed that even the prettiest of them didn't interest him. And Hayden herself, so exhausted and hurt, so tired. She fought the greatest battles of her life and lived to see the next day. Her eyes might have been reddened, but her face was a determined mixture of expectation and hope. He walked past Jonathan Gates, not knowing how the politician worked his cunning magic, but finding that his faith in the electoral system had been restored a little. If someone like Gates could become a future potential presidential candidate, then the world would not be lost.
  
  And then May and Alicia, two of the most complex, crazy, and ultimately capable people he'd ever known. Mai was still a mystery to him, and he had known her the longest. There was no doubt that she might hold the key to his future, but he couldn't hope to commit a crime overnight. He couldn't make that decision now. Too many variables were still up in the air.
  
  Then he caught a glimpse of Alicia, a girl who didn't hide her heart, was never shy about her expressions, her harsh tongue was her defense mechanism, but still a loyal if misguided friend.
  
  Finally, he glanced at Torsten Dahl and saw that the Swede was looking straight back at him. Dal was solid gold in every way. There was no more need to say anything.
  
  Dahl stepped closer. "When I first met you, Drake, in that cave where the World Tree grows, I thought you were a big jerk at best."
  
  "Likewise."
  
  "Perhaps I was a little out of my mind."
  
  Drake smiled, brushing aside the few unresolved issues and old memories that threatened to spoil the rest of his night. "Likewise."
  
  Dahl held out his hand. "Thanks for the help".
  
  Drake shook her tightly. "Any time, buddy."
  
  The evening was drawing to a close. Beyond the low walls, lit by torches, the surf broke on the shore where revelers strolled, dipping their toes into the warm, frothy surf. The concert ended and the sound system played some old, sweet tunes as Gates clinked his spoon against a glass and asked for everyone's attention.
  
  "Your countries thank you," he said when everyone acknowledged him. "Although they may never show it. This is my official speech, and you will hear it only once. " He made a pause. "We are all friends here, right? So to hell with it."
  
  Drake's eyebrows arched. Gates became more and more popular by the minute.
  
  "I'm here to thank you from the bottom of my heart. If it wasn't for you - all of you - I'd be dead right now. Ignore the state of the rest of the world. So let's drink to you. For all our sins, we still won." He raised his glass. Everyone drank.
  
  Then he turned to Ben Blake. "Do you remember how it all started?"
  
  Ben nodded. "For you? Yes, back at the Library of Congress."
  
  "Do you understand. And it was there, it was then, that I first saw the potential for a great team. I watched you all work together and clear the way to see how far you can go."
  
  "You paved the way to keep us updated." Drake nodded. "We would never have been able to track down the Blood King without your help."
  
  "I did what was required," Gates said with steel in his voice. "And, thank God, it all paid off. My decisions then helped my career now." He made a pause. "And now it"s time to try something different."
  
  "That's never a problem for me," Alicia assured him, sounding more than a little drunk.
  
  "I want to offer you an idea. But of course it's not something you don't already do."
  
  "Step back," Mai said softly. "Everything is better than my tomorrow."
  
  Gates spread his hands. "Just that - I've been given the go-ahead to put together a team of specialists - that's the military and IT people, as well as foreign, local agencies and government contacts, all of which we've gathered here tonight. I am planning to lead an unrivaled new secret agency, a top-notch extreme team, and I am offering you all a job."
  
  There was complete silence for a moment, then questions began to pour in.
  
  Drake was first. "Job doing what exactly?"
  
  "Didn't you hear the word extreme team?" Alicia slurred.
  
  "We are writing our own bylaws," Gates told him. "It's just one of her charms. We will choose our own tasks."
  
  "All of us?" Komodo asked with unbridled excitement. "Me too? And Karin?
  
  "Count on me." Hayden was already nodding to her boss. "If Mano joins me?"
  
  Kinimaki's head was nodding so vigorously that it threatened to roll away. "Certainly".
  
  Drake paused only to study May's reaction. He could tell right away that she liked the idea more than the idea of returning to Japan and being tested again by her superiors. It was easy for him, with or without her. The difference between action and inaction for him was much more than two letters; it was a good life or a slow death.
  
  Only a few left behind. Gates spoke when he noticed Dahl's deep indecision. "For you, Dahl, and for everyone else in the future, I am offering a work package much better than the one you are currently using, which in English means that you will be able to see your family more often."
  
  "How?" The Swede was not weak.
  
  "Look around". Gates grinned. "At the level of these people and others that you could recommend. Everyone will have free time to recuperate or be with their families because we will take fewer jobs than other agencies. We won't overstress. I want my people to be at the top of their game. And one way to ensure that is to extend their happy time."
  
  Dahl obviously hesitated.
  
  "But think about it," Gates insisted. "I will take only those who wish to play an important role in this new initiative. I only want the best because I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail with some of your bosses to keep you. But know this - the funding is already in place."
  
  "Fast move," Alicia said. "I like it. Oh, and I'm in."
  
  Drake took Gates' statement differently. To him, this meant that sharks and snakes were already gathering at the door-sharks to profit from the group's successes, snakes to infiltrate its ranks.
  
  Then Ben was at his side, a humanoid basset hound with downcast eyes and a sad face. "What do you think?" Like he was asking permission.
  
  Drake patted him on the back. "I think that's a hell of a lot better than singing in a band and fucking fans, mate."
  
  "You work for the government?"
  
  "Saving lives. Fight against evil. Hey, maybe you could ask Taylor to come and join us. Or that new group you belong to. Hurricane, isn't it?"
  
  "Nah. No more. Lizzie doesn't reply to me on Twitter."
  
  "No?" Drake tried to feign shock. "So delusional."
  
  "I love the sound of working with this team," Ben said. "And Karin is in business."
  
  "Don't join Karin, buddy. And certainly not for Hayden." Drake removed the kid gloves from Ben at the time of Kennedy's death. He wasn't about to put them back on now. "You know, it's not all going to be a bed of roses. We could get our asses kicked. If you do join, make sure it's for the sake of the team."
  
  "What is our first task?" Ben asked impatiently.
  
  Gates looked at him. "Do you think I would act so quickly?"
  
  Hayden laughed. "I would be surprised if you didn't."
  
  "Well... there's something there."
  
  "Let's see what serious shit we can get ourselves into." Alicia joined them. "And hey, what does the headquarters look like? More importantly, what does the armory look like? Do we have our own aircraft? Oh, and this surveillance system that can see through walls? That would be cool..."
  
  Gates laughed. "Well, I'm not too sure about the plane, but within reason, we should be pretty well equipped."
  
  Alicia chuckled in response. "This is my kind of talk. Let's drink to that."
  
  Drake smirked and nodded, not paying much attention. He had already made up his mind and passed out for a few moments. Memories of Belmont and Emma floated out of the haze of memory to remind him of their sacrifices. The only thing Drake promised himself was that he would find Emma's father and explain what really happened to his daughter. No parent should ever be in the dark about the fate of their child - there was no worse torment.
  
  And one vile name remained burned into his brain, like a hideous brand, like a wide open, festering wound. The name Coyote is a man or a woman, near or far, a murderer or an official ...
  
  ...one day Drake will be there to demand much more from this man than just a pound of flesh. And if the madness of revenge takes him later, then so be it.
  
  
  END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  David Leadbeater
  Swords of Babylon
  
  
  For my family.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIRST
  
  
  
  THE PRESENT
  
  
  Alicia Miles was not one of those people who look back on her life. In fact, the only time her old life caught up with her was when she was sleeping. If, when she woke up, she could look at herself at seven years old, she would not recognize a single feature of the person she was today.
  
  This was before it was forged.
  
  At the age of eight, she remembered sitting in bed with her knees pressed to her chest, bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight that filtered through the broken blinds; a ghost or an angel, barely formed, the promise of the future still fresh and pure and alive in her mind. Terrible, unfamiliar sounds began recently. Her father is screaming. Her mother, at first, responded in kind. The sound of breaking glass. The sound of the refrigerator door opening and, no doubt. the sight of her father reaching out to take another one of those cans he had begun to drink-the ones he seemed to enjoy even during the day.
  
  Drink and crush. Drink and crush.
  
  The terrible noise of those cans being crushed in anger still echoed in her memories. It was the sound of her being robbed of her virginity, the sound of her family life being torn to shreds.
  
  So she sat huddled in bed, desperately trying not to hear, but at the same time she was terribly curious to know what her parents were angry about. Were they angry at each other? For someone else? To the world behind their locked doors? Then she heard her mother start crying. She felt her heart beat faster, her temperature rose from worry. She gritted her teeth in an attempt not to burst into tears herself.
  
  The refrigerator door slammed again, and then she faintly heard her father console her mother. This was the beginning of everything.
  
  It would get much worse.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  She woke up in the dark, covered in sweat, and sat up in bed. Alicia immediately hugged her knees to her chest, unconsciously imitating the girl she used to be. Fragments of old memories stirred up the smoldering ashes in her soul. In less than a second, she had them off her shoulders. It took her a moment to appreciate where she was. So many things have happened lately.
  
  Nude, in bed, with a man by her side. This was nothing new. The first difference was that she knew exactly who the man was. He was more than just a body that drowned out nightmares. It was Lomas. The man she left Drake's new team for. At least until the journey took her in a different direction.
  
  She slipped out of bed and walked silently to the window. An elegantly sculpted, tree-lined eighteen-hole golf course stretched away from her, nothing but a cluster of shadows in total moonless darkness. Alicia winced slightly. She was never comforted by the darkness, not by the sheets, not by the solitary act of sleep. Bad memories die hard. She heard Lomas' breathing change, and in that moment she knew he was awake.
  
  "Go back to sleep," she said in a colorless voice. "I'll join you soon."
  
  Outside, darkness fell, a breeze stirring the trees. The biker gang decided to enjoy a few days of R&R at Uncle Sam's expense, which was part of a small package that Drake managed to get through Jonathan Gates and his new agency SPEAR.
  
  What the hell did that mean again? Alicia couldn't remember. She'd seen more than she should have in her life lately, and it was time to let her guard down a bit and relax. Not that she ever could. Her dreams reminded her of this. At the age of nine, she woke up every night after the lights went out in her house, alert, prepared, waiting for the screams to start.
  
  And so it has always been.
  
  Chasing her anxiety away, Alicia rushed back to the bed and jumped onto Lomas' prostrate body, straddling him. She laughed, forced at first, but then quickly grew into the person she had become. Lomas growled and tried to push her away, but she pinned him down with her knees.
  
  "No way, biker boy. Just lie back and enjoy the ride."
  
  She began to ride on it, pleasure banishing memories, her noise repelling old fears. Her hair swept back. Her hands gripped his broad shoulders painfully. Time, life, decisions, past and future - all ceased to exist. This was her freedom, her true liberation.
  
  When they finished, she rolled down. Lomas immediately fell on top of her. "Now, how about you do it my way?"
  
  Alicia held his gaze. "As long as you're not in a hurry. I'm not a Ducati to hit 0-60 in seven seconds. More like your luxury Harley chassis."
  
  "I think I know it." Lomas bent his head to kiss her.
  
  At that moment, Alicia's mobile phone rang. She whispered "Don't stop" to Lomas and picked him up from the bedside table.
  
  "Hello? Not the right time, Thorsten."
  
  "Alicia? It's Dal." The big Swede spoke quickly, as if he hadn't heard her. "We need you..."
  
  "Oh yes? I heard-"
  
  "It's about Drake, Alicia. The Russians have captured him."
  
  Alicia sat up, unkindly tossing Lomas' body away in an instant. "What? Where did they take him? What happened to Mei?
  
  "Russia. What the hell do you think, where? See you there, Alicia. We will give you the exact location. And... be quick... that"s not good."
  
  Dahl ended the conversation. Alicia closed her eyes for a moment and mentally sighed. Then she whispered, "Damn it, Drake."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  
  3 HOURS EARLY
  
  
  Matt Drake later looked back and wondered why on earth he and May hadn't been better prepared. Any newcomer would have realized that the Russians' only chance of stealing him was at sunset, when the two of them made their nightly visit to the Little Fountains Cafe on 18th Street. They made some of the best pulled pork sandwiches Drake had ever tasted and offered them an anonymous romantic dinner. The price was to leave the tight security cordon that surrounded their CIA hotel and drive a few miles north.
  
  It may have been a downturn since defeating arms dealer Sean Kingston and his North Korean associates just two days ago. Perhaps it was because Jonathan Gates had not yet secured a new headquarters for them and they had no work to focus on. Or maybe it was just because May and Drake were a little lost in each other... for the second time in their lives.
  
  Whatever it was, it took the whole team a few days. Drake didn't know the details, but Hayden and Kinimaka were figuring things out, Karin and Komodo were working like rabbits, and good old Thorsten Dahl spent most of his days talking to his wife and kids via video link from his laptop. Until Gates was able to get a new headquarters, their options were somewhat limited. They were needed by the country. The CIA needed them. But these agencies would use the team for their own ends and means. Gates wanted SPEAR to maintain its elitist image, determined to keep them as the best of the best, needed only for the most critical missions.
  
  And critical, Drake thought. The secretary meant crazy and desperate. Something on the verge of an apocalypse.
  
  He already missed Alicia and her strange, slightly unhinged wit. He wondered when he would see her again. Probably not soon enough.
  
  But Mai filled his days and nights with her inexplicable mixture of tenderness and hardness. He barely remembered much of their previous relationship, but when they reconnected, some of the more complex elements came flooding back.
  
  So is her insomnia. And how she almost never let her guard down, as if she was always afraid that someone from her past was looking for her and would eventually find her. This may have been true, but highly unlikely.
  
  Drake was driving one of the CIA pool cars. This was the third time they had made the journey in so many nights. The traffic, as always, was crawling like a snake stalking its prey, so Drake turned on the sat nav and punched in 'previous address'. The machine began to follow its monotonous instructions.
  
  The phone beeped in the car. Drake replied: "Yes, I got up."
  
  Hayden's voice reminded him of work, distracting him from when he and May were together. "Just some information to pass on. Gates came along with the new headquarters. It's across from the mall on Pennsylvania Avenue." She coughed. "Could be worse".
  
  "When do you want us to start?"
  
  "It will take a few days to get the connection up and running, but most of the infrastructure is already in place. This is an old hole for covert CIA operations."
  
  Mai chuckled. "Sounds charming."
  
  "Today is Tuesday. Let's say Thursday. I will let you know the address."
  
  Drake turned off and looked out the window. "I wonder what will happen next? Between Odin, Blood King, Shadow Elite and North Damn Korea, I don't know which is worse."
  
  "Blood King," Mai whispered without a pause. "No questions".
  
  "And those last Russians weren't exactly carefree bears," Drake assured her. "Especially this Zanko. Big, hairy bastard."
  
  "How is Romero?" May asked. "Did you hear anything from him?"
  
  "No. Nothing. I think he's back in Delta. What, did you hear anything from Smith?"
  
  Mai smiled. "All the time".
  
  "Do you want me to... you know... put him away?"
  
  "Why? Are you jealous?"
  
  "A little".
  
  "He's just flirting. He thinks he loves me. He will survive it."
  
  "He better," Drake said irritably, but it was all a game. Both Drake and Mai knew how much they owed to the Delta soldiers. Drake turned the wheel as the navigator steered them away from the main arteries and into some quieter lanes.
  
  "I think you should call Ben. Look how he's doing."
  
  Drake nodded. "I will do. As soon as I find the time."
  
  "Well, don't stay away too long. He was one of your best friends."
  
  Those words brought back memories that Drake wanted to keep dormant. And lately, every memory of Kennedy Moore pierced his heart. Did I fall in love with May too soon after Kennedy's death?
  
  "I will do everything in my power."
  
  May changed the subject. "So, are you going to eat that pork again tonight? You really should try the fried Ahi, it's...
  
  A car stopped in front of Drake. He swerved sharply to avoid a collision.
  
  "Christ!"
  
  He slammed on the brakes and skidded across the road, the hood of the car nearly hitting a parked minivan. The car in front of them, a black Escalade, stopped dead in its tracks.
  
  Mai said, "I don"t like-"
  
  The second Escalade came out from behind them, swerved across the road, effectively blocking them.
  
  Drake reached for the glove box, but found only one Glock. "Is this thing bulletproof?"
  
  "I doubt it".
  
  Drake tapped on the phone. "Better name all nine yards," he told the CIA technician, who answered. "I think we were ambushed."
  
  Both escalades flared with bodies dressed in black. Men literally poured out of every door, holding small devices that looked like stun guns, and screaming. Drake's car was quickly surrounded. The men were all dressed in full-face balaclavas with holes cut out for eyes and noses, their body language screaming that they were being held on a very short leash.
  
  "Stay in the car," Drake said and started the engine. "We can-"
  
  The man stepped forward and placed a small black box on the hood of their car by the pool. Then he raised the remote control and pressed it with his thumb. Instantly, the sound of the engine turned into a low murmur and then died away. Drake glared at Mai.
  
  "What the..."
  
  "You're not going anywhere!" shouted a voice. "Not with us. Get out now!"
  
  Drake showed them his hands, dropping the Glock into his lap. Mai clicked softly as she opened the door. "They have stun guns, Matt. We have a Glock."
  
  "But they just destroyed our car."
  
  "Be ready".
  
  As soon as Mai took a step out the door, the men ran forward. She moved quickly, violently throwing the door open for the first two arrivals and smashing them apart. The next time, she kicked him in the head and picked up his dropped stun gun. More came crashing down on her. Mai turned sideways to meet them.
  
  Drake opened the door to his room, pulling out a Glock. People rushed at him from all sides. He turned to the back of the car, a faster target, and fired three shots. Three men fell, but the rest were on it. Drake was stabbed in the face to evade another man's taser, then broke the other man's arm, depriving him of his weapon. The first man tried to strike again, but this time his fist was met with a hard stun gun. There was a sudden crack and lightning flashed. Thousands of volts shot through the man, causing him to scream and dance before finally falling at Drake's feet.
  
  More people leaned towards him. Drake fired his pistol again. He tore off one of the bandits' balaclava, glimpsing a rough, pockmarked face and colorful tattoos on his neck. He could hear them all murmuring curses in guttural language. The knuckles of one of the fists that had struck him and missed had painful tattoos made by the ink itself.
  
  Drake knew the Russian letters, even if he couldn't translate them into English. He tossed the man against the side of the car, hit the other across the bridge of the nose with his now-empty pistol, used the stun gun again, then tossed him aside when he realized he had run out of charge. He stayed behind the car door, limiting the angle of attack of his enemies.
  
  If they'd held out a few more minutes, the CIA would have men here.
  
  A gap formed as his opponents fell on top of each other. Drake jumped over them and raced to the back of the car. There would be more weapons in the trunk. But before he could even touch the metal, they attacked him again, turning to face him and punching and kicking. Drake blocked the blow and stepped back. There was a clear escape route past the last escalade of their enemies, but he couldn't leave without Mai.
  
  He casually glanced over the car at her side. Mai danced and jumped among the heaps of the fallen. With each blow, she broke bones, tore apart organs, and crushed windpipes. She held a stun gun in each hand. Drake saw the assembled Russians gather and attack her with six of them, but even then she killed four with lightning reflexes and jumped back, clearing space between herself and the remaining two.
  
  "Mai!"
  
  His scream caught her attention. He pointed the way to retreat, still blocking and fighting off the attackers. He was driven to the sidewalk, where he would have to slip between parked cars, then there would be a high fence behind him. He could see nearby residents looking out of their windows and leaning over their balconies, some of them filming the fight on their cell phones. He yelled, "Call 911!" - More like trying to upset the Russians than getting help.
  
  "Quicker!" Now the voice of the leader of the assault group sounded excited. "We must leave!"
  
  Drake retreated until he felt Mei behind him. "Hey, get up."
  
  "One day" Mai flipped her attacker, directing his flight so that he landed hard and hit his colleague on the way down. "You'll have to explain this crazy Yorkshire dialect to me."
  
  They rushed to the escape route, leaving their attackers in confusion for a moment. The gap between the back of the Escalade and the pavement was large enough for them to squeeze through without slowing down. Suddenly free, Drake ventured a glance around.
  
  "Why the hell are they using stun guns? They could grab us... oh shit!"
  
  The attackers did not give chase because they were joined by two men with huge outlandish pistols. The leading Russian shouted at them. Drake saw them kneel, aim and fire... Then pain erupted and the road rose to hit him in the face. The last thing he heard was a murderous whisper next to his ear, something about "prison food".
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  It was Wednesday, January 30th, when Matt Drake woke up. He realized that he was lying on his back on a stone-hard surface; that he has a pitted concrete ceiling above his head; that there is a piercing cold in the air; that there are stone walls around it; and that the headache that reverberated through his brain. He heard a distant noise. His last memory was of him running from the Russians with Mai by his side.
  
  Mai!
  
  He sat down too quickly. Lightnings of pain, like flaming straw, hit his head. The feeling of nausea made him sit still for long minutes, struggling to suppress the urge to vomit. Sitting there, he studied the metal toilet and adjacent sink, which were bolted to the far wall. When he managed to turn his head more than an inch, he saw the heavy bars that separated the front wall.
  
  Prison cell. He was in some kind of prison. And now the distant noise became clearer. It was a sound made by many men together. The imprisoned population.
  
  Fear tormented his heart. People were known to disappear forever into the worst prisons in the world. Even during his service in the SAS, he himself placed several of these swords there. Most recently, Dmitry Kovalenko disappeared into the American.
  
  How long has he been here? Where he was? Questions lined up in a row, as if prisoners were being led before a firing squad. He jumped unsteadily from his bare bunk, little more than a long concrete block, and headed for the bars. The gradual illumination burned his eyes, resurrecting his headache. He still wore the same clothes in which he was abducted, but his pockets were empty. No mobile phone. No receipts. There is no wallet. As he approached the bars, he slowed his pace, moving slowly forward until he could touch them.
  
  Directly in front of his cell was a walkway bordered by thick iron railings. Beyond that lay a vast space, so deep that he could see nothing but air. Across from him was a row of cells, no doubt a mirror image of his own row. There, however, all the doors were open.
  
  From below came the sound of an angry mob.
  
  Drake looked around. There was nothing he could drag here, nothing he could use as a platform. The bunk was one large concrete slab, with the toilet and sink bolted firmly to the wall. He knew that there were people who could actually extract these bolts and use them to dig an escape tunnel, but in Hollywood they were paid $10 million per film.
  
  He turned back to the grate and shook it. Nothing rattled. Then a figure crossed his field of vision and blotted out all the light.
  
  Drake stepped back.
  
  Zanko!
  
  The cell door rattled. The giant squeezed inside, followed by another man. Drake recognized him as the goggle-eyed man he had glimpsed sitting in the back office when he and Romero attacked the lumberyard.
  
  "Small man!" Zanko welcomed him with open arms. "I brought armpits! As promised, right? And, " Zanko sniffed the air. "They weren't washed." The Russian, as before, was bare-chested, thick black hair hung limply.
  
  "Where I am?"
  
  "What? The famous Matt Drake doesn't know? James Bond would know." Zanko turned to his compatriot. "Wouldn't James Bond know, Nikolai?"
  
  The eyes remained wide and staring, but the mouth finally spoke. "Welcome to our... concrete jungle, my English friend." His voice was soft, menacing. "We have reserved a five-star suite just for you. In gratitude - for killing my people."
  
  "They attacked me," Drake said calmly, watching the giant's every move. "And Mai. Where is she?"
  
  The other man showed no sign of recognition. He stepped forward, holding out a sinewy hand. "I am Nikolai Razin."
  
  Drake studied him closely. The best years of this man were past, he was probably in his early sixties, but he still looked fit and healthy. His unnerving gaze was both stern and inquisitive, his eyes as impassive as those of a corpse. The knuckles of the hand he held out were twisted and heavily covered in calluses, as if he'd spent his entire life punching things. But the suit he wore and the watch that hung from his wrist spoke of wealth.
  
  Drake ignored the gesture. "So what happens next?"
  
  Razin walked past him and sat down on the bunk. Zanko remained at the door, still grinning.
  
  "I run this prison," Razin said. "This belongs to me and the guards who work here. I have a government official who oversees this. I have an official looking after him. You see?"
  
  "So, I guess I'm in Russia."
  
  Zanko spread his arms wide again. "Welcome home."
  
  "Now you belong to me." Razin studied him. "What do you think about it?"
  
  Drake shrugged. "It has been said before. And yet," he smiled slightly, "I'm here."
  
  "Oh yes, of course. Well, if you answer a few questions, I will make your stay here less unpleasant before your inevitable death."
  
  "I thought I was here because I killed your people," Drake said. "After I got to your lumberyard."
  
  "Not really".
  
  Drake thought back to that day. "Then Babylon. You think I saw your operation, don't you?"
  
  Razin pursed his lips. "Babylon is only part of the puzzle."
  
  "Tower of Babel?"
  
  Razin watched him closely. "What about the Tomb of the Gods?"
  
  Drake didn't feign the surprise that crossed his face. "What?" I asked.
  
  "The third tomb, to be exact. I want you to tell me all about the third tomb, Mr. Drake, and the device inside it."
  
  Drake thought for a moment. He could buy time if he explained a few nonsensical details. "The device was Odin's path to Armageddon. He could resurrect Ragnarok anytime this thing was launched, survive it, and come back. The Odin shield thing is what set it all in motion. This time."
  
  "But how does this device work? What energy does it feed on?
  
  Drake frowned. "I have no idea".
  
  "Was it ever turned on?"
  
  "Are you crazy? Why would anyone even turn on the damn thing?"
  
  "To use his power. To turn off if again. To see if it works. Keep their finger on the trigger. The Americans were not interested in this?"
  
  Drake replayed the actions of Jonathan Gates in his head. He didn't think the secretary of defense wanted any further investigation into the device, but Gates wasn't the only big shot in the business. "I don't know," he admitted. "But why would anyone turn it on if they weren't sure how to turn it off?"
  
  "People who have too much power sometimes think they are gods."
  
  Drake began to feel confused. He was sitting in Razin's prison, a prisoner, with Zanko's monster by his side, and he was beginning to think that the Russian actually made sense.
  
  "The shadow elite," Drake said. "They would turn it on in their arrogance."
  
  Razin made a quick gesture. "As the Chinese would do. French people. English. Maybe even Russians. Do not think that our governments are any better."
  
  "And yet," Drake said. "It's all speculation."
  
  "Assumption, yes. You said it, Mr. Drake. Have you seen the device or the place where it is?"
  
  "No. But I was in the tomb."
  
  "Did you feel... energy... in that place?"
  
  At first, Drake grimaced, sure that Razin had burned out, but then he remembered. "Actually, yes," he said, surprised. "The whole place seemed charged. We thought it was because it was filled with evil gods. We felt chills. An inexplicable fear. We chalk it up to some kind of evil resonance." He shrugged. "Probably too many vampire movies."
  
  "Energy of the Earth," Razin said, almost to himself. "So our professor knows what he's talking about, yes."
  
  "What?" I asked.
  
  "Seems like there might be another way to turn on the device."
  
  Drake's body went cold, as if it had been doused with ice water. "Are you kidding?"
  
  Razin met his gaze. "The gods had unfailing protection. They had to. Because if everything ever written about the seven swords tells us that they can always stop the device, then there must be more than one way to turn it on."
  
  "Wait". Drake shook his head. "Swords? What swords?
  
  Razin blinked, as if realizing that he had said too much. "Oh, I'm a delusional old man." He chuckled, clearly not believing his own statement enough to back it up. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Mr. Drake. That is... if you are still alive."
  
  He nodded towards Zanko.
  
  "Let him join the population. Then leave it. We will watch on the monitors."
  
  "There's a lot more to tell about the tomb," Drake tried.
  
  "Ah, I'm sure. But the prisoners are waiting for you. They look forward to welcoming you back to their homeland. I'm sure a few broken bones won't embarrass a man like you, right? So, Zanko."
  
  The Russian monster grabbed Drake's arm and pushed him through the cell door. "Don't die too soon, little human. I want to spend time with you ".
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  Mano Kinimaka stood aside and watched as the world went crazy around him. His heart filled with sympathy for Hayden as she juggled Gates on the phone with Dahl bombarding questions from the other side, and tried to deal with May in her face, all at the same time. The small but deadly Japanese woman was left face down on the road, with no injuries other than those inflicted on her deep sense of pride. The Russians were clearly given the only mandate - to capture Drake. They probably didn't even know who Mei was. They clearly expected things to be easier, although they used stun guns instead of pistols to minimize backlash. They had planned everything well, down to using a localized mini-EMP to shut down the engine of Drake's car and long-range stun guns to stop the escape.
  
  But they didn't figure in the illustrious team of Drake and May. The Russians lost twelve men during the attack. Rescue teams missed them by a few minutes. Once Mai regained consciousness, she identified the attackers as Russians and remembered the last comment she had heard before she passed out, a threatening sentence whispered to Drake.
  
  Zanko sends you a message: "Baby, you will like our prison food."
  
  Kinimaka watched as Hayden put Gates on speaker at May's request. The Secretary of State assured them that he would allow the plane to fly through Russian airspace and land near Moscow. This is despite the current cold relations on the Syrian issue, but then Gates would know the person in charge of the person who is in charge.
  
  "I'll talk to them," Gates said. "And explain the situation. They remain extremely grateful to your team for eliminating the Blood King. His organization has practically disappeared from the streets. And, as you know, nothing is more conducive to future favor than a good deed in the past. Agent Jay." His voice rose commandingly at her next question. "Just start."
  
  Kinimaka stepped out of the corner and, aware of his size, carefully made his way through the jumble of tables, chairs, and half-unpacked equipment. His size was a constant sensitive point for him. That's why he was in the corner from the beginning - there was more room and less chance of bumping into something he couldn't see. He was proud of his size; proud of his physique, but that could also be a nuisance.
  
  "The big guy is coming through," he said. "Take care of your skinny backs."
  
  He saw Hayden look up as he passed, staring at her and heading straight for Komodo. "Hello".
  
  "Stick your tongue back, Mano. Listen." Komodo leaned over. "You and the boss lady seem to be awfully close these days. You...?" He let it hang.
  
  Kinimaka was fiercely loyal and would never divulge. "I don't gossip about family, friends or girls, Trevor. You know it."
  
  "Hey, it's just Karin asking, dude. She is English." He whispered the last word as if it explained the gossip request. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't care."
  
  "Fine". Kinimaka walked past, finally reaching his gear. The team quickly rushed to their new headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue, ignoring the empty rooms and bare walls, knowing only that they needed to get together, work out a plan, and save Drake.
  
  Dahl did the work for two. "If these are the same Russians that Drake and Romero pissed off, then we know they are based in Moscow." He gathered his gear, having a quick talk with May and Hayden. "Can we be sure?"
  
  "Which other Russians has Matt pissed off lately?" May asked.
  
  "Blood King," Dahl said pointedly, shaking his head.
  
  "Bull. This was several months ago. Plus, Kovalenko is in jail. And you just heard - his organization has disappeared."
  
  "I heard," Dahl assured her. "And that's what worries me."
  
  "The message mentioned Zanko's name," Mai said softly. "That's the name of a Russian they encountered in Moscow."
  
  "Right". Dahl nodded. "Right. Then we need to find a prison. And we have where to start looking."
  
  Kinimaka felt his phone vibrate. He fished the small device out of his pocket, using his wrists as usual, stretching the material to its limits. A single name popped up on the screen, Kono.
  
  "Damn," he whispered.
  
  "I hope you're not thinking about texting," Hayden's voice whispered softly beside him. "With these huge fingers, you will either break the phone or spell one of those long Scandinavian names that Dahl likes so much."
  
  "I've done this before," Kinimaka admitted. "I tried to write a message, cool. Came out like an abdojamin."
  
  Hayden laughed. "Are you going to talk to her this time? Maybe this is your last chance for a while, Mano."
  
  "Crap. How can you hate someone and love them so much at the same time?" Kinimaka moved the screen to answer. "Hey Kono. How are you doing?"
  
  "Okay, bro. OK. Hey, I need-"
  
  "You know something, Kono. That's how you always start your calls. I need".
  
  "Sorry. But, Mano, are you anywhere near me?"
  
  "California? I'm in Washington DC, so that's a resounding no. Why?"
  
  "You said to call if I needed help. Well, I always need help. I know it. I screwed up, Mano. I screwed up for you, mom and dad. Sometimes I even feel like someone is watching me."
  
  It was his sister's way of getting his attention when she needed him in the past, but it was always just a ploy to get money out of him.
  
  Kinimaka was very aware of the team rushing around him, urgency in their every move. "I have to go, Kono. I'll call when I get back."
  
  She began to speak, but Kinimaka interrupted the conversation. He ignored Hayden's gaze and looked at Dahl.
  
  The Mad Swede was lifting his backpack, anger and determination written on every inch of his face. Kinimaka almost felt sorry for the enemy who had to face this.
  
  Dahl spoke. "Well, we managed to take almost two days off! Now let's go and teach these bastards a lesson they'll never forget."
  
  Kinimaka said, "I wonder how big this prison is."
  
  "Who cares?" Dahl muttered. "One thing is for sure - it won't be big enough to stop us."
  
  Hayden turned to the team. "Karin and Komodo will stay here and set up a new headquarters. They'll do the technological magic we might need in the field. Now, let's finish the outfitting and go back for our man."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  Drake was led up the path to the stairs. The noise below grew louder as he approached. Zanko hobbled along beside him, a gleeful gorilla, promising Drake an even worse end than a gruesome armpit choke. The boss, Nikolai Razin, was the last to arrive without saying anything. Drake wondered what the man was up to. His only hope here, in this dark and hopeless place, was to buy time before the crew arrived, which he had no doubt would happen. The only question was when.
  
  "So, how do your seven swords relate to the history of the Tombs of the Gods?" He stopped at the top step of the stairs.
  
  "Ah, don't worry about it. We'll talk later if you can still function. Eight hours is a long time to be alone in a Russian prison, my friend."
  
  Zanko patted him on the head, nearly breaking his neck. "A cool person like this one? By evening, he will be giving orders." His laugh was piercing. "Now move, little man. Or maybe you need to go to the bathroom first?"
  
  Drake felt himself being pushed and fell three steps before he managed to stop his fall. As he descended, the prison canteen came into view, and closer to it, a makeshift gym. Large men sat around on low benches, pumping iron, lifting weights on their arms, toweling themselves off, or setting themselves up for the next big climb.
  
  As Drake approached the ground floor, each pair of hooded eyes lifted their heads to look at him. A thick wave of hatred shot through the space between them, dousing him with disgust. It was much more than just intimidation. Despite all his training, Drake found it almost impossible not to show fear.
  
  Don't look away. He repeated it to himself like a mantra. The trick was not to look directly into their eyes, which would give the impression of a challenge, but also not to let your own eyes drop, which was a sign of weakness and submission. Though here in this prison, none of that would matter.
  
  The men got up. Zanko stopped and gestured for Drake to move on. "Forward! Meet your new cellmates. With this we leave you. We have a lot of things to sort out." The big man's muscles tensed, as if he was itching to get to work.
  
  Razin looked at Drake for the last time. "You made the mistake of killing my people, curtailing my operation. You see, even such a small kidnapping ring has its advantages. Although some of these people-" he pointed to the crowded dining room. "They broke bread with Kovalenko. Others - they were his comrades."
  
  The two Russians turned and walked away along the corridor between the two rows of cells. At the far end was an arched gate with a heavy bolt. Guards stood outside, watching.
  
  Drake turned back to the dining room. The commotion had definitely subsided, most of the prisoners craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the fresh meat. Drake decided that standing alone in the middle of nowhere like a new kid at school was probably not the smartest approach, so he headed for the buffets. A large clock set high above the dining room told him that it was 6:00 pm Russian time. What does it put in? he thought, 1000 hours Washington time? Of course, he didn't really know how long he had been unconscious. Hours could pass. Days could go by. Still...we hope the team will be on their way.
  
  A huge body blocked his path, a rough, sweat-streaked face leaning towards him until their noses were inches apart. A hand deliberately placed on his chest and pushed him back. The man spoke Russian; sharp, guttural, vicious Russian.
  
  Drake shook his head. "No talking in Russian."
  
  He has already processed this scenario. There was no winning option. If this were an American or English prison, he would have locked up this man and then the next one, at least tried to prevent any further testing. But here? About five hundred people were watching him, at least half of them probably wanted to cut off his head.
  
  Playing for time was his only option.
  
  The man stood up, forcing himself to look big. Drake marveled at the sight of his six-pack and the rolling arm muscles. When the Harvester appeared, Drake dodged it, slipping out of range.
  
  "Look. I don't want to fight you. Your boss - he wants information from me." Drake tapped his head. "Important. Information. Yes?"
  
  The prisoner roared and lunged forward. Drake met him head-on with an elbow that yanked the man's head back hard and then knocked him to the ground. He immediately jumped to the side, raising both hands up.
  
  The prisoner struggled to his knees. Now, behind him, Drake saw a line of men approaching from the gym, dumbbells still clutched in sweaty hands, nostrils flared and eyes wide with anger. He backed away, rounding the dining room and heading towards the far wall, where he saw a series of open doors. As he slowly backed away, the group of men kept up. Drake saw three guards positioned around the eating prisoners and watching them with interest. They were armed with clubs. The other guards, located on the covered balconies above, were armed with automatic weapons. He wondered if he could reach one of them.
  
  The first room he went into was empty except for a screwed-on table. The second room led to what looked like a visitor's room, and the third led to the showers. Maybe not. It was the second room that interested him the most . Other doors led from it. Perhaps they led to the kitchen and laundry. Maybe there was a place where he could hide.
  
  Then a signal sounded, and the dining room began to empty. Despite this, a few more interested parties made their way to Drake. One of them was shouting at him in English, the other was thrashing about the floor like a monkey. Another began literally tearing his vest to shreds and pounding his chest, growling until saliva flew from his lips. A hostile environment is weighed down with violent intentions. Faced with more than a dozen angry Russian prisoners, Drake made it to the end of the line.
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  Mai Kitano struggled with a storm of emotions when the high-speed plane landed near Moscow. Will the hardships of her life never end? Shedding her conflicted past and demanding government employers, she has now rediscovered the man she once loved, only to lose him again.
  
  Life... She interrupted her thought. Who the hell was she anyway? Former ninja. Former member of one of the most famous clans in Japanese history. Trained assassin. Yakuza infiltrator and destroyer. Cosplay champion. Sprite.
  
  That last description came to her mind as Alicia Miles' face appeared around the corner of the plane's open door. Miles didn't look happy.
  
  "What the hell guys? I will be gone for two days. In Alicia's time, that's eight fucks. And you can't even keep my favorite team member? Crap!"
  
  Dahl walked over to her. "We need to catch up." He motioned for her to come down the steps. "Should we?"
  
  "Oh, we'll do it," Alicia mimicked the Swedish accent. "But it's a terrible day here, Torsti. Better bring your underpants."
  
  Mai got up from her seat and grabbed her backpack. Kinimaka walked awkwardly in front of her, barely able to squeeze his way down the aisle, following in Hayden's footsteps as always. She followed them patiently. Once outside, a harsh wind lashed her face and stung her eyes. The group wasted no time rushing inside, crossing a drafty hallway before Hayden led them to a huge rack. In front of them was a gleaming black Chevrolet van, its doors wide open.
  
  "This is it," Hayden said. "We have the address of the logging plant. We act hard, fast and without mercy. This is not a research mission, folks, this is search and destroy. Are we ready?
  
  Everyone nodded. Alicia dressed quickly. Dahl had one last thing to say: "And when we get one of those bastards, you'll do whatever it takes to get them to talk. Anything."
  
  Hayden pocketed two Glocks and grabbed a bigger pistol. "That's one of ours out there. Let's send these assholes straight to hell."
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  Drake lunged at them, trying to use the huge space of the dining room for his own purposes. He jumped as he approached the first man and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling on the ground. He spun right after landing, catching the next one with a roundhouse kick. A third struck the next blow as Drake doubled the spin. When the horde got too close, Drake stepped back and jumped onto one of the dining room tables. He took a plastic plate and threw it at the prisoner's head, then grabbed the tray it was on. When the other man stepped forward, Drake hit him over the head with the object, leaving a deep mark on the hard plastic.
  
  "It's not worth it guys."
  
  But they were grinning, even those with blood dripping from their mouths and noses. They liked it. It was what most of them lived for. The one who thought he was a monkey alternatively squatted down and jumped into the air while screeching like a banshee. The others formed an ever-shrinking circle and tried to surround him.
  
  Drake noticed the movement instantly. The problem was that there was nowhere to go. He jumped back onto the dining room table, now aware of the guards nearby and seriously considering taking the clubs from one of them. He ran along the table, jumped to another, now approaching the food shelves. Maybe there was something behind the counter that he could use as a weapon.
  
  This shouldn't have surprised him, but when the three guards suddenly charged at him, he blinked in shock. He was trapped between them like a mouse in a very serious trap, and they were on him before he even had a chance to think.
  
  Drake fell, three men were above him. He did his best to block their kicks and shots, but several of them hit the back of his legs and spine. As the club's first blow hit, he grimaced in reflex pain, cutting a small gap between one of the guards' widely spaced legs. He quickly pushed his way through the crowd, standing up instantly. The guards turned quickly, but not fast enough.
  
  Drake hit the baton in the throat, grabbed the weapon as it fell, and slammed it into the next man's face. Then, with the ease born of the training of a lifetime, he killed the third, making sure the first two were incapacitated for good. Club in each hand, he turned to face the approaching captives.
  
  "You can get me," he breathed. "But you're going to pay a hell of a lot for it."
  
  The prisoners came in a group. The first ended up with a broken wrist, staring blankly at it as it dangled in front of him, clearly unable to comprehend what had happened so quickly. The next one lost his teeth, but continued anyway, spitting them out on the ground in a spray of blood. Drake slid to the left, clubs in both hands, a constant piercing barrage of pain. The Russian fell to his knees, holding the top of his head, blood oozing between his fingers. Drake aimed the club spinning in his jaw, broke it and quickly moved on.
  
  He felt another blow to his back. The safe zone was shrinking every second. He turned and laid the man down, but the forced action gave the others time to come closer. When he turned around again, they were only a few feet away from him.
  
  Drake tossed aside his clubs, resorting to hand-to-hand combat. When the prisoners stabbed him, he reared up and saw a strange sight on the other side of the room.
  
  Another prisoner waves to him, beckoning him to follow him. He mouthed the words I can help you. Drake knew this could be a trap, but it couldn't be any worse. He nodded and used the huge blast of power he was saving for the last fight to cut through the people around him. The prisoner disappeared into what Drake remembered as a second room, one with multiple exit doors. Drake jumped into space and ran as fast as he could, his legs feeling like they were on fire. An angry growl filled the air behind him. How dare he ruin their fun?
  
  Drake rounded the doorway and entered the room. The prisoner stood opposite him, peering out from behind another door.
  
  "Here," the man said in slightly accented English and disappeared. The second door led to a pantry, left open to the prisoners, presumably with Razin's consent, with tall stacks of spare blankets, overalls, boots, and even coats. Drake followed his savior through the small room and out into the whitewashed hallway.
  
  "Faster!"
  
  There were several doors ahead. The prisoner ran straight to the third from the right, slipping inside without slowing down. Drake rushed after him, ready for anything. But when he entered, all he saw was a pair of boots disappearing into the ceiling.
  
  From there a face popped out. "Let's! Crazy Russians are not as slow as you think."
  
  Drake took the outstretched hands and let the man pull him into the narrow space. Then he sat down in the dark as the ceiling tiles were being replaced. Being so close to each other, they could barely make out each other's features.
  
  "Don't move."
  
  After only a few minutes, Drake heard the sound of a chase. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear people shuffling downstairs, searching the room. A minute later they moved on.
  
  "I think we're safe now."
  
  "Thank you. Why did you save my ass?"
  
  "Let's say I took the opportunity when I saw her. I know your name My name is Yorgy."
  
  Drake couldn't see much in the half-light, but he knew he was tall, thin, and lean. He was most likely a lot stronger than he looked, and certainly a lot more resourceful. Drake felt something small being pushed towards him. "Take it. But only use it as a last resort, my friend."
  
  He took the makeshift shiv, knowing full well that Yorgi could gut him with it in the dark. "To your health".
  
  "Hide it in your sock. Razin and Zanko will no longer search you."
  
  "Fine. Do you know how long I've been here?"
  
  "Not for long. Razin brought you today."
  
  "So today is Wednesday?" Drake counted down the clock. "Bullshit. I was hoping that maybe I was out longer."
  
  "That Zanko," Yorgi breathed. "He doesn't like you. Not a drop. And that person is a very bad enemy to have."
  
  Drake just nodded. He didn't need to be reminded. "And why are you hiding in the dark, Yorgi?"
  
  "Out there." Yorga's body moved, signaling a nod. "They don't like thieves. They think you're going to steal their toothbrush or their mom's picture or whatever. It's easier to get lost in a rat hole like this. Besides, I'm still relatively young and look very good. Better to stay hidden."
  
  "So you are a thief? And russian? You speak English well, Yorgi." Drake didn't yet know the man well enough to wonder aloud where his little, bristly-tipped foot had come from.
  
  "I studied when I was young. I was forced to study." A heavy sigh full of regrets. "Rich Parents"
  
  Drake wanted to ask how he ended up here in Razin's prison, but then again, it was too soon to risk upsetting his new friend. Instead, he turned the conversation to what he needed.
  
  "Razin and Zanko," he said. "Who the hell are they?"
  
  "Nothing," Yorgi said. "They are just bullies with money. Razin runs a large organization that deals with almost everything illegal that you can think of. His lieutenants Zanko, Maxim and Victoria enforce his rules and have his back. They are ruthless, absolutely ruthless."
  
  "Are they involved in some kind of mystery?" Drake insisted. "They were asking me about some swords when they entered my cell."
  
  "It's not a secret. Razin's people constantly come and go here. They say. I'm listening to." Yorgi seemed to be moving past Drake. Perhaps there was a network of ceiling space around here somewhere. "That's how I knew you were here. And why did I take the risk."
  
  "You hope that when I run away, I will take you with me. I got what you mean. What I haven't figured out yet is how you eat."
  
  "I have friends there. I serve them, they bring me food and water. This is the way to our prison."
  
  "God, Yorgi. How long have you been here?"
  
  A heavy silence followed. Then Yorgi snorted. "I don't know".
  
  Drake shut his mouth abruptly, the words he was about to say were lost forever when they heard voices below. Two men talking calmly in Russian. Drake listened until they quieted down, then stretched his aching joints.
  
  "Yorgi. If you can, I would like to hear about these swords."
  
  "I know a little. Razin is looking for the seven swords of Babylon in the old ruins. Once he finds them, they will make him the leader of the world or something." Yorgy laughed softly. "He's a psycho. But he is our psycho."
  
  "Where did he get this information?"
  
  "Well, I guess it must be from that guy, the professor. The one he kidnapped."
  
  "Kidnapped?"
  
  "The story goes that one of Razin's lieutenants, Maxim, I think, got a call that some American professor was digging on the site of ancient Babylon and asked some leading questions. He walked around large cities and towns and talked about Alexander the Great and his golden swords, about some powerful towers and ranted about the energy of the earth. He searched for any information he could get. Now, anyone who knows about Alexander also knows that there is still much to be found related to him, including his body, his tomb. Anything related to him could cost a fortune. So, when the Russians got wind of the professor's investigations, they grabbed him."
  
  Drake whistled. "It stood out more than Posh Spice ribs. And is he American?
  
  "They say".
  
  "Do you know where they keep him?"
  
  Yorgy remained silent. Drake sensed that a deal was coming. "Yorgi?"
  
  "Why are you so interested in this? I heard a little more, yes. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life rotting in this place."
  
  "I give you my word, buddy. If I run away, I will take you with me."
  
  "Fine. I heard them complain that they had to escort him around Red Square every day. So it must be around somewhere. I will try to exchange them for more information."
  
  "Fine. But be careful-" Drake managed to stop himself by gritting his teeth hard. Why the hell did he tell a Russian thief to be careful in prison? Old habits are hard to break, he thought. Even in this hellhole.
  
  "I will do. I really have something to trade." Yorgy laughed. "But you must return now. If you keep quiet, you will return to your cell. This is after quarantine. Tomorrow-" Yorgi shrugged. "Maybe I can't help you."
  
  Drake frowned. "Didn"t they let me through at roll call?"
  
  Yorgy grinned. "Do you really think this prison cares about things like this?"
  
  Drake shrugged and looked around. "Can't I stay here?"
  
  "Razin would tear this place apart looking for you. There are more people than me who use this rat hole as a hideout. And at least some of them are worth saving." Yorgi sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. You have to go".
  
  Drake nodded. "I think we'll need another day, Yorgi. But be prepared. Be ready when it all starts."
  
  "How do I know?"
  
  "Oh. You will know, of course, when my friends arrive."
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  Mei held on tight as Dahl wheeled the van around the last corner and sprinted with all his might toward the shabby gate that led to the Russian lumberyard.
  
  "Bastards!" he shouted, breaking through the crowd, energized to the limit, like all of them, at the thought of one of their friends being held behind enemy lines. There will be no respite, no mercy until Drake is safe.
  
  The gate shattered into pieces, crashing into the side walls of the building and buckling. It was most likely the same gate that Drake and Romero had hacked, bent, and damaged before Dal sent them to the rusty skies.
  
  The minibus screeched to a halt in the middle of the yard. Behind the tall, overburdened wooden shelves, dusk was falling, but there was still enough light for the strike team to see their way. In front of them was a hut bathed in bright light, a single door at the top of a set of concrete steps. Dahl raced forward, pistol held high. Even Mae and Alicia had to hurry to keep up with him.
  
  The door swung open. Dahl didn't hesitate. He shot the man who had crossed the threshold in the stomach and waited a moment for him to roll down the steps and fall face first into the yard. His groans of agony told them that he was out of the fight, but still useful for torturing information out. Dal stepped over him, Mai is now behind him. She did not experience any effects from the electroshock, at least not physically. The realization that you had failed and lost Drake hurt far more than any electric shock or bullet.
  
  "Move, little elf!" Alicia said behind her back. "Stop messing around!"
  
  From around the corner of the hut came the sound of gunshots. Hayden and Kinimaka stayed behind to take care of it while May raced after Dal. The Swede jumped over the bar, wounded the man crouched under it, and moved to the main saloon. He slowed down at the arched entrance. The bullet hit the big frame.
  
  Mai leaned against the wall opposite him. They counted to three, then peered out the doorway, firing twice, once to confuse and the other to kill, simultaneously assessing their enemy and the room.
  
  Alicia squatted down next to them. "What do we look like?"
  
  "Two next to me, both in cover," Dahl said.
  
  "I have two. Naked," Mai whispered.
  
  They counted to three again and fired. Dahl swore, "There are still two."
  
  Mai turned around smiling. "One left".
  
  "Damn it, we're not playing that damn game again, are we?"
  
  "Not if you can't keep up, Torsten."
  
  Mai fired blindly around the corner. The man's groan and the crash with which he collapsed to the floor brought another forced smile to her face. "It will be zero."
  
  Dahl snorted. "Well, mine are hidden behind the tables."
  
  Suddenly, a man appeared behind them, entering through an inner side door that must have led to a pantry or toilet. Alicia aimed with divine precision, hitting his knees and hitting the top of his head twice as he fell to the deck.
  
  "Ah, that's bullshit," Dahl said, and let the gun go full-auto as he went around the frame. Mai backed him up, jumping to the opposite side of the main cabin in one leap and presenting another deadly target. The bullets slammed into the tables, tearing wood chips from their edges. Wood, plastic and hot lead exploded in the rear of the cabin in a devastating mushroom cloud. One man screamed as pieces of wood pierced his face. The other's head was so close to the floor that his butt was visible above the tabletop. Mai used it, only once.
  
  Dahl lunged forward, ducking, and kicked the table aside. At that moment, another man jumped out from a nearby office, but Mai laid him down like a tin duck in a shooting range. His body flew off to the rear window of the cab, shaking the entire structure.
  
  Alicia entered, followed by Hayden and Kinimaka. "Everything is fine?"
  
  Mai nodded. "We have to interrogate them separately. Make sure they tell us the truth."
  
  Alicia took out a steel hammer. "On him". She crouched beside the nearest fallen Russian, brandishing her weapon.
  
  "What is your name?"
  
  "In... Vladimir." His eyes widened in fear, his hands automatically reached for his head.
  
  Alicia glared at him. "Vlad, have you been hit by one of them before?"
  
  Mai watched as the man flinched. She vaguely remembered the name Vladimir from Drake's report. Wasn't he the one running around with a hammer sticking out of his head? She left Alicia to do her work and went to the back of the cabin, finding a Russian there, whom she thumped in the ass with her wings.
  
  She squatted down, whispering in his ear, "I don't need tools. I can make you scream and die with just your hands in less than a minute. Would you like to try?"
  
  The Russian shook his head furiously, rolling over onto his side and groaning in pain. Mai took his windpipe with two fingers and squeezed lightly. "Then, it's OK. I need the address of the prison. The one associated with Zanko. You have five seconds."
  
  Kinimaka stayed with Hayden, watching the hut while Mai, Alicia, and Dal completed their work. It only took Hayden a moment to notice the schematics pinned to a nearby wall; the same ones that Drake glanced over for a moment.
  
  "Mano," she said, pointing. "Look."
  
  Kinimaka followed suit. He still couldn't quite get Kono's disturbing phone call out of his mind - she was vulnerable living in Los Angeles - and he knew some people who lived that way who would be willing to look after her. But for how long? He couldn't seriously ask his colleagues to keep an eye on her indefinitely. Besides, he was sure that Aaron Trent had better things to do.
  
  His contacts with Kono and occasional calls were always kept secret from their mother. Kono left the family home many years ago, cocky, defiant and disrespectful, not how the Kinimaka family was raised. The split almost caused his mother to see a therapist, especially shortly after his father's unexpected death.
  
  Now Mano tolerated his sister because deep down he loved her. Any layer above that was still raw and naked and full of hate.
  
  "Mano?"
  
  "Sorry". He glanced at the spot where Hayden was pointing. It was an ancient map of the city of Babylon with eight gates, including the Ishtar Gate - the main entrance - with the additional designation - Ishtar was the Babylonian goddess of sex and love - the alleged location of the huge Ziggurat and the Tower of Babel, the mound of which can still be seen today, and very interesting highlighted offer below.
  
  Babylon literally means 'Gate of the Gods'.
  
  Hayden stared at Kinimaku. "Oh no".
  
  "I thought we were done with those fancy tombs. They are so small that you can hardly swing a cat in them."
  
  Hayden shrugged. "No, as long as they are still translating most of the language of the gods. Not as long as the doomsday device still exists. You have to remember, Mano, that they discover new things almost every day."
  
  "The Ishtar Gate seems like an outstanding landmark," Hayden said. She took some photos with her phone. "Look. Here is a map of what Babylon looks like now."
  
  Kinimaka studied it. "A big difference".
  
  "What is it? Dance of the seven veils. Saber dance. Sounds perverted. Do you want me to learn it for you?"
  
  Kinimaka tried to pretend he hadn't heard. He had too much respect for his new girlfriend to talk like that within earshot of others.
  
  "And the Babylon Pit. Wow, this is the original foundation of the original city. A real attraction."
  
  Kinimaka let his eyes run over a few more details. He did not know that Alexander the Great - the man who was said to be the greatest king and one of the wisest men of all time - died in Babylon. He mentioned this fact to Hayden.
  
  But his girlfriend didn't listen. She stared wide-eyed at the third card. "Shit".
  
  Kinimaka leaned forward. It was a map of Germany marked with a large red circle and a set of coordinates. "Shit," he echoed. "This... this is Shingen."
  
  "Location of the third tomb. What the hell is going on?" There was a thick red line connecting the third tomb with the Babylon Pit.
  
  Mai listened intently as her prisoner explained the location of the prison in a whisper. She had to listen carefully because his voice was hoarse from a bruised trachea. But the address still came, after all.
  
  She looked at Dal. "Understood?"
  
  "Yes. It's right outside the city."
  
  "I have the same." She turned to Alicia. "You?"
  
  The Englishwoman chuckled. "Damn it, Vladimir, do you really want to put that hammer back where it belongs? You understand? OK." She lowered her slashing hammer, claw point first, stopping a millimeter from the man's skull, so close that the curved blades parted the hair.
  
  Vladimir shouted out the address.
  
  Mai smiled. "They all match. We know where Drake is."
  
  Dahl sprang to his feet, his face flushed with rage. "Go".
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  Drake spent the night in his cell without anyone bothering him. Not daring to sleep, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift, while remaining sensitive to any sound of unwanted company. Most of all he missed Mai. Communication with her lately made his whole existence more optimistic. The Japanese woman and the rest of the new team had a bright future. It's time to take advantage of his newfound fortune.
  
  All that remained was to solve a small problem - to escape from Razin's prison and decide whether this "Babylon case" needed further attention, which had to be dealt with first.
  
  A loud horn signal announced that breakfast was served. Drake's door opened with the others. He wondered if he could get away with staying put, but the guard soon began pounding on the bars with his club, quickly joined by two more.
  
  The flurry of Russian swearing proved that swearing was a universal language.
  
  Drake followed them out of the cell, down the aisle and down the stairs to the dining room. Half of the benches were already occupied, and the other half of the prisoners were queuing for food. The gym was empty, but Drake immediately noticed several of the previous night's opponents watching him from the far table.
  
  No doubt they're finishing their porridge, he thought. Gathering energy for the big day of beating up the Drakes.
  
  He sat down at the empty table at the end of the long bench, alert. Hunger attacks played in his stomach like an orchestra, but he ignored them. He would never stand in line to end up with ground rat meat and greasy coleslaw.
  
  Nothing happened, but the atmosphere became more and more tense. He looked at his watch, seeing that it was past 0900. There was no way he could have expected to be removed in the next twelve hours. If the team had tried, it would have been without much planning-perhaps Dahl-style, but not Hayden. She would secure sufficient, superior resources before she made her move. At 09.30 a side door opened and sunlight flooded in. The prisoners began to line up towards him.
  
  Training yard.
  
  He saw the guards watching him. They were waiting for something. Half smiles flickered across their faces. Itchy fingers twirled the clubs. There was a reason he hadn't been molested yet, and that was to keep the prisoners' food from settling.
  
  The last person to get up floated slowly towards the open door. The sound of loud voices and the bouncing ball indicated that at least one game was in full swing. When Drake went outside, he quickly shielded his eyes from the sun, not that it was too bright, but he had been in inner darkness for several days.
  
  To his left was a row of long, stepped benches, like the stands at an American football game. People stood and sat along them, and the higher their position, the higher their position in prison. The mentality of the king of the hill. In the far corner was an outdoor wrought iron gym. Basketball court and football field in the center. Many prisoners were lounging or strolling around the outer fence, staying away from the close combat in the center. Drake looked up and saw two occupied watchtowers and a balcony attached to the prison wall where more guards could patrol or rest as they did now. He went to the right, keeping close to the prison fence.
  
  The football match went on, the men ignoring most of the rules. Groups gathered together in the stands, gangs identified by their prison tattoos. Loners walked around the edges, staying on guard or handing out tiny plastic bags. Money changed hands. Drake was surprised to see Yorgi lounging ahead and slowed down as he passed the thief.
  
  "Tonight?" Drake muttered something, burying his face in his fingers.
  
  "Be careful," Yorgi whispered. "Something will happen. Follow the guards. When they leave, be ready."
  
  Damn. Drake was right. The prisoners were really planning something. He quickly made another reconnaissance of the area, identifying possible weapons, places to retreat to, certain prisoners who behaved in such a way that it showed that they were really dangerous, and not just muscular and insane.
  
  The sun rose higher and higher. The football match is over. Some of the men taunted and challenged Drake by raising their fists and smirking. Drake saw a chance for a little payback.
  
  "Do you want me to play? Well, I-"
  
  The guard disappeared from his line of sight, slipping back into the room. Another descended from the watchtower. The balcony guards turned away and disappeared behind an invisible door. There was total silence in the practice yard.
  
  A half-naked figure stepped through the door into the light. Drake turned to study it and exhaled, "For God's sake."
  
  Zanco.
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  Kinimaka watched as Dal paced the room impatiently.
  
  "Are they ready, Hayden? We can't wait all damn day."
  
  Hayden covered the receiver with his hand. "I'm talking to them now. Gates has already made the call. It shouldn't be long."
  
  Alicia walked over to Kinimake. "What's the matter, big boy? Has Karin opened this new headquarters yet? Ready to watch our backs."
  
  Kinimaka nodded. "She's almost there. The only thing they had time for was to set up communications and surveillance systems. Very high tech."
  
  "Shit. As long as it helps us find an escape route, it could be Captain Jack's spyglass, I don't care."
  
  "Did you watch Pirates of the Caribbean?"
  
  Alicia gave him a cheeky wink. "The first ten minutes. Then the middle ten. Then the last ten. Also, no film gets past me starring Deppster." Alicia groaned. "You should have called him Johnny Viagra."
  
  Kinimaka choked. "That's more than I need to know. God."
  
  "Right. But I never disappoint, Mano. You should have known this already.
  
  Kinimaka thought of the heart-to-heart talk they had had that now felt like an eternity ago. Last night, in that hotel in Vienna, they attacked the terrorist battlefield like a real track and field team. Alicia revealed part of her past, the tragic part, and forever took a place in his heart.
  
  "Of course I know, Alicia. You can tell me whatever you want."
  
  "Well, I really wanted to test something with a real man." Alicia leaned closer. "See, Lomas has this problem downstairs. He continues-"
  
  "No!" Kinimaka yelped and jumped back, dancing. Alicia laughed. Mai had to physically grab Dahl by the shoulders to stop the man's frantic throwing.
  
  Hayden hung up and turned to them. "We were assigned a helicopter from a local base. Plus ammo. But they don't risk any people. We are on our own."
  
  Dahl headed straight for the door. "Not a fucking problem."
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  Drake felt rather than saw the crowd of prisoners melt away. He was fully focused on the woe-man stalking towards him. Zanko tensed his huge pecs as he walked, pecs beating like a basic drum. The wide-open arms made him think of Mei's relatively small hands as she pressed them into his.
  
  And Mae could probably kick his ass in hell and back.
  
  Drake shifted to the side, looking to make room for himself by placing the gym and its well-used equipment behind him. Zanko quickened his pace.
  
  "Now we will grapple, little man. Let's see if the famous Matt Drake is made from the same shit as everyone else."
  
  Drake slipped away as a huge snarling bear reached for him. A light drizzle began to drizzle across the exercise yard as clouds blocked out the sun. Zanko lunged. Drake ducked and took a step forward before stinging the giant in the ribs and then in the kidneys. The Yorkshireman dodged another wild, sweeping blow, returned to Zanko's front, and landed a thrusting kick to the chest with all the force he could muster.
  
  The Russian coughed and shrugged, but did not flinch. "My grandma can hit harder than that! And I really mean it. Come fight me!"
  
  Drake lunged, stabbed, then dodged to the side. Zanko, grinning, took another blow to the ribs. He imitated Drake's movements step by step, slowly pushing him back. Drake caught the flash in Zanko's eyes and suddenly realized-
  
  Other prisoners formed a cordon behind him. half a dozen more steps and he would be close enough that they could throw him right into Zanko's arms! He quickly ran between the gym's machines, lifting a small set of dumbbells and carefully pacing behind the heavy lifting frame. There was only one way to end this battle.
  
  Zanko roared and charged forward, stopping only to pick up a large frame and slam it aside. Drake hit himself over the head with the dumbbells, his arm vibrating from the impact. Zanko staggered and dropped to one knee. Drake lowered the dumbbells again, this time aiming at the Russian's exposed skull.
  
  Zanko tore off his legs with a wave of his hand. Drake suddenly saw Skye and landed flat on his back, air rushing out of his lungs. He held on to the dumbbells, his legs were already giving way, trying to free himself. But Zanco landed on his lower body like a beached whale, sending out jolts of agony that pierced Drake's ganglions. He quickly raised the dumbbells over his head, using every ounce of strength to bring them down on Zanko's head.
  
  The Russian raised a massive forearm to block the blow. But even he groaned in pain as they hit. Drake removed the dumbbells and tried to move. Zanko straightened up and sat on Drake's legs, practically crushing his knees. With his right hand, Zanko blocked Drake's next punch and snatched the dumbbells out of his hands, then threw them back so that they hit the far wall hard.
  
  Zanko leaned forward, a rhinoceros-sized head suddenly blotting out all the light. "Looks like you lost."
  
  Drake struggled, arching under the enormous weight. With a speed that surprised Zanko, he sat up, hitting his forehead against the bridge of the Russian's nose, then thrust with both elbows, twisting his torso each time to deliver a more brutal blow. Zanko grunted again and seemed to flinch. Blood flowed from his nose and down his lips. Drake heard the collective gasp of the prisoners.
  
  The hammer blow came out of nowhere, stunning Drake, causing such intense instant pain that his entire body stood upright for a second, trying to comprehend. Stars exploded in his mind. Clouds clouded his vision.
  
  Zanko punched him in the stomach. Drake found himself holding on to the Russian's shoulders as he gasped for air, even the slightest breath eluding him.
  
  Zanko laughed, blood splattered all around. Drake wheezed in his face, still unable to breathe. Zanco jumped, then lifted Drake over his shoulders, holding him like a powerlifter holding a barbell.
  
  Drake exhaled hoarsely, stomach cramping, then hit the ground hard as Zanko hurled him across the yard. Still conscious enough to turn around, Drake lay motionless for a few precious seconds as Zanko approached him. He considered using a shank from his sock, but figured it could take the fight to a whole new level. Zanko moved closer.
  
  "Time to-"
  
  Drake came out uncertain, but with purpose born of experience. His left fist hit Zanko hard in the groin.
  
  "Dahhhhhh!"
  
  Zanko doubled over, hands clasped, eyes bulging. "Not...fair," he managed to breathe out.
  
  "And you think it is?" Drake pointed to the yard, the prisoners, the lack of security. He stood with his hands on his knees as Zanko moaned, slowly coming to his senses from a powerful blow to the stomach.
  
  "You hit like a fucking jackhammer on acid, Zanko."
  
  The Russian's face twisted into a wild grin. "I know, little man. You should get to know my grandmother, Zoe."
  
  "Maybe next time". Drake delivered a knee strike, crashing into his opponent's forehead. Zanko rolled backwards, off balance, and collapsed to the ground. The prisoners, who had been noisy until now, fell silent, some of them staring at Drake with sudden awe.
  
  Drake spotted Yorgi still tied to the side rail. The thief watched carefully, resting his chin on his hands.
  
  Zanko struggled to one knee. This time, Drake decided not to attack the upper part of the skull, not wanting to break his elbow, but moved behind the Russian's back. The thick neck was like a tree trunk entwined with ropes. He moved forward to deliver a quick blow, but at that moment, Zanko turned around and caught the blow with his huge fist. In a burst of power, he knocked Drake off his feet and hurled him, sprawled face first, into the bushes. Drake's head exploded for the second time in five minutes.
  
  But this time, Zanko didn't give Drake any respite. A double blow to the stomach sent the Yorkshireman to his knees, his head hanging; a blow to the side of the skull caused it to collapse on its side. Drake's head blurred as the concrete rose to meet him.
  
  Then Zanko's mouth was at his ear, even as the Russian landed a few more blows on his body. "Every day, Drake. You get it every single day."
  
  Pain shot through Drake from belly to brain, more pain than he could bear.
  
  "Until you die."
  
  The last thing Drake saw was the promised armpit dripping with sweat, a tangled mess of tangled black hair, and then a putrid stench as the vile mass covered his face.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  A few hours later, Drake came to his senses. A heavy stench hung in the air, and it took him a moment to realize that it was Zanko's stench that had soaked into his own face. Drake choked on this realization, jumped off his bunk and ran to the sink. SAS training has never involved choke-holding a crazed Russian under the armpit into unconsciousness. Although there was something similar, he thought, rinsing his face and rubbing it with a bar of old soap. Luckily, his breakfast was left unfinished. He began to wonder what time it was. Those bastards took his watch the first time they threw him in here. It was a twenty-pound Casio watch that he would probably never see again.
  
  He walked to the front of the cell, grasping the bars. If he leaned far enough to the left, he could see the door that led to the courtyard. It was closed. Then he looked up at one of the guard's perches. Above it was a dirty window. Drake saw daylight, but in diminishing variety. Sunset was approaching.
  
  Fine. It wouldn't be long.
  
  He needed to have another chat with Yorgi. There were still unasked questions, and since he couldn't absolutely guarantee that he would take the prisoner with him if he managed to escape, he wanted every ounce of information he could muster. Drake stepped back and stretched carefully. His stomach felt like it had been hit with a perforator, his limbs throbbing with the flow of blood. He was taught to share pain, but it was a whole new level.
  
  However, he stepped out of the open door of his cell and approached the railing, peering down at the level below. He was contemplating how to find Yorgi when a man came into view, drawing his attention. All the other prisoners were busy, playing cards or wrestling, pumping iron, or perhaps discussing who should be hacked to death that day. All the gangs have united their heads. Drake tried to look into every corner, but saw no sign of Razin or Zanko.
  
  Ignoring the pain, he rushed to the stairs and quickly crossed the dining room, entering the meeting room and corridor a few seconds after Yorga. Even though there was no sound of chase, the two didn't slow down or talk until they disappeared into the space on the roof again.
  
  "Good fight," Yorgi said first. "Previously. You had a good fight against Zanko. I have never seen him even bleed before, let alone be knocked down."
  
  "It did me a lot of good."
  
  "A?" I asked. Yorgi didn't understand the saying.
  
  Drake rubbed his ribs. "I still lost."
  
  "Ah, but the gangs respect you now. They won't harm you anymore unless Razin orders them to do so."
  
  "A Little Mercy"
  
  "American professor," Yorgi said. "I haven't found it yet. But I know another way."
  
  Drake smiled slightly. "Let me guess. Does this mean you are outside?"
  
  Yorgy has moved. "You see how well the world works, my new friend."
  
  Drake didn't say anything. Most likely, Yorgi already knew where this professor was being held, or at least the name of the street. Razin's people did not particularly hide their information.
  
  "I'll see what I can do," he said at last. "But come tomorrow - any time - and watch me very carefully."
  
  Yorgi nodded in the dark and offered a bottle of water. Drake drank greedily. "Damn it, that's good. Have you heard anything new about the Razin project?"
  
  "This Babylon thing? Swords? No. But if he hasn't found them yet, he will soon. This man is obsessed and he can throw all his resources into it."
  
  "That's what I was afraid of."
  
  Yorgy was silent. Drake drank half the bottle and handed it back. The two of them sat in silence for a while. With free time, Drake found his mind wandering. A question popped into his head-one that burned his heart and mind like a hot iron, one he wished he had had time to fully answer.
  
  "Yorgi," he said, hesitating. "In your travels, during your lifetime, have you ever heard of an agent...or a killer...named Coyote?"
  
  The Russian thief almost choked on his water, spitting out some of it onto the Styrofoam tiles. Then he froze very quietly.
  
  Drake was waiting.
  
  Yorgi cleared his throat. "What kind of name is this?" He laughed nervously.
  
  Drake shrugged. "Unforgettable".
  
  "Well, I don't know this person. No."
  
  "Are you sure, Yorgi?"
  
  "Why should I?"
  
  "People of your profession. They... know a lot of things. They hear everything. This is part of your job."
  
  "Why do you say that?"
  
  Drake sighed. "I once knew a very good thief. He... recently died."
  
  "And didn't he know this Coyote?"
  
  "I never had a chance to ask him."
  
  "I'm sorry. This title means nothing to me." Yorga's voice was now firm, determined. Drake dropped his hands.
  
  "Fair enough".
  
  Yorgi held out a bar of chocolate. "Let's hope for a good tomorrow, my friend."
  
  Drake unfolded the thick block. "I'm counting on it."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  All Thursday the team went to prepare. Dal constantly gnawed at the bit. Hayden worked wonders through Jonathan Gates with the Russian government. Having already acquired a helicopter and weapons, she made the journey even easier by making the Russians admit that they would rather see the prison razed to the ground than not - that would spare them some of the corruption that was Nikolai Razin.
  
  But the grinder had to be American made. The weapon had to be American. All this was done to protect the back of the Secretary of Defense, and it took precious time, but was urgently needed. Karin kept in touch and monitored several areas via satellite feed, all the while honing her technology from Washington, preparing to be their 'all-seeing eyes' when they attacked the prison.
  
  Alicia was ready within minutes of their arrival and spent the next few hours texting Lomas and keeping herself in high spirits by insulting just about anyone who came within a three-foot radius of her. The only person she gave the nod to was Mai, the Japanese woman who seemed uncharacteristically worried not only about Drake, but also about something from her past. She briefly mentioned this to Alicia - the Clan is looking for me - but Alicia didn't know enough about Mae's life to notice the first signs of impending trouble.
  
  Kinimaka watched it all from the back of the room, offering advice wherever he could. As Hayden began to look overwhelmed, her jaw clenched and her shoulders tense, he walked over to her and led her outside to rest. When Thorsten Dahl appeared a few feet away, holding the phone to his ear, and making what appeared to be a 'hopefully speaking soon, but can't be too sure' speech to his wife and children, Kinimaka walked away. When Alicia beckoned him over, he listened to her talk about the biker gang as if they were her newfound family, and he smiled. It's good that she found a semblance of a house; at least until she decided it was time to move on.
  
  And when the phones were put away in their cases and all the calls were over; when the silence of expectation fell like a soft, frayed blanket; as the team - the family - looked at each other and prepared for one of the biggest attacks of their lives, Mano Kinimaka took a moment to send his mother one last simple message.
  
  Love you.
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  Drake heard the sound of approaching helicopters as he lay waiting on the concrete block that was his bed. It was an early morning. His eyes were closed, but sleep had never been so far away. He was waiting for this moment; this sound.
  
  The boom, the boom of approaching helicopters, took him back a few months, to the beginning of all the current madness, when in York he was just photographing models on the catwalk. Those were the days, he thought.
  
  But now Mei was back in his life, his heartbeat was back, and even now she was on her way to get his ass out of the mire. He jumped up, checked that the sharpener was still in his sock, and walked over to the grate. Somehow, he didn't think this was one of those prisons that would remain closed during the raid. The prisoners will be called to help protect him.
  
  Razin rules.
  
  The noise intensified. The prisoners across the aisle from Drake popped out of their cell doors, arms waving, their faces pressed between the bars. The helicopters were approaching. The men started screaming. Drake thought the team could break through the training yard wall or into the kitchen. They wouldn't risk destroying a wall that ran anywhere near the cell. They wouldn't come in through the front door. It was strictly "hit and grab".
  
  Which led him to his first problem. Yorgy. He hoped the waif-like thief had already heard the noise and stood ready, perhaps even using the space on the roof to sneak closer to Drake's cell, but he wasn't sure. So when the cell doors opened with the sound of a large bolt being pulled back, he waited a moment for a passage to clear, then quickly slipped out of his room. Silently following the last fighter, he descended the stairs and circled the gym area, trying to ignore the piercing complaints of his bruised body. The main rotor blades thudded just outside the walls, a sound that even the oldest and most inexperienced ears now unmistakably recognize. The team landed.
  
  Drake escaped. Shots were heard from behind the walls. The prisoners ran to the door of the exercise yard, but it was locked. Someone yelled at one of the guards to open it. The man recognized Drake and stepped forward, but ended up on his back with a slanted nose and slept the rest of the day. Drake's eyes searched relentlessly for his target, but Yorgi did not appear. He ran into the meeting room and out into the brightly lit corridor. Two men stood in front, blocking his path, the guard and the prisoner were talking quietly.
  
  "Here he is," the guard said in English. "His friend. Get to him."
  
  Drake never slowed down. He used his momentum to fall and slide across the polished floor, swinging his legs as he approached the prisoner, causing him to collapse to the floor. When he landed, Drake had already disarmed his baton. He spun once, incapacitating a guard with a blow to the forehead and a prisoner with a blow to the back of the neck.
  
  Then he accelerated again, approaching the end of the corridor. He ran to Yorga's room and saw broken tiles, pipes, and an aluminum frame strewn across the floor.
  
  Someone found Yorgi and pulled him out of his secret home.
  
  Drake cursed. Where will they take him? Was he, Drake, to blame? He scanned the floor for traces of blood or anything he could use as a weapon. He raised one of the steel pipes, a prison weapon if he'd ever seen one. Footsteps thundered outside the door, the guards rushing so fast that they did not notice him. Drake walked over to the frame and listened.
  
  Muffled screams reached his ears, the sound of a man begging for mercy behind a closed door. Standard prison echo, he thought, but this voice sounded very much like Yorga's.
  
  Drake ran out, listening intently, identifying the noise as coming from the fifth door down. A rushing sound accompanied the screams, a sound Drake had heard before.
  
  Oh shit.
  
  He burst into the room, letting the door crash against the wall. Three men turned at the sound, one of them holding a wide industrial hose. Yorgi sat against the back wall, soaked, whining, gasping for air. They tried to drown him standing up.
  
  Drake ran with all his might. The hose shot up and exploded, shooting a thick stream at his legs. Drake jumped over the stream, bringing the pipe down on the man's nose before slamming it against the left side of the second man's mouth. They both screamed and doubled over, clutching their heads with their hands. Drake dropped the pipe and grabbed the hands of the man holding the hose, pressing the brass handle between his legs. He let go, and immediately the hose, unrestrained, began to bounce and twitch like a ferocious snake. Drake poked the man in the solar plexus before finishing him off with a hard blow to the windpipe. He ran to Yorgi.
  
  "Hey, hey, are you okay?"
  
  The satiated man looked up. "I've had beatings and worse."
  
  "Damn great." Drake held out his hand. "Trust me. I really keep my word."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  They ran back down the glittering corridor, Yorgi squelching and trembling with every step. Drake slowed as they reached the far door and extended his hand to stop Yorgi.
  
  "Wait".
  
  He looked into the room. It was empty, but through the open door at the far end he could see directly into the dining room. Pandemonium ensued. The prisoners scurried past the hole in disorder; shouted, gesticulated and fought with each other. A large group of them suddenly fell back, stumbling over their feet and writhing to crawl away. Drake heard a loud explosion before brick dust and razor-sharp shrapnel flew across the dining room.
  
  "Now!"
  
  Drake dragged Yorgi along with him. Gunshots rang out ahead. The captives writhed, spattering blood as they charged forward. Drake paused for a moment at the entrance to the dining room, then walked out into the open with his hands up.
  
  Don't shoot me, he sang softly. Please...
  
  "Matt!"
  
  May's scream followed Dahl's greeting and just before Alicia's scolding. Three soldiers were on their knees among the rubble, their rifles pressed tightly to their shoulders, behind them gaped a ragged, crumbling hole where the door to the courtyard used to be. Some of the prisoners recognized Drake and rushed at him. The weapon bucked and the men fell at his feet, already dead.
  
  Drake ran with all his might, dragging Yorgi with him. Mai and Alicia were covering his sprint when Dal turned to check on their own retreat. Somewhere behind Drake there was a scream. He turned his head sharply and saw a breathtaking sight. The whole crowd of prisoners - mostly Razin's people - rushes towards him in a wedge of rags. Not a single man among them wanted to explain to Zanko why they hadn't tried to prevent Matt Drake from escaping.
  
  Drake got to his friends. May and Alicia, and now Dal, fired around him, knocking out the prisoners with shots to the legs and torso, so that they tripped the men following behind. Some jumped over their fallen comrades, brandishing weapons ranging from plastic trays to makeshift shanks; others waved crumpled sheets stuffed with stones.
  
  "Forward!" Drake shouted.
  
  "I'm glad to see you too!" Alicia yelled back, carefully deflecting shots as the crowd approached. Drake ran through them, letting them cover his back, into the exercise yard. An insane scene met his eyes.
  
  The military helicopter landed in the yard, among the prison cars and warehouses. The propellers were still spinning, as was the barrel of the bow cannon as it fired a burst at the main entrance to the prison, where most of the guards were stationed. The fence was destroyed, and before us opened a clear path to retreat, leading directly to the helicopter door. But the guards in their towers and in their wired perches were still firing at the grass.
  
  Drake turned around sharply. "Guys, will you bring me a gun?"
  
  Dahl came to a halt beside him. "It's a quick extraction. We have no intention of provoking a shootout!"
  
  "Are you kidding". Drake pointed to the watchtowers. "They're all yours, Dal."
  
  He ran with all his might, ducking, pulling Yorgi firmly behind him. At first, the bullets littered the dirt at his feet, but after a few well-aimed shots from Dahl, the volleys soon stopped. Drake stepped out of the fenced area. Both Mai and Alicia backed out of the ragged hole. Alicia threw the small device back into the prison and yelled, "Run!"
  
  Drake lowered his head. There was an explosion behind him, and as he glanced that way, he saw a cloud of fire rising up and billowing in waves, Mei, Dal, and Alicia surrounded by flames, racing with all their might, weapons still held tightly to their shoulders, looking for targets. , faces as grim and hard as he had ever seen.
  
  The helicopter approached quickly. Hayden and Kinimaka stared down at him. The shots went through the windshield and bounced off. Drake saw Hayden perfecting the cyclic stick as he climbed aboard.
  
  Yorgi made a wet sound as he slumped into the seat next to him.
  
  The helicopter took off, barely giving the other three enough time to hop aboard. Dahl was the last one, making an athletic jump to grab one of the skids, then instantly crouched and jumped again, brandishing his gun like a world-class freestyle runner.
  
  Drake rolled his eyes. "Cute".
  
  "New hobby".
  
  "I meant salvation."
  
  "Oh, well, not at all. I couldn't leave you here alone, being subjected to terrible torture."
  
  "Dal," Alicia said, "hasn't stopped pacing since we got here. I think he loves you, Drakes."
  
  "Get out."
  
  Dahl blushed.
  
  "Thank you too, Alicia." Drake allowed himself to relax for just a moment as the helicopter continued to climb.
  
  "You know, they just had to say words like guns and explosions to get me here."
  
  Drake turned to May. "Hey-"
  
  That's when Hayden screamed, "Oh no, damn it! They have fu...
  
  A powerful explosion rocked the helicopter as a rocket-propelled grenade hit the helicopter's undercarriage. The helicopter immediately went out of control.
  
  Kinimaka yelled out what was already clear, "Hold on! We're going down!"
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  Drake grabbed the seatbelt with his left hand while the other forcefully pushed Yorgi back into his seat. He saw Hayden fighting the collective, Kinimaka leaning over to help, adding his own strength as the sky swirled around like a crazy kaleidoscope.
  
  "Oh!" Drake hit his head on the bulkhead. Realizing that the ground was rapidly rising, he clutched even tighter and yelled: "Where are the spare pistols, damn it!"
  
  The helicopter hit the ground hard, the sickening crunch of its buckling skids giving them a millisecond to prepare before the car's belly smashed into the concrete. Alicia fell from the impact, hitting her head on the back of the seat. Mai and Dal held on, but crashed into each other. Drake protected Yorgi with a grip like a steel band.
  
  As soon as the helicopter came to a stop, Hayden immediately unbuckled her seat belts and climbed out of her seat. "Quicker!" Both she and Kinimaka took up their weapons and opened the cockpit doors, quickly moving into position as the guards rushed forward.
  
  Alicia groaned as blood ran from her head to her forehead. Drake squatted down next to her. "Can you focus? May I borrow your gun?"
  
  "Back off!"
  
  Dahl flung open the side door, reaching for the safe in the process. "Reserve weapons and magazines over there, Drake. Eat yourself. You might also want to arm your new friend."
  
  The Swede jumped down, followed by Mai. Drake rummaged through the safe. Alicia jumped out the other side, supporting Hayden. The guards rushed at them from the entrance to the prison building, using the cover provided by several awnings and vehicles along the way. By this time, the prisoners had climbed over the gap in the wall and were preparing to attack again.
  
  "We don't have much time!" Hayden screamed. "Does anyone have a plan?"
  
  Dahl yelled over the noise. "Here!" I shouted.
  
  Drake chose an M4 assault rifle, a slightly outdated but excellent weapon, and handed Yorgi a SIG Pro semi-automatic pistol. "Make sure it's loaded and grab some spare ammo." Drake prepared to leave, preparing the M4.
  
  "Ready?"
  
  Yorgy nodded.
  
  Drake jumped, landing a foot behind Dahl. Bullets whistled all around the stranded helicopter, grazing even the concrete and tiny spaces under the car. Yorgi landed awkwardly and Drake supported him before he went headfirst. Mai occasionally sent bursts into the walls above the prisoners' heads, cracking the concrete and showering them in hard splinters. Dahl made sure they all saw where he was pointing.
  
  "Here".
  
  He left, crouching. Drake quickly searched the crowd of prisoners for signs of Zanko or Razin, but saw nothing. He waited until Mai slipped past him and saw Hayden, Kinimaku and Alicia running towards them. He turned and followed the mad Swede, heading for a large green Ukrainian-built KrAZ truck. The Behemoth was a six-wheeled open-back truck partially covered by a tarpaulin attached to hooks along the high steel sides of the truck.
  
  Ideal for deflecting bullets.
  
  Dahl climbed into the tall cab and yelled with delight as he found the truck already idling. Drake assumed that the arrival of his team's helicopter interrupted some kind of delivery, and the driver had long since left.
  
  The team climbed on board, two into the cab, and the rest into the back of the truck, sitting with their backs to the strong sides. Dahl slammed on the accelerator and shifted gears, wincing as the gear made a deep, angry grinding sound.
  
  Alicia sat next to him. "That's not your wife, Dal. You can't force the damn thing to obey. Give him some fucking butter."
  
  Dahl shifted the gearshift lever to the stop and pressed the pedals. The truck roared and surged forward. Diesel smoke was coming out of the exhaust gases. Bullets whistled and bounced off the sides as the guards circled the stranded helicopter. Dahl pressed the accelerator and turned the steering wheel, aiming for the prison gates.
  
  He slammed the back panel shut. "Gatehouse"!
  
  Three guards were already outside, aiming their weapons as the truck roared towards them. May and Drake got up behind and gave vent to feelings on full auto. Two of the guards twisted and fell, the third ran like a frightened rabbit. As the truck slowed, Drake jumped to the ground and ran, using the huge wheels for cover, before crashing into the gatehouse, where he examined a gray console mounted into the wall. The commands were written in Russian, but there were only two meaningful buttons. One is red, the other is green.
  
  He pressed green, heard a pleasant crunch and saw movement as the gate opened inwards, and climbed back into the truck as it began to pick up speed. Stopping at the top, he cursed. "Bastards are after us."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The heavy truck rumbled and roared, bouncing and crashing its way through the prison gates and down the uneven road. Dahl fought the wheel at every turn. Alicia looked in her side mirrors to gauge the chase.
  
  "Three trucks, a little Land Rover thing, and something like a mini-pickup truck. Drake would probably know the makes, models and street values." She smiled tightly.
  
  Dahl strained his memory. "Do you remember the map? If we turn off the road ahead, will we come to Zalinsk, an empty city?"
  
  "Yes".
  
  "Fine". At the corner, Dahl spun the steering wheel hard, causing the truck to bounce on an even bumpier road, and his teammates to sprawl across the body of the truck. Through the ensuing screams, Dahl spoke softly, "I'm sorry, people."
  
  They reached the top of a muddy hill. The city of Zalinsk lay in a shallow depression, nothing more than a haphazard jumble of buildings, many now open to the elements, having been abandoned for so long. Since the pursuit vehicles were only half a mile behind, Dahl started down the hill only slightly faster than was safe. As the truck hit the bottom, he steered it into the middle of two nearby buildings and slammed on the brakes when they effectively blocked the road.
  
  "All in a crowd!"
  
  Dahl hit the ground first, Alicia a step behind. Drake climbed onto the sides of the truck and tumbled over the roof, then waited for Yorgi. Mai landed deftly next to him.
  
  "Who is your new friend, Matt?"
  
  "Prisoner. Thief. Informer. Entrepreneur. Nice to see you, Mai."
  
  "It will get even better when we reach civilization." Mai smiled wryly, then ran out through the open door of the nearest building, heading for the rooftop. The pursuing convoy was already rumbling down the slope, some of the guards firing hopeless shots. Drake followed May as Hayden and Kinimaka took aim at the nearby structure, the big man shielding his boss from the line of fire as usual. Drake thought Hayden was so used to her routine that she barely noticed it anymore.
  
  Shots rang out from the roof. Drake saw the head truck's windshield shatter and had an idea. "Yorgi, wait behind me." He pointed.
  
  Kneeling down, he took aim with the stout M4. The sights leveled and he fired a flurry of bullets. The lead truck lurched and swerved as a tire on the driver's side blew out, running off the road and quickly down a steep hill. Drake imagined the men being hurled at the back of the truck much more vigorously than he was, and he saluted with his rifle as he saw two of them thrown so high they went overboard.
  
  All his teammates opened fire. The second two cars came to an abrupt halt, their occupants climbing out and either seeking cover or running behind. Drake stayed where he was for a moment.
  
  Then the heads of four guards came into view. One exploded instantly, a splash of red being the only evidence that it had even been there. The other three raised rocket launchers.
  
  Drake crouched and threw himself into the mud as projectiles flew at them.
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  Russell Cayman roamed the chaotically dust-filled ballroom, an eerie ghost in the dark. Otherworldly, the stench of death and human flesh envelops him like a thick poisonous miasma. His gait was confident, and he only looked at one thing.
  
  Bones of Kali, Goddess of Evil.
  
  She hung in front of him, wired to the wall in all her glory. Caiman restored her life-size skeleton and then used iron wall hooks and industrial wire to hold her in place, superbly stretched across the wall and looking down on him from a superior position.
  
  On them.
  
  Caiman dragged the half-dead body of the native behind him, his fingers running through his long, blood-stained hair, the sliding sound of his last passage interrupted only by the occasional thud of his boots on the floor in response to violent spasms of agony. Caiman stopped as Kali loomed over him, the sight of her dirty gray bones a soothing balm to his burned eyes.
  
  "My Goddess". He dropped to his knees. Tiny shadows moved around him-the inhabitants he lived with all squatted in the darkness like crawling gollums-in the once-empty mansion that belonged to the secret group known as the Shadow Elite. The ballroom was where most of them had died so painfully, so Caiman had seen fit to have Kali live here, pressed against the dried stains of their living blood.
  
  "I bring you... a sacrifice."
  
  He threw the body at her feet, watching the writhing man bleed out. He enjoyed capturing and killing locals in this area of Vienna, sometimes offering them to Kali, sometimes feeding them to rats, and adding the tenderest bits to his pot.
  
  He grew into a culinary genius.
  
  When the man stopped twitching, Cayman moved forward, knelt in a pool of still-warm blood, and prayed to his god. He leaned over and kissed Kali's feet, pressing the cold bones against his cheek. Finally, he again felt whole, well-fed, part of the family. Cayman's real mother threw him into a ditch and left while he was high on drugs. Kali will be his guardian, his overseer for life.
  
  His cell phone rang for the first time in weeks. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't surprised either. In many ways, he fully expected the call. Caiman kissed the cracked bones one more time before standing up and walking to the far corner, into the center of the sticky web.
  
  "Yes".
  
  "Were you expecting me, Russell?"
  
  "Yes sir, I have."
  
  "Fine. Where are you now?"
  
  "Old mansion".
  
  "In Vienna? How excellent. Then you must come to me immediately."
  
  Cayman agreed. He had always known that there was only one person, one obscure figure who controlled them all. The true leader of the Shadow Elite. "I'll leave as soon as dawn, Mr. Block."
  
  "And the Cayman?"
  
  "Yes, Mr. Block?"
  
  "Make sure you take the bones of Kali with you. With her help... we will rule the world again."
  
  Cayman was in no position to argue with the former and future king of the world. He agreed softly and ended the conversation with another look at the huge skeleton, wired to the twenty-foot-tall wall.
  
  "We have one more night, my goddess."
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  Drake closed his eyes as the rockets exploded. Tongues of flame shot up and out, exploding like a firebomb. He saw the entire building to his right literally sag as the walls were torn down-the same building that Mai, Alicia, and Dal had occupied. He could only watch as the stones cascaded down and the entire structure began to collapse.
  
  "Beware!" The warning came too late.
  
  Mai, hiding on a flat roof, dived behind the stone parapet when she saw rockets flying. From their impact on the structure below her, an ominous vibration passed, which she felt with her own body and immediately understood. At first, only the groan of the heavy foundation shifting was heard, but then the entire roof area tilted and sank. The front end sank, bricks and mortar cascading to the ground below. Mai recoiled, catching Dahl and Alicia's eyes.
  
  The Englishwoman shook her head. "The building is collapsing with us on the roof?" She sighed. "Must be a fucking Friday morning."
  
  Dahl stood up and nodded to Mai. "Are you ready?"
  
  "I know there is only one way out of this rooftop."
  
  The whole building sank another inch, the front part of the roof falling away, leaving a jagged drop. Dahl slung his weapon over his shoulder and Mai followed suit. When the roof caved in again, they saw the prison guards in front of them jump into their cars and move forward. As the collapse accelerated, Dahl roared and ran straight for the crumbling edge. The whole building rumbled and shook. There were cracks on the surface of the roof. Mai ran after him, Alicia was near. The roar of adrenaline resounded in their ears like a thrash band. Their sprint suddenly turned into a downhill run as the roof of the building sank even lower. A mushroom cloud of dust and smoke rose up ahead.
  
  Dal reached the edge and charged into space, pushing off hard and using the still slightly raised roofline to gain additional lift. Mai jumped beside him, arms and legs still moving as the main body of the building collapsed behind them. The roar of breaking bricks and stones hurt Mai's ears. Her eyes searched the ground through the smoke, hoping they had jumped far enough to clear-
  
  They landed hard, hitting the grass a second before a tidal wave of debris swept over it. Mai felt her legs clipped by a rock as she landed and rolled, her momentum keeping her ahead of the wave. Still, shards of stone flew around her, compressed and then released by the rolling mass. Finally they stopped; clouds and terrible noise behind them, speeding cars in front of them.
  
  Dal, on his knees, his legs covered by a pile of rubble, unfastened his rifle and took aim. "Blow those bastards' tires off."
  
  Drake told Yorga to stay put and ran over to them. "Damn it! Are you okay?"
  
  The bullets flew past his head, but fired from behind. Hayden and Kinimaka were still ensconced on their rooftop, following Dahl's example. Mai quickly examined her body, but did not see any signs of blood. Nothing vital screamed at her. She joined the rest of the SPEAR team and took aim. Her first shot shattered the windshield. The car veered sharply as it approached at speed. Her second shot pierced the tire of the front passenger of the second car. It swerved to the left and hit the rear of the first vehicle.
  
  "Crap!"
  
  The team fled as the first vehicle tipped over and crashed onto the roof, momentum sending it head over heels toward their position. Five tons of metal flew past them, stopping in the ruins of a house. Dahl groaned. Rocks heaped on his feet slowed him down, and the front bumper of the truck passed within an inch of his skull.
  
  "I will finish them off." Alicia ran after the wrecked car.
  
  Mai pulled the trigger as people jumped out of the second car. One fell backwards, hitting the body hard before settling down lifelessly. Dahl chuckled contentedly, pulling out another one. Then a third came out from behind the hood, with an RPG on his shoulder. As he pulled the trigger, Hayden or Kinimaka decapitated his head with a double shot - the RPG aimed straight up as its operator fell - the grenade screeched high into the air like a flare before falling in a slight arc and exploding on a rocky ledge.
  
  Mai heard more gunshots and more swearing as Alicia dealt with the guards still trapped in the second truck. Thus, only two remained. "They will radio for help."
  
  Drake grimaced. "I doubt they can send many more guards. They still have to run the prison."
  
  "I meant from other sources," Mai explained carefully, making Drake feel a little silly. "Razin clearly owns part of the Russian government."
  
  "If they knew, they would have told him that you have come to free me," Drake said.
  
  "They didn't have enough time," Dahl said with a wicked grin. "Hi, good to see you, you damn Yorkshire terrier."
  
  Drake shook the outstretched hand with his own grin. Returning, Alicia hit him on the back of the head.
  
  "How the hell did they manage to grab you in the first fucking place? Have you stopped sleeping with a gun under your pillow?"
  
  Drake's mind went back to the kidnapping. "It was our fault," he admitted. "We have become complacent."
  
  "Do you spend too much time on Mai?"
  
  "Is it possible?"
  
  "I wouldn't know." Alicia snorted. "But you, of course, interrupted me at a delicate moment."
  
  "Fragile? You?"
  
  "Well, if you want to know, Lomas was just-"
  
  Hayden ran up to them, Kinimaka a step behind. "We have to go. Now."
  
  Mai pointed to a truck overturned across the road ahead. "There are two still alive."
  
  "Doesn't matter. If they go back to prison, we'll get rid of them from the back. If they follow our asses, we can ambush them. The main thing is let's get the truck out of here." She pointed to the vehicle in which they had arrived. "That truck."
  
  Kinimaka laughed. Alicia glared at him. "Mano. What the hell did you do to her? Although she is clearly not English, she at least appeared to be human before."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Within three hours they were installed in one of the CIA's safe houses in Moscow. The last of the prison guards did not bother to follow them, resulting in the rest of their escape without incident. Drake asked that all questions be put off until they were safe and able to relax a bit, so after showering, eating, and spending a few minutes with May, the team gathered in various positions in the living room. The curtains were drawn against dark and prying eyes. All exits were locked and monitored by a central video surveillance system. The alarm went off.
  
  Kinimaka stood at the window. Through the gap between the material and the plastered wall, he had a good view of the street outside. The big man didn't take risks in safe houses. He still had nightmares about who Boudreaux and the Blood King's small army had attacked.
  
  He listened as Drake described his first few hours of captivity. The Russians, Razin and Zanko, sounded like the type of people that their team was brought together to deal with. When Drake introduced Yorgi, Kinimaka took a fresh look at the whip-like man.
  
  Thief. Escaped criminal. Inventive supplier of goods. A cunning, intelligent man with secret plans.
  
  Alicia said the obvious out loud. "So you helped Drake get your pathetic carcass out of there?" What now?"
  
  Yorgi took a hard bite of the burger handed to him, clearly enjoying something other than prison food. "Now? I didn't think so far-"
  
  "Eggs," Alicia said. "You thought very well."
  
  Yorgi shrugged. Drake intervened. "Give the guy a chance. He has information that we can use. Don't forget, it was Razin's prison, full of his people."
  
  Yorgi nodded, continuing to chew. "He owned the people, the guards, everything."
  
  Hayden spoke up: "We saw some of Razin's research when we went into the lumberyard. Ancient Babylon, Tower of Babel, Dance of the Seven Veils. Singen." The last word was addressed to Drake with some poignancy.
  
  The Yorkshireman got the point. "Will you come again?"
  
  "They found some connection between Shingen and Babylon. And Babylon in translation means the Gate of the Gods.
  
  "Razin did ask a lot of questions about the third tomb," Drake recalled. "That was pretty much everything he was interested in." He went on to tell everything Yorgi had told him about the seven swords, Razin's claim that they would turn him into a world leader, how they searched for them in the old ruins, and the American professor who helped them against his will.
  
  "They're keeping this professor somewhere in the Red Square area," Drake finished. "Though I believe Yorgi sniffed out a little more before we left?"
  
  Yorgi intervened, wanting to help. "I really gave away more than half of my stock for this one. He is on Tverskaya Street.
  
  Kinimaka felt a tentacle of shock tighten in his stomach. The rest of the team looked understandably alarmed. "They are holding an American professor here?" Hayden nodded towards the window. "In Moscow. Are you kidding?"
  
  "Razin grabbed him when he talked too much about his damn research," Drake told her. "And Red Square twenty minutes away..."
  
  "We need to get ready," Hayden said. "Talk to Gates."
  
  May agreed. "Maybe we should bring in the Russians."
  
  Alicia laughed. "Little elf, are you losing your mind as well as your sharpness? So far they have been about as useful as an old Skoda."
  
  Mai gave the Englishwoman a hard look. Kinimaka knew what lay behind that cloud. The former Japanese agent blamed herself for the loss of Drake. And something else was happening to her, an event that had to do with her hidden past, and Mai Kitano was clearly tense.
  
  They talked until dawn, and when everyone was about to leave for several hours, Dahl's mobile phone rang.
  
  The Swede looked uncertainly at the screen. "This is weird".
  
  Kinimaka watched him as he listened to the caller. The Hawaiian was expecting his own call tonight, hoping for a call from home and dreading a call from California. The case with Kono should have been resolved one day.
  
  Now Dahl put his phone on the table and leaned back, looking worried. "It was Olle Ackerman. Do you remember? My man in Iceland who translates the language of the gods? And my friend-" he added.
  
  "What is this?" Hayden suggested.
  
  "Well, he says he'll explain everything when he sees me. But something is happening in the Icelandic tomb. Three killed. One is presumably missing. And..." Dahl paused, shaking his head.
  
  "What?" I asked.
  
  "Olla had to run for her life. He was driven out of the tomb. Author - Russell Cayman."
  
  "Caiman?" Hayden echoed. "He is back?"
  
  "Something very unpleasant is going on," Drake said, looking around the group. "Something to do with tombs, those swords, Cayman and God knows what else. And we need to hurry before it's too late."
  
  Dahl jumped to his feet. "And that's why I'm heading to Iceland," he said. "I'm leaving on the next flight."
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  
  Russell Cayman has finally come face to face with the true leader of the Shadow Elite. The man's real name was Zach Block, and he welcomed Cayman into his home, explained himself in detail, and really spoke to him as an equal. Times were really hard for the Shadow Elite.
  
  The last remaining member of the secret society that ruled the world demanded all the favors he was ever owed. Its power has been diminished by the loss of its figurehead, a Norwegian, and other members. Many of his contacts chose to dissolve, cover their tracks, but Block reached out like never before, reuniting with the most powerful, the most vulnerable, clinging to every sinner he could find like a devil rising from the lowest pits of hell. His resources were still almost bottomless, allowing him to find many willing partners to walk the jeweled path to purgatory.
  
  This empire would be reborn. It would be more than the first. He wouldn't let it fail again.
  
  On Wednesday, Cayman sat across from him, having previously handed over many of Kali's bones, carefully wrapped, to the next room. "She looked after me."
  
  "As we are". Blok showed no prejudice towards Cayman's words. "We never left, Russell. We dived even deeper and came back armed with much more than just a chest full of treasures."
  
  "I don't need treasure."
  
  "Oh, I know. But I could give you the Shingen Tomb to make it your home. What do you think about it?"
  
  Cayman tensed. It was all he would ever need.
  
  "The doomsday device is the fastest way to regain control of the world," Block said. "For this, I need you, Kali, and another person with a similar mindset."
  
  "Parts of Odin have been destroyed," Cayman said. "Together with the Norwegian. What can I do?"
  
  "You will walk this path, Russell. I will take care of it. You and Kali prepare the way."
  
  "How?"
  
  "We will activate the device, then turn it off. We will show the world our intentions and make it squirm at our feet."
  
  "You sound like one of the Shingen gods," Caiman noted.
  
  "I know". Block smirked contentedly, not understanding at all what Caiman meant.
  
  Cayman hasn't lost any of his investigative prowess over the past few months. "So you're saying there's another way to activate the device?"
  
  "Isn't it always like this? Certainly. Russell, I have people everywhere, you know that. My network of informants, paid undercover agents, my own people is wider and far deeper than that of the intelligence agency you once worked for, or any other you might mention. Previously, I used the Shadow Elite to help hide my deals. Now," he shrugged, "I no longer have that luxury. But I can recover."
  
  "Do you have a spy inside the CIA?"
  
  "I have half a dozen. But that"s not where my information came from."
  
  Cayman furrowed his brow. "Ah, the tombs themselves?"
  
  "Horse language, as always, is the richest source of information. My experience has always been this: if you need to know something important, go straight to the source, don't waste your time buying third parties or bribing spies. But, Russell, I feel uneasy. I am used to being a responsible person, a person who controls the manager, and not an employee and arbiter of affairs."
  
  Cayman nodded. He knew little about the man's past and his all-consuming passion. Zach Block has spent many years studying people, all types of people, and cataloging their reactions to different scenarios while living among them. He engineered life-changing events for ordinary people, just so he could watch how it affected them. His study of human nature came to an abrupt end when the Shadow Elite fell, dragging him from his final quarters in far-off Blackpool, UK.
  
  "I understand, sir."
  
  "Well, each of us will have our own roles." Block shrugged. "You. I. The third person. Cells that I create even now to help protect our enterprise. But to help me, you must first understand what happened. As I mentioned, I have several informants scattered throughout the three tombs of the gods who talk about the many skills used inside. I think tombs are being reopened every single day, which gives us endless potential for new discoveries. This view is also held by the governments of many countries in the free world. They are all around it, like carrion, tormenting the carcass. My people are experts in their fields, true leaders, which I believe gives me an advantage."
  
  Cayman nodded in pause, wondering if Block's newfound tendency to worry and confidence extended. He took a sip of water from a bottle, glancing furtively towards the room where Kali lay torn to pieces. It had been hours since he had last admired her.
  
  "With this in mind, it is not surprising to learn that my translator of the languages of the gods, working in an Icelandic tomb, made an extremely important discovery a few days ago." Block licked his lips and smiled icily. "A discovery that he immediately brought to my attention."
  
  "And only he made this discovery?" Cayman did his best to keep his voice from sounding skeptical.
  
  "They have four translators working there in shifts. This is serious work. Once they pass security checks, these professors and super geeks are trusted and can work the way they like."
  
  "One?"
  
  "Yes, Russell, one. Mr. Jakob Hult, for obvious reasons, always works alone." Blok's voice was irritated, so Caiman allowed him to speak, pulling back slightly to keep Kali's bones within his field of vision.
  
  Block closed his eyes and began to recite from memory, a slight smile on his face showing that he savored every word, "And although Odin"s device will need His nine parts to activate." Block stopped there. 'Activate' is the wrong word, but my translator assures me it's the closest alternative. 'There must be one more way, that's double protection for Odin and his Gods. of the same God. And thus, there are nine parts here too. Do this, and the device will activate, connecting the vortices and burning the world to ashes. " The block paused expectantly.
  
  Cayman thought of everything. "Why is it double fault protection?"
  
  "Because this is the second way to activate the device, and we also need three people, separated, all with like-minded people. I think it's like not letting one person get their hands on nuclear codes."
  
  "And whirlwinds?"
  
  Block grimaced. "That's the only thing we haven't figured out yet."
  
  Caiman stared at Kali's bones. "Do you want to share it?"
  
  "This is the only way. I don't want to start smuggling god bones from tombs, not when we have one right here. And Cayman, you'll be a big part of that. Large, brightly shining part. Think of a reward."
  
  Cayman thought about the reward. The rest of my life, alone, living among the vile and sinful, immorally soaked old bones of the worst gods in history. "I think the end justifies the means."
  
  "Oh, it matters." Block's smile widened. "Imagine our power. Stronger than ever before. Once we get the key to the device, we will own everything. "
  
  
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  
  Cayman saw another hole. "Did you mention three men?"
  
  "Three men. Three tombs. Three parts of Kali. To be honest, I don"t understand how the fact that we all have similar views changes anything, but we will do it anyway."
  
  "Perhaps it has something to do with these whirlwinds?" Cayman suggested.
  
  "Maybe. But now we have to get ready, Russell. Your task, as I'm sure you know, is to hide one of Kali's bones in each of the tombs, then wait in Shingen until the appointed hour when we join minds. Now I will go to the Hawaiian tomb. Our third person will be present in the Icelandic tomb."
  
  Caiman found his eyes fixed on the bags of bones again. "Then I'll start." He walked past Blok, releasing him, and entered the back room. It was only Wednesday. He would visit the Icelandic tomb first, as he knew its layout and security measures. He straightened for a moment, clearing his mind, then dropped to his knees and unzipped his bag.
  
  Her fragrance spread, ancient malice mixed with irresistible greed and lust, laziness and anger. All seven deadly sins nested in a set of dusty old bones that will never be the same. Kaiman thought his mind might have been a little twisted before he met Kali, but she changed all that. Now he could function. Now the way forward was clear.
  
  His future writhed in agony, waiting for him in the beautifully squalid tombs of the gods.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach Block did not allow himself a single gram of condemnation. He needed Russell Cayman to accomplish this daunting task, and now was not the time to form an opinion. Now is the time to act.
  
  The shadow elite, although they no longer had any large errand army, still employed many insanely capable cells in all parts of the world. Mercenaries. Former soldiers, dissatisfied with low pay and annoying officers. Warriors bewildered by everything they saw and did. And just crazy - killers. A small, scattered army remained at the complete disposal of the Blok.
  
  Now he called everyone and everyone, using prearranged code words and promising an influx of funds. He told everyone where he needed them and immediately dispatched them to wait for his call. He asked the expert cell to go to Iceland soon to deal with his interpreter - Jakob Hult - with extreme prejudice. This man has done his job and is now a burden. He knew too much about Blok's new master plan.
  
  Each cell will guard the tomb while at the same time covering Caiman's back and waiting for the hour when the three men will transform from mortals into gods and truly rule the world.
  
  A new game has begun.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  
  Thorsten Dahl arrived in Reykjavik, Iceland around Saturday lunchtime and immediately called his friend Olla Ackerman.
  
  "Where are you, Olle?"
  
  "What? You don't say hello, my old friend? I'm with your wife. Ha!"
  
  Dal waited patiently.
  
  "Okay, okay, I'm nervous, that's all. I've been nervous ever since I saw that caiman pig stalking around the tomb. I thought I would never see him again."
  
  Dahl knew that Cayman had taken over the operation of the Icelandic tomb when he was still thought to be working for the DIA. "You ran away from him, Olle. Remember this. So where are you?
  
  Ackerman gave him the address of the coffee shop. "I read that Reykjavik is one of the safest cities in the world. It's very good, isn't it?"
  
  Dahl left the airport, jumped straight into a taxi, and the driver took him to the heart of Reykjavik. Dahl studied the block buildings and the omnipresent looming spire of Hallgrimskirkja, the mountains behind the water in the distance. Reykjavik was a pretty place and, despite the absence of the hustle and bustle of Stockholm, always seemed inviting whenever he visited. Joanna and the kids would love it here. The only problem was that he only visited them as part of an ongoing mission. Joanna might not even know he was here.
  
  Ackerman waved from the café street as Dahl's cab pulled up. Dahl shook his head, paid the driver, and escorted the older man back inside. "Keep your head down, Olle. Inconspicuous."
  
  "Oh. You soldiers and your missions. It's good that you have people like me who don't lose their heads in the real world, huh?"
  
  Dahl pointed him to the back of the store, next to the fire exit. Then he ordered drinks and slumped slightly on the edge of a comfortable chair. During the last two hours of the flight, he had analyzed all the information transmitted by Drake and Yorgi. The only clear move they could make was to try to free the professor.
  
  The team in Moscow agreed with him, and the operation has already begun.
  
  Dahl watched the front doors. "So Olle. Tell me all about it."
  
  "Well, first I hear that something has been translated. Something huge. And one of my colleagues, Jacob Hult. Such news is a big event for us. The translation process is very boring, Thorsten."
  
  "It's clear. Go on."
  
  "So out of the four of us-all translators-suddenly, two had an accident and died. And then Jacob, he disappears. It leaves me. Only me. Very scary." Ackerman shook his head.
  
  "And then you saw Cayman?"
  
  "No. Then I decide to investigate." Ackerman grinned. "Jakob sector, it is cordoned off, but not very well..."
  
  Dahl sighed. "Oh, Olle."
  
  "I'm very good at this, Torsten. Don't worry. I go there and sneak around. Unfortunately I don't find anything. I deal with the same boring translations. But I see that a small part of the rock has broken off."
  
  Dahl made a move. "Like someone broke it on purpose?"
  
  "I think so, yes. To hide what they found. And only one person could do it - Jacob. But then security comes and I have to leave, but I decide to come back the next night."
  
  "Of course you know."
  
  "And that's when I see Cayman. He sneaks around, heading up the stairs to Odin's tomb. The man was carrying a backpack and a weapon. Just then, unfortunately, I sneezed..." Ackerman lowered his head in embarrassment.
  
  "Caiman saw you. Did he say anything?
  
  "No. He just looked at me. Ah... a terrible look, Thorsten. Dead soul. Then I realized that if I didn"t run away, I would die. So I ran."
  
  Dahl put a hand on Ackerman's shoulder. "I regret".
  
  "It is not your fault. But then, the next day, I see Jacob. He is not hiding. I go through Reykjavik to take the shuttle to the tomb, and Jacob heads to the seaport. I'm following him...ah, it's not that hard, no matter how much you spies and soldiers love to inflate your ego about it and see him with money. Much money. He is buying a boat. That's when I called you, Thorsten."
  
  "Do you think Jacob was paid and he is trying to leave on a boat?"
  
  Ackerman shrugged. "I'm a scientist. I leave grumbling thoughts to you, my friend."
  
  "Well, if that's the case." Dahl hurriedly finished his coffee. "We need to find Jakob now before he has a chance to leave and convince him to talk to us."
  
  "I repeat my thoughts exactly."
  
  "Really?"
  
  "I would have done it already if I didn"t know someone more suitable for manual labor." Ackerman paused. "It's you".
  
  "Thank you. Now drink up, Olle, we need to catch the rogue translator before someone else gets to him."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  
  Drake and the team got ready. When the gray light of dawn began to illuminate the eastern horizon, they were already driving confidently in the direction of Tverskaya Street. They toured the place yesterday, noticing how difficult access would be. The building itself was close enough to Red Square to avoid additional security measures, but also had a private car park in front of it and was surrounded by civic offices and a few shops, not to mention the main thoroughfare, Tverskaya Street. But it was the weekend. Many of these places would be unoccupied.
  
  The movement was rare, most of the townspeople and tourists were still dozing at this hour. Yesterday, Drake spotted Zanko and two other men twice, but there was no sign of Razin, although the man most likely had one or two legitimate businesses in the area. The backpack between Drake's legs was full of weapons and ammo. It's no good for the police to stop us at this stage, even if the ultimate goal of the team would explain everything. The Russians were hardly known for their tolerance.
  
  Professors were detained in order to provide information indirectly related to the tombs of the gods. That alone was enough for Drake's team to make a move, oblivious to the fact that the information might have something to do with the doomsday device.
  
  Since it was a sensitive target, a raid at dawn and it would no doubt be met with resistance, they decided to limit the strike team to three members. Drake, May and Alicia. The Englishwoman parked her car on the other side of the street. The three of them watched the door of the building they were targeting and the windows on either side for a while.
  
  "Yorgi," Drake said on the phone in the car. "You better be damn right about it."
  
  "I'll bet my reputation on it."
  
  Alicia grumbled, "Reputation? You're a thief."
  
  Drake looked in her direction. "That was Belmonte. And he died saving our lives."
  
  Alicia nodded. "So he did."
  
  A moment later, Drake picked up his backpack. The three of them got out of the car and shouldered their bags. They were wearing oversized jeans and jackets to hide the lining of their Kevlar vest. Alicia voiced their concerns as she walked down the wide road.
  
  "Are we like tourists or undercover cops? Because I can never see the difference."
  
  Mai gave her a fleeting glance. "All you need is your mask, Miles. Drake and I will hold your hand."
  
  Alicia snorted. "Yes. Right after you let go of each other's swords."
  
  Having crossed Tverskaya Street, the trio quickly entered the parking lot in front of the Razin building. Ducking behind a couple of parked cars, Mai pulled out a small but powerful handheld scope and studied the building.
  
  "No movement," she reported. "And skimpy furniture. The front end is most likely the favorite. The real action comes from behind."
  
  "Helps the plan." Drake ducked through the parking lot, stopping briefly between another small group of parked cars to pull his balaclava over his head. "Ready?"
  
  "It's itchy." Alicia complained, rubbing the spot where the material had stretched across her forehead.
  
  "I thought you'd get used to them," Mai said slyly. "Are Lomas and you..."
  
  "Back off, elf."
  
  Drake caught their attention with a cough. "Ready?"
  
  He moved before they could respond, weapon at the ready. They ran around the side of the building, hugging the wall, and stopped three feet from the side door. Drake lacked the tact and subtlety to encourage him to explore ways to bypass the low-tech magstripe alarm system, and simply leaned forward, took aim, and fired two muffled shots at the lock. The mechanism turned and fell to the floor; the door slowly opened.
  
  There were screams from within.
  
  Drake pushed his way inside, immediately surprised to find that the back of the house looked like a police detention area. Each of the mini-cells was empty, but stern-looking Russians were emerging from two more rooms adjoining the back wall. Drake heard the characteristic American intonations coming from the farthest room, then a sharp slap and a scream.
  
  "He is here".
  
  Drake kept shooting. Mai and Alicia fanned out behind him. The first Russian fell at their feet, the second crashed into a row of bars, crushing his nose. The next two came together, trying to overwhelm the attackers, but Mai and Alicia handled them from the sides. Drake tossed a small stun grenade, then instantly fell to the deck, hands tightly over his ears. Even then, the explosion when it went off was louder and more effective than the ones he remembered from training. He blinked hard, fighting disorientation, stood up and was immediately knocked down by the body. His hands snatched the gun from him. A sense of survival awakened in him, and he dropped his weapon - if you let the enemy focus on his strong point, he will quickly find his weakest point - and got out from under it. The attacker lay with a pistol in each hand, unable to defend himself when Drake crushed his windpipe and nose, and then broke both wrists. He returned his weapon, spinning in chaos.
  
  A man ran out of the nearest room, firing an automatic pistol. Bullets ricocheted off every wall, bounced off stout steel bars, and even ricocheted off his own men. Drake crouched low, raising his pistol and firing blindly in the direction of the man. A line of holes appeared in the ceiling, signifying that Drake's efforts had paid off. He raised his head, trying to peer through the open door of the second room.
  
  So far, there was no sign of anyone he knew. Several people were lying, moaning or disoriented, some were crawling on the floor, obviously not understanding which way to go - up or down. Alicia jumped to the door, hiding to the side, pressing her back against the wall. Mai walked over to Drake.
  
  "Soldiers!" came a voice that was almost trembling. "Soldiers, stop! If you go any further, I'll put a bullet in his head. Can you hear me? You came for America, didn't you?"
  
  Drake gestured for Alicia to wait. He narrowed his eyes a lot. The flying bullets punched several holes in the plastered wall of the room. If he could just...
  
  There was a shot. Drake's heart sank. No!
  
  "It was a warning. The next one goes through the brain! Now go away."
  
  "Good," said Drake. "Just cool your engines, mate. We are leaving".
  
  Through the holes, he managed to put together a mosaic of fragments of the scene inside the room. The man was standing holding a gun over the professor, who was sitting, maybe even chained to the table, but the man was standing next to the professor, not behind him.
  
  "Only one thing. Look out the window behind you."
  
  Drake signaled to May, who raised her weapon. He pointed to the outer wall, held up three, then four fingers, and pointed to his head. He watched as the man turned for a moment, the gun swinging away from the professor's head.
  
  "I warned you..."
  
  Mai fired three times, aiming at three or four feet from the outer wall. Drake watched as his body flew backwards, the gun fell out, and the professor twitched in his restraints. He signaled to Alicia.
  
  "Go."
  
  He and Mai covered the retreat while Alicia dragged the reluctant professor out of the room.
  
  "He's cocky," Alicia spoke up, wincing a little.
  
  "You don't understand," shouted the professor. Drake saw signs of torture on his face and engraved on both of his arms.
  
  "They have my wife! These bastards have my wife. They will kill her if I do not cooperate." The man burst into tears, still trying to pull Alicia back.
  
  "Where?" I asked. Drake raised his other hand and took some of the weight on himself.
  
  "Pittsburgh".
  
  Drake glared at Alicia. "Are you kidding? Pittsburgh, America?
  
  "Please. Please save her. I will do everything what you want. But my wife, she doesn't know anything about it."
  
  Drake dragged the professor outside. "We will do our best to save her."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  
  Dahl and Ackerman went down to the old harbor, looking at ships of various sizes moored to their right. The Inner Harbor was home to dozens of small boats and large ships, some belonging to Reykjavík residents, others coming from near and far. The two men parked at the entrance and continued on foot, Dahl secretly watching every corner. The real danger, if there was one at all, might come after they met Jakob Hult.
  
  A sharp wind blew from the sea, bringing with it burning spray and salt. They passed many colorful signs, each of which promised "Sea Trips" or "Festival of the Sea" or "Whale Watching" and especially "Sea Fishing." The Atlantic looked like an undulating gray swell behind the sea walls, and on this spit Dal saw it on three separate horizons. He imagined how different the story would be if, like Drake recently, you found yourself floating there, left to your own devices, lost.
  
  He shook off that feeling as he looked up at the eastern horizon towards Sweden. Somewhere out there, his wife and two children went about their business, oblivious to his whereabouts. Blissful ignorance, he thought. He wondered what Joanna was doing at that very moment.
  
  Ackerman then spoke, "Are you thinking the same thing as me?"
  
  Dahl gave him a suspicious look. The interpreter also looked longingly to the east. "I fucking hope not."
  
  "I miss her terribly, do you?"
  
  "Ole-" There was a warning note in Dahl's voice.
  
  "Stockholm," Ackerman answered innocently. "Why? What were you thinking?"
  
  Dahl stopped. They reached the area where Ackerman had seen Jacob buying a boat. The older man pointed to a relatively small white-hulled vessel with a high railing at the bow and a single block cabin in the middle. The ladder climbed the wall of the cabin, and behind it rose the mast, a curved section of wooden deck leading to the stern.
  
  Dahl headed down the dock, stopping at the mooring post in front of the boat. Through the dirty front window, he could see some movement. At that moment, the glass shattered, and the man's head partially passed through it. Dahl then heard the evil laugh of another man. He crossed the wharf and landed on the boat with a strong acceleration. In a few seconds he reached the hut. Through the wide open door, he saw an older man, who could only be Jakob Hult, drop to his knees, looking up at a much younger and fitter man. The second man was dressed in a black T-shirt that showed off his bulging muscles, he had a grim expression and a bearing that screamed military.
  
  Dal quickly approached, coming close to the military man. "What's going on here?"
  
  The young man's eyes widened. Obviously, he was enjoying himself too much to even notice the approach of the Swede. "Who..." he began, speaking with an accent. Something Central European, Dahl thought. Difficult to define.
  
  "Go away," they said to Dahl. "Go away now and you won't be harmed."
  
  The Swede could hardly keep a smile from his lips. "Will I be harmed?"
  
  "Ne fu-" turned out to be the last two words he had been going to say for a while when Dahl smashed the bridge of the boy's nose under his nose. His eyes rolled back and he slid to the ground like a falling curtain.
  
  "Oh thanks". Jakob Hult sighed and shifted so that his back was pressed against the bulkhead. "I don't know-"
  
  "Stop talking nonsense," Dahl said quickly. "I know what these people were doing here, and I know what you did. Now, talk to me. Fast. It cannot be that he is acting alone."
  
  While saying this, he heard a whisper behind him and turned around. The man there-another military figure-was actually leaning over Dahl's body, pointing a weapon at Jakob.
  
  "Stop!"
  
  The pistol fired, the bullet shattered Jacob's collarbone. Dahl used the seconds at his disposal to lunge and intercept the hand with the pistol, smash it against the door frame and twist it first to the left, then to the right, dislocating his shoulder. Before his opponent could even scream, Dahl slammed him face first into the side of the ship.
  
  Ackerman screamed. Dahl looked up and saw that the interpreter was running along the embankment, followed by a man in black. Dahl cursed. He looked at Jacob, noted the gray pallor and the pouring blood. Hult was dead, but not quite there yet.
  
  Damn it.
  
  Dahl grabbed a pistol and fired at the figure chasing Ackerman. After a moment, he stopped and stepped back, giving Ackerman precious moments to hide. Dahl gritted his teeth, pushed his feelings aside, and ran to Hult.
  
  "Tell me," he hissed. "Tell me what you know."
  
  Jacob's mouth twitched and his eyes widened. Blood flowed from his lips. "I can't..."
  
  "They killed you," Dahl spat. "For what? Tell me. There is no man better prepared to avenge you better."
  
  Eyes closed, life slipped away. Dahl leaned over as the sound escaped his torn lips. "Found a translation... related to... the device." His head dropped. Dahl held it tightly in his hands.
  
  "There must be one more way to activate... two fail-safe..." Jakob sat up a little, suddenly feeling stronger. His eyes flew open. "Three minds, three graves, three bones. You see? You see?"
  
  Dahl was silent for a moment. Then: "Not really."
  
  "And the Cayman." The interpreter's head drooped for the last time, his whole body went limp. "He... he also knows..."
  
  Dahl swore loudly. Hult was dead. Wasting no time, he lifted his head and looked out the window. The last remaining mercenary was still looking for Ackerman. Time for Dahl to pay him a visit. He grabbed another weapon and left the cabin, making sure he could be seen on deck.
  
  "Hey!"
  
  The figure in black turned and assessed the situation. He would know that Dahl dealt with two of his friends. He fired. Dahl didn't move. The shot ricocheted off the white railing of the boat. Dahl ran forward, taking aim. He needed to catch this guy and get some answers out of him. He fired once. The mercenary half turned around, looking surprised, and stared at the tattered red band that had just appeared on his shoulder. Close.
  
  The next moment he turned around and ran back along the embankment. Dahl put the pistols in his pocket and ran after him, breathing lightly, aware of what was around them and what lay ahead. If the mercenary continues in the same direction, he will head towards the open market. Dahl increased his speed, but the soldier was quite fast, maintaining a gap. They passed several gawking locals and two fishermen who simply shook their heads in bewilderment before casting another line. Dahl yelled at the man to stop, but he might as well have saved his breath. They rushed across the harbor, taking a shortcut to the left, towards the market. Perhaps the mercenary thought he could lose Dahl there.
  
  The mercenary broke through the crowd of pedestrians, pushing them aside, and burst into the wooden stalls. Dahl closed at first, but then found that his path was difficult. He jumped over several rolling people, one of whom was injured, and jumped over a damaged counter. The mercenary charged forward, heading for the stairs. He glanced over, his face a look of obvious surprise as Dal stepped closer. He charged up the steps, bouncing off the side wall at the top, using it to jump higher and reach an almost unreachable ledge.
  
  Then he ran up the narrow ledge, arms outstretched for balance, forty feet above the market until he managed to grab onto the railing on the far side and jump over to the next level.
  
  Dahl imitated him with ease, using the sidewall to climb and landing feet first on a ledge without having to balance. Five seconds, and he crossed it, jumped onto the bar itself, and then jumped again, instantly switching to a run.
  
  The mercenary came around the corner, launching a series of punches that Dahl deftly blocked. The Swede used his elbow and shoulder to parry the blows and then hit back. As the mercenary began to get close, Dal stopped him with a raised knee, constantly jabbing and throwing his opponent's head back each time he landed a blow.
  
  It didn't take long for the mercenary to realize that he was outclassed. In a last rush, he managed to break free and rush away, rushing to the far steps that led down to the street.
  
  Dahl hurried after him, unable to keep a smirk off his face.
  
  The crazy Swede hasn't had this much fun since he was forced to return the Shelby Mustang.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  
  Dahl slid off the railing that lined the steps, quickly catching up with his prey. At the very bottom, he managed to kick the man's spine with his boot, sending him thrashing head first, but through skill or sheer blind luck, he managed to stop his fall and keep running.
  
  Dahl's phone rang. He fished it out. Ackerman. Bullshit.
  
  "Are you okay? What is this?"
  
  "Just wanted to know how you're doing."
  
  "Go back to the cafe Ole. I will meet you there. And stay away from prying eyes!"
  
  Dahl ended the conversation when Ackerman began to question the validity of those last few sentences. The mercenary ran across the road and a large interchange in its center. The cars swerved and honked their horns, the driver leaned out and waved his fist. Dahl followed him, finding himself blocked by two cars that were so close to each other that their bumpers were literally touching. He jumped feet first, slid down the beautifully polished hood, and sped down the road even faster. The roundabout was paved with paving stones, which allowed Dahl to hold on well. At the top, he jumped from raised block to block, hitting hard on the slope and sliding part of the way. The mercenary caused chaos again by crossing the next road before crashing into a border of thick trees.
  
  Dahl burst in a second later and took a moment to catch his breath. This might be a good place to pause and stop the chase with his gun. But no. The mercenary broke into the skatepark, quiet at this time of day but still crowded. Dahl ran as fast as he could, clearing an elevated wedge formation with a narrow BMX top ledge, then tumbled down a few steps. In front of him was another recreational wedge that ran the entire length of the park. The mercenary jumped from foot to foot on a vertical surface. Each jump took him a little higher until he was able to climb over the top. Then he turned with a triumphant smirk on his face.
  
  If Dahl had a free weapon, he could have shot him then, but instead he ran with all his might, imitating the movements of the mercenary, finding that the climb was easier than he had imagined. Upstairs, he heard a sigh and decided that the mercenary must have thought the same thing. Dahl reached the top. The mercenary showed common sense and did not stop to confront him. He jumped over the edge, still running in free fall, landed, ducked and rolled, then rose without losing stride.
  
  They rounded a wide, sharp depression in the ground, rushing along its edge one after the other like storm water around a whirlpool, then burst out the other side of the skatepark and back onto the civilian streets. The chase continued, not a single person retreated or gave up positions. Then a huge space opened up ahead.
  
  Dal rolled his eyes. The inscription was clear: FC REYKJAVIK.
  
  Damn football stadium, he thought. Crap.
  
  Of course, the mercenary was on the same wavelength. There was a large enough place to break away from the pursuer. He darted towards him, climbed over the fence around the main gate like a monkey, and simply jumped over the top, avoiding the barbed wire a few inches away, then landed deftly on the other side. Dahl stopped and reached for his pistol. The mercenary took off like a frightened rabbit. Dahl fired once, the bullet knocked out concrete fragments from under the man's feet.
  
  The last thing he wanted to do was volunteer to go to the opponent's football stadium, but Dahl stopped his trembling heart and knocked out the locks on the fence. Ah, he thought, feeling a little better, then rushed on.
  
  Distance and time turned into a narrow tunnel for Dahl, through which he swiftly pursued his goal. The figure jumped from the hood of the car to a low balcony, and then even higher, to the second floor, swaying all over like a trained acrobat. For a second his arm lost its footing and he twitched frantically, all the while allowing the Swede to close the gap, but then he leveled his grip and held on tight. Once there, he broke the window and disappeared inside. Dahl made the same leaps, stopped as he crossed the broken threshold, then dashed inside. He saw black clothes just a few feet ahead, racing down the hallway, and then the man swerved to the side. The sounds of gunshots preceded the even louder sound of exploding glass. Dahl entered the same room and, through the shattered high, wide panoramic window in the box, saw the mercenary jump from back to back of the seat, going deeper into the stadium.
  
  Dahl jumped off the window, feeling his feet hit the hard plastic of the backs of the chairs, and then jumped forward, repeating the motion over and over again. In tandem, they swept along the rows of seats, the harsh sea breeze keeping them cool, and the feel of the wide football field ahead of them only disorientated them. Dahl was three rows behind his victim. He knew he could catch a man in flight with one crazy jump, but he was worried about landing. Too many variables even for him. When they reached the level of the battlefield, the mercenary must have known that he had nowhere else to go. He used his last jump to throw his body as far as possible, flying high on the outer path, landing on the edge of the green field, rolling and rising with the gun in two hands.
  
  Dahl stood with his legs apart on the back of the last row of seats, aiming his own pistol. "Drop it."
  
  "I've been training in this shit all my life," the mercenary breathed. "Who the hell are you?"
  
  Dahl said nothing. The mercenary's pistol wavered only an inch. The Swede did not need another opportunity. He fired instantly, watching as the bullet hit his opponent's upper chest and sent him flying backwards, splattering red blood across the freshly cut green grass.
  
  He jumped up and ran forward. "Who sent you?" he shouted, running up and kneeling beside the mercenary. "What do you want from tombs?"
  
  Eyes filled with pain. "Fuck you."
  
  Dahl pressed the barrel of his pistol into the bleeding bullet wound. "The easy way or the hard way, moron. What do you want?"
  
  Arching his back, the mercenary roared for Dahl to stop. "Do you think they are telling us this? All I know is that Professor Guy passed important information to my boss. So vital that he had to leave."
  
  "What kind of information?"
  
  "Some message they found in the tomb. The kind that make strong people sit down quickly."
  
  Dahl caught it. "Powerful people?"
  
  "The guy I work for." The mercenary grimaced and slumped back to the ground. "Makes you look like a fucking cat. He's the devil and all his demons in a fucking truck and he's taking us all straight to hell. Now either shoot me or get the fuck away from me, you English ass."
  
  Dahl backed away. He didn't correct the man. Something told him that he should return to Moscow as soon as possible. Something told him that time was running out fast.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
  
  Drake did not relax until they hid the professor in a safe house. He dropped his backpack and weapons, took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank it quickly. He watched as Mai carefully laid the man down at the round table and took an inventory of his wounds.
  
  Hayden spoke a word, and Kinimaka brought out a first aid kit. Only this one looked more like a suitcase. The CIA provided everything. May began to treat his wounds.
  
  Drake pointed to Hayden. "He says his wife is being held by the Russians. In America".
  
  "What? Christ. Where?"
  
  Drake told her and listened as she called Karin. He took another bottle of water from the refrigerator and placed it in front of the professor.
  
  "We work for the American government," he said. "Tell us what you know."
  
  "None of you guys look like an American," the man said. "Except her". He nodded at Hayden.
  
  "But we just saved your ungrateful Yankee ass," Alicia growled. "And we'll try to save your wife too."
  
  Drake pulled the bottle closer, watching the man sweat as he breathed in the scent of his fear. "We are the majority of the team that found the three tombs of the gods. Talk to us. We can help."
  
  Mai cleaned one of his wounds with gentle swabs. "Why not start with your own name?"
  
  "Certainly. I'm sorry. My name is Wayne Patterson. I am a professor of historical archeology at the University of Pittsburgh.
  
  "Why are you in Moscow, Wayne?"
  
  "This asshole Razin and his thugs. They made me work for them. They kidnapped me in Iraq and brought me here. When I refused to cooperate, they got my home address and..." he took a breath, "kidnapped Audrey. Please, you have to help her."
  
  "We will," Drake said. "Why were you in Iraq, Professor Patterson?"
  
  Finally, the man began to relax a little. "Can't you guess? A professor of archeology in Iraq? Babylon, of course. This place -... was my passion."
  
  Drake nodded and leaned back in his chair. "We know something about what you found. Why don't you tell us a long story."
  
  "They say that Babylon was the first place where evil accumulated in this world. I'm talking about evil people, vile groups. Atrocities. City of heavenly sin. It has always been associated with evil. From the time of the Bible to the time of Hussein. It is only fitting, then, that Babylon can actually save the world now. Sit back and grab a glass, this is a mystery story that will put an end to all mystery stories."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  "Babylon was the largest city in the world - twice. Surrounded by eight gates, the largest of which was called the Ishtar Gate. Alexander the Great, the man who once ruled much of the world, lived and died in Babylon, ending his days in Nebuchadnezzar's palace. On his deathbed, a dance was performed - the Dance of the Sabers, or the Dance of the Seven Veils. Alexander often called himself the son of Zeus. Now all of the above is pure fact recorded in history."
  
  "Babylon is translated as the gate of the gods." Yorgey spoke from his seat on the couch. "So that"s why Alexander settled there?"
  
  "I think Babylon attracted him. Other than that, it's some kind of important coincidence that a man who everyone at that time considered the son of a higher god ended up there. He founded over a dozen Alexandrias. The most extensive library in ancient history. He knew Egyptian pharaohs, emperors and queens. He was called the greatest king and the wisest man who ever lived."
  
  "It's probably all bullshit," Alicia interjected, breaking the spell. "Legends always improve with time."
  
  "Maybe you are right. But back to Babylon. The ziggurat of Etemananki was built inside the city, accidentally destroyed by Alexander, and is considered the first Tower of Babel in history. The mound at its base was so huge that it can still be seen today."
  
  "Wait," Drake said. "The First Tower of Babel. I thought there was only one."
  
  "Oh no. There are hundreds of towers around the world built for the same purpose. But that is another story. One I will return to later. The Babylon we all know was actually built on the site of an even older city, also called Babylon. This original city was razed to the ground, destroyed in much the same way that the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were razed to the ground by God's sacred fire as punishment for their heinous sins. It is said that later people dug a hole, removed the terrible remains of this city and reburied them in the foundations of the new city. So we have an enduring legend of the Babylon Pit - a terrible black hole devoid of all light, where there will never be anything else but the filth of death and destruction."
  
  "I know several places like this," Alicia said. "They are called nightclubs."
  
  "Babylon was the center of the world. Alexander, the greatest king, surrounded by fierce warriors and the most learned of all men. It goes without saying that he would be the owner of many secrets. And if he heard a story about something that could end the world, wouldn"t he take note?"
  
  Now Drake sat down. Suddenly the professor spoke in his own language.
  
  "Wouldn't he have provided?"
  
  Drake furrowed his brows. "You want to say..."
  
  "What if a man like Alexander could, he would find a way to save the world."
  
  Even Alicia leaned forward now. "And he did it?"
  
  "Oh yeah".
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
  
  "But why should a man like Alexander believe in some device to destroy the world?" Hayden asked, taking a step forward. "Wouldn"t he doubt its authenticity?"
  
  Professor Patterson smiled. "Well, he knew all about earth energy and whirlwinds. Sacred places that have crushing power. In truth, he sighed, the learned people of those times actually knew a lot more about them than we do today. Now it's all classified as..."
  
  "Bullshit?" Alicia suggested.
  
  The American blinked. "I'm not sure what you mean, little lady, but I have to say that the notions of the existence of earth energy today are perceived as fantastic at best. It's never been proven, you see. Not officially, although several well-funded agencies are secretly exploring the possibilities. The idea that there is a deeply hidden current of force running through the Earth. Nobody wants to hear about it."
  
  "What does the energy of the earth have to do with the end of the world?"
  
  "Well, I'm going to ask you this. Do you think the destructive power of the elements could destroy it?"
  
  "Yes". Drake remembered something. "An overload of elements that causes destruction, chaos, rivers of fire."
  
  "And what do you think is the best way to describe the four elements?"
  
  "It's energy," Mai said softly. "Provided by the Earth".
  
  Patterson smiled. "Confident enough. Ancient civilizations knew all about the energy of the earth. Many of them worshiped him in one form or another. Now the most obvious signs of earth energy are manifesting in the earth energy vortex. In fact, this is a place of great power. Focal point, possibly a confluence of currents. Think of places like Uluru-Kata Tjuta - Ayers Rock - in Australia. Great Pyramid. Glastonbury Tor. Haleakala crater in Hawaii. If you have ever visited these places, you will understand what I mean. Have you ever stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon, lost in its silent, overwhelming expanses, and wondered how much hidden power such a sacred place could contain? Or Waimea Canyon on Kauai. Meteor rocks in Greece. Reflective desert in Bolivia. Death Valley, Nevada. Crystal Caves, Mexico. Magic chimneys of Turkey. Great Blue Hole of Belize. I could go on."
  
  Drake interrupted, "Do you think the three tombs were purposefully located in the energy vortices of the earth?"
  
  Patterson nodded. "Undoubtedly."
  
  "I'm sorry". Kinimaka stepped out of the kitchen. "This kind of history lesson certainly has its place, but as far as we know, nothing threatens the world. So, how did this lead to Razin kidnapping you and using you to find those swords?"
  
  This seemed to bring Patterson back to the real world. He glared at Hayden. "Did you find my wife?"
  
  "Call disconnected. We are waiting for news."
  
  "The seven swords of Babylon were made at the direction of Alexander. Made of a special material, each of them was inscribed with its own message, which, if read in its entirety, would allow a person to possess the unlimited power of the gods. Patterson looked each person in the eye in turn. "They were said to be mystical, powerful and possessed of a great secret that could shake the world to its very foundations."
  
  "How?"
  
  "I do not know this. As I said, the message-instructions, if you will-are inscribed on the swords."
  
  "I wonder what Caiman has to do with all this," Drake mused, staring at the pockmarked table. "I'll venture a guess, professor, and say that Razin needs swords only to bargain. He is not interested in tombs."
  
  Patterson shrugged. "I don't know. However, he knows about the tomb in Singen. When they found the first sword, they discovered what they later learned was the layout of the tomb at Singen."
  
  "Have they found the sword yet?" Hayden gasped.
  
  "Oh, they found four. I'm good at my job, miss."
  
  "Four?" Hayden sounded like she was panting.
  
  "The first four were buried in the Babylon Pit. It was there that Razin was looking for in the first place. My wife's safety depended on my accurate research, and I could not disappoint her. The remaining three swords - they were buried at the Tower of Babel. The original tower.
  
  "It's a message inscribed on them," Hayden said. "Could you be more specific?"
  
  "I didn't read it. Actually, I can't read it."
  
  Drake stirred up his water. "Why not?"
  
  "It's written in this new language they found." Patterson looked depressed. "The language of the gods".
  
  Nobody moved. Drake guessed that everyone else was just as dumbfounded as he was. "Alexander knew the language of the gods?"
  
  "As I already said -"
  
  "Yes, yes, son of Zeus. The wisest of them all. And so on". Alicia pushed herself off the table.
  
  Drake looked at Mai, then turned to Hayden. "This mission is not over. We need to get those swords back."
  
  Hayden was checking her phone. "It was Dahl. He's on his way back. Said 'with important information'. We'll wait for him and then we'll go to Iraq. I assume that Razin is already there."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
  
  Drake used the downtime to subdue at least one demon. He called Ben Blake, the one he had promised himself to do over the past few weeks. A careful, deep conversation was long overdue, but even as he dialed, Drake knew that this call probably wouldn't go well. In a way, he still partially blamed Ben for Kennedy's death, but it was the soldier in him, unable to accept that the child hadn't made at least some attempt to save her. On the other hand, he got Ben into it from the very beginning, and at first they were just the two of them. Not even six months have passed since they began their search for the bones of Odin, and since then a lot of turbulent water has flowed. Ben himself stained his hands in blood and many times looked death in the face. And now that Drake has at least begun to move on with May, some things have taken on a clearer perspective.
  
  Ben Blake was his best friend before all this started. Ben offered his friendship and his help for free both before and after, he knew what kind of person Drake was. The poor kid lost Hayden Jay, possibly the best booty of his life. He deserved better than being rejected.
  
  "Hello? Matt?"
  
  "Hello Ben".
  
  "I can not hear you. Matt? How are you doing?"
  
  "Fine. I'm fine!" Drake raised his voice. The noise coming from Ben's phone was terrifying. "What the hell is this? Chorus of frogs?
  
  Ben groaned. "In a manner. This group ".
  
  "Wall of sleep. I heard that you haven"t improved much since then."
  
  "I just got back a couple of weeks ago. Give me a chance. What did you do?"
  
  "Ah, not so much. Kidnapped, thrown into jail. True, I almost managed to play football with the prisoners before God-Zanco pounced on me."
  
  "A? What god is now? Did you go to jail? I thought you were fighting the North Koreans."
  
  Drake snorted. "That was last week. This week it's the Russians and maybe someone else. You know the rules of the game."
  
  "Russians?" Ben's voice sounded scared. "Is the Blood King-"
  
  "No. Don't worry about that motherfucker. He left for life. Even his people are now gone. This is another set of nasty things. Anyway, enough of this nonsense. How are you doing?"
  
  "Mom and dad were happy to see me, but they miss Karin. How is she doing?"
  
  "She misses you, Ben."
  
  "I'm fine. And...and Hayden?"
  
  "If you had spoken to them when they called you, then you would have known."
  
  A powerful guitar riff drowned out Ben's response. Drake heard the boys calling out to him in the background. Ben sighed heavily. "Well..."
  
  "Okay, buddy. But, Ben, the next time I'm in England, we need to talk."
  
  "That would be good".
  
  Feeling that he had achieved nothing, Drake finished. Then he called Sam, his former SAS buddy and the man who had recently helped him take down terrorists in the Czech Republic. He asked Sam and Joe, his other big army friend, to keep an eye on Ben when they got the chance. Sam told him that it would be hard, but promised to do everything in his power. Drake couldn't ask for more.
  
  As he dropped his cell phone on the bedside table, Mei entered the room. Her shoulder-length black hair was slicked back, her dark eyes filled with concern. Drake knew she would speak her mind if she felt the need to, so he didn't say anything.
  
  A little later, she sat down next to him on the bed. She put her hand on his knee, but not in a sensual way, more like a comforter.
  
  "Matthew". She stared at the floor. "I don't often lose. And fail and lose you..." She shook her head. "I'm not used to this."
  
  "It is not your fault. Hey, I got beat up too. In fact, twice, considering my fight in the prison yard with King Kong's older brother."
  
  Mei's expression put him in his place. "You really are losing, Matt. I don't know. And this is the worst time for me to start failing."
  
  "Why? Because of Cayman and the history of Babylon?"
  
  "Of course not. There's more to the game, Matt. Something that leads straight back to my childhood. Of course you know about it."
  
  "Fuck me, Mai. It's grand."
  
  "I know. I just can't lose my edge now."
  
  Drake softened. "We have become complacent. We took a few days off. We don't have to be on guard twenty-four hours a day, but," he shrugged, "that's the job. And, Mai, I am always here for you."
  
  May got up. "This will not happen again. Look, when this is over, I want to go and see Chica. Visit her in Tokyo. Maybe we two?
  
  Drake smirked. "Good idea. Blood sound. I haven't been to Tokyo since the old Coscon."
  
  Mai thought for a moment, remembering. "Those were the best of days."
  
  Drake cupped her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her. "And these too."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  
  
  Mai Kitano watched the sleeping Drake from her perch by the window. She couldn't relax. The endless sleepless nights had not yet taken their toll on her, but they would soon take their toll. Even here in Russia, in this safe house, under the protection of the CIA, she knew she was far from safe. Mai was not afraid, fear did not live in her, but she was alarmed and worried about her friends.
  
  The clan is looking for you.
  
  Just a one-line message sent to a personal email address that no one but a few of her old contacts knew. But destructive. Truly terrible. The past she thought she had left behind was catching up with her, an oncoming freight train full of horrors, and she had no choice but to face it face to face.
  
  Now, she thought. Just when I returned it.
  
  The events of the past few days have put the real mortality of Mai, her family and friends into perspective. Reality came into its own with a vengeance.
  
  Without further thought, she dialed Chika's number. Her sister answered after the third ring.
  
  "Moshi-moshi?"
  
  "It's me, Chica."
  
  "Sister! I missed you ".
  
  "And I love you, Chica. Nice to hear your voice." Mai continued to question her sister about her work, her friends, and if any men had come into her life lately. Chica reacted a little evasively to the last question, but confirmed that everything was fine, and Mai began to relax. She laughed a little, talked about some of the good times they had together, but then, near the end of the conversation, Chica finally said what Mai had been afraid of all along.
  
  "Two days ago," she said. "Several people visited me at work. They asked about you, Mai. And about your past."
  
  "They threatened you?"
  
  "Oh no. They were very nice. Why do you say that?"
  
  "Because of my past, Chica. That's why."
  
  "I don't know much about your past. I told them this. And I told them I don't know where you are. What I don't know."
  
  Mai kept silent about the rest, quickly dispelling any anxiety Chica might be feeling, saying that it most likely had something to do with her old job in the government. She waited the necessary time and then told Chica to be safe.
  
  "Goodbye, sister."
  
  Her next call was Dai Hibiki. "Where are you, Dai?"
  
  "Wow, May. No contact for years, then you pull me out of deep hiding and now you call me while I'm servicing a girlfriend. It better be good."
  
  "Correction, Hibiki. I saved your pathetic skin from getting skinned to shreds, and then your girlfriend from two minutes of skin-to-skin contact, which doesn't really matter if you know what I mean."
  
  "Oh, you remember me well."
  
  "Never forget". Mai owed her life and many others to Hibiki's Dai. "But I need to ask you something-"
  
  "Don't worry. I know what you are going to ask. I didn't give them anything, May. Nothing."
  
  "What? So they came to you too?"
  
  "Also?"
  
  "Recently, some people came to Chika and asked about my past."
  
  "Then yes, they also visited me. But at work, May. They showed no signs of malice. No ulterior motives."
  
  But the Clan wouldn't, Mai wanted to scream. They moved in the highest circles, selecting every head they liked, and smiling at the same time. Once she was a part of it.
  
  "Please. Do your best to look after Chica for me. Until I can get there."
  
  "Already doing it."
  
  "What?" I asked.
  
  "I mean, yes, way ahead of you. As soon as you mentioned her name, I started planning a visit."
  
  Mai furrowed her brows. There was something in Hibiki's tone, something that told her that he was keeping a secret. She wondered for a moment if this was related to Chika.
  
  "Okay, Dai. I will talk to you as soon as I can."
  
  She ended the call, still looking out the window, searching the shadows for the returning ghosts of her past.
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Drake met Thorsten Dahl at the door, patting the big man on the back and then shaking hands with the diminutive professor Olla Ackerman.
  
  "A bit of adventure?"
  
  Dahl wrinkled his nose. "Nothing special. Just practicing free running." As usual, the Swede did not show off. For him, a trip to Iceland was commonplace.
  
  Ackerman still looked a little shaken. "I had to run for my life while Thorsten was playing boat with a couple of thugs. Terrifying."
  
  Drake locked the door behind them, listening intently as the triple lock mechanism went off. The CIA-managed video surveillance system also scanned the area for up to a mile in all directions, but not wanting to rely solely on the CIA, Hayden sent Mai on patrol as cover.
  
  The SPEAR boss pointed Dahl and Ackerman to their seats. "We were waiting for you. Please tell us what you know. Smiling, the blond agent sat down next to Ackerman, the worry lines of the last few months almost gone from her face. Drake thought Kinimaka was a good fit for her.
  
  Dahl quickly recounted the story that Ackerman had told him in Iceland. "One of Olle's colleagues discovered some ancient message in the tomb, written in the language of the gods. Obviously something significant. This man - Jacob Hult - sold his findings to the type of ruthless individuals that we seem to continue to encounter. They killed Hult and tried to kill us."
  
  "But they didn't succeed." Hayden smiled again.
  
  Dahl shrugged. "There were only three of them."
  
  "Whatever the message was, Hult took it from the tomb," Ackerman told them. "He chipped away the part of the rock where it appeared." The older man looked angry. "Such disrespect for our history."
  
  "For proof," Drake said. "He needed proof."
  
  "Yes," Dahl continued. "Well, then my little friend ran into Russell Cayman. What this crazy bastard was doing in the tomb, we don't know. But Olle ran away and called me. That's all ".
  
  Hayden leaned back in his chair. "And it's all? You said it was good information, Dal."
  
  The Swede nodded. "Later, when Yakob died, he revealed several things related to the translation, in particular, the doomsday device. First he said: 'There must be one more way to activate ... two fail-safe'. And finally he said: 'Three minds, three tombs, three bones. Nine parts. You see?' It's that simple."
  
  Drake feigned dismay. "Is that so easy?"
  
  Dal snarled at him. "Do not start".
  
  Alicia poured herself a beer. "Okay, Torsti. Well, I guess your trip wasn't a total failure. It's all clear now - there's another way to activate this device, and you can be damn sure that Caiman is in charge of it, as well as the one who controls this fruit bat. But all nine parts were destroyed." She stared at Dahl. "Isn't that right?"
  
  "Absolutely. Smashed to hell."
  
  "Well, we don't know where Cayman is. We don't know who or where his boss is. We don't know the rest of the translation," Hayden said. "I say that we stick to the plan and go for swords."
  
  Drake got up. "Ready and willing. Let's get this over with."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  
  
  Russell Cayman was flown in a private jet to Honolulu, landing on an uneven runway somewhere north of the city. As the plane banked over the famous coastline of Waikiki Beach, it looked down at the wealth of hotels; rainbow-striped, pink, high-rise, and beyond them, through the golden sands, all the way to Diamond Head. The old crater jutted out of the landscape, as if declaring its importance. Deeply rooted in Hawaiian legend, no one could guess the shocking meaning of the ancient myths buried inside.
  
  Cayman was alone on the plane. One, except for the pilot and a small backpack that took pride of place on the seat next to him. The backpack was well stuffed and the item inside was carefully wrapped. Caiman sat with his left hand on top of him, fingers inward, touching the outer packaging of the item.
  
  The smallest finger of Kali's right hand, intact. He had already hidden the little finger of her left hand in an Icelandic tomb. He slipped in and out, posing as an interpreter and using the victim's ID, only unsticking himself when he had a chance meeting with someone who knew him. Caiman couldn't even remember the old man's face, but he could see the recognition and fear in his eyes. He gave chase, but the old man knew the tomb like the back of his hand. There was no way Caiman could find him and maintain his absolute cover, so he tossed the bone and left. Zac Block would never have known.
  
  Now that the plane had skidded to a halt, Cayman prepared to land. He saw no sign of Block's mercenary "cells" in Iceland, but the leader of the Shadow Elite had recently assured him that two cells had already arrived in Honolulu and were just starting to work. They would help Cayman if they could, but their main directive was to infiltrate and wait for Blok.
  
  Cayman was driving towards the city. Diamond Head was getting bigger ahead, the ocean to its left sparkling and dotted with swimmers and surfers as the sun began to set, rising over the horizon. He circled the dormant volcano, finally parking the car out of sight near one of the fenced entry points to one of Oahu's many lava tubes. They all led to Diamond Head, but this one was particularly well identified as leading indirectly to the trap system below. Caiman strapped Kali to his back, took another bag full of the tools he would need, and set off. None of the Hawaiian cells had been on the phone yet, so he had to believe he was on his own.
  
  Caiman cut the wire at the rear of the complex, in the most inconspicuous place, then secured it back with wire ties. Not perfect, but good enough for the time it takes him. He climbed onto the roof of a small building and carefully turned the security camera so that its lens was pointing away from the door. Again, not perfect, but children and young people were constantly breaking into these places, and it only took a few hours for Cayman. He jumped to the ground and was inside in a few seconds.
  
  Without bothering with the light, he turned on his own flashlight and headed towards the lava tube. In this structure, it was a smooth black hole in the ground, but one that sloped down instead of into a hole. He slipped inside, carefully adjusting Kali's backpack, and began to slide onto his back, now holding the flashlight between his teeth.
  
  The darkness down here was soothing, not harboring unknown horrors like in Shingen, but deep and menacing nonetheless. He wondered what kind of creature could survive down here, what an underground horror, and he felt a sudden longing for the old tomb of Kali. He will be back soon. Soon this place will become his home.
  
  The caiman crossed the full length of the lava tube, descending smoothly until he sat with his legs dangling at forty feet and stared at the first set of traps. Anger is the first level of Hell.
  
  The carved face of the devil stared at Caiman, the lights that once gave life and meaning to the trap now extinguished. Caiman took a moment to study those sunken eye sockets, hooked nose, and cavernous mouth, and broke into a smile. It was to be a much more pleasant evening than he had ever imagined.
  
  And then we move on to Shingen.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY
  
  
  Drake listened impatiently as Hayden set up a conference call with Karin and Gates. Their genius computer-communications operative appeared to be in high spirits now that the new headquarters was taking shape, but the secretary of defense seemed very concerned, despite the frivolity of the situation.
  
  "Swords are associated with the device and the gods," Gates said. "It's completely obvious. I need these inscriptions - they should tell us more. And Cayman is acting because of the transfer, but on whose orders?"
  
  "Can the Shadow Elite return?" Hayden suggested, staring steadily into space, absorbing every word her boss said.
  
  "At the moment, everything is possible. Don't rule anything out, Hayden. One thing is certain: the man who paid for this transfer and killed Jakob Hult will see it through to the end."
  
  "We are fully prepared to go," Karin interjected. "We can help you from this end."
  
  "Take care of those swords," Gates said. "Your team will do it. Time is of the essence. And I want someone to explore the topic of the earth energy vortex. If Professor Patterson thinks this is a genuine phenomenon, then we need to know. I don't want any last minute surprises."
  
  "I believe he is an expert on this," Hayden said. "But I'll check."
  
  Professor Patterson walked over to the table. "I can help you. But sir, what news about my wife?"
  
  "It's me". Komodo's deep voice came over the radio waves. "We're putting together a team right now, Professor. Our friends Romero and Smith are on their way."
  
  Drake approved. "A good choice". He watched Mai as she sat by the window, apparently absorbed in something outside. Has the distance grown in her lately? Ever since they got him. He knew that she was criticizing her own abilities that night, but he also knew that there was no way to convince her that it wasn't her fault. It can happen at any time, with any of them. Even Dahl. Drake smiled at the big Swede who was leading Ackerman by the nose. Dahl caught that eye and straightened his fly.
  
  Drake looked away, listening.
  
  "I have my own situation at this end," Gates said in a submissive tone. "Some men - they think they're too important not to be heard. And they're seriously concerned if they think-" The secretary stopped, as if suddenly realizing he'd gone too far. "Doesn't matter. It is my problem. Is there anything else, Jay?"
  
  "I think that's all, sir." Hayden waited for Gates to signal, then turned to Karin. "Do you know anything about this?"
  
  "No. For me, this is news."
  
  Hayden pursed her lips, clearly worried. Drake read her mind. They were all worried about Jonathan Gates, the real power behind SPEER - the man had barely caught his breath since his wife was killed. And he had some cruel enemies on the hill, rodents who would only be happy to gnaw the ground from under his feet.
  
  "Okay, Karin. Watch out for Cayman and if he shows up anywhere in the world, let us know immediately."
  
  "And my wife?" Patterson insisted.
  
  Drake touched the man's elbow. "Given that Komodo, Romero and Smith are involved in this case, it will not take long. Try to trust us." He swallowed the words back, but they left his lips before he could stop them. "No one will have a better chance," he added a little hesitantly.
  
  Patterson glared at him. "You are a real comfort."
  
  "I'm not here to comfort you." Drake moved away and approached Mai. She greeted him with a smile.
  
  "Ready to hit Iraq, go kick Russian ass and grab us some swords?"
  
  "I would follow you anywhere, Matt."
  
  Drake stopped his chatter. May's answer didn't sound quite right. "Are you okay?"
  
  "The clan is looking for me," she said softly. "They will never stop."
  
  "Listen," Drake sat down next to her. "You are not alone in this. It's not even just you and me. He pointed to the assembled team. "Each of these guys. Each of them will fall and help. We'll end this Babylon affair, and then-" He squeezed her hand. "Deal with you."
  
  Mei's expression darkened, if anything. "You don't know them, Matt. You just don't know them the way I do. And who is their leader..."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  
  
  The team was transported to the nearest American base and then to Camp Adder in Iraq, the hub of military operations and communications. From there, the terrain was rugged and dangerous, as only the on-board computer could judge, which unmistakably led them to pre-registered coordinates. Drake stepped out of the large, uncomfortable army vehicle, seeing the lights of Camp Babylon in the distance. Whoever decided to place a military base on top of one of the greatest ancient ruins in the world, they certainly took a big bite of monkey juice that night.
  
  Unless the Americans were looking for something, he thought. And the base was a smoke screen.
  
  Their own goal was still a little way ahead, through the pitch darkness of the desert. The team prepared by donning night vision goggles, arming themselves, and checking the coordinates. It was supposed to be purely intelligence, so everyone went there, including Patterson and Ackerman. Patterson must have known about the dig site. Ackerman was in it for the thrill.
  
  "Stay close," Dahl warned the tense interpreter. "And shut up, or I'll have to gag you."
  
  "You and your wife," Ackerman said. "They both sound exactly the same."
  
  Alicia sidled up to the Swede. "You can gag me at any time, Thorst."
  
  "And what would your new boyfriend think about it?"
  
  Alicia opened her mouth but didn't say a word. Even Mai sent her a sly smile. Drake considered the fact that there were no more secrets on this team. He looked at Yorgi. "Do you have any other secrets to tell us, mate, before we leave?"
  
  "About the Russians?" Yorgy shook his head. "No".
  
  Drake caught the nuance. "What about something else?"
  
  Yorgi hesitated. "We will talk. Later."
  
  Drake was the last to leave, Mai walking beside him. Hayden and Kinimaka led the way, followed by Alicia and Dahl, civilians among them. Dueling air currents picked up grains of sand and hurled them at the intruders. The bushes clung to their ankles. Out of nowhere, a high sandbank rose up, forcing them to climb to the top, and when they descended from the other side, the distant lights of the American base disappeared altogether.
  
  They were still walking, guided only by a portable navigator. After what seemed like an hour, Hayden raised his fist and the team stopped. Drake heard a click in his ear.
  
  "The target is right in front of you. Now absolute silence, unless it is necessary."
  
  Drake peered intently. Even at this close distance, it was difficult to make out what they were looking at. A small round winch, perhaps six feet high, rose from the desert ahead, insignificant among the many higher mounds that surrounded it. No doubt it would even look abandoned in daylight. There was nothing else. No huts. No vehicles. No Russians. Drake rolled his eyes.
  
  Bluetooth connection clicked again. "I see a masked area on the right." It was Mai, sharp-sighted as always. Now that she had said it, Drake could make out the slight swaying of the camouflage net in the steady wind. Beneath it were boulders, no doubt vehicles, crates, and some sort of cover. "Understood".
  
  A faint light came from the middle of the portal, silvery lights coming from what was inside. The glow was swallowed up by the night as it cleared from the man-made device, finely tuned.
  
  "I'm guessing it's a hole," Drake whispered. "It must be a hole."
  
  Professor Patterson's connection clicked several times before he managed to make himself heard. "I can confirm this. According to the stories of Alexander, it was there that Razin found the first of the swords."
  
  "How do you know so much about Alexander?" May asked.
  
  Patterson blinked. "What can I say? Of the literally thousands of texts, stories and stories written about him, I have read about 90 percent in my time. The University of Pittsburgh purchased for me several works written by people who really knew him, such as Ptolemy and Callisthenes. And, of course, there is evidence of Aristotle, his teacher."
  
  "Aristotle?" Mei's eyebrows went up. "I did not know that".
  
  "Oh yeah. It's hard to question the fact that Alexander became one of the wisest and greatest kings of all time, if not the greatest, right? I spent years studying the history of Macedonia, his homeland. Did you know that his empire spanned three continents? The story of the swords and the seven veils is well known, but the cross-reference that they were buried in the pit and tower rather than his tomb is from more personal sources."
  
  "Did you say that other swords are buried in the Tower of Babel?" Hayden interrupted.
  
  "Yes. Over there."
  
  Eight pairs of glasses turned to see where he was pointing. "Sorry. In the north."
  
  Even in the darkness, Drake could make out a wide hill, rounded at the top and surrounded by steep slopes. A sudden sense of an ancient mystery swept over him. Here was ancient Babylon, resplendent with plundered beauty, vicious sin and eternal pleasure. Here was the capital of the old world, once a magnificent city, but now turned into dilapidated ruins. But beneath these ever-shifting sands, who knew what boundless ancient riches awaited the brave treasure hunter?
  
  There was a sound of metal on metal in front of them, and a swaying bucket came into view. A man got out of the hole; his clothes and face were covered in mud, and curses oozed from his mouth before he wandered off in the direction of the camouflage tent.
  
  "They're still checking the pit," Hayden pointed out.
  
  "Probably in search of new artifacts." Alicia said. "The few megalomaniacs I knew were nothing unless consumed by greed."
  
  Professor Patterson did not take his eyes off the distant mound. "Although seven swords were made according to the design of Alexander the Great, including the inscriptions, he never actually used any of them. Among the seven, there was one called the Great Sword, the main weapon. I believe that this inscription was crucial to the understanding of the rest. Unfortunately, we do not know in what order they were buried."
  
  Kinimaka fidgeted uneasily, his strange frame not quite suited to lying still for long periods of time. "It feels like I have a goddamn scorpion up my ass."
  
  Alicia chuckled. "Try kicking high while wearing a thong. Then you will know real pain."
  
  "Mano," whispered Hayden. "You are vibrating."
  
  "ABOUT". Kinimaka reached into his pocket and turned off his cell phone. "No doubt Kono again."
  
  "That sister of yours is worse than a scorpion," Alicia commented before turning back to Patterson. "So, professor, what is the bottom line of this dance? Saber dance. Sounds perverted."
  
  "Oh. Performed only once at Alexander's deathbed. Also called the Dance of the Seven Veils. The dancers performed with swords, dressed in almost everything except transparent dresses.
  
  "And this hole?" Drake pointed to the dimly lit hole that lay before them. "Is this the place where the original Babylon was?"
  
  "Not really. This location remains unknown. The Pit is the place where the last remnants of the city were buried, out of sight of human eyes and minds. The vile waste of the city: from burned people to charred artifacts, burnt bricks and soil, everything was left there, buried forever, never to be seen again."
  
  "Because it was evil?"
  
  "Just like Sodom and Gomorrah were considered evil in the Bible, yes."
  
  "I just think the evil is well connected with the third tomb in Shingen. We were constantly reminded that all the evil gods were buried there."
  
  Patterson nodded, barely visible in the darkness. "It was called whatever. Presumably bottomless, it has been described as Cthulhu's lair. Remember L.P. Lovecraft and his fantastic demons? Entrance to Purgatory. The source of the Black Death, plague and all other serious diseases over the past few thousand years. I would not like to sink into this mud, my friends."
  
  "It's just a hole in the ground," Kinimaka pointed out.
  
  "But there's... something about it."
  
  "Earth energy? Is this one of your whirlwinds?"
  
  "I think yes. YES. Don't you feel an inexplicable calm, a marvelous trepidation?"
  
  Drake frowned. He visited some of the places that Patterson mentioned earlier. It is true that when a person stood and looked at something miraculous, it seemed that there was more to it than just Mother Nature's plan. Something deeper.
  
  "When we have time, you may want to explain this earth energy theory of yours in more detail, Professor."
  
  "Be glad for it."
  
  Hayden shuffled back across the sand, pulling on Kinimaku's belt to give him a kick. "We have what we need," she whispered. "Let's go and plan how to storm this place."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  
  
  Jonathan Gates hurried to the crisis meeting, still stunned and unable to fully comprehend the absurdity of the situation he currently finds himself in. Twelve men sat around a huge table, stern looks reflecting either the superiority of their position, the seriousness of their concerns, or the depth of their despair. They were powerful people-certainly some of the most powerful people in the world-but they were still just men fighting to be heard.
  
  President Charles Coburn nodded in his direction. "Jonathan, sit down. We can begin ".
  
  Gates took his seat as he saw the Vice President, Secretary of State, Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Chief of Staff, and Presidential Advisor gathered along with the directors of the CIA, FBI, and Department of the Interior, plus two five-star generals. .
  
  President Coburn pointed to the last two. "General Stone and General Edwards. You should start from the very beginning."
  
  Stone took the lead. "We believe the three tombs in Iceland, Hawaii and Germany pose the greatest threat to America's freedom and security since the Cold War. Forget al-Qaeda, the potential threat posed by possession of Singen's doomsday device is unprecedented. And now," he half-turned to Gates, "with the latest discovery that there is probably a second method of activation, I feel - we feel - that America should take the lead."
  
  If it was possible, the expressions around the table became even more stern, but it was still impossible to determine who everyone's eyes would land on. Or better, Gates thought. Which side would best serve the interests of each.
  
  "Go on." Coburn leaned in as his assistant whispered something briefly in his ear.
  
  "The only way to be safe is to activate the device, see what it does, and then deactivate it, either by rendering it unusable or by burying it in a deep hole somewhere."
  
  Gates saw the CIA director immediately shake his head and saw him as a potential ally. "It's already in a deep hole," the director said. "And also German. How do you propose to turn this case, General?
  
  Stone pursed his lips. "In any way we can, sir. The welfare of the country is at stake." He clearly cared about security and vulnerability, which Gates believes was the main reason he wasn't kicked straight to the base. A good angle, more important to the people in this room right now than anything else.
  
  Especially the president. "What makes you think you can turn it off again?"
  
  "NASA sends people into space. Massachusetts Institute of Technology trains supercomputer engineers. There are undoubtedly enough educated minds between us to disable an archaic device. It might not even work."
  
  "But we need to know," another general interjected.
  
  President Coburn turned to Gates. "Your team is after this one, Jonathan. Assuming we can get the Germans to cooperate, what is your opinion?"
  
  Gates studied the president. Although he was in his fifties, he looked more like a fit young man in his forties, with the face and build of a man who takes care of himself and exercises regularly. Gates heard it said that Coburn only got three hours of sleep each night, not because of the demands of the job, but because that was all he needed. The president's face was now open and expectant. Gates never took him for a fool. However, he still decided to address the man the president used to be and, deep down, no doubt still was.
  
  "You were once on the battlefield, sir. You know how important it is to let the team do their job. The eyes and feet on the ground are crucial and need to be paid attention to. They will go right through."
  
  "How can you even know that?" The President did not rage, complain, or even refer to past experiences. It was a sincere, viable question. And not a single person in this room really cared that the president had once fought with honor for his country. Since he signed this oath, he has of necessity become a very different person. One who was sometimes forced to bend like a tree in a hurricane.
  
  Gates tried a different approach. "They've never let us down before, sir. They really discovered all these tombs. They captured Dmitry Kovalenko -"
  
  "I'm aware of the team's progress, Jonathan," Coburn interjected. "But if you cannot give me specific assurances that your team will stop the device from reactivating, then I suggest you give me a direct answer."
  
  Gates licked his lips. "We don't know for sure, Mr. President." Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw General Stone's face twist into a smirk, but when he looked in that direction, the man turned his head.
  
  "Mr. President," Stone said. "Give me the resources to at least put the plan into action. Let me get ready. Then, if the secretary's team fails, we at least have active reinforcements." Everyone heard the intonation, and some almost smiled.
  
  "It's too risky," Gates said.
  
  "It's riskier not to try," Stone confirmed. "The independence of the country is at stake."
  
  The gate trembled within. He knew exactly what would happen if Stone was in command at Shingen, but the influence in this room was leaning towards General Stone. With such support, the president would no doubt have had to grant a simple request. But Stone aspired to fame, and almost everyone here would agree with the general's statement that America possessed bright minds capable of deactivating Odin's device to specification. Perhaps it was.
  
  The problem was, Gates thought. Instead of working for NASA or studying at MIT, the mindset they needed right now was more likely that of a weird loner who went to jail for hacking supercomputers, or a weird dork from the bedroom who made it to the top of the new game's leaderboard. Tomb Raider.
  
  Courage, strength, skill, a bit of madness and a penchant for fantasy. It was what they needed. He thought of it as a motto for SPEAR. If what the team had learned so far was true, and the old gods were part of it all again, then madness and fantasy might have been the only things that saved them all in the end.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  
  
  Karin Blake knew it was a race against the clock. While the past week could best be described as an intense, stressful whirlwind, she knew the next few hours would quickly go from over the top to the extreme.
  
  She was alone in the new headquarters. A few hours ago, Komodo left on his short trip to Pittsburgh, intending to meet with Romero, Smith, and two other Delta soldiers. Patterson's wife was still being held captive in their compact home. Despite the fact that the professor's release was relatively recent, Karin expected that something had happened in his country house, but it seems that the main Russians - Razin and Zanko, whom they knew about - were too busy to pay attention to it. . Or perhaps the news hasn't leaked yet. Karin checked the connection to Komodo one last time.
  
  "So far so good, T-thief?"
  
  "Like Mountain Dew, my little Kazmat."
  
  Karin smiled when she heard him call them by an affectionate name. "I take it the boy soldiers haven"t arrived yet?"
  
  "We are still waiting. These messages are amazing, Karin. It sounds like you're sitting next to me."
  
  "I would like". Karin, however, was very excited to be alone at the headquarters. It showed Gates' level of trust in her. This showed that her future, thanks to Jonathan and SPIR, was bright and rich. It showed that she could have life again.
  
  "Keep your head up," Komodo said. "They are here".
  
  The team leader went offline briefly to explain the situation to his new team. Karin expected him to return in a few minutes and prepared a loop that would connect them all through the same equipment, linking them to each other and, via satellite, to her. The new HQ was slightly smaller, windowless, and used the outdated garage-only method of access, but they made it work. Advanced communications and surveillance systems occupied most of the main room, the team's equipment occupied the second. There were no cells, no interrogation rooms, just a small basement, which, according to Karin, was the coolest feature of the headquarters.
  
  An underground escape route that led straight to the Pennsylvania Mall.
  
  What girl wouldn't like that? She thought about it. Even better, it was an amazing, lively place to stay with dozens of exits, security, and places to hide. And to top it off, she could use the tunnel for a snack too!
  
  But not today. Komodo and the team relied on her to assist in their offense. Once the connection was established, she focused on the surveillance system, using the CIAs global mapping system to zoom in on the roof of the house. The magnification was huge and crystal clear. She remembered one of the weapons they had used on the previous mission, one that could see through walls. Such a weapon would be useful here and in the future, but she just couldn't get the idea out of her mind that Alicia would use it for something dubious.
  
  A double click informed her that Komodo was online again. "Game starting?"
  
  "It's in the game. Herrera and Tyler scout and find a place to hide. We will grab the first one to show their ugly Russian face and use it to get inside."
  
  "Sounds risky."
  
  "Tried and trustworthy. Besides, it's all risky, baby. We are outside, trying to get inside."
  
  Karin heard one of the men whisper about canning the children's conversation, and immediately guessed it was Smith. She'd heard enough about the short-tempered Marine to recognize his temperament, even from a connection.
  
  "Don't worry," Komodo said. "Poor Ole Smith is depressed. He texted Mei twelve hours ago and she didn't reply."
  
  Karin laughed. "Maybe he missed the kiss at the end, huh?"
  
  There was a short silence, then Smith's voice came over the air. "Miss, I can only say that you are lucky that I am Delta. If I were a Marine, I would tell you to fuck off after this."
  
  Komodo burst into laughter. "He is in bad shape. Hey Romero, how do you live with this all day?"
  
  "We are not married, sir. He can see whoever he wants."
  
  "I think Drake has something to say about this." Karin watched as the two figures, Herrera and Tyler, cautiously approached the Patterson house. The two Delta soldiers skillfully made their way to the foliage and waist-high decking that surrounded the house, hiding inside. They weren't in a hurry. Karin counted twenty-eight minutes of waiting and shuffling.
  
  "We are all gathered here."
  
  Komodo paced the interior of their white construction van. The cover was good. The house across the road was being renovated and required a variety of amenities every day.
  
  Romero said, "So, how is Drake? Is this all part of some new feat?"
  
  "Babylon," Karin heard Komodo answer with amusement in his voice. Then: "Don't ask."
  
  "See, we were interested," Smith said. "Since our team hasn't been updated yet, could you put in a good word for us."
  
  Karin could almost hear Komodo's brain ticking. "What? Why?"
  
  Silence followed. They may have communicated with eyebrow and hand gestures.
  
  Komodo then spoke with excitement in his voice. "Are you kidding? Really? Do you want to join SPEAR? Well, Drake speaks highly of you, Romero. I am honored that you asked me to speak for you."
  
  "Any time, dude."
  
  Smith's voice interrupted the conversation. "Did Mai speak well of me?"
  
  "She said she could never survive without you."
  
  There was silence again, and then Karin heard Romero whisper. "Don't start crying, for heaven's sake."
  
  "Fuck you."
  
  She shook her head at the display of military humor. With nothing else to do, she went to the small fridge-freezer and pulled out a bottle of water. As she stood there, sipping on the cold liquid, it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn't remember the last time she was alone like this. Strange thought for her. Karin used to be physically alone in the darkness of her apartment and mentally alone in the darkness of her mind. Her last moment alone must have been at her apartment, just before she told Ben she was going to Hawaii to help.
  
  She easily fit into her new existence, believing that she was born for such a life. All her tragedies prepared her for this. The moments she was living now, those beautiful days, were the best she'd ever known.
  
  And Komodo stood firmly at the center of it all, her anchor. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, a double-click on the direct link caught her attention.
  
  "We are in the game. The side door just opened."
  
  Karin ran back to her seat, switching between the satellite display and the Komodo helmet camera. He focused between the barrel of his pistol and the inside handle of the van, waiting for the start. Karin switched to Tyler's headcam. Through the gaps in the foliage, she saw a bulky figure moving towards the man. Tyler's light breathing accentuated the other man's steps.
  
  "The target is outside. Do we have a chance?
  
  Karin immediately switched to review. Nothing else moved in the vicinity of the house. "All is clear".
  
  "Move."
  
  The Komodo team launched the team's offensive. The back of the white van swung open and three men jumped out and raced down the sidewalk and up the garden path. Tyler came out of hiding and knocked his opponent to the ground with a perfect choke hold. Karin heard a desperate struggle and violent grunting sounds, but it didn't last long. Herrera joined Tyler, and between them two Delta soldiers tied the Russian tighter than a Christmas turkey.
  
  Karin watched through Tyler's headcam as Komodo walked past them on the path. The tiny camera swung around to see Komodo, Smith, and Romero squeezing through the half-open door. Then the camera on Komodo's head showed an empty hallway, pictures on the wall, a steep section of stairs, a laundry basket full to overflowing. The comm system picked up the harsh laughter coming from the end of the corridor. Komodo signaled, and the three men headed in that direction. The barrel of the Komodo pistol made controlled movements from side to side. Karin skimmed through the review. It was still clean, but a paperboy was walking down the street.
  
  From a room at the end of the corridor, a man resembling a bull stepped out, an almost comical expression of surprise on his face when he noticed three armed soldiers approaching him. Testosterone shot up instantly, outweighing intelligence by at least five to one, and he reached behind his belt for a gun, screaming.
  
  The Komodo weapon wavered. The bull ran backwards into the frame, changing from white to bright red. Komodo moved on. The shot was fired blindly from inside the room, piercing the wall.
  
  "Tyler, Herrera, check upstairs," Komodo whispered into his communicator.
  
  "Alone in the kitchen," Romero reported. "Unfriendly".
  
  Smith checked the rest of the ground floor. "All is clear".
  
  Komodo quickly turned around. "Finish it." He moved quickly down the hallway, following Tyler and Herrera up the stairs. "Smith," he said. "Don't forget the garage."
  
  "On him".
  
  Karin watched as the camera on Romero's helmet snapped back hard. The man fired heavy bullets into the plastered walls of the kitchen, leaving holes the size of side plates. A short cry announced that the way was clear.
  
  Smith ran inside, touching the Russian twice to make sure. The inner door leading to the garage was slightly ajar. Karin watched him approach him quickly but carefully. He pushed the door wider with the barrel of his weapon.
  
  "Contact," he muttered under his breath. "The wife is here, and not alone."
  
  As if to confirm, the shrill command "Step back! Don't come closer to me!"
  
  Karin winced. The last remaining Russian stood behind Audrey Patterson, one hand pressing her to her throat, the other holding a gun to her head. The woman looked frightened and tears streamed down her face.
  
  Smith moved forward, probably hoping to force the attacker into the classic mistake of pulling the gun away from the hostage in order to point it at a more serious threat. But the Russians did not obey.
  
  "I shoot!"
  
  A shot rang out, deafening through the communications system. Karin saw Audrey Patterson scream and go limp, but the bullet only missed her forehead.
  
  "The next one is in!"
  
  Komodo grunted as he joined the scene. Karin watched as the four cam-heads turned in a semi-circle. A fifth was aimed at the rough, slowly creeping concrete floor.
  
  "There's nowhere to go, you bastard," Smith said with typical exasperation. "Down the arrow with peas."
  
  "You let me go!"
  
  "End of communication, Boris," growled Smith. "Be a good Russian. You don"t want to be smeared on the walls like your friends are back there."
  
  Komodo stepped forward. "Calm down," he said softly. "Both of you". Karin wasn't quite sure if he meant the Russian and Mrs. Patterson or the Russian and Smith.
  
  "What do you want?" Komodo asked. "You let her go. We will talk".
  
  "Leave. You leave the garage, we leave. I push her out when she's free."
  
  Smith snorted. Karin felt every muscle in her body tighten, every nerve ending tensed as the fifth head camera, Tyler's, focused on the tire tread and stopped. He should have been only three feet away from me. Now he will wait.
  
  This time, Komodo stepped aside. The Russian followed him, brandishing a pistol. "Why don't we all just calm down," Komodo said. "Pull the gun away from Audrey's head and we'll talk."
  
  "Fine!" shouted the Russian. "I'm aiming it at you!"
  
  Everything happened very quickly and clinically. Tyler received a signal from Herrera, got up and fired twice. The Russian's head exploded, spattering the professor's wife and the side wall. The woman collapsed to her knees, hysterical but alive.
  
  Smith and Romero rushed to her aid.
  
  Komodo turned to the communicator. "Mission accomplished," he said. "I'll be back soon".
  
  Karin checked the review again. The paperboy has disappeared. All the houses were quiet. She will inform the authorities that they can move in. The peace and quiet of the suburbs will survive until the next day.
  
  When she had free time, she took out her cell phone and quickly dialed her parents' number, wondering how life was treating them in Leeds. After that, she will call Ben.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  
  
  "This could be the battle of our lives," commented Mai Kitano.
  
  Drake crawled across the desert, heedless of the morning sun, which burned hard on his back, weapons at the ready. Their backpacks were carefully packed, down to the tools they might need to get into the dreadful pit. But now Drake's eyes were fixed on the prize ahead.
  
  Three large camouflaged tents that belonged to a motley group of Razin's men who ransacked the ancient Babylon Pit and, if they survived, the Devil's Tower, the Tower of Babel where Zanko and Razin hunted for ancient treasures.
  
  "No, not worse than the battle around the coffee machine first thing every morning."
  
  Alicia crawled along their sides, dressed identically. "I had more difficult times pulling on leather bike pants."
  
  Mai looked at her. "But I bet there aren't that many who take them off."
  
  Hayden, Dahl, and Kinimaka approached from the other side, two groups linked by a secure communications system. Their goal is to get all the swords at any cost. Sinister events were taking place in the world, and this was the team's only real connection to them.
  
  The Russian perimeter was weakened, relaxed by weeks of inactivity. From their careful observation, the Russians seemed to have a companion of about a dozen people, including two bosses, a man and a woman, neither of whom was Zanko or Razin.
  
  They must be in the Devil's Tower, Patterson guessed. While their people are getting the rest of the swords. Patterson, Ackerman and Yorga were left by the rovers for this little walk. Civilians will only divert attention.
  
  Alicia exhaled a wad of sand from her mouth. "Oh yes, I like it."
  
  Drake surveyed the area of the tents through powerful binoculars, determining the positions of the guards. "Yeah, it's damn hot in here. Although it could be worse. At least we haven't run into one of those mental camel spiders yet."
  
  Alicia turned her whole body. "What?" I asked.
  
  "You know. Six, seven inches. Move at ten miles an hour. Jaws like a crocodile. Those camel spiders."
  
  "So I'm lying here up to my chest in the sand, and now you're mentioning them. Thank you." She looked around as if expecting one of the monsters to jump out of the dunes.
  
  "Scorpions are worse." Kinimaki's voice came over the communicator. "I just crawled over one. Luckily I crushed it, I think. They can survive a nuclear strike, but the mighty Mano cannot survive."
  
  "Let's just leave." Alicia started crawling again. "I'm starting to like the look of these Russians."
  
  Drake kept up, crawling on his elbows, his nose inches from the uneven, dusty terrain. The early morning sun was already beating down. A steady breeze stirred the huge tents ahead and lifted tiny dusty devils. The trinity overcame the last slight rise and waited.
  
  Hayden's voice came over the communicator. "Forward".
  
  They broke into the perimeter. Drake's weapon spat. The guard fell instantly. Others followed suit in an uneven circle. The team's swift throw destroyed the ground between them and the railings. In a few seconds they were among trucks, packing cases and drums of diesel fuel. The flap of the tent flew open, and a crowd of poorly dressed men flew out with weapons held high or still strapped to their backs. One was still holding a half-empty bottle of Southern Cross vodka.
  
  Their cries of pain filled the morning air.
  
  Two more figures jump out of the tent. "Victoria!" one of them shouted. "Call Nicholas!"
  
  The woman, black-haired and half-dressed like the men, with a confident, haughty expression, threw her bottle of vodka towards Hayden's team. "Of course, Maxim. I have nothing else to do."
  
  Maxim fired a stream of bullets into the packing boxes. Drake ducked as one of them brushed against the frame near his head. More bullets hit the boxes with a thud as Maxim's men sorted out the situation. Mai leaned out and took one off with a perfect headshot, sending it flying back to his boss's feet, crushing him.
  
  "Idiot!" Maxim screamed as he jumped to his feet and kicked the corpse, his face was purplish red. "Victory! Hurry up!"
  
  "Suck it, Maxim."
  
  Drake shifted his almost amused gaze to the women. "It sounds like these two are practically married."
  
  Alicia looked out and nearly blew her head off. Wood chips cascaded through her hair. "Bullshit".
  
  New shots rang out. Hayden's team moved forward, drawing fire. Drake climbed to the edge of the poorly folded crate and peered down. In the two seconds he had left, he put a bullet in someone's throat and saw the bullet pass through, painfully close to Victoria's skull.
  
  "We thin them out and they know it," he said. "Let's move."
  
  The trio jump out from behind the crates, pass by three randomly parked trucks, and walk out into the open. Only forty feet separated them now, and the Babylon Pit lay to the left like a festering, open wound.
  
  Drake focused on Maxim, but the Russian quickly fell into the mud. Victoria rushed to his side, throwing her cell phone at his head.
  
  "Stupid fucking thing doesn't work."
  
  "No, Victoria. This stupid fucking thing is trying to pull this off!"
  
  Drake fired as Maxim rose, his bullet whizzing past the Russian's head. By that time, it was too late to do anything with the object clutched in the man's other hand - a grenade.
  
  Maxim threw explosives in the shape of a pineapple. Drake darted to the right and rolled. Mai and Alicia were a moment behind. Pillars of dust and sand rose around them. Three seconds later, the grenade exploded, scattering shrapnel fragments in all directions.
  
  The earth shook. Alicia let out a sharp cry. Mai hit Drake in the lower half of his body, he was still rolling. Drake heard the terrible, death-filled hiss of deadly objects flying past him at deadly speed. The earth rumbled again.
  
  Finally he stopped, fully alert, raising his gun and looking at the tents. Clouds of dust blocked his view. Beside him, May reached out to Alicia, pulling the Englishwoman towards her.
  
  "Are you injured?"
  
  "No. But I think I saw one of those fucking spider things."
  
  Drake peered through the clouds. Hayden's voice shouted in his earpiece, "Come in. Are you okay?"
  
  "We are fine. Just-"
  
  And then their whole world changed. The very ground on which they lay began to sag and crack. Narrow cracks stretched from the site of the grenade explosion to the very Babylon Pit.
  
  Drake saw what was about to happen. "Oh, oh."
  
  The ground collapsed beneath them.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  
  
  Drake tumbled forward, grabbing at anything that could stop him from falling, but the rocky ground collapsed in a steep cascade, taking all three of them with it. Evidently, the collapse had not only taken place in their territory, but had spread all the way to the tents, as Victoria's booming voice scolded Maxim for his madness.
  
  Time stopped when Drake fell. Their lives hung in the balance. It can be an endless fall into a bottomless pit or a sharp fall from a steep slope. He buckled his body as it bounced off the walls, lowered his head as shale and stones rained down around it. Finally, he reached the bottom, apparently in a narrow space, as he immediately rolled to the opposite side.
  
  And that meant...
  
  He struggled to his knees, his head spinning, his limbs aching with pain. He calmed down, staring at the ground and focusing on the pile of rocks, then looked up.
  
  The upper half of the Russian's body was sticking out from the rubble further down the slope, partially buried, but still miraculously holding her pistol and staring wildly at her situation. Two more guards groaned and crawled over the rubble piled up below. Behind them, Drake saw Maxim and Victoria, sprawled on top of each other and fighting desperately.
  
  Stone rivers and streams continued to flow down both slopes.
  
  High above, Drake saw one of the tents lean over a new crevice, teetering precariously and slowly sliding away.
  
  Shit! He pulled Mai and looked around for weapons. Their weapons were nowhere to be seen. Then Alicia ran past him, jumping nimbly from pile to pile, drawing her army knife and closing the gap between the fallen Russians. Drake followed her. Alicia slammed the hilt of her weapon under the first man's chin, giving him no chance to react. The second attacked her, parrying a blow from her shoulder. Alicia caught her hand and broke her wrist when Drake plunged his own knife into the man's throat. Only Maxim and Victoria remained.
  
  The bullet then hit rubble nearby, causing a small explosion of shale. Damn, how the hell were they going to destroy that bastard?
  
  The Russian, half buried under the slope, was laughing, trying to aim carefully. They couldn't do anything to stop him. "Stand still!" he shouted. "I want to blow your stupid heads off."
  
  "Cover them," was Maxim's authoritative order. "We can bury them here. A fitting end, I say."
  
  "Get your fucking ass off me!" Victoria screamed.
  
  Alicia, never one of those girls who stay put and accept it, took off from the spot, making her way through the rubble and screeching like a banshee. Drake ran after her, itching as the crosshairs aligned on his bare back.
  
  Mai yelled behind them, "Stop-"
  
  Then Thorsten Dahl's scream came crashing down like thunder, and the burly Swede was feet first, sliding down the crumbling slope, streams of rocks rippling around him, crashing into the half-buried Russian and almost breaking him in two. Both fighters collapsed to the bottom, the Russian bent and shattered, the Swede dusted himself off and began to look for his next target.
  
  Alicia hit Maxim hard, grabbing him by the waist. Drake collided with Victoria, stabbing with his knife, but lost his balance due to the moving mountains of debris. When he realized that he was falling, he hit his whole body hard on the slope. Victoria laughed at him.
  
  "What is this? Do you want to play?"
  
  Drake crouched as she approached him, almost wincing at the sight of her slender, bare legs, bloody and scratched from her swift fall. He caught her lunge, dropping his shoulder, and tossed her aside. As he turned, he saw behind Mai that the far edge of the rift was slowly collapsing into the Babylon Pit.
  
  And the landing point was rapidly approaching Mai!
  
  "Run!" he shouted. At that moment, a thick rope slid down from above, secured by Kinimaka, Hayden and, as Drake saw for a moment, Yorgy.
  
  The little Russian thief must have disobeyed him. God bless.
  
  He leaned his whole body on Victoria and took a blow to the ribs, but gathered his strength and lowered the knife. Her hands went up, stopping the tip of the blade an inch from the bridge of her nose.
  
  Drake pressed harder. The Russian woman was spitting and rushing about, shouting curses. Alicia hit Maxim hard, turning his face to mush, before ending his suffering with a blow to the brain. Mai jumped ahead of the crevice collapse, jumped to the rope and held out her hand to Alicia. "Quicker!"
  
  Drake removed one hand from the blade, then brought it down on the top of the hilt, striking it like a hammer on a nail. The blade sliced through the skin.
  
  Victoria coldly looked into his eyes. "Fuck you all," she said, and let go of Drake's wrist.
  
  The knife pierced her forehead unhindered. Drake left it where it was and grabbed the dangling end of the rope, planting his feet on the slope and leaning back, right under Alicia. They all started to rise.
  
  Dahl quickly ran up the crumbling slope at a sharp angle, his course should have crossed the rope just above Mai.
  
  Kinimaka and others took on the burden. The Hawaiian's voice was clearly audible through the sudden silence. "I've pulled a lot of pigs out of a lot of pits at home before guys, but this calls for a trophy."
  
  "Hurry up, Mano," Hayden urged. "This is far from over. We cannot let Razin get away with these other swords."
  
  Alicia looked over her shoulder down at Drake. "Enjoying the view?"
  
  Drake sent her a smirk. "I don't know, love. It's just not quite the same when you've seen it all before."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  
  
  After rising to the surface, Drake saw that Ackerman and Patterson were also part of the tug-of-war team. Everyone but Kinimaki collapsed to the ground in exhaustion as Drake, the last man, stepped over the top.
  
  "Thank you, Mano." Drake clapped their huge colleague on his fleshy shoulder. He immediately noticed that Dal was already sneaking towards the two bound guards.
  
  "Answers," said the Swede. "Give them to me, men, and we may let you live. Stay calm and you can take your chances in the pit."
  
  Both men stared into space, a mixture of desperation and hangover on their faces. One of them tore at his bonds. "We're talking shit to you."
  
  "Olle," Dahl said to Ackerman as he walked by. "You'd better look the other way."
  
  When the Swede hit accurately, Drake took advantage of the moment to get closer to Yorgi. "Thanks for being helpful, mate."
  
  "This is my new job." The thief laughed. "I'm saving your life."
  
  Drake glanced at the site of the Tower of Babel. "I don't see anything. Do you think your old friends are there?"
  
  "If they're close to finding your swords, they won't just leave. They will fight."
  
  "Fine".
  
  Drake dusted himself off as he approached Dahl. The Swede watched as Hayden and Kinimaka approached a lone crate located next to the furthest tent. "Our songbirds say they found three swords. Two of them are in that box. Razin and Zanko took another."
  
  Patterson heard the comment and ran over. "Wait. Why did Razin take another sword?"
  
  Dahl raised his eyebrows questioningly at his captives. One of them spat blood. "He called it the Great Sword, like Alexander the Great. I don't know what he meant."
  
  Patterson practically peed himself. "No! They can't have the Great Sword. This is the key. The key to understanding the whole inscription. The key to all earth energy. The key to the whirlwind. This-"
  
  Dahl patted him on the head. "Calm down, boy. We'll get it back."
  
  Mai and Alicia positioned themselves to watch the distant hill. Time was against them now, and every passing second increased the danger and chances of the Russians slipping away with the prize. Drake walked over to the box containing Yorgi and Patterson.
  
  Kinimaka smashed the lid with a discarded crowbar, then stepped back as the contents spilled out. The sand was littered with packing foam, among which lay several tightly wrapped bags.
  
  Hayden bent down to her feet and picked up a long bundle. Kinimaka scanned the others, but didn't see any shape that matched the shape of the sword. Hayden knelt on the sand and quickly cut the wrapping twine.
  
  The bundle fell apart. Two swords clanged against each other, their blades suddenly exposed and flashing in the light. Drake closed his eyes as sunlight reflected off the polished blade, still powerful after all these years, blazing with promise and fire and the glare of unfulfilled prophecy.
  
  Hayden held one of them lightly, turning it before her eyes, letting the solar fire flicker and flare at the deadly length of the blade. "Amazing," she said.
  
  Kinimaka leaned over the other. "I will say". The sword was short and stylish, with a sinisterly curved, double-edged blade and some ancient design on the hilt. It seemed to be made of cast steel.
  
  Patterson ran up to them, foaming at the mouth. "Oh my God, they are real. My God. Let me touch him!"
  
  Kinimaka handed over his. Patterson rotated it to show ancient symbols, a set of symbols that ran down the middle of the blade. Ackerman approached him, staring intently. "This, my friend, is not the language of the gods. At least not the way I know it."
  
  "But the swords, when viewed together and read in order, should tell us how to handle the device."
  
  Ackerman let out a long sigh. "The characters, while similar, are not the same."
  
  "Are you interrogating Alexander?"
  
  "I don't doubt anything," breathed Ackerman. "I'm stating a fact."
  
  "Good," Dahl called out. "We'll take care of that later. Are you sure these are the swords we are looking for?"
  
  Patterson nodded. "They have the seal of Alexander on them. Portrait head and javelin thrower."
  
  Drake suppressed his fear. Right now, they had to deal with God-Zanko.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Mai stood a little apart from the others, pretending to be watching the obscure tower, but in reality only half of her mind was focused on it. Behind her, most of her team spoke quickly and listened intently to Patterson's descriptions of the tower, its history, and what they could expect there. Hayden laid out a plan, but without time-consuming supervision, they were still only one step away from being blown to the wind.
  
  Mai tried to push away the creeping reflections on her own past, especially the horrifying memories that had been subtly surfacing in her mind over the past few weeks. The knowledge that the Clan was looking for her smoldered in her mind like dead embers of a fire, just waiting to flare up to life. It was outrageous that these people even believed that she belonged to them. How could their arrogance reach such a level? The head of the clan who offered her destitute parents a huge amount of money to get rid of one of their daughters seemed such a wonderful person at the time, almost like a loving grandfather. At that time, living in a poor and remote area of Japan, many merchants and shady dealers offered cash to desperate, impoverished parents to get rid of a child. For parents, the loss of one child sometimes meant that at least the other would survive. A terrible choice, but a necessary one.
  
  Mai was sold to a Clan Master who needed apprentices. Her parents were crying; they fell to their knees, tightly clasping the hand of their remaining daughter so that she would not run after her sister; realized the depth of what they had done and probably never recovered. But she never saw them again.
  
  And for Mai, the fact that she was literally torn from the hands of her parents was one of the easiest tests in her young years.
  
  And now the men she had learned to hate and fear were looking for her again. For a long time, she believed she had broken free. Now she knew. They will never stop, never give up their rights to her.
  
  She found herself in the middle of a deadly situation with two different outcomes - death and revenge. For both sides.
  
  Finally, she became aware of the conversation behind her. Professor Patterson quickly explained the origin of the tower.
  
  "They built this stone tower right up to the sky. They have reached heaven. They used slaves, tens of thousands of slaves, and flogged them until they died, burned right through their flesh and bones by the midday sun. You see, they were challenging God." Patterson waved his hand around the general area of Babylon. "All this is a challenge to God. What we know about the tower today comes from a small amount of archaeological evidence and ancient writings. According to one story, the builders of the tower said: 'God has no right to choose the upper sphere for himself. We'll build ourselves a tower with an idol on top holding a huge sword to make it look like it's for war with God.'
  
  Yorgy whistled at these words. "Hard words".
  
  "Really. Some of that generation even wanted to attack God in Heaven. More educated people with cunning ambitions encouraged them, saying that the arrows they shot through the clouds returned to Earth bleeding. So the people believed that they could wage war against the celestials, and they were persuaded to build towers."
  
  Drake raised his voice. "Towers"?
  
  "There were only two near Babylon. Tower of Babel and The Tower of Babylon, although no one knows where the latter existed. There are remains of towers in Central America, Mexico, Africa, Nepal and the American Indian lands, all surrounded by similar traditions. It is believed that the Great Pyramid at Cholula was built to storm Heaven. Or..." he paused. "A quote from a recorded legend found in Lozi mythology, supposedly taken from a story by David Livingston, is to follow the gods who have fled back to heaven. The tradition of building towers to facilitate access to heaven exists all over the world."
  
  "But why?" Hayden asked. "To kill the gods?"
  
  "No. To escape their wrath." Patterson smiled. "All these towers were built with one insurmountable goal - to save themselves from the next great flood."
  
  Hayden cleared her throat. "Like during the Great Flood and Noah"s Ark?"
  
  "The first great flood. Those who survived or read about the event thought that defiance of the gods might lead to further reprisals. So they made many people sweat and die so they could sit on their mighty shelters and watch the great waters lap below."
  
  "And what happened?"
  
  "Well, that's where we get the origin of the Tower of Babel. It is said that the gods - or the Goddess - saw how these monsters were built, confused the language of the builders. And that is why all countries today speak different languages, my friends. Because once there was only one, and in order to confuse mankind and stop the construction of towers, the gods created many. Not one person could understand the other, and they all went to different parts of the Earth."
  
  "Babylon," Hayden repeated. "Like babbling. Each man thought the other was talking. Is this the origin of the name?
  
  "Yes it is".
  
  "So the towers are inextricably linked to the gods," Hayden said.
  
  "Yes. There are several old legends that tell how thunder and lightning were sent to destroy the Towers of Babel, shooting and passing from one to the other."
  
  Hayden picked up on his use of the word. "Channelling? How about earth energy?"
  
  "Yes. All of them were built on top of the energy vortex of the earth. This-"
  
  "And there we must put an end to it," Mai suddenly spoke up. She pointed to a distant hill, where tiny figures were frantically darting around. "We need to hurry. We need to get into the fight."
  
  Patterson's rhetoric, muffled, still reached every ear as the team moved at pace. "The battle for Babylon is about to begin."
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
  
  
  Jonathan Gates left the new SPEAR headquarters through the garage and decided to walk the few blocks to his offices. Karin ran the show alone from this end, as he always knew she could, but Komodo was supposed to be back in a few hours. A gruff-looking Delta officer with a heart of gold had already requested a private interview, and Gates had a good idea of what that might entail.
  
  Romero and Smith. Technically, the two soldiers were still without a unit, though of course they could have joined anywhere. Gates already thought they would provide the team with some good additional cover.
  
  As he walked, Gates caught a glimpse of an approaching figure out of the corner of his eye. His heart immediately began to beat uncomfortably, and he stopped mid-step. The figure moved closer, now it was inevitable, too close to avoid.
  
  Gates sighed. "Miss Moxley? Are you okay?"
  
  The wiry redhead showed no qualms about invading the secretary of defense's personal space. "Yes sir, thank you."
  
  "Back to work already?"
  
  The newspaper reporter's style is a little cracked. "Work is where I go to heal, sir. It has always been that way."
  
  Gates studied it again. The same was with him. "I regret the death of your colleagues."
  
  "Me too, sir. They were good people. I tried to contact your office for an interview, but they discouraged me."
  
  "They have strict instructions to strictly limit my presence in the media. It is the same for everyone."
  
  "Why? Is something going on there?"
  
  Gates almost smiled. The sleuth instinct in this reporter will never be subdued. He noticed her bright blue eyes and was a little wary of her winning, open smile. "There's always something going on in DC, Ms. Moxley. As a reporter for The Post, you should know this."
  
  "This quote?"
  
  Gates laughed involuntarily. "Do you ever give up?"
  
  "No, sir. It's not in my nature. And please call me Sarah."
  
  "Mine too," Gates glanced at his watch. "Look, I think I owe you Sarah. Despite our many warnings, you stuck to your job and almost paid the price. Your colleagues have paid the highest price. If you were soldiers, we would award you medals for this. So give me a day. I'll justify your name in the office. Then call and arrange an interview. Fine?"
  
  "Thank you, sir." It was impossible to be mistaken in happiness when the lights danced in her eyes. But this close look. A suspicious look. It wasn't like the Secretary of Defense to be nervous in the presence of women, but her sudden interest made him almost feel young again.
  
  She held out her hand. "See you soon, sir."
  
  Gates coughed. "I hope so".
  
  The touch of her skin would stay with him long after Sarah Moxley was gone. He started walking again, but then his phone vibrated. When he checked the screen, it was the call he was so afraid of.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "Stone won, sir. He was given funds to carry out his plan."
  
  Bad day for the world, Gates thought. "Thank you". He abruptly ended the conversation. He firmly believed in the ability to stop an attacking rhinoceros before its legs even started to move. And he would have stopped General Stone.
  
  Hard.
  
  He already had a plan.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Drake and the rest of the team climbed into the nearest cars, and it only took them a few minutes to find two sets of keys. The third was nowhere to be found, probably stuffed deep into the pocket of someone who was still falling to his death in the bottomless pit of Babylon.
  
  But two was enough. The team rushed with all their might towards the undefined pile, reloading their weapons and adjusting their vests and belts as they approached. Cars bounced over the rough terrain, sometimes climbing hard up slopes, sometimes pulling down the other side, but rarely staying straight.
  
  "Those bastards can see us coming from a mile away," Alicia said, handing Drake the binoculars.
  
  "As soon as we are within range, split up," Drake said. "That will give them two targets to worry about."
  
  Hayden's voice crackled in his ear. "I repeat my thoughts exactly."
  
  Drake ducked as bullets rattled against the frame of the vehicle. The car wasn't bulletproof, but it was still made of high quality, durable steel, and the chassis gave them some protection. As they got closer, they saw that the Russians had built a makeshift slide of wooden posts and planks, rough but strong enough to support the descent of several heavy artifacts to the desert floor.
  
  "Well," Drake admitted. "It's better than dragging them down by hand. I bet Zanko didn't think of that."
  
  More bullets bounced off the body with a clatter. Hayden's car swerved to the left, rounding the embankment. Sparks flared as they, too, came under fire. Drake drove through the camp, nothing but a big tent, a few crates, and a heavy truck. The windshield exploded as he approached the foot of the slope, but he was where he wanted to be.
  
  They all quickly poured out, hiding behind the car. Drake had positioned it so that it was directly under the Russians' line of fire, ensuring they would have to look out and down the slope to find a target. The first person to do this lost his head, thanks to Dahl's exceptional accuracy.
  
  The team went to run around the hill. In various places they left the man behind, providing numerous forays up the short but steep slope.
  
  Then they waited for Hayden. It only took a minute for her voice to fill the airwaves. "Check. We are all good here. Send a bird."
  
  Drake watched the sky. Camp Babylon was close by and on standby, awaiting orders to join Operation SPEAR with a fully manned army Sikorsky Black Hawk. The orders were received through Karin and Gates in Washington. The helicopter was ordered to bombard the top of the mound and force the people there to leave their positions.
  
  Then a voice like thunder boomed from somewhere above: "Matt Drake! Are you down there? Is that you, my friend?"
  
  Drake didn't say anything. Let the big hairy bastard wonder.
  
  "Aaah, don't be like that! So, you lost. There is nothing special about this. Zanko loses to everyone!"
  
  Drake spotted the bird in the distance before he heard the noise of its main rotor. His lips curled up. Zanko was close to losing big.
  
  The distant thud of the helicopter became apparent. Hayden spoke, "Let's get ready for this." The entire team jumped up as Razin's men turned their attention to the approaching helicopter. Of all the people up there, three made the mistake of rising too high in a panic. Drake, Dahl and May made them pay.
  
  Then the helicopter whizzed overhead, engines roaring, an angry, almost prehistoric bird of prey bristling with Hydra and Hellfire missiles. Its main guns opened fire with a deafening roar, staccato bursts reverberating across the top of the ancient hill. Drake saw the two men immediately wave their hands, the puppets animated by hot lead twitched and rolled head over heels down the slope. Upstairs was a commotion. Shouts, commands, and pleas for help all suddenly died down again as the helicopter fired a second salvo.
  
  "Forward". Hayden gave the order a moment after the roar of the guns had died down. Drake ran up the hill, saw a group of people loitering along the edge of the hill, and fired several shots. The helicopter backed away, still hovering. Drake changed his run to a zigzag when someone tried a lucky throw down the slope. On either side of him, at a distance of several meters, Mai and Alicia ran with all their might. The team will attack the short climb from all sides.
  
  Hayden once more whispered in his ear as Drake climbed to the top of the hill, "Remember, it is extremely important for us to locate the Great Sword."
  
  Drake fell to the ground as a group of men opened fire. Bullets whistled overhead. He rolled, trusting his team to attack them from a different angle. A few seconds later, the volley ended. Dahl and Kinimaka were among them. It took Drake a moment to get his bearings. A vast but low hill extended from him in an almost rectangular shape. If this was the lower part of the real Tower of Babel, then the foundation under it must have been unimaginably huge. Any real archaeological secrets inside may have already been plundered by Hussein's men, but again, perhaps not. The Iraqi ruler was not known for his intelligence.
  
  Drake saw an excavated area on the right side, partially hidden by half a dozen men. Among them, he saw Razin, and then Zanko. The Russians looked like they were leaving. Then the group split up, and a loner came out with a grenade launcher on his shoulder. Before Drake could aim and fire, he fired a missile that shot through the gap between him and the helicopter, passing dangerously close to its undercarriage.
  
  Hayden jumped to the communicator. "Back off. Now we have it."
  
  The helicopter took off. The Russians mistook this for a victory and cheered. The team pointed out their mistake by showering them with bullets. Razin looked like he had been hit and Zanko stepped over him.
  
  Drake moved forward. Out of nowhere, the Russian attacked him from the flank, seizing him at shoulder height. Drake stood his ground and waved the man away, quickly using the butt of his gun to knock him unconscious.
  
  They needed survivors.
  
  Then Zanko put Razin's whole body on his shoulders. Drake heard the roar he directed at his men, even from where he stood.
  
  "Cover our escape! Die if you have to, but first make sure we're clean! Take them!" Zanko tossed four shiny weapons to his remaining men. The swords of Babylon were his safety net.
  
  Only four.
  
  Drake got down on one knee and went through three quick rounds. Through the scope of his rifle, he saw Zanko flinch once before jumping down the hill. Drake cursed. One bullet would barely hit the monster. And if the whole team was here, then Zanko and Razin could really escape. Swords were needed at this moment.
  
  Gunfire rumbled up the hill. The Russians were unprotected, but well armed. Hayden and her team couldn't risk breaking in. Nobody wanted to die today. One by one the defenders fell, at least one of them was shot in the stomach to survive, if only for a little while.
  
  Drake took aim at the last of them. "Drop your weapon! There's a way out of this, mate. At least listen to me."
  
  "I never say where Zanko goes. Do you think I'm stupid?
  
  "No. No. We don't need Zanko. This is the sword he took from the pit. This is all." Drake slowly moved forward as he spoke. The last person was now covered on all sides.
  
  "Is that all?" The Russian's face turned purple, saliva flowed from his lips. "Are you crazy? There are worse things," he breathed, breathing heavily. "Things are worse than Zanko."
  
  Drake was momentarily stunned. "Like what?"
  
  "She asked for the Great Sword and he sent it. A few days ago. It's not here anymore."
  
  Dahl stepped closer. "She?"
  
  "No never! Never!" Shouting his last word, the Russian fired without even bothering to aim. Death at the hands of a soldier seemed to be preferable to revealing the name of the woman Zanko sent the Great Sword to.
  
  Hayden looked around the top of the dusty hill. "Let's see if any of these other clowns talk to us."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  When the battle ended, Hayden recalled the helicopter and used its occupants to help secure the perimeter. Razin and Zanko disappeared without a trace, so Drake wondered if they had a hiding place somewhere nearby. He knew that a couple of them were slippery enough that they were unlikely to reveal his whereabouts to their men. However, four swords were added to the two they had already released, and they were all lying on the ground with the inscription side up.
  
  Ackerman and Patterson cooed over them like grandparents over a newborn. Ackerman again expressed concern that the language was different from the one he transcribed in the tomb. "But," he pointed out hopefully. "The properties are very similar. We must start as soon as we can."
  
  Drake stared at the weapon, yes, amazing, but it was unlikely that this weapon could save the world. "Are you sure these things can stop Odin"s doomsday device?"
  
  Patterson looked tense. "Alexander created them for this purpose. These are the Swords of the Seven Veils. Priceless. Place of honor at Alexander's deathbed. The real message is on the swords themselves - the inscriptions, but I can tell you now - it will be focused on the many energy vortices of the earth scattered around the world.
  
  Hayden stopped at his shoulder. "Come on, Drake. It is hardly more surprising than when we first learned that the gods were once real."
  
  "Still". Drake looked up at the sky. "Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm just the main character in the story, you know? Jumping around and not really achieving anything."
  
  "Crap". Alicia heard and laughed. "No one would be stupid enough to make you the main character, Drakes. They would have chosen me to help give the story more bullshit."
  
  Drake shook his head, trying to shake off the thought, and turned away. He desperately needed a breather and maybe some free time. He saw her now, staring into space again, as if waiting for something to materialize from the dust and shimmering heat haze that stretched to the horizon. It looked like she was chatting on her cell phone.
  
  Hayden hacked into the team's satellite phone and called Gates through Karin on speakerphone. At first, the secretary's voice sounded surprisingly optimistic.
  
  "I'm sure you have nothing but good news for me, Hayden."
  
  "Well". Hayden paused. "We have six of the seven swords, sir, so at least it's something. We are currently working on labels. So far without success."
  
  "I thought you had that language specialist. Ackerman, isn't it?"
  
  "He says the inscriptions don't exactly match those on the tombs."
  
  Gates sighed. "Of course they don't. We really don't have anything here. You should also work on a last resort plan."
  
  Hayden glanced at Drake. "We have to?"
  
  "Yes, if you can figure out what to do when it comes to fight or flight. Hayden." He was silent for a long time. "I count on you".
  
  "Thank you sir". Drake studied her, wondering why she hadn't asked about this strange moment, but then she had dealt with Gates much longer than he had. "Caiman has already shown up? Or his boss?
  
  "No. Here in Washington, it's a bit like the calm before the storm. All major players are still trying to take their positions. We do not know their intentions. They will not reveal their intentions until they are good and ready."
  
  "And yet," Hayden said thoughtfully. "It infuriates us all knowing that they are up to something so terrible and we are powerless to stop them."
  
  "That's what makes you the best team for the job," Gates said. Drake hung up as the Secretary continued and walked over to Dahl and Kinimake, who were hunched over the twitching body.
  
  "Got what we need?"
  
  Dahl turned, his eyes wide. "I'm not entirely sure. If we are to believe two of the two men interrogated separately, then the seventh sword was sent to Zoe." The Swede hesitated.
  
  "Where the hell is Zoe?"
  
  "Not 'where', but 'who'. Zoya is Zanko's grandmother."
  
  Drake's face fell. "Back off, Dal. Now is not the time-"
  
  "I am not kidding".
  
  Kinimaka turned an equally shocked look in his direction. "He's not joking."
  
  Drake snorted, drawing the attention of the others. "Grandma Zanko. And do you believe them?"
  
  Dahl's gaze was thoughtful. "I have a feeling that although this is Razin"s operation, Zoya can take command at any moment. Granny or not, Razin seems to have a very powerful sleep partner."
  
  "Wonderful. Wonderful. I'm guessing that someone associated with Zanko might not be exactly who you expect. And in any case, we need this sword. Do you have an address?
  
  "Certainly".
  
  Drake saw Alicia approaching. The look on her face made him bite his tongue to stop the insult that was about to come out. "Don't say it."
  
  Alicia tried to smile, but she couldn't. "I only came back to help get you out of jail, Drake. Lomas needs me."
  
  "We need you. The world needs you."
  
  Alicia actually laughed now. "Don't be a jerk. You will be all right." Her gaze turned to Mai. "You both".
  
  Drake took her in his arms, surprised at how soft her body felt in his arms. You fought side by side with someone for so long, you watched them kill and bleed and fight that sometimes you tended to forget it was just a girl.
  
  Perhaps that was part of why she was leaving.
  
  "I hate to say goodbye to you," he whispered in her ear. "Twice in two weeks is twice as much."
  
  Alicia chuckled. "I bet you can't do that again when you're drunk."
  
  "I don't get drunk anymore."
  
  She pulled away. Drake held on. "Don't worry. Everything is fine. I know you didn't mean it like that. We're family now, Alicia. You, May, me. Those idiots are over there." He pointed to Dahl, Hayden and Kinimaku. "You will need us someday. Just say the word."
  
  Alicia's lips slid down his throat. "My family broke up when I was eight. My father started beating my mother and me when I stood up for her. I was too weak to do anything about it, so when I got older the first thing I did was join Ami. I got out of there. My father forged my fire, but the Army turned it into art. All these years, Matt, I just fought my dad."
  
  Drake swallowed hard. He couldn't believe that here in Iraq, atop the ancient Tower of Babel, Alicia Miles was finally opening up to someone. "Is your father still alive?"
  
  "He died of alcohol poisoning four months after my mother died of an overdose. Trust me, he's lucky."
  
  "I am so sorry".
  
  "Thank you for my new family, Matt. I will try to visit."
  
  "Be sure to do it." Drake cleared his throat, averting his eyes until he felt he had some control over the situation. Alicia will join the team in a helicopter and travel back to Camp Babylon, and from there back to Lomas and his biker team. The rest of the SPEAR team will soon hit the road in two cars that remain intact.
  
  He sank heavily into the dust. Damn it, he needed a rest.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The first thing Mai did after the battle was check her phone. Of course, a message was left. It was from Dai Hibiki and the content couldn't be good. She first looked around to make sure she was alone, moved closer to the edge of the embankment, then ignored the message and pressed the callback button.
  
  Hibiki picked up the phone so quickly that it looked like he was sitting on the phone. "Mai? Where are you? Are you okay?"
  
  "What is this?"
  
  Her friend's voice trembled half a world away. "The name of the person who is looking for you. This... this...
  
  "Gyuki?"
  
  Hibiki's silence confirmed her worst fears.
  
  The person known only as Gyuki was her old clan's personal wetwork expert, a fact in itself that confirmed his skills. All the members of her old clan were skilled ninja assassins on par with Mai, but Gyuki was the person they turned to when the shit really hit the fans.
  
  Hence Hibiki's anxiety. "A more ferocious opponent does not exist in this world."
  
  "And what does he want?"
  
  "According to my source," Hibiki swallowed dryly. "Bloody revenge".
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  
  
  Jonathan Gates leaned back, letting his chair do the work. His door was open, but the office was quiet. Today, he sent employees home early. He needed some quiet, uninterrupted time to confirm his decision.
  
  If he had carried out his plan, he would have broken the law. More importantly, he would gain himself and his collaborator a very powerful enemy. Was it worth it? Did General Stone have the resources and wits to activate the doomsday device?
  
  Of course, even this scenario depended on Hayden's team successfully translating the inscriptions on the swords. But if it did, Gates wouldn't want to be on the defensive or even in conflict. The time to take action was now, when his actions would have served as a deterrent. He imagined the lengths Stone must have gone to to get the approval of not only the vice president, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and their advisers, but the president himself. A man Gates held in high esteem, though his decision-making hands have been somewhat tied since he took office. The old Coburn was what Gates wanted to see again - a military strategist, a fighter, a spirited competitor. A risk-taker, just like himself.
  
  Gates knew one thing: if General Stone ever had the means to activate the device, visions of greatness and glory would blind him to the obvious dangers. It was so easy. Stone was an uncompromising militarist and so bigoted that he believed that a team of NASA technicians would save the day if something went wrong.
  
  Decision is made. He dialed her number.
  
  She answered impatiently. "Who the hell is this?"
  
  "Jonathan Gates".
  
  "Crap! I'm sorry Mr Gates, sir, I didn't know."
  
  "Everything is fine. I don't have much time, Miss Fox, but I may have a very delicate job for you."
  
  "Just put it on the table, sir, and, uh, it shouldn't be suggestive."
  
  "Never crossed my mind." Gates went on to explain what he needed, all the while questioning his worth, his morality, and what he thought would be a low-key, brutal response.
  
  Lauren Fox, to her credit, instantly figured out the whole situation and asked the most eloquent question of all. "If I do this, who will protect me?"
  
  "Assuming he goes for it, Lauren, there's a good chance we can keep your true identity a secret from all of this together. If not, you would be under my protection and SPIRA's protection. There would be no retribution."
  
  "You're asking me to potentially give up my life."
  
  "And this is just your first job. How long will it take?
  
  "Damn it". There was silence on the line for a while. Gates didn't rush her. When she spoke again, Lauren's voice was firm.
  
  "I'm good enough to do it in two days."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY
  
  
  Russell Cayman arrived in Singen on Thursday morning German time, at about the same time that his boss, Zach Block, was finding it increasingly difficult to put the thought of sitting on the throne of Odin out of his mind.
  
  Cayman returned from Hawaii, collected the remaining bones of Kali and drove them a little more than four hundred miles west, almost in a straight line, bypassing Munich, and finally increased his vigilance when he entered the industrial city. Mount Hoentvil, with its ruins of an ancient fortress and an extinct volcano, towered majestically to the west of the city, the ruined castle itself is no stranger to violence - in its time it withstood five imperial sieges.
  
  Cayman carefully parked the car long before the foot of the mountain, hearing two huge suitcases shift from behind, their weight giving them momentum or, as Cayman wanted to believe, Kali reminding him of her presence.
  
  With difficulty, he tore his thoughts away from the goddess and looked around the mountain. Again, he came a little early. Block's people were only a few hours away, but Caiman was never the type to socialize with others or wait for them. Besides, he was hungry.
  
  After confirming that a tiny piece of Kali's finger bone was still in his pocket, Caiman got out of the car and began walking up the mountain. Archaeological research was carried out at the very top and, out of respect for the locals, was kept to a minimum in this area. That way, the tourists, Cayman, and Block's people would be able to get to the perimeter without immediate detection.
  
  No doubt the meddlesome Americans would have hidden a few hidden cameras among the trees, but by the time their contents were properly examined, it would be too late. So Cayman walked contented but cautious, sunlight playing on his face, speckled shadows calling his name. He had time to kill.
  
  Not to mention the tourists.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach Block let his fantasy take over. He was already a god - a secret, ghostly god - but when he took this throne - when he took his rightful place on the very throne of Odin - the destiny that was rightfully his, was miraculously fulfilled. When three similar minds come together, desires reinforced by latent power and energies laid in tombs literally built and occupied by the gods, then the power of Odin will truly belong to him.
  
  It goes without saying that the three tombs were connected in some way, perhaps through earth energy. Blok had read about many similar phenomena before. Places where the natural electromagnetic energy of the Earth animates the area and ensures the existence of power. Energy could move vertically or horizontally. If the tombs were built on top of the vortices and along the lines of vital, natural energy, then it was clear that they were connected in the same way.
  
  He was not ignorant of the fact that Jakob Hult's translation of an ancient text spoke of where every 'like-minded person' should stand. Probably an ancient trigger for the device. But those were just speculations, and he didn't care too much anyway.
  
  For now, his efforts should be focused exclusively on the third person. Cayman and himself were not enough. They needed a third person. The Shadow Elite have always had a waiting list of sorts, a small group of people desperate to join what they consider to be the world's decision makers. Among the men on this list was one Dmitry Kovalenko, the Blood King, but he was unavailable due to secret imprisonment in a godforsaken prison that even Blok could not find. In truth, Kovalenko was too crazy and unpredictable anyway. He would probably like to kidnap the President of the United States or something. Blok heard about his bloody vendettas and blood feuds. Not quite in the spirit of the shadow elite.
  
  Another name on the short list was that of Nicholas Denny. The aging European made decent money from dot-com ventures in the early days of the Internet and has consolidated through sensible land and financial purchases over the past two decades. In addition, he was obsessed with thrills. Block knew nothing that this man hadn't tried for kicks, and even at sixty, he had recently completed another tour of Himalayan trekking. Add these qualities to the common trait of a rich man who always wants more, and Blok found the perfect fool.
  
  Partner, he quickly corrected himself in his mind. Better not get ahead of yourself. One of his secure lines rang, and he quickly answered, listening without comment to the vital information being eagerly relayed on the other end.
  
  When the man finished, Block simply said, "You will be rewarded." And hung up. Interesting. The US and its local allies took steps to secure all three tombs, perhaps in some way recognizing the growing threat. He wondered if Caiman showed up. This psycho and his damn prize. What made a person fall in love with the bones of an ancient god? Much better is the tangible power they once commanded.
  
  Block remembered the assassins he had hired over the years. Cayman was probably the strangest, but there was another one he knew about, a woman deeply rooted even now in British...
  
  He paused to consider his train of thought. There was a critical call. He stared at the satellite phone, unable to believe that the time had finally come.
  
  From now on, it was the Shadow Elite against the rest of the world. The battle of all battles.
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "Sir. All four cells are in place. One in Singen, one in Iceland and two in Honolulu. We are ready ".
  
  Blok's heart pounded with excitement, fear, and anticipation. It was everything he had been waiting for so long. "Go to war."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Caiman ignored the vibration of his cell phone, peering through the canopy of overhanging branches into the center of the clearing. Hanging from his left arm was the corpse of a rabbit he had trapped in a makeshift trap within an hour of getting here. Blood dripped from the rabbit's neck, the same blood Caiman had covered his lips and chin with. He just couldn't resist. Ah, the sweet, thick nectar of life. Shed blood is the end of death.
  
  But now, literally laid out in front of him, they opened up a completely different perspective.
  
  A young couple, tourists enjoying the silence, the solitude and perhaps the unspoken thrill of being caught to enjoy a different kind of ending. Cayman watched carefully. Once the couple had clearly lost all sense of their surroundings, he silently crept forward until he was right behind the man, invisible, in their blind spot. He waited another minute and then simply leaned over and stabbed the man in the ribs several times. Caiman leaned over and covered the screaming man's mouth, then tossed the writhing body aside. The woman's shocked eyes stared into his, glazed with ignorance and horror and denial, until he lunged at her, ending her life with a single blow.
  
  Her life force pumped into the ground, drawing Caiman's attention. The next moment, movement was heard behind him, and a man in camouflage uniform stepped out of the undergrowth, followed by many others with state-of-the-art weapons at the ready.
  
  "Boss says answer your damn phone, Cayman," the man hissed, holding out his own device. "Good job that the phone he gave you has a tracking chip." He looked pointedly. "For you. Here, take this. Dry your fucking hands and talk to the boss."
  
  Cayman leaned back and got to his feet. The time for games is over. It's time to get to work.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  
  
  The first of Block's chambers hit the Icelandic tomb like an arctic storm. For months, little could be done, and with orders for heightened vigilance freshly issued, the defending forces found themselves more than a little unprepared for a professional team of first-class mercenaries who attacked and overwhelmed them.
  
  Shooting relentlessly, the dozen-man team killed or disabled every guard, but made sure they took several civilian hostages, mostly in the form of scientists and archaeologists. Their boss said they only had to last a day and a half, which seemed like the most efficient way.
  
  Leaving a few men to look after the cavalry, the cell leader proceeded to guard the rest of the tomb of the gods, which was found first.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Though not in direct contact, Singen's cell struck at exactly the same time. At first, their task will be more difficult - infiltrating a hard-to-reach tomb, but after that, holding back local forces within the allotted time should not be a problem. They took Caiman with them -a man they were absolutely certain would stand in the center of the tomb when the boss ordered-and dragged along his double bag of bones. Their leader didn't ask anything. Their payback would be nothing but the stuff his dreams were made of.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  In Hawaii, the first cell delivered a blow so precise that it could be cut with a scalpel. Their initial incursion took them straight to Odin's fearsome black throne, past the defenses they scrutinized for several days, and in the process they caught a reasonable number of frightened civilian specialists, some of whom were particularly high in the local hierarchy. The leader was pleased, and only when the mission was over did he experience an unusual fit of excitement.
  
  Now his team had to wait for the arrival of their boss.
  
  The second Hawaiian cell was positioned where they could be most useful, while inactive, but ready to march at a moment's notice...if the boss called for it.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY TWO
  
  
  Throughout the same day, the SPEAR team and their assistants tried to unravel the mystery surrounding the Swords of Babylon. Ackerman re-read the inscriptions over and over again, comparing them with all the current translations of the language of the gods, which were stored online on a secret server to which few people had access until now, and lamented the close relationship of the characters that Alexander decided to use.
  
  Patterson helped him by applying all his archaeological experience and knowledge about Alexander. Dahl stayed with them for a while, but eventually lost interest and went to call his family. Drake and the rest of the team gathered in the kitchen in the room they were temporarily assigned to at Camp Babylon.
  
  Hayden poured coffee. "Guys, it's time for the squat, guys. We have Zoya's address in Moscow. Zanko and Razin are on the run, their operations are curtailed. We have six of the seven swords, but no leader of the pack. I hope-" she pointed to a nearby door. "Old people will stop wasting time and crack the code."
  
  "The problem is". Kinimaka accepted his mug with a smile. "Not knowing what Cayman and company. there is another way to activate the doomsday device, we are not aware of its role in all of this. I don't usually dramatize, but this...
  
  "Big problem," Hayden finished.
  
  Drake stared at them, "You two have to work for two. You definitely have been working together for too long."
  
  The couple looked offended at the same time. Mai laughed and put the phone in her pocket. Drake wanted to ask who she was writing to, but he knew now was not the time. Her buried past has risen to haunt her, and once this Babylonian affair is over, it's time to exorcise this malevolent ghost.
  
  "A trip to Moscow seems tempting to me." Dahl wandered inside and stared out the single, sand-blasted window. His gaze met the waterless desert, the earth already invading the man-made camp, claiming its own. The sounds of human screams and vehicles trudging through short distances, the constant clanging and humming from the army base breathed life into the environment, but it was still an arid, life-sucking landscape.
  
  Drake was about to answer when they heard raised voices from the next room. Patterson mentioned something and Ackerman praised him. Dahl raised an eyebrow. "It means one of two things. Either Patterson just gave Olla the idea or showed him a picture of my wife."
  
  They moved into living quarters. Ackerman almost jumped with glee. "Listen to this, Jah? We mentioned that Alexander the Great adopted many religions in order to rule over so many lands. He adopted many myths and local beliefs. He was a king, right? Pharaoh. And do you remember what we originally said about the language of the gods?"
  
  Drake tried to remember a few months ago when they first encountered Olle. "We had just escaped from the third tomb in Shingen when Dal called you. Didn't you say that the language was completely syllabic?"
  
  "I got to the point. The syllabary is a complete writing system that uses symbols to represent all the syllables of a language, right? Do you remember?
  
  Hayden and Kinimaka nodded at the same time. "J."
  
  Drake chuckled. "A mixture of Greek, Chinese, Maya, and so on."
  
  "Exactly! And this is also what Alexander's inscriptions are based on. That's why the symbols are slightly different. The writing system is based on the scripts used in many of the lands he conquered. And this was done on purpose. It is a kind of code that cannot be cracked until the tombs and therefore the language of the gods have been discovered. If we had never found the tombs, the swords would never have been translated and never really needed. Very clever."
  
  Patterson just glowed.
  
  "Can you translate them?" Hayden asked.
  
  Ackerman gloated. "Sit me in front of a computer and a woman with light fingers." He glared at Mai. "I'll deal with this in no time."
  
  The Japanese woman gave him a dangerous look. "I'm saving these fingers for the kill."
  
  "Then at least I would have died happy." Ackerman was incorrigible and darted across the room to the small computer in the corner. He began typing, humming happily. Dahl grabbed a chair and sat down next to him, sending Mai an apologetic look.
  
  "Speaking of a happy death," Drake muttered. "Have you heard anything about Smith lately?"
  
  Mei's expression remained hard for nearly two seconds before she let a small smile touch the corners of her lips. "What do you think?"
  
  "He doesn't get on your nerves, Maggie?" Drake joked.
  
  "Matt," May sighed. "Smith would have had a better chance with Maggie Q, trust me."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  It took hours, and Ackerman didn't reveal a single word until he was done, but slowly, painstakingly, the inscriptions on the six swords began to make sense. Ackerman insisted that he show the swords in order - as far as he could predict - and stood in front of them like a lecturer in a class. The team gathered around and Hayden made sure to put Karin and Komodo on speakerphone.
  
  "Good," he said. "First sword. It says this-" He cleared his throat and began to speak. "A device created by the hands of the Gods can be dismantled."
  
  "A direct reference to the doomsday weapon," Kinimaka immediately said, voicing everyone's thoughts. "It's for reflection." He tapped his head and pointed to his feet. "It's for dancing."
  
  Hayden shook her head. "Well, at least we know we can stop-or even destroy-the device. At least it's already something."
  
  "But not how," Yorgi said, trying to intervene.
  
  "Second Sword" Ackerman shushed them "What was suspended during Ragnarok can be recreated."
  
  There were minutes of silence, then: "Armageddon?" Hayden considered. "They say swords can cause Armageddon?"
  
  "I don't think so," Karin's metallic voice sounded over the small loudspeaker. "If you remember, Odin intentionally prevented Armageddon at Ragnarok at the time because he knew all the gods would die, but he didn't stop it forever. He prevented this so that he could return later. And Ragnarok was dedicated to the death of the gods."
  
  Kinimaka sighed. "I do not understand this".
  
  "The inscription - the message - says that we can indeed cause the real death of the gods, prevent their return and end this threat once and for all." She coughed. "Forever".
  
  "That's a thought, but listen further," Ackerman interrupted him. "And so on until the third sword. What was written in time could be erased. Hands-free girl, I think this confirms your theory."
  
  "Yes, it is," said Karin. "The prophecy of the return of the gods was written in time."
  
  "And the fourth bears further fruit." Ackerman paused. "What only sleeps can be destroyed forever." He nodded to himself. "Gods".
  
  "Two left." Patterson rubbed his hands excitedly.
  
  "Well, those two are real jerks," Ackerman said with a hint of grimness. "I have no idea what they mean together. First, take two swords to the tombs and a Great Sword to the pit. And lastly, and direct the fire of your own destruction." He stopped.
  
  Drake looked around, seeing empty faces and furrowed brows. Karin remained calm. Finally Kinimaka said, "What the hell does the canal mean?"
  
  Drake shrugged. "I have no idea. But here we are clearly missing one thing. Seventh sword. Actually the Great Sword. This inscription can tell us everything we need to know."
  
  "And..." Karin spoke up. "Count the swords. Two swords for each tomb is six. I assume that the seventh has a different purpose."
  
  "If they can destroy these tombs," Drake said. "And the device, I'm starting to think it's not such a bad thing."
  
  Hayden looked a little scared. "You can't say that," she blurted out. "You work for the US government."
  
  Drake laughed. "Since when has it ever stopped us from blowing things up?"
  
  "Think about it," May said. "The threat of the device and the gods is gone forever."
  
  Professor Patterson walked over and stood next to Ackerman. "Think about this. The energy of the Earth is heavily involved around here. Pure elemental power. I assume this is what the doomsday device was originally conceived for?" He looked to the left.
  
  Ackerman nodded.
  
  "The swords were made by someone who knew all about earth energy and how to neutralize the earth energy vortex. Alexander. He knew about the gods and the device, but he was not stupid enough to try to use it. Instead, he sought to neutralize its effect. The places where the energy of the earth gathers in a whirlwind are called sacred places, and in many of them you often find standing stones set there by the ancients, who had, let's say, more time to contemplate these things. The three tombs are more than likely built on top of three of the most powerful in existence. But there are also vile whirlwinds all over the world. Think about areas where ships and planes disappear, where radios and compasses don't work, where there are regular upheavals in the earth's crust, where monsters are visible, where people are constantly in a state of unrest. There are many, many reasons why these swords could have been created."
  
  "But the existence of earth energy has never been proven," Hayden insisted.
  
  Patterson sighed as if he'd heard it all before. "You should read more. When I say 'mystical energy', you immediately call me crazy. If I told you that I studied pseudoscience, what would you say? Probably the same." He laughed. "There are literally hundreds of electromagnetic aberrations around the world, and no conclusive explanation has ever been forthcoming."
  
  "But there is still no evidence."
  
  "And never will. Do you think your pouty academics want to be seen investigating events that are so far out of their comfort zone? The Daily Telegraph reported that the Austrians have brought in local earth energy consultants to reduce accidents on the worst stretch of Austria's autobahn. The roadside monoliths were erected to help restore the earth's natural energy flow. Since that day, for two years, the number of accidents has dropped to zero. But the biggest rationale for earth energy came from none other than Thomas Edison's greatest inventor and collaborator, Nikola Tesla. Electrical and mechanical engineer, physicist and designer of the modern AC power system, even he later became known as the 'mad scientist'. He discovered that the earth is, and I quote, 'literally full of electrical vibrations'. Tesla believed that when lightning strikes the earth , it emits powerful waves that travel from one end of the Earth to the other, forming a huge energy tree. 'The Earth is a wonderful conductor,' he said. "I could transmit an unlimited amount of energy to any place on Earth with virtually no loss." He even said that it would be possible to split the planet apart by combining vibrations with the correct resonance of the Earth itself. The Earth's crust would vibrate so strongly that it would rise and fall hundreds of feet, throwing rivers out of their beds, destroying buildings and practically destroying civilization. And-" Patterson smirked. "He even tested his theory."
  
  The entire team froze with their mouths gaping. Kinimaka said, "Get out of here."
  
  "He called it 'the art of telegeodynamics', which he described as a controlled earthquake. He stated that the invention could be used to the greatest effect in war."
  
  "Of course," Mai breathed.
  
  "Then there is HAARP," Patterson continued. "A huge $250 million project funded by the US Air Force and Navy, curiously located in the same place - Colorado Springs - where Nikola Tesla did his own earth energy experiments. They study the ionosphere."
  
  Drake waved his hand. "Okay, for now you have us convinced. But all this does not bring us any closer to finding out what Cayman and his supporters are up to."
  
  Then Karin's voice intervened. "It might. I have Defense Secretary Gates on the line. And brace yourself - I don't think it will get any worse than that."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  
  
  Karin put Gates on the conference call. The Secretary of Defense's voice was tense, and Drake could clearly hear the undercurrent of weariness in his usually optimistic tones.
  
  "Tombs in Iceland, Germany and Hawaii have come under fire," he said. "Moreover, now they are in the hands of the enemy. We still control the area, but the tombs themselves are occupied by the enemy. God bless us".
  
  Hayden stepped closer to the phone. "Is this Cayman and his boss?"
  
  "We do not know. They have hostages. We have enough trouble convincing local authorities that hostage taking is a red herring without questioning who ordered and carried out the attacks."
  
  "Leave it to us," Hayden said. Briefly, she reported on their findings to date. Drake stated that it sounds like the translation of 'three similar minds in three tombs' was done literally. Gates seemed distracted, but seemed to take in most of it. When Hayden finished, Gates cleared his throat and thought for a moment before speaking.
  
  "We really get our asses kicked here," he said. "No one foresaw that someone would be able to organize a simultaneous attack on all three tombs and not only that, but actually capture them. You would think that we should have learned something after the Kovalenko affair." He made a pause. "But still, the snakes inside Capitol Hill distract those who would like to do good with their constant maneuvers and cunning tricks. Every day it becomes more and more difficult to keep track of all the necessary balls, to keep them in motion. But now - now we'll pay the price. It will take a miracle to get out of this unscathed."
  
  The gate ended with a brief call to arms. When he finished, the people in the small room, in the heart of ancient Babylon, in sandy, sun-scorched Iraq, knew what heights they had to reach.
  
  Higher than ever before.
  
  "At least we have a plan now," Drake said. "We have three different tombs with three powers inside. These 'like-minded people' will also be there. We must prevent them from activating this device by any means necessary."
  
  Dahl walked over to the table, staring at the objects lying there. "And we'll take the swords with us."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  
  
  Jonathan Gates hung up the receiver and put his head in his hands. It constantly amazed him how these selfish sons of bitches found so many creative ways to try and end the world. Or rule them. Or whatever twisted plans of supremacy these twisted and ruthless personalities aspire to.
  
  He leaned back in his leather chair, gazing up at the stars and stripes that hung from the flagpole to the left of his desk. As he moved, he could see this splendor repeated on the polished round table at which he held private meetings, which was not just a symbol for him, but a warning to heed, a promise to keep, a way of life that need to be supported.
  
  A photograph of his wife gazed at him from the right side of his desk. Not a day went by that he didn't miss her. Not a day went by that he didn't quench his intense hatred for her killer. He lightly touched the frame, and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile.
  
  A moment later, one of the phones in front of him started ringing. As always, despite the blinking indicator, he hesitated for a moment to make sure he had chosen the right one. It was an inside line.
  
  "Mr. Secretary of State, I have Sarah Moxley on the line. You recently approved her candidacy. She hopes to meet at lunch today, but she asked me to emphasize that this is not yet an interview. She's on my hold, sir."
  
  Gates looked thoughtfully at the paintings above him. Not an interview? Did she try to calm him down or turn him on? It didn't matter, he could handle anything she threw at him. If only she'd picked a better time-
  
  "Please tell her that I have to reschedule the meeting."
  
  "Yes, Mr. Secretary of State."
  
  Gates tapped the plastic phone, thinking. The attacks on the tombs brought with them a tiny ray of hope. It turned out that now General Stone would not be able to carry out his crazy plan. The President would be off the hook. As did Gates. But he knew that with people like Stone, there would always be a next time. He made up his mind and called Lauren Fox on a personal line.
  
  "Everything has changed," he said without preamble. "This shouldn't have happened."
  
  "Jesus, are you kidding? I have already established contact."
  
  Gates frowned. "What kind of contact?"
  
  "Not that kind. But-" The New Yorker paused, thinking hard. "The kind that, if cancelled, might look suspicious."
  
  Crap. Gates revisited his thinking yet again, but kept returning to the old adage, don't poke the beast. There was simply no point in provoking a situation that didn't already exist. Some people he knew liked to gather dirt, but that wasn't Gates' style.
  
  "Sorry Lauren. The consequences will not be as dire as if you went through it, of course. "
  
  "It could be just as bad. And you wouldn't have another chance."
  
  She was right, but Gates just couldn't do it. "Cancel the plan," he said. "I'll talk to you in a few days."
  
  Now he got up and paced his office, polished black boots treading the plush blue carpet in the wake of the men who had come before him. The pressure of office pressed so hard that it seemed as if the entire weight of the White House fell on him. His team, led by Hayden Jay, fought tooth and nail and split up. Even now, they were fighting an unknown enemy without a clear plan of action. The world was on the edge.
  
  Again.
  
  Damn those fucking tombs, he thought. They should all be sent to hell.
  
  He quickly forced himself to calm down. Poured a glass of water. He stared blankly out the window. Then he called his secretary back.
  
  "If you think about it," he said. "I need to relax. Call Miss Moxley and set up a meeting for lunch."
  
  "Yes, Mr. Secretary of State."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The wait staff brought water bottles, sandwiches and cakes a few minutes before Sarah Moxley was due to arrive. As soon as the Post reporter showed up, his secretary sent her to him.
  
  Gates stood up and shook hands, remembering the touch of her skin from the past. He invited her to sit down at the round table. "Sorry for the official setting," he said. "I don't have much time, Miss Moxley."
  
  "Call me Sarah. Is something still happening?"
  
  "Always," he repeated his words from a few days ago. Gates was picking at his food as she spoke, moving half a sandwich around his plate like a general lining up battle lines, but he was a good listener. Moxley spoke about her work, her life, and the friends she died next to, but she didn't ask a single question that would make him wary. Gates became interested, relaxed next to her and enjoyed the sight of her winning smile. But there were gaps between them. He was fifteen years older than her. He was a widower. She was a reporter. He took the oath of office in several ways.
  
  But still...
  
  When their time was up, Gates stood up and smiled. "Good to see you again, Miss Moxley."
  
  "I'm sure". She tossed her hair, the red strands catching the sun and every ounce of his attention. "Until next time?"
  
  "Interview? Yes, we can arrange it."
  
  "Who said anything about the interview?"
  
  Gates watched her leave the room, cursing to himself that he had to send her away so soon, cursing the megalomaniacal old gods and all the presumptuous shit that makes good people worry about the safety of others.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  
  
  Alicia Miles' feet barely touched the ground as she was escorted from the airport to the stylish Vier Jahreszeiten Kempinski hotel in central Munich, a very attentive Lomas asked her to put on a bikini and took her to the heated indoor pool, one of the few in any luxury hotel in the city.
  
  Alicia was more than a little shocked but didn't ask questions, waiting for Lomas to explain once they were settled. But the sight of a gang of bikers stretched out in their swimming trunks around a rectangular swimming pool lined with beige tiles and illuminated by blue lights stopped her in mid-sentence.
  
  "What the fuck, Lomas?"
  
  The big biker leader pointed to a far corner, where two women were undergoing some kind of spa treatment in front of a huge oval mirror. From the bright tattoos on their shoulders, Alicia recognized the two as Whipper and Dirty Sarah.
  
  "Did they brainwash you idiots while I was gone?" When Alicia left to help Drake, Lomas and the gang were barely comfortable in the swanky hotel that the US had found, and each of them wondered aloud if it was time to hit the road. Now they showed all the signs of organizing a permanent camp.
  
  "Look". Lomas pointed to Tiny, a huge Harley driver, stretched out on a rattan lounge chair, massive legs and arms touching the floor on all sides, snoring like a grizzly with hay fever.
  
  Alicia took a deep breath. "Well?" I asked.
  
  Lomas just shrugged his broad shoulders. "The staff hate us. They are not sure whether to bow to them or run a mile. Give the boys a day or two of fun."
  
  Alicia relaxed. "And then we're on our way?"
  
  "Is there another way?"
  
  "No!" Alicia ran up and flew like a cannonball into the quiet pool, spilling water over the impeccably clean walls and onto the nearest sun loungers. Fat Bob and Knuckler sat down complaining. Laid-back Lex, the most truthfully controversial biker name the Englishwoman had ever heard, jumped to his feet and threw a few insults at her. Ribeye, the group's vegetarian, shook his head in disgust. Alicia stomped on the water and splashed some more on them.
  
  Lomas, not being an experienced swimmer, floundered beside her. "I mean, your biker name was chosen while you were saving the world."
  
  "It was? What is this? Trust me, Lomas, it better not be something prim."
  
  The biker didn't answer right away, not a good sign. But then Alicia noticed that he was staring at her breasts. "Later". She hit him. "Just tell me the damn name."
  
  "Ah, well, we voted for... Taz."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Taz. You know, the Tasmanian Devil is from Australia. Predator. Strong bite. Rough fighters. They can go crazy in the blink of an eye."
  
  "I'm not sure I like it. Do you think I'm an Australian animal? And I thought biker names should be against your character."
  
  "Not all of them. It depends on your strength of character. Yours," Lomas smirked, "just shone through."
  
  "Taz?" Alicia thought about it. She didn't know much about the Tasmanian Devil, but it sounded good coming from Lomas. "I believe..."
  
  "Okay, now come here." Lomas grabbed her in his muscular arms and held her tight. Alicia allowed herself to be hugged, just for a minute. A sense of peace descended on her, accompanied by the emergence of terrible, repressed memories. They appeared only when she relaxed. They were the reason she kept moving, fighting, somehow always on the move. But the problem quickly cleared up - she could not remain in action for the rest of her life.
  
  Will she dare to let the memories back in?
  
  The next step was confrontation. It's funny, she thought, how much I like it in real life, but I can't come to terms with my past.
  
  "Are you okay?" Alicia heard Lomas' voice and focused. Biker pulled away from her and looked into her distant, stormy eyes.
  
  "Old Demons" She rubbed her temples hard. "They're not going anywhere."
  
  "Oh, I have them. Maybe someday we should trade horror stories."
  
  Alicia gave him a thoughtful look. "May be".
  
  Lomas doggy-style swam to the shallow end of the pool. Alicia watched him for a moment, grinning, then followed him. All the other bikers lay in comfortable repose, some snoring, some leafing through magazines, others looking out the windows as if they wanted to be there, grinding down those sandy roads. The only exception was the laid-back Lex, a hot young head sitting around looking at everything as if she was trying to set it all on fire.
  
  The smell of freshly cooked food wafted through the half-open kitchen door. Alicia felt her mouth water. It had been some time since she had last dined at a restaurant. Maybe tonight, she thought. Just Lomas and me. But the smell of freshly cooked food always made that old vision rear its ugly head, something that happened so many times that it became just an event, each time indistinguishable from the previous one, when her mother laid out her father's dish, still smoking, and her father reached for not knife and fork, and behind a half-empty glass of amber liquid.
  
  "Just a sneaky one to get away from the day's hustle," he usually whispered, trying to smile at her, but not quite in a way that made it seem real.
  
  Alicia blocked it. A second later, the cell phone rang, and Alicia realized it was hers. Not only that, it was the tone she reserved for Drake. A little Pink track is called Trouble.
  
  "Crap". She climbed out of the pool, soaking wet, and went to her bag. "What the hell just happened?"
  
  "I suppose you once said to call you for the next apocalypse?" It was Hayden using Drake's phone.
  
  "You fu-"
  
  "I know, I know. You and Lomas in biker style. We have lost the tombs, Alicia."
  
  The Englishwoman fell silent as Hayden continued to explain the most recent events. When she finished, Alicia immediately spoke.
  
  "Do you want me to go back to Iraq?"
  
  "We are developing a plan. Between ourselves, we must cover all three tombs. And Alicia, you are already in Germany."
  
  It hadn't occurred to her until now, but Munich wasn't too far from Singen. She immediately became suspicious. "Who checked into this hotel a few days ago?"
  
  Hayden was silent for a second. "I did".
  
  "No doubt through the gate," Alicia grumbled. "This man has more manipulation up his sleeve than a banker."
  
  "He would have done it, he is a top level politician. And that's called foresight. Skillful maneuvering of your forces. Good preparation. These are all much better words than manipulation, don't you think?"
  
  "Doesn't matter. Look, are you really asking Lomas and the boys to help raid Shingen's tomb? Because they're not military, you know?"
  
  "We have a rather weak distribution of forces, and do not try to tell me that they did not have some experience. You would have the support of the local military. But all you really have to do is get to the Cayman and neutralize it. Oh, and bring the swords there."
  
  "What swords?"
  
  "We will deliver two swords by courier to Singen Airport. You need to collect them before you enter."
  
  "Should I ask why?"
  
  "It's a damn long story." Hayden took a deep breath. "And we don't even know how to use them. If we ever need to use them." She cursed. "We're way behind this, Alicia, and we don't have time."
  
  "I'll ask them." Alicia hung up and looked around. Personally, she was closely watched by a gang of bikers. She sat down on the front edge of the deck chair and unfolded it. No one interrupted, but when she finished, the first outburst of anger, as expected, came from the laid-back Lex.
  
  "Why should we want to do this and leave this place?"
  
  "This place is a reward for the last time we caused chaos," Alicia reminded them. "Think about what could be next?"
  
  "Grave," muttered one of the older bikers. "Or to the hospital."
  
  Alicia nodded. "It's possible. This is a dangerous mission. The people who took over the tombs at least had military training."
  
  "However, this would put us back on the right track," Whipper compromised. "Several good open roads from here to Singen."
  
  "Do you really want to help the government?" Tiny looked around. "It doesn't look like they've ever been kind to us."
  
  Trace and Fat Bob muttered agreement. Dirty Sarah put down her nail file and wiped her hands with a damp cloth. "Lomas? What is your opinion?"
  
  The gang leader cleared his throat. "If it was personal, I would make a decision. If it were an honor, I would. But this is not for the sake of respect for the gang or honor. It's not like going after Lisa and making her pay for what she did..."
  
  When he paused, Alicia thought she didn't know much about Lomas and Lisa yet, just snippets of what her boyfriend had told her about his ex and how she left to be in a rival gang. Perhaps she was his 'old demon'.
  
  "It should be your own decision," Lomas told them. "It's not the gang's business."
  
  Alicia nodded, respecting him for that. In truth, if Lomas had ordered them all to leave, she would have protested. She listened to the roar and the groans, unperturbed and alarmed. But at the end of the day, they were a biker gang, and for one of the members, they wanted the road to be open.
  
  Knuckler summed it up. "There's nothing wrong with hitting the road for a few days, huh, friends? Then we'll see if we want to kick some military ass and earn a year on Miami Beach. Haha," he chuckled.
  
  Alicia flinched as Knuckler was overwhelmingly supported, not quite sure how she was going to translate 'if' and 'maybe' back to Hayden and Drake. bikers in swimming trunks rise from their sun loungers.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  
  
  Kinimaka watched sadly as the team made the decision to split into pairs. Memories of Vienna returned to him, of the night he had spent at the bar with Alicia and Belmonte. Alicia told him that her father was a drunk and beat her mother unconscious at least twice a week. Belmonte admitted that the loss of his égé protégé Emma really broke him. He wouldn't work as a thief again while he was alive.
  
  And the next day he died saving Drake's life.
  
  Now Kinimaka watched bleakly as the team decided to split up and each pair went off to fight their own little apocalypse. Dahl and Ackerman would go to Iceland. Drake and May would go to Moscow, retrieve the Great Sword, then return here to Babylon, exactly following Alexander's instructions. He would have accompanied Hayden to Hawaii. Their time is almost up.
  
  "Stay in touch and keep checking on Karin," Hayden told them. "She is the link to get all of our information. Gates will try to be on hand. And guys... let's all get back to Washington safe and sound, huh?"
  
  "The minute someone gets a nugget of information," Dahl said. "And I'm talking mostly about you, Drake, with that last sword - let us know."
  
  "Of course I will," Drake said. "One day we'll kick Grandma Zanko's ass."
  
  "We must beware of Zanko and Razin," Yorgi said. "They're not finished yet."
  
  "I feel embarrassed that I sent Alicia and her new friends after Cayman himself," Hayden annoyed. "But there was no other way. She will be critical to this assault group."
  
  "One thing is certain," Mai said softly. "Whether we like it or not, she will most likely blow up the entire tomb."
  
  Everyone laughed. It was a poignant moment, not meant for Alicia, but engulfing them all. In the brief silence between them, something more than simple respect, honor and concern flashed between them. Something much deeper.
  
  Kinimaka didn't say anything. Dahl emphasized inflating everyone's ego. Drake paced around purposefully, finalizing plans, but Kinimaka read the uncertainty in his eyes.
  
  This time it was different. This time they didn't know what they were facing and how to deal with it.
  
  We're going to hell without a preacher, Kinimaka thought. God help us so we don't burn. And God help the rest of the world if we do.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  
  
  Zach Block liked the fact that Hawaiian time was twelve hours behind his own. He almost felt like he was traveling back in time, which allowed him to enter the new Shadow Elite rule much earlier. He knew it was an illusion, but a comforting one.
  
  The midday Hawaiian sun mercilessly burned the asphalt of the airport. As a first-class passenger, he was offered a lei, and obediently bowed his head, smiling at the pretty girl in the grass skirt as she greeted him and wished him a pleasant stay on Oahu.
  
  "Oh, no doubt everyone will have some fun," he said and walked towards his driver. The man lowered the card he was holding and pointed to a white sedan with tinted windows.
  
  So far so good, he thought. The team always knew Block would join them inside the tomb, and spent many hours contemplating the best way to get him inside. In the end, it all came down to a floating strategy with many alternatives. They could predict the reaction of the authorities only up to a certain point. After that, everything was speculation and chance.
  
  Block was being driven up Diamond Head, with the brilliant blue of the Pacific Ocean to his right, and he pulled off the main road. They soon got into an SUV and the driver continued on down a barely used dirt road. The man apologized, but Blok barely heard. He was already tired of not being able to make decisions in the world, and filled his head only with visions of what he would do when he regained this power. He was a coiled snake, waiting to be struck and opening its jaws at anyone who stood in its way.
  
  They circled three lava tubes, the first two of which were being watched by the police. The third, a little farther away, looked clean, and it didn't matter if it was on CCTV. They wanted to let a person in, not to take a lot of people out.
  
  Block accepted the package offered by the driver and took a moment to check his email. Caiman was already inside Singen's tomb, and Nicholas Denny was approaching her Icelandic equivalent. Reporting at this stage would be bad news. But there were none. He sent a quick, unnecessary message, alerting the second Hawaiian cell to his arrival, warning them to prepare for battle.
  
  The hike was difficult, but every painstaking step was worth it. Blok was helped down the high ledge, and for the first time he saw the carved face of Wrath.
  
  "Impressive, isn't it?" The driver grinned.
  
  Blok ignored him, seizing the moment for himself. After a while, he waved the man to continue, listening to him rant about how the traps had been cleared and how relatively easy it had been for a well-armed, well-motivated force to take over the tomb. A little more, and they passed through Greed, small precious vessels of wealth that have now been removed to prevent distraction and death. After that came Lust, and Block involuntarily slowed down, stunned and a little discouraged by the sheer amount of carved and painted flesh on display for all to see.
  
  "Those gods." The driver whistled, staying close to Blok. "They knew exactly how to throw a party, am I right?"
  
  "Please," Block spoke just once, waiting for the man to understand. Luckily for him, he understood and shut his mouth. In silence they crossed the hall and soon passed through Envy and Gluttony. It was after this level that the group commander was waiting for him.
  
  "Sir, everything is ready." He stepped forward and bowed slightly. "If you go to the ledge over there-" He pointed to the curved stone wall that skirted the top of the next climb. "You will see everything you came for."
  
  Block gathered his courage and cautiously made his way to the wall. The sight that met his eyes surpassed anything he had ever seen, and more than that, it was the most awe inspiring, incredible thing he had ever seen in his life.
  
  Odin's chair. A gigantic, incredibly carved obsidian slab dangled from the rock in front of him, perched above a bottomless chasm. An ancient silence filled the place, demanding reverence, crawling and shimmering with invisible, hidden power. It was only by being here, bowed by his glory, that he could truly accept it.
  
  "So," he said. "Now I believe."
  
  The leader of the group approached him from behind. "I know exactly what you mean, sir. After witnessing something like this, you begin to believe that anything is possible."
  
  Block nodded, impressed by the man's insight. "I will show the governments of the world what is possible," he said. "Get everything ready, because after today there will be no government, no dictatorship, no arrogant warlord who will not bow before me."
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Shortly after Zach Block cleared customs, Hayden and Kinimaka heard the wheels of their private jet screech and rumble as they crashed into the Hawaiian tarmac. As they landed, Kinimaka muttered a short prayer, not for a safe landing, but for a safe return to his homeland. The aircraft passed close to Diamond Head on its final approach, giving two SPEAR agents a brief overview of the ongoing operation inside the depressed cone. Hayden contacted the local agents and the captains in charge during the flight, making sure they would be ready for action sooner rather than later and iron out the inevitable rough edges.
  
  Kinimaka stared out the window as the plane taxied. "Mixed feelings". He touched the window. "It's good to be back, it's bad to be here. Do you understand what I mean?"
  
  "Implicitly".
  
  "Do you think Cayman and his buddies will turn on this device?"
  
  "If they do this, we will stop them."
  
  "Certainly. We never faced a bad guy that we couldn't get the better of." Kinimaka, seeing that they were still alone, at least for the moment, put one arm around her, realizing that he shouldn't be putting all of his weight on her. "And then maybe we can have a breather."
  
  Hayden turned and kissed him. "I think it sounds good. This damn job is getting more stressful than I even imagined. Good job, now we have Romero and Smith on board. We might even set aside some time to rest."
  
  "They say it's nice in Hawaii this time of year."
  
  "Really?" Hayden squeezed his knee. "I would never have thought. Do you want to see Kono? We could spend a few days in Los Angeles."
  
  "Hold that thought." Kinimaka clicked his tongue. "My sister and I must have at least a thousand miles of air between us when we have a discussion. Especially the one where she tells me about her plan to visit her mom again."
  
  She ran away, Hayden remembered. "That was a long time ago, Mano. She has definitely changed."
  
  "She broke her mother's heart and she didn't care. I remember. We didn't know... anything."
  
  At that moment, the co-pilot stuck his head out from behind the cockpit door. "Hey guys, you're free to drop off. Regular express check-in at the terminal, then a car will be waiting for you to take you to the base."
  
  Hayden surprised Kinimaku by kissing him again. "Don't worry," she said, even more stunning up close. "It will work by itself."
  
  She stood up, grabbed her backpack and walked down the aisle. Kinimaka hurried after her, a little stunned, then realized he had forgotten his backpack and had to run back. They clattered down the trembling steps of the plane and entered the terminal, greeted by a gust of cool air.
  
  Kinimaka looked around, saw the corresponding booth, and headed straight for the stern-looking man sitting inside. Once they had submitted their paperwork, they were ushered straight into the central lobby, the domestic hub of the Honolulu International Airport. Kinimaka paused to look around the spacious, high-ceilinged room, basking in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
  
  "Ah," he said. "I'm already relaxed."
  
  Shops stood on either side as the couple made their way to the exit. DFS Gallery and Kona Brewing Company, the latter offering one of his favorite beers - the legendary Fire Rock Pale Ale - a sight so enticing that he's actually started moving in that direction.
  
  Hayden turned to him and spoke with a hint of warning. "Mano-"
  
  Masked men burst through the doors in front of her. The car they had all ejected from was idling at the curb in the public drop zone, the doors wide open. Kinimaka counted five men before shouting a warning and grabbing Hayden by the waist, dragging her for an artful display of Maui Divers jewelry. The SPEAR leader rolled awkwardly across the floor and found himself upside down as the bullets began to fly.
  
  Glass shattered around them, showering their bodies. Hayden screamed as a sharp object cut her trousers.
  
  "The bastard put me in the ass!" She took her Glock out of its holster and released the safety, dropping as low as her body would allow. The terminal was filled with noise, screams and screams, as well as the sound of an alarm. People fled in all directions. Children were dragged into stores or lifted up and covered with the bodies of their parents before being taken out of sight. The luggage slipped and rolled across the floor.
  
  The masked men slowly approached. More shots rang out, and the airport guard crouched down. The DFS Galleria window shattered into small pieces. The sound of weeping drowned out the roar of alarm.
  
  Kinimaka took a fleeting glance and fired. This went unnoticed, but made the invaders think. Two fell to their knees, covering. The remaining three broke away from the duty free wall. Hayden fired, her bullet hitting the wall millimeters above her target's head.
  
  "What it is?" Kinimaka hissed. "Is this for us?"
  
  "I don't know," Hayden said. "But it certainly holds us back."
  
  More airport security guards ran through the lobby. Hayden waved to them for safety, showing her badge. She turned to Kinimake. "They took a defensive position," she remarked. "A little chaos, then digging. I don't like the way it looks, Mano."
  
  "Agree. I'm still too big to hide behind this pillar for a long time."
  
  Hayden shifted position, walking around the windows on the other side. For half a second, her enemy was in her field of vision. She fired and he fell, the weapon clanging against the polished floor. His companion didn't flinch, but pointed a gun at her and then fired a hail of lead at full auto.
  
  "Crap!"
  
  Hayden literally had nowhere to go. The deadly current began with the exhibits, destroying them, and slowly turned in her direction. She vaulted over a pile of glass, but bumped into a shop window. The stream of bullets was inexorably approaching.
  
  Kinimaka fell on his stomach, holding the pistol forward and holding it with both hands as he fired, but the shooter was hidden from him, his body blocked by a three-foot tree planter. The men fired back at him, their bullets bouncing off the floor three inches to the right of his body. He rolled to safety, opening his mouth to scream-
  
  - then saw Hayden fire at the bottom of the glass window. The shards cascaded like little diamonds, catching the sunlight, and Hayden dived right through them, rolling into the store as a river of lead rushed past.
  
  Kinimaka breathed a sigh of relief. He heard the gunslinger changing clips and raised himself a little to take advantage, but another shot pinned him to the ground. It was a good team working for each other, but they couldn't do it forever. Airport security guards and cops were gathering downstairs in the lobby of Diamond Head in a whole group. He looked at Hayden and saw that she was trying to convey a message.
  
  Hand signals. Phones are not needed. She was walking through the back of the store and was intent on taking them by surprise. Kinimaka nodded and looked around the shop from the other side. The duty-free shop was open-plan, different from all other stores, and might not have an emergency exit. If he tried and failed, he would be stuck. Behind them was Starbucks.
  
  Hmmm...
  
  It was in the hands of God. Kinimaka jumped out of cover, running across the open space in a matter of seconds, and lunged forward as the shots began to catch up with him. He hit the ground hard, rolled, and got up again, zipping past a couple who thought it prudent to sit down in the middle of the hall before rushing into the café. The easy chair gave him the push he needed to get up and clear the bar in one motion. The barista kneeling behind the display squealed, causing him to jump and scream back. The space behind the counter was narrow, the storage area further back crammed with boxes, syrups, and metal shelves stuffed to capacity. He flew by, listening intently, hoping Hayden was waiting. A cascade of white plastic caps fell off the shelves in his wake. Finally. He reached the end and noticed the door.
  
  Thank you, Great Kahuna, he thought. Then he paused, collected his thoughts, and pushed.
  
  
  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  
  
  Kinimaka paused as his enemy's back came into view. The man wore short hair, a lined jacket and cargo pants. He clutched a rifle, aimed low, and carried several other weapons tucked into a belt around his waist. He was staring at his black wristwatch as Kinimaka gently pushed open the door.
  
  He saw Hayden cross the hall across from him, separated by hundreds of yards and four heavily armed assassins. She pointed her gun and screamed. Kinimaka waited a second and then did the same, hoping to cause confusion.
  
  But these people were trained. The one closest to Hayden calmly raised his hand with a pistol, taking aim. The one closest to Kinimaka turned cautiously, raising his weapon.
  
  "Stop!" Kinimaka was crying.
  
  The shooter suddenly spun around and fired, catching the Hawaiian off guard. Pieces of a green-and-white sign flew out of the nearest wall. Kinimaka immediately returned fire, knocking the shooter down where he crouched. His body convulsed and slammed back towards his partner, knocking the weapon out of the man's hands but also sending Hayden's punch off target. The man reached for the side holster. Hayden didn't miss the second time.
  
  There are two left. If he advanced here, he would be completely exposed. Kinimaka quickly dived back into the shop and rushed to the exit. The barista squealed again, but at least she had the good sense to cover her mouth. Kinimaka appeared from the front, just as one of the shooters entered the main hall, the rifle pressed tightly to his shoulder. The Hawaiian could only duck and roll when the man opened fire.
  
  He slid across the shiny floor, stopping at the carpet. Shots tracked his movements, loud in the heavy silence. Something hit the heel of his boot. He climbed behind an abandoned electric car at the airport, feeling ridiculously huge, huddled behind it. The bullets slammed into him, spinning him 180 degrees, effectively opening a line of fire for Kinimaki while his opponent focused on blowing the car to pieces.
  
  Half a second, two shots, and the fourth attacker collapsed with two holes in the center of his skull. Kinimaka kissed his fingers and pressed them against the broken side of the little carriage.
  
  Thank you.
  
  Now security guards and cops were racing through the lobby, shouting on their walkie-talkies. Kinimaka waved them to slow down. There was another fighter. They didn't slow down. The Hawaiian cursed, feeling enormous pressure to waste so much precious time on their journey to Diamond Head's tomb, and the crushing responsibility of trying to save these people's lives heaped upon him. He couldn't see the last person.
  
  And where was Hayden?
  
  Praying that his luck would not leave him, he took out his cell phone and dialed her number. The call was answered immediately.
  
  "I'm inside the store, not far from the entrance."
  
  Kinimaka narrowed his eyes. Now he could see her outline as she peered through the open door. "Any idea where our last human went?"
  
  "I have a good idea," Hayden muttered. "Asshole lay low, playing for time. This is for us, Mano. Pull Tactics".
  
  "What a fucking tactic."
  
  "Yes. Look, tell these cops we have to get out of here. They will have to deal with the mole."
  
  Kinimaka hesitated. "You are sure?" He hated leaving anyone in danger.
  
  "I must be. The security of the world is at stake. Whoever takes over this tomb is not going to just wait for us to get there."
  
  Kinimaka called one of the policemen over and explained the situation. The man conferred for a moment, then pointed further down the lobby, near the wing that led to the Ewa lobby, past the huge red Avis sign. 'Exit'.
  
  Kinimaka scolded himself. He should have known. "I'll join you," he told Hayden and pressed the red button. Stopping only to check for ammo in his Glock, he ran as hard as he could towards Hayden, a flesh-and-muscle juggernaut with all six senses focused on his surroundings. One click, one movement, and he would have fallen to the floor.
  
  But nothing happened. By now, their loot should have been well hidden, probably waiting for them to close the airport. But the SPEAR team had the upper hand here, and their mission was even more important than the attack on Hawaii's largest airport.
  
  Hayden looked up at the sky as they burst through the doors. "Damn it, I hope we're not too late."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY
  
  
  Drake and May took Yorgi and Patterson with them on a short flight to Moscow. This time, Karin cut a path through Jonathan Gates to ensure local reinforcements were sent to the operation. Karin said that President Coburn did talk to the Russian prime minister to help get things moving. A group of Russian special forces was on hand when Drake stepped out of the warm cabin of the plane into the crisp Russian cold. Their commander had already been briefed on the importance of the operation and, in impeccable English, offered his full cooperation before stepping aside and waiting expectantly with his men.
  
  "This address," Drake held out a piece of paper. "This is where Zoya lives. It's not far from Moscow. Do we have transportation?"
  
  An hour later, they stopped on a country road, about a mile from the hidden gate that led to Zoe's house. Aerial photographs taken by the Russian commander's tablet computer showed a densely wooded area, inside which was a rudimentary house, randomly shaped, as if several improvised outbuildings had been added to it over the years. The team expected serious resistance.
  
  As the driver stopped their car, the commander wordlessly handed his tablet to Drake. On the screen was a recent photograph of Zoya, Zanko's grandmother.
  
  Even Mai did a double take. Drake whistled. "Hell, she's even bigger than Zanko."
  
  "This is not a good woman," a commander named Svechnikov told them. "She has come under police suspicion many times and is also on Interpol's list of 'persons of interest'. But nothing sticks to it."
  
  "I know this guy," Mai said with a slight tremble. "Everything is too good."
  
  Drake thought a lot about the attack. They had enough troops for a three-pronged attack. Wasting no time, they began to deploy people. A strong wind rose and rustled in the trees, high guards watched and whispered their age-old secrets.
  
  "Sword," Drake said as the men separated. "Is a must. Everything else is secondary. Even Zoya."
  
  Beside him, Mai checked her gear as carefully as she always did, but Drake noticed the absent look on her face. The sooner they got this Babylon thing over with, the better, so that he and Mai could focus on her problems. Assuming, he thought grimly. This time they all survived.
  
  They walked lightly, skirting the road and the trees, and in a few minutes they came to Zoe's gate. Drake pointed to the man with the 'plastic'. It was a full blown attack. He smiled. There would be no fuss with master keys.
  
  Ten seconds passed, and a controlled explosion heralded the start of the raid. Drake pressed against the inner wall for a few meters before walking along the tree line next to the main driveway, heading towards the front of the house. Zoe's hideout was deep within the property, protected from all but the most persistent prying eyes. For about a minute there was almost complete silence, only the rustle of male uniforms and backpacks, the barely audible sound of boots sliding through the undergrowth.
  
  Then all hell fell upon them. A flurry of bullets whistled through the trees a millisecond before the roar of gunfire could be heard. Drake fell to the ground as confetti of crushed leaves and twigs flew around them. Mai rolled behind a wide gnarled trunk. It soon became apparent that the shots were coming from above. The defenders were in the trees.
  
  SWAT returned fire. Immediately, several bodies broke through the green canopy, bouncing off the floor with the sound of breaking bones. The Russian soldier was shot in the shoulder and turned around cursing in pain. Drake splashed the tops of the trees, causing another scream. He saw bodies moving among the trees, so the defenders were also mobile. The thickets of trees were so dense that they allowed the men to easily jump from branch to branch.
  
  "Fucking monkeys," the Spetsnaz commander muttered, and fired a deadly salvo, his bullets tearing a new hole through the foliage all the way to the blue skies. "At least we can't hit one of ours."
  
  With these words, the soldiers rose and fired several volleys. Drake and May hurried past the firefight, crouching. Two soldiers followed him. Mai was about to break out from behind another tree when the ground in front of her feet began to crack, falling vertically downwards. Her body swayed. Drake dived in and grabbed her around the waist, twisting her backwards. They landed hard, bruised and scratched, but alive.
  
  One of the soldiers whistled, speaking in Russian. Drake pushed off May and crawled over to her. The Japanese woman almost fell into a crude trap, a makeshift pit with a forest of pointed stakes at the bottom. Drake instantly relayed the warning to Svechnikov. The signal sounded - proceed with caution.
  
  As they approached, a six-foot-tall palisade of pointed logs emerged from the trees ahead, a barrier that effectively turned Zoe's home into a fortress. Before Drake could take stock, the thud meant the enemy landed right behind him. He turned to see Mai come over and slash the knife across the man's throat, then make him fall, bleeding in the undergrowth.
  
  Heavy gunshots echoed behind and around them. Drake nodded as two Russian soldiers produced grenades and pointed towards the fence. "Do it".
  
  Turning small, he felt Mei burrow next to him. A loud explosion tore the air. Chunks of wood and bark, fences and soil fell with a thud from all sides. When Drake looked up, he could see the ragged hole the explosion had made in the stockade, and farther away he could see the front of the building Zoe called home. The windows were closed with shutters, the door was bolted. Nothing was found near the house.
  
  The soldiers crept forward. More shells thudded into the tree trunks and the mounds of dirt around them, and Drake saw the tree defenders move closer. He cleaned them again, spraying indiscriminately until a few began to fall. Then he got up and moved quickly.
  
  "Forward!"
  
  As they approached the ruined palisade, a medium-sized watchtower became visible to their right. Drake cursed. He saw official military bases less secure. They saw movement - one man returned fire to his left. Then the other team advanced that far. Using a distraction, Drake moved slowly forward, carefully climbing over the jagged pieces of the fence and moving further into Zoe's nightmarish house.
  
  Drake attuned to all six senses and used every ounce of his training to keep track of all directions. Mai silently moved a step behind, now fully occupied. He trusted her judgment to the max, even when she was at half speed. She didn't utter a word of warning-
  
  and Drake's heart nearly stopped as the planted mine exploded a few feet in front of him. The explosion sent the hapless soldier high into the air, limbs suddenly limp like those of a rag doll, releasing a wave of energy riddled with shrapnel in all directions. Drake was partially covered by a tree, but even the second soldier, who was standing in the open, received only partial injuries. Mina Zoya was of ancient Russian production and designed primarily to neutralize the poor fellow who set it in motion, and not those who surrounded him.
  
  Drake swore and quickly scanned the ground to the left and right. A barely visible channel ran in both directions, following the line of the stockade.
  
  "Understood". May stepped to the right. Drake nodded, rose and released his weapon, aiming at the left curve, detonating a string of landmines. The earth shook from many explosions. Feathers and mushroom-shaped clouds of dirt and foliage shot up above the trees. The Russian commander emerged from the thick foliage, running fast, his men only a few yards behind.
  
  "Crazy bitch!" He spat, wiping his forehead. "Who would have thought..."
  
  Drake stepped back and continued moving. It was the only way to stay alive. Stay sharp. "You've obviously never met her grandson."
  
  They moved as fast as they dared. Drake saw the second team throw a grenade at the guard tower after the landmine exploded, knock it over and run through the rubble as they approached the house. He saw one man get caught in a noose of a trap, the rope looping around his ankle and lifting him upside down into the air, swaying helplessly until someone either found a way to free him or a sniper removed him. In the next second, a terrible clang and scream to his left made him stop.
  
  "A trap," breathed the Spetsnaz commander. "We saw two more back there." He barked an order to one of his men to take care of the victim, then turned to Drake. "We entered the horror house, didn"t we?"
  
  "Yes".
  
  They rushed to the edge of the foliage, which ended six feet from Zoe's front door. Drake furrowed his brow. Was Zoya even here? He pointed to the shutters and the door, pointing to multiple blows. The second team was going to strike at the wall of the house. One would hope that the third team was striking from the rear, but Drake didn't have time to check as the SWAT soldiers attacked their target.
  
  Then the front door rumbled open, literally flying backwards and hitting the hinges before half ripping off and hanging crookedly. A king-size nightmare emerged from the doorway - Zoe, Zanko's grandmother, nearly seven feet tall and wider than the door itself, wearing a cropped vest that revealed arms that were thicker than some men's legs, each paw-like hand held a machine gun easily. .
  
  "You bastards!" she screamed. "Mother..."
  
  The rest of her tirade was interrupted when two SWAT soldiers approached her. Drake cursed softly. They should have just shot and wounded this vicious beast, but instead they decided to take her alive. It was their mistake. Drake would never have believed it if he hadn't seen it for himself, but Zanko's crazy grandma just threw both SWAT soldiers aside with her huge arms. It must have felt like being hit by a tree trunk. Both men flew backwards, landing hard, rolled over and then lay motionless. The woman burst into a laugh that sounded like a jungle animal's distress signal, and deployed both machine guns.
  
  "Oh shit!"
  
  People scattered like leaves in a storm. Drake's heart sank at the heavy, frantic sound of the heavy machine gun. Zoya's giggling squeal was even louder. "It's me!" she bellowed. "This is what I was made for!"
  
  Even the trees shook under the fire. One younger copy groaned and collapsed, torn apart, rolled towards the house and hit the roof. Drake saw two men risk peeking out of their hiding places only to be torn to pieces. He was sitting with his back against the thick base of an old oak tree, reloading his weapon when splinters broke off the tree and flew past him. Mai knelt between his legs, facing him.
  
  "I didn't expect this to happen," she said.
  
  "Yes, but we had to."
  
  Drake fired blindly from behind one side of the oak tree, Mai from the other. Drake could see the commander of the Russian special forces, pinned to the ground behind a log, the entire length of which was gnawed by bullets. Drake glanced furtively at the tree and could hardly believe his eyes. Zoe stood like a grotesque statue, immobile, bleeding in at least three places, hard as a rock and radical, the very expression of fanaticism taken to the extreme.
  
  He looked back at Mai, hardly believing his next words. "Grenade".
  
  To her credit, she blinked only twice. She then unhooked a Russian-made grenade, made a suspicious face at it, and hurled it behind a large tree.
  
  "Let's hope it works."
  
  Drake followed her flight hopefully, but Zoe noticed it immediately and roared as if the noise itself could create a barrier. She lowered her weapon and clumsily moved towards the grenade flying at her.
  
  Then she pulled back her leg...
  
  Drake opened his mouth. "Damn it! She's about to fire a volley-"
  
  ...and thrown out. Zoe's giant foot hurled the spinning grenade with such force that her boot flew up in an arc through the trees.
  
  But she missed the grenade.
  
  Drake dived back. Zoya's elephantine roar drowned out even the initial explosion of the grenade, but was abruptly cut off as shrapnel shredded her body. A deafening roar and sudden silence caused a dozen men to look up.
  
  Drake loaded his gun. "Russian football". He shook his head. "I never thought of much."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  
  
  Drake, Mai, and the SWAT soldiers stepped out cautiously, keeping their eyes on the motionless carcass blocking the way to the door. Everyone waited expectantly, but when no more defenders appeared, the commander looked at Drake.
  
  "Do you think she guarded the house alone?"
  
  It took Drake time to reload his weapon and regroup. "I wouldn't be surprised."
  
  May crept up to the door. "Time to enter the monster's lair."
  
  "Well, if that's how you put the question." Drake covered her back, his eyes darting around. But he wasn't just looking for enemy soldiers, they were more like Zoe's booby traps. As they approached the mammoth's body, Mai stopped, looking down in awe.
  
  "She was three times my size."
  
  "But she fell as hard as any extremist." Drake snorted. "Just like Zanko would if I ever see him again."
  
  They stepped over the body, and the Spetsnaz soldiers came up behind. Mai started up the stairs and Drake almost reached out to stop her. He suddenly had a vision of another person whom he loved being killed. He tried his best to shake off his discomfort. It was something he had been working on for too long, and he thought he was moving on. He may have been influenced by May's own current period of unrest.
  
  Because if Mai Kitano felt insecure, then something was wrong and the shit was really going to hit the proverbial fan.
  
  Holding onto his hand, he followed her up Zoe's wooden porch and through the bullet-riddled doorway. After that, they passed through a sparsely furnished living room with a kitchen and a king-size bed. The dark, relatively small room smelled of sweat, alcohol, and, oddly enough, cookies. Drake saw that the furnace was lit, its engine whirring in the distance, but he knew it was best not to approach yet.
  
  There was another open door in front of them, and that was where Mai stepped next. But she stopped at a gap the size of Zoe and began shaking her head.
  
  "You need to see this, Matt."
  
  Drake stepped to her shoulder. The sight that met his eyes made him sigh sharply. There, high, almost to the roof, treasures were stacked - everything from a pile of banknotes to coins and trinkets; from machine guns and landmines, Claymores and at least one RPG with scattered grenades; from works of art still in their original frames to swords, spears and wickedly gleaming traps.
  
  Mai looked at Drake. "Monster Treasure".
  
  "Oh yeah. Damn right. What a crazy psycho."
  
  Mai pointed to the floor. It was the only room in the house with carpeting. "bad sign"
  
  The SWAT commander ordered one of his men to investigate, but Drake was already on his knees, carefully lifting the edge of the carpet. Sure enough, the wire nest ran underneath him, and he could see the pale gray side of what looked like a laptop bag.
  
  "Cushion Pillows".
  
  "No problem". The Spetsnaz commander pointed to the roof, and within ten minutes his men had installed the lift system. Drake watched the moving heap of treasure warily.
  
  "At least we know what a bloody sword looks like. Call Patterson from the van. He could help. I'll go first."
  
  Mai grimaced at the sight of the Russian-made pulley system. "You will definitely do it. Enjoy it. Oh, and Matt? The clock is ticking..."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  
  
  Dahl knew time was running out fast. The journey by plane and car, ending in rough terrain, took many hours. On the way, Ackerman only made things worse by reminding him of one of his earlier translations: "The doomsday device is a weapon that will cause an overload of the elements. The earth will shake. The air will be torn apart by mega-storms of incredible ferocity. Chains of volcanoes will erupt. And the oceans will rise." .'
  
  "It's happened before," Ackerman said with cold certainty. "I'm sure you're aware of the amazing factual evidence that a continent once existed in the mid-Pacific. It is here that all the theories about the 'lost continent' find their roots. And there is evidence to support a "world-changing" event that happened ten to fifteen thousand years ago."
  
  "Meteorite. Supervolcano. Eruption on the Pacific coast." Dahl counted the apocalyptic events on his fingers. "That doesn't mean it was Odin's device, Olle."
  
  "That doesn't mean it didn't happen either." The translator almost sulked.
  
  Dal slowed down as Eyjafjallajökul appeared in the distance. The car bounced along the winding road, surrounded by mist and bright sunlight alternately. Ackerman pointed to the view to their left.
  
  "You know, Thorsten, that mountain over there is Mount Hekla, the most active volcano in Iceland. In ancient times it was known as the gate to hell. Small world, right? This place." He waved his hand around. "He always had his ghosts."
  
  Dahl nodded, not really listening. He scanned the road ahead. During the flight, he contacted his Minister of State and enlisted the help of an SGG unit, at least two of whom had once been part of his old crew. After speaking with Karin, who was coordinating operations at the "three tombs", he learned that everyone was late except for Alicia - the biker gang was approaching Singen rather quickly.
  
  Dahl pulled off the road, now quite close to the rendezvous point. He tapped the wheel. SGG are late. They agreed to meet here because Ackerman, who was intimately familiar with the tomb and its access points, knew of an alternate entry point, one set up by a coalition to assist high-profile individuals and less energetic individuals. It may still be guarded, but breaking through would be easier than crawling in single file through a winding tunnel.
  
  As they waited, the dark skies turned black, and the outline of the mountain stood out sharply against the clear sky. Dahl received a message saying that his men were close, and then a few minutes later they came out of the darkness.
  
  "Did you walk?" Ackerman asked pointedly.
  
  Dahl raised his hand. "Now calm down, Olle. This is where the soldiers do their job. Are you ready to storm this volcano?"
  
  His people nodded.
  
  "Fine. Because the future of the world may depend on our success."
  
  Dahl was in front, Ackerman in the center of the group behind. If his calculations were correct and nothing else happened to delay the other teams on their way to Hawaii, Shingen, and Babylon, they had about an hour to clear the tomb and find the third man. They planned to hit each tomb at the same time. Hayden had timed it, but the jet lag and proposed travel schedules were a tangled web. Despite this, everyone agreed that the chaos of a joint attack would confuse the enemy and hopefully confuse their seemingly clear plans.
  
  Now Dahl rested his hand on a protruding slab of cold stone for a moment. The ground beneath their feet was soft, rippling, the surrounding landscape shimmering with the silvery light of a low-hanging moon. A gust of wind swept past, its icy jaws snapping. Dahl winced. He spent too much time in warmer climes.
  
  As one, the group quietly moved into an artificial tunnel, supported in places by heavy-duty acrow props. The passage felt temporary, as if this insignificant labyrinth would soon be rebuilt by an unbreakable mountain, but the people who sought and toiled here at least tried to give it an air of hospitality. A coalition flag hung on a wall lined at twenty-foot intervals by vending machines selling Pepsi, candy bars, and packets of crispy chips. A leather-bound visitor's book lay halfway open on the table, a stack of flashlights, helmet lamps, and other safety equipment near the end. Dahl noticed two security cameras, but none of them had a flashing red light.
  
  At the entrance to the mountain Dahl discovered the first body. The man in the white coat lay prostrate and cold, the crusted red balloon on his lab coat indicating that he had been shot in the back while trying to escape.
  
  What would that change, Dahl thought. If one scientist escaped?
  
  Cold fury filled his veins. Mercenary work was rarely pleasant and often characterized by a cold, ruthless impassivity, but such callousness as this demanded equal retribution.
  
  He made a pause. In Ackerman's description, this entrance began at the top of a bottomless pit, which was hastily fenced off with a railing, but if they followed the path to the right, this led to one thing that the coalition forces rigged, which greatly simplified this fantastic excavation.
  
  Elevator.
  
  A temporary elevator was bolted to the side of the mountain, providing access to all three levels of the tomb, although the last level took them to the opposite end, giving them the choice between a dizzying climb or a short ride on a small-capacity cable car, which was also recently built.
  
  Neither is recommended for the faint of heart.
  
  Dahl immediately noticed the elevator. An array of solid metal structures painted red with a simple boxcar attached to the side. When he exited the tunnel, he was transported back almost six months to the first time he accompanied Drake to this tomb in search of Odin's bones. The black abyss stood before him, seemingly overflowing with ancient power, vast and endless, hiding secrets in the deepest chasms that man could never hope to discover.
  
  A little higher he saw the first row of niches that marked the tombs of the gods, now brightly lit by a frame of lights. All this seemed a far cry from his previous visit.
  
  "Purely". Bengtsson, one of Dahl's old teammates, surveyed the area. "Maybe they're dug around the main entrance and Odin's tomb, sir."
  
  "It makes sense". Dahl walked carefully to the elevator and studied the controls. Nothing special, but the sound of working machinery would have alerted everyone to their presence.
  
  The next second it didn't matter. A figure emerged from the darkness behind the elevator, just a pale complexion. Bengtsson fired first, the opponent's shot missed the target. Dahl swore and jumped into the elevator, dragging Ackerman with him. Their attacker was defeated when the rest of the SGG team joined Dahl, who pressed the second level control button.
  
  As the elevator shifted into gear and began to ascend, bullets shot out of the darkness, punching through the wire frame of the elevator door and bouncing off its surroundings.
  
  Dahl crouched low, shielding Ackerman. Bengtsson, Forström, and Hagberg fired back blindly, hoping to sow panic in the enemy. The elevator purred slowly, slowly. Dahl looked up, thinking of the approaching levels, but saw no sign of the defenders waiting there.
  
  "I have this feeling," he said. "Whatever power took over this tomb, they didn"t expect to have to wait long enough to protect it. And this is a bad feeling, my friends."
  
  The elevator trembled as it approached the first level. Dahl raised his weapon and fired through the diamond-shaped wire holes as they climbed risklessly, but there were no guards on the first level. They climbed even higher, the view below changing from breathtaking to pitch black as the rock of the mountain got in the way. Then a second sloping level of niches came into view. Dal peered intently at the tombs, one of which, he knew, must belong to Thor, the other to Loki. Time has stopped for the Scandinavians. How he wished he had time to visit this place.
  
  SPEAR - that's not all. And it was true, but now he felt a deep loyalty to his friends and to Jonathan Gates, the man who had given him the chance to be part of one of the most elite black ops teams in the world. He was in their debt.
  
  Finally, the elevator trembled to a halt at its highest level. The SGG team quickly pushed open the door and fanned out. Ackerman followed Dahl and pointed to the cable car.
  
  "Bullshit". Dahl followed the two support cables as they disappeared down the slope into the darkness. They will end at the very top, next to Odin's grave. "We need a better plan."
  
  It was ugly, but it was the best they could do under the circumstances. The SGG team started at pace, aiming to reach Odin's Plateau the hard way. Dahl gave them a five-minute head start, and then, together with Ackerman, climbed into the swinging cable car. He smiled sadly at his friend.
  
  "Sorry Olle, but with such a big risk, I need you to be with me."
  
  "If I die, I will haunt your bedroom, my friend."
  
  "I feel the same as you." Dahl pressed the green button, bringing the trembling machine of three to life. He made a dash that sent Ackerman to his knees and hit the road. Dahl held out his hand. "We spared no expense on equipment, huh?"
  
  The car swayed dangerously as it went up. Even Dahl made it a rule not to look around. Soon they were swallowed up by darkness, and for a while it seemed to him that he was dreaming, and all these efforts were just a way out of a long-lived nightmare. But when Olle touched his shoulder, he patted the man hard on the arm.
  
  "It's all right, buddy. It won't go any further."
  
  Dal peered into the darkness, tightly clutching the thick support post with his fingers. Ackerman stood next to him, the two men surrounded by total absence of light, the only sound being the skidding and grinding of wheel tracks over the cable. Dahl nearly jumped out of his own skin as a heavy grinding sound fired his imagination.
  
  "Now it sounds like something is crawling up the mountain," Ackerman breathed into his ear.
  
  "So it is," Dahl whispered back. "We".
  
  The cable car creaked slightly over the uneven rock as it approached the cliff. The radiant glow of the lights illuminated the darkness above. Dahl readied his weapon confidently, without looking, as the vehicle tumbled over the last mound of rock, revealing a view of Odin's wide plateau.
  
  His first impression was of the mad battle they both won and lost here, of him jumping into the darkness, bound only by a piece of rope, to save Drake's life.
  
  And then he didn't even like the thick-headed Yorkshire terrier.
  
  His second impression was anxiety. The meeting committee consisted of eight strong, fully equipped mercenaries with hard expressions and only one intention. Drop this intruder from the sky.
  
  Behind them rose the tomb of Odin, now empty, but which seemed to him as magnificent as when he first saw it. An elderly man stood at the entrance and, meeting Dahl's gaze, turned away excitedly to look at his watch.
  
  A sharp bark from below indicated a call to action. Machine guns opened fire. Dahl grabbed Ackerman and ducked under the unoccupied windows. The whole car rocked wildly. Metallic ringing interspersed with the rumble of automatic weapons.
  
  Ackerman cursed. Dahl tightened his grip. "Everything is fine. These-"
  
  The bullet penetrated the floor of the car and exited the roof, leaving two ragged holes.
  
  Ackerman recoiled, but there was nowhere to go. Another bullet pierced the floor. A man's laughter came from downstairs. They were having a great time. Mercenary attitude.
  
  Dahl moved to action. Staying there meant dying. One way or another, they had to keep moving. As the car reversed, he jumped forward, reaching the front in one leap. He grabbed the window frame and quickly jumped out, showering bullets on the ground below. The mercenaries yelled and scattered, their fun interrupted. He slung the gun over his shoulder, grabbed the curved roof, and climbed out of the car. Using his legs like a piston, he climbed onto the roof of the car, holding on tightly to the edges on both sides to keep from falling. More bullets thundered around him, some whizzing through and past Dahl's body. Without stopping, he rolled and got up on one knee, immediately took aim and fired down at the mercenaries as the cable car rocked wildly back and forth. Somehow he managed to keep both knees firmly apart. In the next second, he heard screams of surprise from below.
  
  Finally. Bengtsson and the others have arrived.
  
  Dahl reached out and grabbed the steering cable of the car. Shifting his arms, he made his way the last few feet to the cable car station, a small ledge of rock with a vertical staircase leading down to the Odin Plateau. As he staggered, a bullet whistled past his shoulder. Dahl fought fire with fire, loosening his grip with one hand, unhooking his weapon and pouring lead over his target. The man crawled to the side, but received a bullet in his bulletproof vest and fell to the ground face first. Dahl, hanging on one arm, threw the pistol onto a rocky ledge and jumped over it.
  
  Suddenly, he had the perfect vantage point.
  
  He dropped to one knee and took aim at the mercenaries. This battle, he thought, is over.
  
  But then the civilian stopped looking at his watch, shouted a warning to the mercenaries, and raised his hands in the air.
  
  Dahl's eyes went wide as the rumbling began. It looked like the real battle was about to begin.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  
  
  Drake and his team stubbornly and quickly returned to the Babylon Pit. By the time they got out of the military Hummer and stepped out into the cool desert night next to one of Razin's old tents, they had less than an hour before Hayden's agreed time.
  
  But what the hell were they supposed to do?
  
  The team solved part of the puzzle after rescuing the Great Sword from Zoya's treasury. Patterson used his experience and Ackerman's notes on the rock to decipher the last short inscription.
  
  Take the Great Sword to the Pit.
  
  "This is all?" May asked.
  
  Even Patterson seemed inconsolable. "Shit. Yes, that's all it says here."
  
  "No instruction manual?"
  
  Drake shook his head. "Not such a great sword after all."
  
  "The inscription is enough," Patterson mused. "Maybe that"s all we need to know?"
  
  "It must be," Drake growled. "Tell us more about this bloody pit."
  
  Patterson spread his hands. "I don't know anything else. Not much is known about the Babylon Pit. It can also be a vortex of earth energy. It has been described as a deep, dark hole with mud and mud and just... nothingness. You understand? The remains of the original, most sinful city of all time were buried there and then dug up. What remained was the absence of everything. You certainly know that some places that experience intense trauma or tragedy absorb that worry and suffering. They become dark forever."
  
  "Are you saying the hole is haunted?" Drake cut the bull and staked it in true Yorkshire style.
  
  "No. I'm saying that just like people, a terrible ordeal can damage a place, tarnishing it forever. Do I need to cite facts?"
  
  "For God's sake, no," Drake finally groaned.
  
  Now that the world was unaware of the possible end of the world, Drake and May led Patterson and Yorga past the slightly swaying tents to the edge of the Babylon Pit. Nothing has changed since Razin and his men left. Tools and boxes were scattered all over the place. The winch was idle, its man-sized bucket swaying slightly. All four turned on their flashlights to survey the area.
  
  Drake raised his sword. "I don't understand -"
  
  The mammoth appeared out of nowhere; hairy, huge, growling like an earthquake, and hungry for the kill. Drake felt the bullet hit him in the stomach, nearly snapping him in half, his relaxed state actually saving his life as he flexed lightly instead of resisting.
  
  Mai's piercing scream nearly stopped his heart. "Zanco!"
  
  "You killed her!" It was the roar of a man gone mad.
  
  Drake was carried twenty feet and then thrown into the Babylon Pit, the sword clattering off into the darkness. As he fell helplessly, his eyes looked up - and he saw Zanko jump right behind him.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hayden called the commander of the Diamond Head as she and Kinimaku were being driven at high speed towards an extinct volcano. Her words stunned him, leaving him speechless.
  
  "I want a full scale attack! Now!"
  
  His lack of response made her furious. "Did you hear me?"
  
  "Y...yes. All-out attack? You are sure? I will have to confirm this through my captain."
  
  "I'm your fucking captain! Do it!" She hung up, knowing that it would take him another five precious minutes to get confirmation of the order she had given him.
  
  Kinimaka squeezed her hand. "We will do it".
  
  Hayden shook her head. "We have less than an hour to continue our simultaneous attack. If everyone else strikes and we are late, it could lead to disaster."
  
  "Call Karin. Turn back time."
  
  "I did. Dal is already in his tomb. Drake doesn't answer. Alicia is pinned to the ground." She met his gaze. "As a team, we are scattered, uninformed and all over the place. We're losing this one."
  
  Kinimaka pointed ahead. "We are almost there. Hang freely." He gave her a semblance of a smile.
  
  But Hayden shook her head. "Don't you understand this? This is the biggest one. Not just for some crazy, king-of-the-hill-playing Mano. This is also the final move of the gods. Their last chance. And this should be their Ragnarok, not ours."
  
  Diamond Head crater loomed ahead, and they drove down the long winding road to its mouth, through a short tunnel, and out into the sunlit bowl. To their right, military forces had gathered, their advance units, fortunately, already climbing the mountain. Hayden jumped out and ran to the main one. Almost like an afterthought, Kinimaka grabbed the two Swords of Babylon and followed him.
  
  "Thank you for clearing the way so quickly. My partner and I," she pointed to Kinimaku, "should go down there. Fast."
  
  "We've only just begun the attack, little lady," the hard-faced officer told her dryly. "You just jump where it suits you."
  
  Hayden checked her Glock and extra ammo as Kinimaka worked her way to the front of the assault team. More than one soldier bounced off him, almost sprawling, but the Hawaiian's face did not brook objections. They stepped into the tunnel, instantly under fire. A dozen soldiers crept ahead of them, moving in formation, shelling the mercenary defenses and pinning them to the ground.
  
  Hayden saw a glimmer of opportunity. "Forward!" She slapped Kinimaku on the broad shoulder, sending him flying like a trap sprinter. Shooting furiously, they overcame the mercenary defenses in a matter of seconds and rushed down the passage after them. The newly formed long slope led them to the room where Cook's 'Hell's Gate' was located.
  
  Kinimaka took a deep breath. "Crap".
  
  "Just go." Hayden brushed past him, knowing he would follow her to any hell, and walked under the old archway, using her flashlight to illuminate the smooth rocky path ahead of them. The tramp of feet behind betrayed the presence of at least one enemy soldier. Kinimaka slowed down, but Hayden pulled him forward.
  
  "No time. Just run!"
  
  The bullets hit the stone walls. Hayden ducked her head and broke through the darkness. Together, they overcame the eternal threat of Wrath by jumping over dormant fire vents and pierced the needle of Greed, traversing the trident's trails at full speed. Their pursuers struggled to keep up at first, probably surprised by their actions, but soon realized their intentions to run all the way to Odin's chair.
  
  Bullets whistled around them as they raced through Lust, shattering outrageous statues, slicing through priceless, inventive paintings, but not slowing them down. They trudged through the chaos covered in mud, rocks, and lead shards, their heads down, clattering across the temporary bridge that had been erected over the sulphurous Lake Envi, hopping on all fours over the belly of the Gluttony statue, and even partially rolling down the passage where there were huge stone spheres.
  
  Bruised, beaten and determined, they finally came to a huge cavern where a zipline had once led to an S-shaped ledge that ended at Odin's throne. A new misplaced bridge of blue metal was built across the great chasm. Hayden and Kinimaka jumped on it and streaked down its length, making it sway but avoiding the side rails, which would only slow them down. Hayden fired over her shoulder as their pursuers-two men in all-bombed out of the tunnel. They dived to the ground, giving Hayden and her partner seconds to jump off the other end.
  
  Finally, they, breathing heavily, overcame the last obstacle. Odin's chair came into view.
  
  And finally, Hayden stopped, his face contorted in horror. "Oh no, we're late."
  
  The man straightened up on Odin's throne, arms raised straight above his head, his face turned to the roof that hovered high above, and to the heavens, and to the heavens beyond.
  
  Did the earth begin to shake?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake hit the edge of the pit, its slope slowing his fall, but not enough. His gun disappeared into a bottomless pit. He was still falling, and the nightmarish figure of Zanko fell behind him, roaring with bloodlust. Drake then hit a man-made platform, several planks of scaffolding erected by the Russians, and groaned as his descent abruptly stopped. Pain pierced his spine, ribs. But he didn't have time to assess any damage.
  
  Zanko collapsed next to him and completely destroyed the platform. The wood shattered and the metal poles flew to the side. Drake fell again, clinging to the sides of the pit but finding no support in the squelching mess that hung there. The hard-packed ledge of mud slowed him down enough to grab on, but his feet dragged through the pitch darkness. He stretched hard, pushing his legs and rising. Darkness surrounded him.
  
  After all that, they lost that fucking sword!
  
  He looked up to see Mai at the top of the pit, struggling with someone-
  
  Falling on her back, Mai put her hands behind her head and jumped to her feet with her body, surprising Razin when he pointed the gun at her head. The side impact freed him from the weapon, but not before it was empty the bullet almost took off Yorgi's head.
  
  "We returned here," Razin spat at her. "To avenge the murder of Zoya. Where else could you go? That's where it all started."
  
  Mai wasn't in the mood to talk. She hit the older man hard, but he surprised her by jumping back and stepping aside. Space.
  
  What did she do? The old Mai Kitano, even Mai a few weeks ago, would never have let that happen.
  
  She was compromised. She took a breath and tried to clear her mind.
  
  "Have you returned to Babylon? Just to avenge her. Why would you do this?"
  
  Razin swallowed. Zoya was my wife.
  
  Mai opened her mouth but said nothing. What was she supposed to say to that? It would be disrespectful to make fun of this man despite his shortcomings. She was not Alicia Miles.
  
  Then Razin's hand appeared from behind. Yorgi shouted a warning, "Another gun!" Mai turned around to reduce the distance to her target and rushed at him. Her hands touched the dirt, she bent over and threw her body into the air, her legs were aimed at Razin's head.
  
  The impact snapped his neck instantly, snuffing out the spark of his life, but not before the gun fired a single shot, passing within millimeters of her torso.
  
  Patterson screamed and sank as the bullet went through him, falling and tumbling over the edge of the Babylon Pit, following his dreams down.
  
  Drake could only watch in horror as the body flew by. As the professor fell, the flashlight he was holding fell with him, its beam revealing a shimmering kaleidoscope of jagged rocks, climbing plants, black mud and-
  
  - sword!
  
  Drake caught a glimpse of it about ten feet above him. The point plunged into the wall of the pit. He quickly put his hands on the walls of the pit and grabbed them, checked his weight and pulled.
  
  The hand that grabbed his ankle was straight out of a nightmare. It was a monster poking out from under the bed, a beast crawling out of a hole. It was Zanko, covered in mud.
  
  "Little man," he breathed. "We need to settle scores."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  
  
  Drake knew that his only advantage was to maintain a higher position. Without thinking, he loosened his grip on the edge of the pit and stepped on Zanko's hand. The Russian anticipated this move and evaded slightly. Drake's seal grazed the Russian's hand, which only threw him off balance. He fell and rolled onto his side. Zanko's other hand appeared out of nowhere, hammering into Drake's chest. The air was forced out of him, he could only breathe heavily as Zanko pulled himself up.
  
  But Drake recovered quickly. He threw a clod of earth in the face of the Russian and brought down a series of blows to the huge torso, working out all the pressure points he knew. As the monster approached sharply, arms flailing, Drake stepped aside and landed one of the hardest blows of his life to Zanko's face.
  
  The Russian's nose burst, blood spattered his cheeks, chin and eyes. Blinded, he lunged to the edge of the pit to keep from falling. Drake leaned back and brought his knee up, kicking the man's ribs. That blow would have sent the grizzly over the edge, but Zanko only grunted, half turned around and raised his hands. With unrivaled caution, he sniffed the armpit.
  
  "For you". He inhaled loudly, then roared at the top of his voice, his face redder than the blood that covered it. "For Zoya!"
  
  He lunged at Drake, intending to take them both off the ledge and into the hole. Drake didn't see where to go. When he looked into the eyes of the advancing madman, he knew that this was indeed the end.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia and the fucking Hellslayers swooped down on Shingen's tomb with everything they had. Burdened with a suspicious package containing two swords, but then fortunately finding that a host of modern weaponry awaited them, they joined the local German troops and surrounded the third tomb with unstoppable force.
  
  The passage, which descended into the bowels of the Earth, has been significantly expanded in the past few months and several tributaries have been added. To their credit, the commander of the German special forces sent units in all directions - as tricks and to reinforce the main forces that broke through along the main artery. Alicia moved at the head of the pack, all ready for battle, aware of the time limit Karin had given her, but unaware of how the rest of the SPEAR team was doing.
  
  All she knew was that everyone she loved and cared for was now in danger, fighting the mysterious lunatics to keep control of her planet.
  
  Men fell in front of her, bullets piercing them or piercing their vests, sometimes hitting their heads, taken off by cowardly mercenaries who had crouched at the head of the corridor. Alicia and her team fired relentlessly, pulverizing the stone walls around the tomb's arched entrance, creating a fog of stone fragments and spent shell casings that helped cover up their attack. Lomas, Rebeye, and the laid-back Lex ran beside her, handling modern weapons with ease. Ribeye, she knew, was a former commando, but as for the others, she had no idea where they had learned their skills.
  
  Best not to ask, Lomas told her.
  
  No problem. Alicia had enough skeletons of her own not to question those of others. The only time she drew a line was after the horrifying recent realization that her new biker nickname - Taz - was also a video game character. Elf. Every biker, under pain of being castrated or decapitated, promised never to tell anyone on the SPEAR team, especially Mai Kitano. Now, putting aside her worries, she jumped over the body of a fallen German soldier and rolled into the hall, recognizing it from the last time she was here - high, wall-girdling niches that housed the most evil gods, a central ring of statues that were built to take nine parts of Odin.
  
  Now no longer needed, because someone has found a fail-safe, different way to activate the damn device.
  
  And, to her horror, she could see a strange, pale glow emanating from the niches themselves. Did parts of the god's body shine? Hidden energy in this place, powering them?
  
  She fired hard, blowing one of the statues to pieces as well as the mercenary who was hiding behind her. Other passages were vomited up by German troops. Bikers filled the void behind her. People fell to their knees and let loose deadly volleys, bullets pierced the tomb of the gods with an infernal hail of death. At the center of it all were the screams rising on wings of excruciating pain and murder, all of which were greeted with joy by the crumbling, long-dead denizens of the tomb.
  
  Then Alicia literally dropped her jaw.
  
  At the center of everything, like a dynamo, stood Russell Cayman; naked, bloody, his hands frantically thrashing the air.
  
  A real hell blew her world to shreds.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake rushed along. Zanko screamed and clung helplessly to him, but nothing could stop the juggernaut. His feet hit Drake in the ribs, firing cannonballs of agony into his spine, sending him head over heels into the center of the pit. Drake turned his head as the monster somehow managed to stop its fall, with hands like excavator buckets grasping the wall of the pit.
  
  Drake stood up quickly. Zanko hung helplessly in front of him, too far to return to safety, too heavy to climb to the top of the pit.
  
  Drake didn't gloat. He needed this sword. He scanned the walls above as best he could, pinpointed the sword, and took hold of the stone.
  
  Zanko's voice came from the darkness. "Why did you kill her?"
  
  Drake paused, shockingly aware that this man knew nothing about true values, about morality, and he had no conscience, but also understood that it was not entirely the fault of the Russian. "It goes back to a gang of human traffickers," he said quietly. "You don't mess with innocents, their families, their children. You can't kill someone else's wife and hope to stay alive."
  
  When Zanko couldn't answer, Drake took a step forward, then another. The mixture of stone and earth held up well, despite being hidden behind a layer of pure dirt. He was about to take another cautious step when the question he once asked Yorgi crept into his mind again. He wiped his hands and felt a desperate need overcome him.
  
  "Have you ever heard of an operative named Coyote?"
  
  At first there was no answer. Then Zanko's determined voice broke the silence. "Little human, you are a worthy opponent. Possibly one of the few I have come across. You did a good job in the prison yard, so I'll give you this. The coyote is a shadow, a whisper, a ghost designed to scare the big bad guys like me. They say she comes with the wind and goes with your head, silent, swift, unstoppable. She will kill you before you can blink and look away before you see her. Coyote?" A sharp bark. "She is the demon of legend made flesh."
  
  "Who says all this?"
  
  Zoya. They met. One day. They say that if this Coyote respects you, she will only take your life."
  
  Drake has moved. "Only?"
  
  "But if she doesn"t like you or if you did something very bad, she will move on..."
  
  Drake licked his lips. Darkness hung heavily over him. "What do you mean next?"
  
  "She exposes you to the devil's blow."
  
  "Devil's cut?"
  
  "So they say."
  
  With that, there was a faint rustle, and then the sound of something huge chasing the moving shadows down into eternal darkness. Drake took one look, sighed, and looked up.
  
  To the sword.
  
  Take the Great Sword to the Pit.
  
  His hand closed on the hilt. Well, there he was.
  
  What's next?
  
  He looked up. Mai looked down at him.
  
  "Beware. The sky is falling down!"
  
  Drake remembered an old Dinorock tune. "Now is not the time for-"
  
  Then he staggered back as a thunderstorm and lightning hit him.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  
  
  Hayden ran like the wind, noticing the gap ahead, gauging its width and jumping over it without hesitation. A tall man who appeared to be in his early fifties stood over her, laughing as he paced around the black granite throne of Odin, finally spotted her and shouted a command.
  
  "Kill her. In any case, she was late. The Shadow Elite will soon control destiny itself again!"
  
  A man came into view under the throne, aiming a pistol. Hayden flinched, completely exposed, but then a Glock clicked behind her head and the man's pistol shot out of his hand, struck by a bullet. Kinimaka fired first, and it appeared to be his last shot as the next one clicked into the empty chamber. Hayden lunged at his attacker as a knife appeared in his other hand. She ducked as he lashed out and dug her stiff fingers into his throat.
  
  He gasped, but did not fall. He lashed out at her again. She caught the wrist and broke it, but the man was tough and he was trained. He also intervened and stabbed her in the stomach, causing her to double over. She dropped to one knee. She felt an elbow lift above her, preparing for the final blow that would break her neck.
  
  "Hey! Look up!"
  
  The scream made her look sideways just in time to see the spinning sword blade arcing towards her. The man above hesitated, half stepping back, and that was his fall. Hayden caught the hilt of his sword and spun around in one calculated motion, feeling the blade slice through the cartilage of his neck.
  
  Kinimaka headed for the stairs that led to Odin's throne.
  
  Hayden began to follow her, but at that moment she felt something huge begin to line up around her. A sudden crackle of invisible energy filled the air with the smell of static electricity, similar to the ozone created by thunderclouds. When she looked up, she saw lightning strike the stone next to Odin's chair.
  
  What the hell was Ackerman saying about the doomsday device as a weapon that could manipulate the elements?
  
  It was already too late.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Dahl immediately saw the big threat and threw the weapon over his shoulder. The man in the suit was at the center of it all, and his capture would surely put an end to it. He grabbed onto the ladder, hands and feet at his sides, and after a few seconds he slid down it to its full length. When he reached the bottom, he broke into a fast run, seeing one of the mercenaries turn in his direction and roll to shoot down the man's target. The bullet whistled past. Bengtsson ended the threat with a head kick. This was the last resistance of the mercenaries.
  
  The man in the suit read Dahl's intentions, but he didn't bat an eye either, just kept staring up at the roof of the volcano, facing the starry sky beyond. In his right hand he held what looked like a long, thick bone. Could this be the sword of one of the gods?
  
  "We united," Dahl heard him say, and then opened his mouth.
  
  The squall began to rage inside the mountain, penetrating the man's jacket. The very air crackled. The rock began to tremble. Lightning struck before his eyes, hissing and flickering, charging the air with electricity, circling around the man's body and firing into the air and, beyond, into the sky.
  
  A storm was coming that would end all storms.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia ran straight for Russell Cayman, but then an elemental storm erupted around him, and a blast of energy knocked her back. Was it earth energy? The whirlwind flared up, the guarantees and conditions of the gods finally worked.
  
  "Are you crazy?" she yelled at Cayman. "You turned on the fucking doomsday device."
  
  Caiman's face was drenched in sweat and glory and brightly lit by lightning. In one hand he held a gigantic skull, no doubt the head of Kali. Alicia saw bright energy bolts emanating from her eye sockets and mouth cavities.
  
  The terrible face of Caiman turned to her. "So," he said. "Now I'm back home."
  
  The flickering lightning tree rose higher and higher, gusts of wind swept through the hall. Alicia knelt down, helpless this time, to do something about it. The niches above her trembled before her eyes, beginning to shake in the throes of an approaching earthquake.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  At each tomb, a tall column of light rose from the bowels of the Earth. The three whirlwinds exploded together, releasing their powerful earth energy in one all-powerful explosion. Charged with the energy of the tombs, charged and activated by the bones of the gods, crackling bolts of incandescent energy tore the tops off each tomb and rushed into the clouds and skies. The cannonball hissed around the three men; Block, Caiman and Denny, enveloping them in a cocoon of white fire.
  
  Hayden lost her grip on the stairs, fell back and hit the stone plateau hard. Kinimaka made a difficult choice and jumped down to help her, holding her head.
  
  "Oh, Mano," she whispered. "You keep saving my life."
  
  He bowed his head until their noses touched. "Without you, there is no life worth living."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Dahl rushed towards the bright light, tearing through the lightning, cursing as the gun was yanked from his fingers as he approached the man in the suit. His thumb grazed the man's wrist seconds before he was thrown back to his knees, thrown back by the force of the storm, his slide stopped only by Bengtsson and two other SGG soldiers.
  
  Bowing their heads, they tried to stand on their feet in the roaring whirlwind...
  
  All three tombs began to collapse. First, the rocks around them had caved in, blocks of stone chipping and sliding down, shattering on the floor below. Then the niches themselves began to collapse, a cascade of smaller stones falling like a destructive waterfall. Extensive cracks stretched from niche to niche. Large blocks began to move and rumble, the ominous crack of the unbreakable rock struck terror into the hearts of all who heard.
  
  Hayden's eyes glared at Kinimaku. "We have to get the hell out of here."
  
  "Not yet".
  
  Kinimaka left her and started up the stairs, sword slung over his back. Hayden took a breath and followed him, reaching Odin's throne a second later. Kinimaka stepped forward and literally broke through the power that surrounded Zakblock, pushing forward until he was face to face with the Shadow Elite maniac.
  
  "Stop it," he shouted. "Turn it off!"
  
  The fanatic's eyes went wide as if he had just realized that he forgot to do just that. "It works," Kinimaka heard him say. "I have strength".
  
  "Then prove it. Turn it off!"
  
  The Shadow Elite leader dropped the finger bone he was holding and at first seemed to be trying to focus and clear his mind. Then he closed his eyes and left. Finally, he slapped himself.
  
  "I can't".
  
  The energy of the earth, finally released and liberated, spun like an electrically charged whirlwind high in the sky.
  
  Don't stop.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  
  
  Suddenly, Kinimaka saw the branches of a tall, crackling lightning tree stretching towards him. He immediately remembered the description of the energy tree of Nikola Tesla. He tossed Shadow Elite aside, thinking he was the source, and quickly retreated. But the flaming tendrils continued to check for his presence, as if sensing something. Then one of the stalks darted towards him like an arrow, hitting him in the back. Kinimaka squealed, not ashamed of it.
  
  "What the hell!"
  
  Hayden settled down next to him. "Oh shit. Now we are in trouble."
  
  "Why?"
  
  "That lightning just struck your sword."
  
  Kinimaka watched in horror as the entire floating column leaned towards him.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Dal stood rooted to the spot as the lightning tree leaned toward the swinging cable car. He called to Olle, and when the Swedish interpreter stood up, he was clutching both of Alexander's swords.
  
  "I thought they might come in handy," he began, and then he saw an amazing manifestation of the energy of the earth. "Ah," he muttered. "Ah... Torsten..."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia ran across the stone-strewn floor as the energy tower containing all of the elements of the Earth leaned towards the ground, a dazzling petitioner. Lomas brandished one of his swords. She picked up another. Fear and amazement chained her to the spot. There was a primal force here that could tear the world apart. There was real power here, real power. Such a spectacle that could convince a person to worship the gods.
  
  The earth energy then gathered its white fire and blazed straight at the swords Alicia, Lomas, Hayden, Kinimaka, and Ackerman were holding, surrounding their blades in a writhing wreath of shimmering flame, before exploding and shooting upward in a radiant pillar straight through the top of the tombs, now directed away from their originally assigned to the energy of the earth, inherent in swords, and redirected to something new.
  
  Alicia watched in awe as the column of light reached its pinnacle and then swerved to the side.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Drake raised his sword above his head and felt the energy explode. Above him, beyond the edge of the pit where the faces of Mai and Yorga looked anxiously, he saw lights illuminating the sky. The dark night was illuminated by the sun. A wonderful array of crackling and sparkling lights pushed the black curtain aside - the spectacular Northern Lights. Was it the end of the world? He didn't know, but he was prudent enough to plunge the sword higher, its point now touching the top of the pit.
  
  Instantly the world was on fire. Bright flashes of lightning flashed brightly and fell upon the Earth with the sound of thunder. The life energy hit and traveled the entire length of the sword, then rushed down from the hilt to be completely swallowed up by the bottomless abyss of Babylon. A stunning symmetry of radiant energy surrounded Drake and the sword, mini-bolts of lightning crackling in his hair, between his toes, over the tops of his boots, but he remained unharmed.
  
  "It's a damn lightning rod," he said, startled. The other six swords were the same, but less powerful. They drew energy and sent it to their more powerful cousin.
  
  The Babylon Pit devoured every spark of power like a hungry black hole. Down there, nothing moved. Nothing existed. Drake remembered Patterson saying that even the pit itself could be the energy vortex of the earth. But now he knew better.
  
  It was a whirlwind of negative energy, absorbing anything and everything that was thrown at him.
  
  Except for Matt Drake. With the help of his friends, he climbed up and pulled himself over the edge of the pit. The sword still flickered, expending what was left of its power below, so Drake held it above the black hole until the fires running across its blade finally diminished and the skies were returned to the night.
  
  They sat together for a while, mourning the death of Professor Patterson and glad that the world was now safe, but most of all worried about the fate of their friends and teammates.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  
  
  Dahl rushed over to the suit-clad man as the last cracklings of energy faded. He punched himself in the temple, causing his entire body to slide to the ground.
  
  "Interrogation can wait."
  
  He balanced in place, listening. At the very least, the destruction of the energy tree temporarily slowed down the destruction of the old tombs.
  
  Bengtsson stepped forward. "What the hell happened here, sir?"
  
  Dahl looked at Olle Ackerman, still swinging in the cable car. "We won. And now we have to go."
  
  Ackerman stared lonely out the empty windows. "Is there any chance you can put me to bed now?"
  
  Dahl jumped to the stairs. "Wait a minute."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Alicia saw the last remnants of earth energy disappear, then cringed as a high-pitched meow rang out. Her eyes searched and found Russell Cayman, doubled over with his nose on the ground, Kali's shattered skull clutched between his bleeding fingers.
  
  The tombs were still crumbling around them. She thought it really was time to get the fuck out of here, but could they risk leaving Caiman alive?
  
  Never. Alicia had no intention of bringing the psycho back into the real world. She walked between the statues, now in the center of the tomb, and raised her gun.
  
  "You can't kill me," he hissed.
  
  "Just subduing a rabid dog. And you are lucky, Cayman, trust me."
  
  Cayman looked at her miserably and lost. "I don't want to be taken away from my home again. I don't want to be left on the side of the road. Do it. Do it now ".
  
  Alicia hesitated for a moment, wondering what his story was, but the hum of the Desert Eagle put an end to any doubt. Caiman's head exploded, his body falling back, his fingers still holding on to Kali's skull, even in death.
  
  Alicia turned around. Lomas shrugged, pretending to blow smoke from his keg. "We have to get out of here, Taz. This place is falling apart."
  
  The Englishwoman stood by as the bikers and German commandos jogged their way back down the shaking corridors. Behind them, the tomb began to sink steadily. Alicia ignored this and, surrounded by her gang, repeated the words one last time to heighten the gravity of her message.
  
  "Never, ever, mention this name to anyone but this gang. Can you hear me? If you understand me correctly, your balls should start to shrink."
  
  There were several 'for', even from women.
  
  Alicia fled with her new family towards the light.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Kinimaka pushed the Shadow Elite boss down the vertical stairs, knocking him back the last four feet. Rocks crumbled all around them. Even on the throne of Odin, myriads of tiny cracks began to appear.
  
  Hayden met his gaze. Kinimaka nodded. "Run!"
  
  Dragging their prisoner, the two SPEAR operatives followed their own tracks back through the back-up trap system. Small earthquakes threatened to turn them upside down at any moment, but fortunately, the main damage seems to have been inflicted only on the tombs. It was the spectacular end of the gods, the final destruction of their resting places, which now exacerbates the brazen disrespect for their deaths. By the time Hayden and Kinimaka approached ground level, the rumble had stopped, forcing the Hawaiians to stop at the entrance to the gates of hell.
  
  "Then, I suppose this is the last of the gods."
  
  Hayden looked around the arch, the so-called portal, and thought about the two devices that complemented it. What happened to them?
  
  "I think yes. And truth be told, Mano, despite what we may have learned, it"s not that bad."
  
  "Damn right".
  
  "I just hope it's the same in every tomb. I wonder how the others fared." Hayden stared at her camera until the green stripes came to life.
  
  Kinimaka stepped out into the open first, throwing the Shadow Elite boss to the floor at the feet of the assembled military. "The last guy we got out of here," he said, "is still floundering in some top-secret prison. Nobody knows where. I don't expect anything less but the same from you asshole."
  
  Then the day turned into a blur for Kinimaki. Hayden called Karin and confirmed the events at the other two burial sites and Babylon. Jonathan Gates got in touch and publicly thanked them, along with half of the Honolulu military and cops. A Japanese family somehow managed to wander into the object and start taking pictures. His sister, Kono, called and said she needed to see him. She was sure she was being watched. She knew he was in Hawaii and maybe he could stop on his way back to D.C. And finally, ultimately, Hayden pulled him aside and led him to the low rim of the crater.
  
  Behind them, the sparkling Pacific Ocean washed over the golden shores of Waikiki.
  
  "We should call the hotel," Hayden said after a while. "Put yourself in order."
  
  Kinimaka chuckled. "Are you kidding, makamae? My house is a short drive from here."
  
  Hayden grimaced. "Do you want me to meet your mom?"
  
  "Don"t every man want to bring his beautiful girlfriend home?"
  
  Hayden still hesitated uncertainly. "Ah, hard rock in the other direction, you know."
  
  "I know. We can go there tomorrow."
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  
  
  Jonathan Gates embraced Karin and Lauren Fox and even Komodo. It was a team he could rely on, strengthen and trust to always have his back. As Smith and Romero stepped forward, he shook hands cordially. It was a good outcome from a horrendous situation and should have been celebrated, but he had a terrible feeling that it wouldn't always be like this.
  
  What happened next?
  
  Monsters swam near the surface, and there was always another waiting to raise its twisted head. New threats were the staple food of the men and women who defended the free world. For them, it would never end.
  
  Gates soon apologized and left Karin and her colleagues to celebrate. He took a moment to speak to Lauren Fox outside the main communications room.
  
  "Thank you," he said. "I know you were ready to understand everything I asked."
  
  Lauren flew to DC at his request. Now she spoke about her latest experience in New York.
  
  "My apartment was being watched, sir. At least from the first floor. Who knows, maybe someone broke in and bugged the damn place?"
  
  "I find it hard to believe that General Stone saw through you, let alone found you so quickly. Are you sure it was his people?"
  
  Lauren blinked and went through the threads on the old cardigan she wore. "Who else could it be?"
  
  Gates voiced his thoughts. "You are officially registered as a member of the SPEAR team. Authentic records," he stressed. "But, nevertheless, records."
  
  Lauren frowned. "I don't like the way it sounds. I was around, sir. I know how confidential these things really are."
  
  "Then stay here." Gates did not respond to her cynicism. His own impression was that the government security systems were quite thorough. "Only for the moment. For my money. I'll make some inquiries."
  
  As soon as the New Yorker began to smile, Gates turned on his heels and left. It's time to head back to his office. There was still an issue that required urgent attention. Along the way, he passed a heavily locked steel door that led to the facility's underground escape route. Whoever designed it for display at the Pennsylvania mall was a genius. There are more escape routes than at the New York Zoo.
  
  He laughed out loud, then looked around in embarrassment. A senator shouldn't be seen laughing to himself. It makes no sense to supply the opposition with ammunition. He allowed himself another grin as he considered the idea of proposing the same escape strategy to President Coburn before putting on his playful face again and heading out into the open air.
  
  He immediately saw the Secret Service agents. It was good, okay. Behind them stood a second car, a government-issued one, also watching. Why would they send two?
  
  Don't be an idiot, he thought. We just avoided a disaster. Of course, they would have allocated more people for your safety.
  
  Well, the disaster is over. And now he had another urgent matter to attend to.
  
  Taking out his mobile phone, he called Sarah Moxley. In the end, the day seemed like a good day for me to celebrate.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Matt Drake led Mai and Yorgi through the sand dunes to Camp Babylon. A worldwide crisis had been averted, and he hoped it was time to take a break. It seemed to him that he had fought hard for months on end, ever since the gods had first raised their divinely hideous heads.
  
  Now it's time to soak up the sun, play a little Maytime and play a little Dinorok. All the good things in life.
  
  He decided not to think about May's crisis, not yet.
  
  As they raced over rough roads and sandbanks, it took Mai five minutes to call her sister Chika and then Dai Hibiki. She asked about Gyuki and the old clan. She asked about recent sightings and recent killings around the world. She listened in silence for a long time, nothing was read in her eyes in this truly Japanese manner. When she finished talking, Drake spoke up.
  
  "You know, Zanko told me that Zoe knew Coyote."
  
  May never took her eyes off the road. "Um, well, I saw Zoe too, Matt. If I were you, I wouldn't trust Zanko and Zoe too much."
  
  "But still," Drake breathed. "We should visit her house sometime. Maybe we can find some clues."
  
  "May be".
  
  The US Army camp came into view. Drake showed his ID and, after confirmation, drove through the inner gate and took a short break in the camp barracks. After showering and eating, he looked for a quiet corner to call.
  
  "Hey buddy, how are you?"
  
  Ben Blake grumbled something at the end of the line. "Not bad. Anyway, I finally got myself a new bird."
  
  Drake laughed. "God bless. I thought you licked the other side of the stamp for a while."
  
  "Back off".
  
  "What is her name?"
  
  "Stacey".
  
  "Stacey?" Drake laughed. "How is Stacey"s mom? Is everything going her way?"
  
  "Like I haven't heard it yet. Even my father said it. What the hell do you even want?"
  
  "I wanted to tell you," Drake said grimly. "Odin is finally done, mate. The tombs are gone. The device has disappeared. Everything is finished. Thought you should know."
  
  Ben was silent for a long time. Then: "Thank God."
  
  "Well, thank Drake, at least."
  
  "The next time you're in York..."
  
  Drake smiled in the darkness. "Yes, next time."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Mai Kitano watched Drake's shadow from her own world of darkness. She could tell when he smiled, when he frowned, when he felt sad by watching his body language.
  
  It was what she was taught to do. Imi.
  
  I swear by the clan. The people who owned it. The bastards who bought it from desperate parents without giving the slightest hint of what they would end up using it for.
  
  And what did they do? she thought. They turned her into a killing machine, a mindless mechanical robot with mechanisms so twisted that she could never return to her former self - innocent, free, full of hope. Young May had a whole potential life ahead of her. They took it with the selfish detached greed of the monsters.
  
  And now they seemed to want everything she had left.
  
  The killer of the killers, Gyuki, just called her cell phone. Using a minimum of words and expressing only the most basic of emotions, he literally ordered her to meet him in downtown Tokyo on Friday at 13:00.
  
  Meet me or die. You belong to us. And if you choose not to come... you will know our true revenge."
  
  For the first time in almost two decades, Mai felt real, debilitating fear. If she hadn't leaned against the window frame, she would have slid to the floor. Gyuki's keywords cut deeper than any blade she's ever known.
  
  You belong to us.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  
  
  The old man walked in a line, keeping pace, the chains jingling between the shackles fastened around his ankles. The orange jumpsuit didn't flatter him. It was baggy and tattered and didn't look like anything he'd ever worn before. The eyes of the prison guards glared at him, filled with pure hatred. He noted how each man's fingers turned deathly white around the massive butt of his pistol as he passed them, and how confident they seemed as they hid in their own little cages.
  
  For the moment we are safe.
  
  Downstairs, in the dining room, he sat by himself. They all sat separately, and only fifteen were allowed to eat at the same time. However, he was a man of limitless means and unimaginable power, and when he wanted to deliver a message... someone would die a horrible death if that didn't happen. Not here. Somewhere out there. He maintained contact with the outside world.
  
  Today, his purchased guard closed his eyes as he paused for a moment between two tables. To the credit of the government, all the guards have been fruitless sources of corruption for many weeks. But then something happened. The old man was only too aware that there was always something going on. Something unexpected. And that's when his people jumped in.
  
  And the promise of a private little island off Zanzibar never hurts when you win the heart of a peasant.
  
  The Blood King dropped his plastic fork and bowed his head, addressing both lieutenants at the same time.
  
  "Are we ready?"
  
  Mordant, his leader, also bowed his head. The appearance of this man never ceased to disturb the Blood King, despite everything that he had seen in his life. Mordant was an albino. His huge, egg-shaped, perfectly white head was completely hairless. Now the pink tongue slid over her pale lips.
  
  "By your word."
  
  Another lieutenant, Gabriel, a wiry African, agreed. The Blood King actually considered himself lucky to have stumbled upon these two while convalescing in this so-called 'secret' prison for several months. They were blood brothers known as Gemini despite their obvious differences. But more than that - they were far beyond the worst of the worst, sadistic nightmares that the real world could not deal with or contain, beyond skillful, highly intelligent, pure psychotic gold.
  
  Compared to any of them, Kovalenko's old lieutenant, Boudreau, looked like a newborn kitten.
  
  Indeed, they were so cruel that the Blood King was always mindful of the need to show them respect, which was a compliment in itself. It was something he had never allowed any man before.
  
  "Thank you," he said, and straightening up, he walked over to his desk. The food on his plate was piping hot, the coffee smelled good. But he wasn't really in the mood. He was already looking forward to a much more satisfying meal.
  
  And much more than that. His question was not just about how prepared they are in this prison. It also called into question the readiness of their forces out there. The same request he had been asking for weeks. The proposal he had originally laid out for the Twins caused simultaneous smirks as the monsters within them beamed. This was later passed on to his hidden forces from outside and took months to implement, including the deaths of many innocents, the smearing of countless palms, the purchase of large amounts of White House equipment and secrets, and of course the constant surveillance of a select few.
  
  His plan was monumental. With one blow, he will devastate the Americans, leave the country maimed and bleeding, and show the world how he, the Blood King, carried out his terrible bloody revenge.
  
  
  END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  David Leadbeater
  Pandora's Disasters
  
  
  LIST
  
  
  
  TEAM SPEAR
  
  
  Matt Drake, Torsten Dahl, Mai Kitano
  
  Hayden Jay, Mano Kinimaka, Smith
  
  Karin Blake, Komodo, Yorgi, Lauren.
  
  
  TEAM ALICIA
  
  
  Alicia Miles, Rob Russo,
  
  Michael Crouch,
  
  Zach Healy, Caitlin Nash.
  
  
  REJECTED
  
  
  Aaron Trent, Adam Silk, Dan Radford
  
  Claire Collins.
  
  
  PIFI
  
  
  Tyler Webb - leader and founder
  
  General Bill Stone - US Army
  
  Nicholas Bell is the owner of the Sanstone Building and a builder.
  
  Miranda Le Brun is an oil heiress
  
  Clifford Bay-Dale - A man of privilege
  
  Robert Norris - Senior Board Member of SolDyn
  
  
  PROLOGUE
  
  
  Some said that age had enveloped the decaying relic like a dirty protective shroud. Others compared it more to a house of madness, and that the shroud protected the villagers from the place itself, rather than the other way around. Over the years, he has represented a lot for the maturing community; from the notorious haunted house with its ramshackle, unkempt gardens, to a symbol of their own steady decay and a symbol of hatred in harder times, the dying, blazing sun setting behind it, pouring its terrible fire through jagged, cracked windows right into the center of the city. city. The children harbored many fears and dared to search for monsters nearby, but they were all right, and their parents were all right, and this place eventually ceased to excite them, its illusory image was overshadowed by responsibilities and life changes, television and wine. And, of course, most children are always fine...until maturity makes them dare and the challenges they set for themselves take on a darker, more adult quality.
  
  But as the sun began to set, and the darkness launched its black fingers, spreading across the earth like giant spiders; when the devil's fire-as the elders called it -began to flicker through those knife-sharp windows and jagged crevices, it was easy to remember why this place was shunned, why no one ever bought it or dared to visit, and why every member of the population hid that the most terrible thought deep, deep in their hearts, where they were most afraid to go.
  
  The house on the hill has always stood here, and for one purpose only.
  
  His goal was to kill.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The village was horrified when the house was bought by an unknown buyer in 2014. A public meeting was held, its participants were so shocked that they could hardly speculate. Comments and gossip spread throughout the community; the general consensus was that bulldozers would soon drive in and raze the eyesore to the ground. And one day, heavy equipment on the backs of huge Mack trucks really drove in, but not a single wall or even a brick was disturbed.
  
  What were they doing up there?
  
  They always stood behind any new project - a faceless, shadow owner or organization. And there has always been a faceless, dark organization. Money people rarely launch anything without some sort of profitable program.
  
  In early March 2014, the village was brought to its knees when every family received an invitation to attend a house celebration, a kind of opening ceremony where the new owner was to meet and talk about their plans for a prominent location.
  
  It is widely believed that the phrase "curiosity killed the cat" did not exist before the world's first woman, Pandora, received the box and was told by the very gods themselves never to open it. By doing this, she remitted all the sins of the world, including disease, crime, vice, poverty, and plague. Pandora's box is an origin myth, an attempt to explain the beginning of something.
  
  The villagers, though horrified, astounded and annoyed, were extremely curious. What could go wrong on a warm and sunny day in America? What could happen when a man or woman was surrounded by hundreds of their own kind during the celebration?
  
  The only oddity in all this was that none of the children were specially invited. All the cards say: Anyone between the ages of 16 and 100.
  
  Strange, they thought. Perhaps the new owner was a little eccentric, with an admixture of madness in his character. Perhaps a movie star or a writer. No, former president. Speculation continued.
  
  But curiosity forced most of the town to accept the mysterious invitation. Only hardened pessimists and restless people survived. And human nature led many present to believe that a mistake had been made in the general invitations-why shouldn't they take their children to what was a barbecue on a Sunday afternoon?
  
  The day has come; the night before one of those blood-red sunsets that sent out swords and spears of oozing red light, stabbing and piercing through the heart of the town, straight out of the cracked and insane shape of the house on the hill. However, Sunday itself was one of those days when even a fresh breeze warms your heart, children's laughter is easy, and the unexpected smile of a stranger can lift your spirits. Many were nervous and gave up caffeine, perhaps wanting something stronger. Children of all ages adopted the mood of their parents and became increasingly gloomy as the time approached. Like a funeral procession, the villagers began to march through their city, each staring at the constantly approaching shattered glass eyes that had been watching their city for at least fifty years. In one form or another, they had all visited this house before, and although the experience varied between the timid and the bold, their heads were filled with awe, anticipation, and most of all, curiosity.
  
  And just like the very first woman in the world, made of clay, by order of the god Zeus, they went ahead and opened the box.
  
  They entered the newly landscaped grounds, amazed by the magnificent renovation, which only made the house's continuing ugly and menacing appearance all the more hostile. Some turned away at that moment under the hesitant glances of their friends who remained behind. More eccentricities followed as a sumptuous banquet was set up, a rich buffet, but there were no waiters to serve it.
  
  And there is no owner.
  
  Only the townspeople and their charm.
  
  While the sun was beating down from the skies, while the townspeople ate and watched this legendary home, while their children were inexorably reaching for glasses of red wine and plates of assorted chocolates, their parents cared more about keeping them away from haunted bricks and mortar than from everyday alcohol and sugar." As the conversation continued and frustration began to build, a voice finally boomed from within the house.
  
  "I'll be with you soon," said a voice that clearly belonged to a well-groomed, well-educated man. "But first, would you like to join me in a toast to celebrate the passing of the old regime and the beginning of a new one?"
  
  The villagers thought they understood. Let's drink in honor of the upcoming demolition of the house. What a good idea, they thought. Many poured wine and champagne, fruit juice and glasses of water. They were about to meet their benefactor, a symbol of their future, a man who would now be inextricably linked to the name and fame of the place where they had grown up.
  
  As one, convinced by the promises of the invisible man, the townspeople present raised their glasses to their lips and drank.
  
  After a while, only the cries of babies remained.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIRST
  
  
  Tyler Webb, a weapons billionaire on his way to starting his own infamous, bloodthirsty and extremely powerful secret order, studied the faces of the men and women seated around him.
  
  "We are pythonesses," he said. "What's the news today?"
  
  Before anyone could speak, he glanced sideways, admiring the breathtaking view through the trees of the eternal waterfall, never changing, everything imperishable. In a way, he hoped that his new secret order would follow the same path. Conversely, thinking of the time when he had become too old to manage and drive it forward, he already felt a pang of jealousy for the nameless figure who could.
  
  US Army General Bill Stone spoke up. "The 'house on the hill' scenario played out. We have announced our presence in the United States. We have announced our determined intentions and the seriousness of our actions. We have an army recruited from all over the world and deployed as we speak, and," he paused, "our first sortie, the Pandora plague, continues. We are starting to mobilize. There are currently three locations identified - London, Paris and Los Angeles -"
  
  "Wait," interrupted General Nicholas Bell, the owner of one of the largest construction companies in the world, who was least liked by the Pythians. "I was the only one here who opposed Operation Home. I would like to know the true depth of what we have created."
  
  General Stone hesitated, clearly unwilling to speak and unaccustomed to being interrupted in mid-sentence. Tyler Webb stepped in smoothly.
  
  "My friend, my friend," he turned to Bell. "The Pythians do not discuss the trivialities of who lived and who died. Of how many. We are paving our way to absolute power in the movement, and this will not stop us. The so-called innocent will die to promote our elevation. So, "he generously spread his hands," and it should be.
  
  Webb noticed that Bell looked a little upset before he turned away with a friendly nod. His first thought was to bring this man closer, much closer. "Nicholas, why don't you move to Washington for a while? Bill is the architect of both the 'house' and Pandora projects. If you were closer to him, you might be better able to influence the plans."
  
  His manipulation worked. Nicholas Bell, the gruff multimillionaire construction worker, nodded, seemingly reassured.
  
  Immediately one of his other henchmen, Clifford Bay-Dale, the energy boss and the man no one liked, raised his voice. "And I'm sure my own project is next?"
  
  Webb nodded slightly. "The Lost Kingdom" sounds intriguing my friend. We will publish your presentation as soon as Pandora demonstrates success."
  
  "But what about my galleons?" Asked Miranda Le Brun, the jaded oil heiress, finally showing a spark of interest.
  
  "In my time". Webb smiled. "Your enthusiasm for our battle fills me with delight. We will all have our day, at the expense of a poorer world, until the pinnacle of our desires is reached. One day this will all end with the Comte de Saint-Germain."
  
  The interest he saw in the eyes of his co-workers gave him a surge of almost sexual desire. They didn't know the full plan yet. Only he, the great Tyler Webb and nanoweapons expert, knew that.
  
  General Stone, he noted, did not look at all pleased with the prospect of hosting a somewhat uncouth construction magnate in his hometown. However, there was not a single protest, which testifies to the general's iron discipline and readiness to obey a responsible person.
  
  "How are things with members of the second and third degrees?" Webb asked.
  
  "Kendra Nelson," said Robert Norris, chief executive of SolDyn. "Already on board. An asset of the second degree, which I hope one day can be brought to the first degree."
  
  Webb frowned. "We will never have more than six members of the first degree."
  
  Norris smiled too. "I know".
  
  Webb understood what he meant and tried his best not to break into a smirk. Plans were made, layer by layer; the intrigue and insider game were good.
  
  "Alex Berdal," Miranda said. "Third Degree".
  
  "Zoe Shears," Bell added. "First Degree".
  
  Webb forced himself to triple check this last sentence. He nodded and added another name to the list. "Lucas Monroe," he said. "First degree. Primary."
  
  They all stared at him, perhaps wondering why he should be the first choice, perhaps wanting them to be his equals, but only Nicholas Bell spoke in his rude manner.
  
  "What the hell is your reason for suggesting Monroe as your primary?"
  
  Webb ignored the question so completely that it surprised the whole room. "Let's move on to our last agenda item." He looked up at the waterfall again, conjuring up an image of a fascinating evening plotting some random loser's demise over a bottle of expensive brandy, a Sony laptop, a gang of criminals and a wealth of technology, sitting in front of his bedroom's huge wall-to-wall window with a breathtaking real life cascade as his hanging picture, his muse. His last victim of the persecution was a blond Missouri couple, innocent, fresh, just starting out in life. It would be his pleasure to destroy them personally.
  
  "How is the factory set up?"
  
  Bill Stone answered again, it was his project. "Prepared but not yet operational. Some of the more ... delicate ... items and personnel require a small, ahem, purchase."
  
  "By any means," Webb told him. "Make it happen."
  
  "That's my maxim, sir. Our main obstacle is her hidden location. Greece is not the easiest place in the world to recruit, no matter what means you use."
  
  "It's clear. There's still time before we can move forward with the plague pits. But make good use of your time, Bill, because once we hit the 'Go' button, nothing on earth can stop us."
  
  "At the moment," Bay-Dale chuckled, his appearance and behavior reminiscent of a mean rat, a cowardly bully. "Let's enjoy the results of Project Home and the fear it has created among our enemies, our subjects and even our partners."
  
  "The Pythians have arrived." Webb raised his glass of red wine, fully aware of its symbolic meaning to his colleagues in the matter of how the villagers had been poisoned. "Toast".
  
  They were drinking.
  
  They went out in single file.
  
  "We'll meet again very soon," Webb told them as they parted. "In honor of the official launch of our first real project. Before we take over this world and all its sins, we will set it on fire."
  
  The convert nodded to him.
  
  "A funeral pyre for our pleasure."
  
  "To create a new empire," Stone said. "First you must burn the old to the ground. History has taught us this."
  
  Webb laid a hand on the general's sturdy shoulder. "The fires have already started, my friend. And they can't be stopped."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  Matt Drake leaned forward and held out his hand, uncertain, inquiring, wondering if he was going to die.
  
  Komodo handed him a soft, squat object.
  
  Drake sniffed it carefully. Mai rolled her eyes. "What? Do you think it's about to explode?"
  
  Drake looked noncommittal. "I don't know, love. It's a bacon sandwich made by an American ex-Delta soldier in Washington, DC, inside the Pentagon. How can anything good come out of this?"
  
  "Yorkshire isn't the only place to make good sarnies," Karin defended her beau. "T-vor here can cook them just as well. Go on. Try it".
  
  Drake put the bread on the table, next to the local steak sauce and a bottle of real HP. "It just... doesn't feel right."
  
  "For God's sake," Dahl exclaimed. "Eat this or I'll shove the damn thing down your throat."
  
  Drake felt his lips lift sharply. It was nice to get the whole team back together again, especially since they weren't in any immediate danger and weren't about to undertake a deadly operation. Lately they've been jumping from one danger to another. But now... it's been two weeks since the death of his greatest enemy. The gods saw fit to reward their success with a few well-deserved breaks from work.
  
  However, the shadows were never far from their hearts and minds. Mai remained detached, focused on some past terrible deed, and completely preoccupied with Grace's well-being, as if she owed the young girl more than she could ever repay. The mode of deep grief has returned to haunt them all at various times of the day as they are reminded of loved ones they have recently lost. Indeed, Drake and everyone else felt some form of guilt for not thinking about Ben Blake or Romero or Jonathan Gates all day long. The life of a survivor has never been easy.
  
  Drake took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the crispy bacon with the brown sauce. "Not bad," he muttered. "Not bad at all."
  
  "Hearing from a real Yorkshireman," Karin said, "that's high praise."
  
  Komodo proceeded to hand out a tray of sandwiches and bottles of water, their first meal in their nearly impregnable newest headquarters. Provided by the new Secretary of Defense - Robert Price - a large, well-equipped office in the Pentagon was exactly what they needed at the moment. The SPEAR team was bombed, attacked, wounded and torn apart. The two weeks of recovery and quietly learning about the ins and outs of my new routine was not just a soothing balm, it was an important part of the healing process.
  
  Of course, the team was not complete. Not without Alicia Miles. Drake judged her absence to be dangerous for all mankind - not only because of the kind of person she was, but also because of the simple fact that she never slowed down, never grieved, never swerved off a long, well-worn path. roads to allow time, loss and circumstances to catch up.
  
  The time was approaching when this would happen, and the consequences of this particular nuclear explosion would tarnish them all.
  
  Drake finished his sandwich and turned to May, again trying to arouse some of her interest. "Any news about Grace?"
  
  "So far, nothing." An unidentified 17-year-old teenager whom Mai rescued from a horrific captivity was summoned today to meet with investigators. Perhaps they dug up something from her past. Drake hoped so. Mai wanted to accompany Grace, but the child, independent, angry and guarded to the last, insisted that she go alone. It was part of her past and her future, part of growing up and moving on.
  
  What else is haunting you, Mai? He wanted to ask. All he knew was that Mai believed she had killed a man who was partially working for the Triad, and that the memory of it was tearing her apart. In the words of those who have often felt responsible for things beyond their control: Blame me all your life.
  
  Since no more information was forthcoming and, judging by his girlfriend's face, nothing more would be offered anytime soon, Drake shifted his mind to more joyful thoughts. Hayden Jay, wounded in the last battle with the Blood King, had healed well and was now back to full strength, although a bit achy. One of the main reasons she recovered so quickly was now by her side - the Hawaiian mountain Mano Kinimaka. Holding a sandwich in each hand and looking at his colleagues, Kinimaka didn't notice the sauce leaking out of the bread. But Mano is used to accidents.
  
  At the back of the large room, Smith leaned against the wall, a caustic expression on his face. Drake already knew the man well enough to know that this didn't necessarily mean he was in a bad mood; it was a sign that all was well in Smith's country, and could even mean that he dreamed of an Easter Bunny.
  
  Hayden, reinstated as leader of their elite group, called the assembly to order. "I hope you all have a good rest, because the devils of this world will not remain idle for long, and we are already seeing the beginning of new problems. Not with us today are the Yorges - the "suits" don"t want to issue a Pentagon pass to a former Russian thief and prisoner - and Lauren, who took on a mission for Mano, which I"ll talk about in more detail another time."
  
  "Why?" Smith asked sarcastically. "Why not now?"
  
  Hayden's eyes widened. "Because the nature of the work she does for us is somewhat delicate, and if nothing comes of it, it will remain undisclosed."
  
  Smith shut his mouth abruptly. Kinimaka cleared his throat. "You do well to keep quiet, Smith. Even I don"t know what she means."
  
  Smith looked unconvinced. Hayden continued: "With the final death of Coyote, we believe that all remaining threats of the King's Blood Vengeance against us and our families have passed. I think you could call it a new era, even a new beginning. Now, before concentrating their efforts on Coyote, Drake and May went to Russia, mainly to Zoe's abode."
  
  "Crazy grandma," Kinimaka put in.
  
  "The best footballer in Russia," Drake added.
  
  Hayden took a breath. "Anyway, in addition to their findings regarding Section 9 and Coyote's identity, they've tasked us with smuggling out as much of this woman's treasure as we can. This included relics and artifacts that we have not yet been able to identify, in addition to a dossier of information about the treasures hidden by the crusaders, the lost kingdom, and this new group, the Pythians. Zoya seems to have amassed a huge amount of information and dirt on just about everything, and the worst of her labors will bring the best results for our team for years to come."
  
  "Do we have any credible threats?" Smith asked, as if trying to get Hayden to get to the point.
  
  "They are all trustworthy," Hayden replied. "We have collected enough information about the Thule Society to keep two analysts busy for a month. The problem is to decide which one needs our attention the most."
  
  "Thule Society"?" Kinimaka asked.
  
  "German occult group and secret society within the Nazi Party. Their ancient myth research unit, if you will. They were even named after a mythical country from Greek legend and have spent millions of Reichsmarks and countless lives looking for places like Atlantis, Mu, Hyperborea and other lost civilizations that they believe could contain the origins of the Aryan race. Participants included people like Rudolf Hess, Hans Frank, Göring, Himmler and possibly Hitler."
  
  The Hawaiian pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think they were serious about their lost kingdoms."
  
  "They took their Aryan origin more seriously. But are they the main threat here today or tomorrow? I think not."
  
  Dahl shifted in his chair. "I assume that you have something more than just idle speculation about this."
  
  Drake raised his hand. "In Queen's English, it means "which one?"
  
  Dahl frowned in his ranks. "Since when did the queen come from the damned Yorkshire?"
  
  "Ever since your wife came to Washington, kept you up all night and turned you into a whipping boy."
  
  Dahl lashed out at Drake. "I don"t understand what you care about this!"
  
  "So you don't deny it."
  
  Dahl gritted his teeth. Hayden intervened. "The answer to both questions is yes. We take the Pythians most seriously. In fact, more serious than any other threat in recent times."
  
  This caused Drake to do a double take. " What? Why? "
  
  "We already know they are recruiting big players. They're trying to make a name for themselves. Not interested in keeping secrets. They are a new generation, the real face of terror, who no longer wants to hide behind a mask. But we do not believe that they are terrorists per se, they are power-hungry, intent on pulling the strings that make the world go round. We gathered this from Zoe's notes and interrogations of mercenaries rejected or hired by their network. We know they have unlimited funds, state-level resources and leverage the likes of which we have never seen, even with Kovalenko. We know they're investigating the Pandora legend, although how, we can only guess. Perhaps it all leads to this 'greatest mystery of all time'."
  
  "That doesn't necessarily make them any more dangerous than the next bunch of crazy people on our list," Mai said softly.
  
  Hayden nodded. "Yesterday I would have said, 'You're right.' But then... this." She lowered her head and flipped the controller on the TV screen without another word.
  
  Drake watched a report from the Fox channel, which covered only the events that took place in a small secluded town in Central America. In one day, 90 percent of an admittedly small population was poisoned. Men, women, children. Everyone present at some kind of celebration, all died within minutes of swallowing the lethal liquid.
  
  When it was over, Drake turned to Hayden. "It's terrible, but I don't see how it has anything to do with our secret organization trying to rule the world. Was one of the dead a Pythian? Did they find anything in his house?"
  
  Hayden shook her head. "No. The Pythians claimed responsibility for the killings."
  
  Drake was speechless. One look around the room told him that the rest of the team shared similar feelings of disbelief.
  
  "For what purpose?" Dahl asked. "What could they gain from such a massacre?"
  
  "Notorious," Hayden said quietly. "Deadly status. Their intentions and the depths they would plunge into were clearly defined. We do not know if they are domestic or foreign, but now they are in full view. In the wake of this and the threats in many countries, the Pythia quickly became the world's number one enemy."
  
  "And they already have an army," Drake recalled. "God, if this is their opening performance, what will their first performance be like?"
  
  Hayden nodded. "And, begs the question, their last?"
  
  "Women". Dahl stared at the TV screen. "Children. We will destroy them all for this. And anyone with even a dirty fingernail in their organization."
  
  Drake found his voice again. "We will".
  
  Hayden turned off the TV and took a sip of water from a bottle. "The Pythians are a global threat," she said. "We just don't know their scale or true numbers. To that end, Drake, I would like you to enlist Alicia and her new team in our efforts."
  
  Drake felt a surge of pleasure but didn't show it. "Alicia, Crouch and their team just found a pile of Aztec gold after destroying half of Vegas and Africa. I'm not sure they'll be ready for something like that."
  
  "Something like that?" echoed Hayden. "Alicia is always ready for anything and the sheer scale of that means they have to be ready. They may not be called, but contact Crouch, Drake. And Alicia. Put them on standby. It has to be said - they would like you to do it."
  
  "Damn good point," Smith croaked. "I'm sure I wouldn't want to be on Miles' bad side."
  
  Drake and May exchanged glances. "It's a disgusting place," he admitted, and Mai snorted in the affirmative. "I'll make a call."
  
  "One more thing before we get started," Hayden said, her blond tresses swirling vigorously as she felt an invigorating sense of purpose fill her body. "Not necessarily related, but worth repeating. While I was recovering and most of the others were playing their little tournament with Coyote, some of what Jonathan said kept popping into my mind. Something that I think might be important."
  
  At the mention of the name of the former secretary of defense - their murdered friend and benefactor, the team sobered up, Drake in particular. It was hard enough in this world to find a true friend, let alone a trustworthy official, but Jonathan Gates proved himself to be both. No doubt Jonathan harbored his secret demons, but who didn't? The poor man's wife was killed by the Blood King at the start of the Drake LANCE campaign, and then the man himself was shot by Kovalenko's men when he started accepting someone new. Some even whispered about a possible presidential campaign.
  
  "What was it?" Kinimaka broke Drake's reverie.
  
  "Remember General Bill Stone? The man who stood against us throughout the Tomb of the Gods saga? He wanted to get the tombs just for the U.S., or perhaps for himself, and actually got the support of the White House."
  
  "I remember," Dahl said quietly.
  
  "Well, luckily he didn't succeed with his plan, but something about him put Jonathan on his guard. Jonathan said, "Bill Stone is into something, something deep." Hidden plan. He asked Lauren Fox to find out what it was, then changed his mind in the interests of... propriety, I guess. Stone is the worst type of leader." She shook her head, "The one who believes that people are his toys and they owe him. The world is his game board."
  
  "He's not the only one there," May said.
  
  "Agree. But for now, he's the only one on our radar. There is something else. Jonathan told Lauren something in secret, something she shared with Mano only after Jonathan's death. He learned that the government had effectively said no to Stone's request."
  
  Now even Smith's face was drawn, the constant frown replaced by shock. "But that means-"
  
  "Yes. This stone ignored the White House and went to these tombs without their knowledge. Alone and with hired people. Why did he still want to go ahead with such a huge risk?"
  
  Kinimaka spoke. "While you guys were lounging around in the UK, Smith and I undertook a mission of our own."
  
  Drake smiled slightly at the man. "Lounging in the UK?"
  
  "Wanderer in the valleys. Visit to an entertainment fair. Destruction of hotels. Doesn't matter. Our old headquarters was raided by a team we believe were working for the Pythians. One of their men told us that they wanted to remove everything from Jonathan's computer that had anything to do with General Stone. All."
  
  Now Drake did a double take. "Pythia? What could they possibly want from General Stone?"
  
  "That's the question," Hayden said. "And one of the few leads we have in the group despite Mano's brutality."
  
  Kinimaka chuckled in embarrassment. Even as an adult, he retained the clumsiness of a three-year-old child.
  
  Smith came to his defense. "We did what we had to do. We got information under fire, what more do you want?"
  
  "More information," Hayden said. "If you get a chance again, I want these people to be brought here and properly interrogated. This global threat could be the worst we have ever faced and we are humiliatingly lacking in information."
  
  "Honestly," Drake added softly, "it's mostly because they haven't taken any real action yet. There is nothing for us to follow."
  
  Hayden opened her mouth to answer, but the door to their office opened and Lauren Fox walked in. All eyes turned to her.
  
  She gave them a smile that didn't touch her eyes. "For better or for worse," she said, "we have a plan."
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  Lauren Fox stood in front of the SPEAR team, not wanting to call herself a full member and wondering what the hell she was doing there. Before this man attacked her in New York, before she became inadvertently involved with the North Korean terrorist plot, before she met Jonathan Gates, she was a successful $2,000-an-hour escort, and hung out at she was no more than an ordinary call girl. At the time, she lived next door to a retired prostitute who took it upon herself to offer endless sage advice. She was blunt, street-oriented, quick-witted and headstrong. It was hard for her to apologize. Growing up in a string of grueling foster families would do this to you.
  
  What the hell am I doing here? She thought again.
  
  But the answer was already running through her mind.
  
  Jonathan Gates, she thought. I'm here because of Jonathan. The secretary showed his kindness when it might hurt his position; helped her and counted on her when circumstances showed he shouldn't. He even offered her a way out. Or at least a safer way.
  
  Now she wasn't so sure.
  
  Hayden was the first to approach her, arms outstretched as if feeling unsure of himself. "Drink? We have coffee."
  
  "They have caffeine in all its sinful forms," Dahl said, holding up a water bottle. "Here. Catch it."
  
  Drake paused, bringing the FBI mug to his lips. "Sinful?"
  
  "Yes". The Swede nodded. "Are they already selling clean water as far north as Yorkshire?"
  
  Drake chuckled. "Of course, it made amends for God's country. However, we still manage to make do with instant coffee mugs."
  
  Dahl shook his head. "Pagans".
  
  Drake nodded. "And happy."
  
  Lauren took a long sip from her water bottle, grateful for the refreshing taste. She sat at the head of the table, feeling all eyes on her, not out of nervousness, but in the hope that she could help fulfill Jonathan's last request to her.
  
  "General Stone," she said. "I've seen this bastard twice already and I don't believe he suspects me. But I am always careful, confident and professional. You may remember that at one time we thought Stone might be skeptical of me. But no. Our first meeting was uncertain, cautious-" She remembered the past. Bill Stone asked them to meet in a suite located on the second floor of an expensive hotel, arriving alone and in an almost laughable disguise. She knew at that moment that the general was unaware of her true intentions. Quiet, polite, almost shy, Stone asked Nightshade for a session. She treated him gently, carefully, and with infinite vigilance, fearful for her life in the dark room, but determined to see it through.
  
  For an old man, Stone looked good naked. Yes, the belly was a little sagging, the pecs were indefinite, yes, he was a terribly hairy specimen, but with her kind of work, day after day she had much worse. And he didn't want her to touch him. At least not with her hands. First the whip, then the restrictions. This was a man from the army who wanted the opposite experience of everyday life, a role reversal. With the help of pegs, handcuffs and rope, she treated him well until he begged for release. Even then she refused, revealing the vulgarity in him, the arrogance. From a shy man to an arrogant boor in thirty minutes and beyond. Stone liked it, in the end he asked for more.
  
  But no. Their first session is over. Such an appeal inevitably led to a request for a second one. Stone was less careful this time, meeting her at a hotel less than a block from his office and actually answering her calls as their session progressed. The man's arrogance shone through, clear superiority and self-knowledge that he was a creature at the top of the evolutionary ladder - a stalking predator.
  
  Lauren tied him tightly in an attempt to hurt him, but Stone only accepted the pain, demanding more. Of course, there was a limit to how far she could go, and she didn't want to ruin the conquests she made so carefully, so the diamond choker wasn't too tight, the saran wrapper had tiny holes in the mouth area, and the nut grinders were set to " average level.
  
  The second session ended with Stone answering his third call of the evening, anxiety suddenly mixed with delight on his face, and this was the first real event in her work. In a truly selfish style, he spoke while ignoring her presence.
  
  Now, omitting details of the evening-which she knew from Smith's expression to be a big disappointment-she brought the group up to speed on her findings.
  
  "Last night he recommended me to his 'partner', a man named Nicholas Bell, I believe, as Gates referred to him by both names in separate conversations. Normally I would have declined, but since Stone has referred to this person as his 'partner' on more than one occasion, I feel it would be beneficial to meet this person."
  
  "A partner can mean so many things," Hayden said. "Could you get the gist of what he meant?"
  
  "Well, he's not bisexual and didn't seem too friendly. What remains is a business partner who works for us."
  
  "When does this Bell want to see you?"
  
  "Wednesday evening."
  
  "I hate to say this," Drake said, "but it sounds terribly dangerous, Lauren."
  
  "I've already entertained two men."
  
  There was a brief lull, allowing Smith to bite his tongue and Drake to wait for Alicia's inevitable comment before remembering she wasn't in the room. It's funny how you didn't really miss someone and their habits until they were out of your life.
  
  He returned to the zone. "That's not what I meant, love. We are talking about at least one, possibly two corrupt people who could be targeted by the Pythians. How dangerous can you take it?"
  
  "I was born and raised in New York." Lauren shrugged. "I always take it to the limit."
  
  "We could follow you two," Kinimaka suggested. "Stay close."
  
  "It's hardly necessary." Lauren raised her hands. "I do this as much for Jonathan as I do for you guys. If Stone is dirty, I'm going to publicly expose the bastard. For all his damned sins. And this bell? Stone spoke to him three times just last night while we were in full role play. Once I even had to put the phone up to Stone's ear because the handcuffs were too tight."
  
  Smith's chin finally touched the floor. "Oh my God. You will be a my girlfriend?"
  
  Drake chuckled. "Please say yes. This will distract him from other auto-correction-blaming hobbies."
  
  "Despite all this," Lauren continued. "Stone is still playing army with me. He has no shame. No remorse. If chance had led him in a different direction, such a person could easily become a psychopath. He has no conscience other than the one he is trying to portray."
  
  "Everything is fine". Hayden took in the team's reaction with one glance. "It looks like Stone and Bell might have something to hide. I suggest you follow Lauren's example and stay alert. Let her do her job. We would do the same for anyone else on this team."
  
  Drake nodded quickly. Hayden hit the nail on the head - it didn't matter that Lauren got slightly different information from the others - Jonathan made her part of SPEAR for a reason, and for now, she held her own end.
  
  As soon as the allegations began, Kinimaki's phone rang. He glanced quickly at the screen and frowned.
  
  "Damn it, it's Agent Collins from Los Angeles," he said out loud. Claire Collins was a first-class FBI agent who recently helped uncover a worldwide terrorist plot involving the Serbian mafia and also rescued Kinimaki's sister from the hands of the Blood King's men. "What the hell could she want now?"
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  Claire Collins spoke in a tough, businesslike manner that brooked no interruptions or speculation. Kinimaka put her on speakerphone and let the room hear what she had to say.
  
  "Mano, I"ll warn you first. Your sister is on her way to Washington, with a belly full of fire and brimstone. She no longer needs protection, now you and your gang of lightweights have finally dealt with Kovalenko. The best team in the world? Not in my book."
  
  Hayden, their leader, took it. "Not that we ever asked for this award, but do you know anything better?"
  
  "My team just took out a Serbian lunatic who threatened half a dozen of the world's leading capitals with relentless terrorism. For one day. A trip with whitened knuckles for life. Can you transcend this?"
  
  "You're talking about the rejected." Kinimaka nodded. "I heard they were good."
  
  "We are fine". Collins corrected him. "And faced with a red threat level, we are great."
  
  "They are there?" Kinimaka asked. "I wanted to personally thank them for saving Kono's life."
  
  "One of them is like this," a deep voice said. "Aaron Trent. And that's great. Enjoyed the opportunity to rid the world of some rubbish."
  
  Trent spoke in a staccato manner, serious and to the point, as if time had always been precious. Drake heard the story of how his team was set up to be disowned by the president and how they lost friends, wives and brothers in arms in their fight to fix such a great evil and how they were victorious . Yet he could not fully respect a man's abilities until he had seen him in action.
  
  "There seems to be a new threat," he said aloud. "Guys, have you ever heard of Pythia?"
  
  "Apparently the newest group of villains," Collins quickly chimed in. "And who is it? Mano? Just don't tell me' that I'm talking on the fucking speakerphone with your whole damn team."
  
  "Don't worry," Dahl said. Alicia Miles is missing.
  
  "And this is Drake," the Yorkshireman said. "Matt Drake".
  
  Collins didn't miss a beat. "Then, it's OK. Well, we're from the FBI, Drake. We know all about the hill house murders. Global recruitment of mercenaries. Mass transfers of funds. We are also aware of what the NSA is monitoring - that last week there was a huge spike in mercenary and terrorist chatter through all known channels and others that we should not be monitoring. We know-"
  
  "Something has to happen," Hayden finished. "Yes, the rumors are all over the place. The problem is, we don't have anything specific."
  
  "The circle of conversations will narrow. Are localized. Then we will know."
  
  Kinimaka struggled to process the imminent arrival of his sister Kono and what it might mean for his health. He had never been easy to get along with, his sister now blaming him for their mother's murder and her own new misfortunes. The fact that she had left Hawaii years ago for the temptation of a seedy world, and in doing so had broken their mother's heart, seemed to no longer matter. Now it was Mano's fault.
  
  He snapped back to the present. Kono would have to wait. "Well, Trent, thanks again. And the same for Silk and Radford. I know what you guys have lost because of Blanca Davich. We have been chasing this thug for years."
  
  Drake remembered how he destroyed Davik's father during the search for the bones of Odin. Then it struck him how small the world really was and the circles they were all running around; either that, or they were all part of someone's master plan from the start.
  
  Finally got together.
  
  "Trent, this is Drake. You probably know that this damn Pythian story is escalating. Anything you can learn would be appreciated."
  
  "We're doing it."
  
  Collins ended the call by reminding Kinimaka why she called. "Watch out for it when it lands, my friend. I know she's your sister, but she's nothing but trouble."
  
  Kinimaka nodded to himself. Try to tell me something I don't fucking know.
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  Drake was with Mae when Grace returned from her meeting with the private detective. Without saying anything, the Japanese woman asked him to be present. For that alone he was grateful. For two weeks now, this private detective has been rummaging through Grace's past, trying to sew together the tattered patchwork quilt that was her memory. Two weeks. Surely he must have dug something, Drake thought. But seventeen years was an awfully long period to go through, and Grace herself said she couldn't remember anything other than her time with Tsugarai and her master, Gozu. Drake knew these were bad times. It's better to forget. Mai Kitano saved Grace's life the moment she unraveled those bonds, and in more than one way. Mae then took personal responsibility for Grace's well-being and future, which Grace seemed not entirely happy about. So when Hayden offered to help by introducing Grace to an unofficial investigator, they all jumped at the chance. Perhaps Grace could reach some real conclusion; maybe she could start living again. Even find her parents. Start over and all that. In particular, perhaps he could do what the doctors in Washington could not - help find and revive her past memories. Grace needed to be whole again.
  
  Either way, he could look into her physical past.
  
  Drake knew that Grace had regretted her rejection of May's offer to keep company the moment he saw her. Her usually optimistic veneer crumbled, and a tear rolled from the corner of her eye. Drake feared the worst.
  
  Mai stepped forward, hugging her.
  
  "You are seventeen," she said. "You went through hell. Standing up for yourself is one of the ways you will start to get back into the real world."
  
  Drake dated Aiden Hardy for a very short time before they allowed Grace to visit him alone. He remembered this man in his early thirties, burly, with day-old stubble covering his large chin and a smile that made his eyes sparkle, a quality he hoped someone like Grace would inherit.
  
  Grace pulled away from May, staring at the floor and letting her words flow. "He said Hayden called him to find answers. Nothing official, but some done faster and dirtier than usual. It's kind of like my specialty, he said. Grace snorted. "He called me because he found something."
  
  Mai stroked her hair. Drake had never seen her so soft, so nervous. He knew that Mai was being mentally bombarded on two fronts - because of her feelings for Grace and the family of the man she killed.
  
  "Hardy stopped smiling after a minute," the young girl said, "and told me that I must have run away." Tears stuck in her throat. "I don't have a family history before the age of twelve that he hasn't found yet, and that was probably when I ran away. But after that they are more than enough. At twelve I was a street girl who was bought and sold. These people, these animals that control the slave trade, they know what they're doing. They make you pliable with a cocktail of alcohol and drugs and perhaps cruelty, that's what Hardy told me. I was one of the lost, ready to be used and thrown away. I failed, I went with the flow. They treated them like garbage. Of course, the dark streets of most major cities are filled with stories like mine. I was someone's daughter, I suppose, but that someone is unknown."
  
  Drake saw Grace's ostentatious confidence slip away. "I don't even know if my mother loved me." She snorted.
  
  Drake swallowed hard. Mai held the girl in strong arms. "Your mother loved you," she said. "I know it".
  
  Now Grace's voice is sharper. "You haven"t figured out the worst part yet, have you?"
  
  Drake frowned. "Perhaps you can still find them."
  
  Grace wiped her eyes. "That's not the point. Finding them is a dream that could save me, but not knowing what happened to me from the age of twelve until now is one thing. Remembering what it would be..." She began to lament, lowering her head.
  
  Drake felt a pang of terror pierce his heart. What could be worse than bringing back terrible old memories? The memories she longed for so long would only serve to destroy her again.
  
  Drake tried to speak. "When the memories come back, you may be able to seek counseling. Or-"
  
  Grace shuddered. "All the memories that will come back to me are... are... terrible. And there's nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is... go away."
  
  May spoke for the first time. "So, I suggest you start living your life. So. For the present and the future, because the past will return one day and you will need wonderful new memories to help fight those long-standing nightmares."
  
  Grace shook her head slowly, clearly unable to believe her predicament.
  
  I am an empty shell," she said. "Blank sheet. Love is dead, long live revenge. Where is my seat?"
  
  Drake responded to the thin voice with a devastated tone. "Here and now," he said. "Make your life full of new vivid memories."
  
  "Here? Now? At seventeen? But once I was a child! I am someone's daughter! I am. And my mother loved me! "
  
  Drake nodded. "So, rise up again. Find them. And be stronger than the chains that protect your heart and soul. Be a fighter. I mean, you're in the right company, love."
  
  Mai came face to face with the difficult dilemma of a girl. "So here you are, three weeks old with memory loss, and you have to deal with a decision-making event that would bother most adults. The question is, would a person want to remember such horrific events? If a man could forget what he saw in the war," she glanced at Drake, "or if a woman could forget the night of her rape. If a police officer could forget just a few of the shocking and horrifying scenes they have to witness month after month, year after year, would they want to do it?"
  
  Grace watched in silence, perhaps postponing the question for later. Drake knew the answer was moot. Grace could not control the resurrection of her memories. But she did have power. And purpose.
  
  She really had a future.
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  Lauren Fox started the most dangerous night of her life with the right choice of high heels, ankle bracelet and stockings. The length of her skirt, the color of her nails, the severity of her makeup. Nightshade could be created in minutes, but it took hours to create her masterpiece. Friends wouldn't recognize her, let alone colleagues like Smith and Hayden Jay. By the time she had finished, she felt a little sorry for the boys and men who were walking and sitting with their girlfriends that Wednesday night.
  
  They couldn't help but watch.
  
  Lauren grabbed her oversized bag, called a cab and told him to take her to the Dupont Plaza Hotel via Constitution. She enjoyed the ride down the wide, majestic road, the sharp and evocative views helping her relax. There was little traffic tonight, the areas around the monuments were almost empty and the sidewalks were barren. She directed the taxi driver up 18th Street and across Connecticut, not because she thought he was new to the game, but because she craved a little self-control before entering the room where two powerful men were waiting. Six months ago, such a scenario would not have bothered her. Now, knowing everything she knew about the Stone, the Gate, and the SPEAR team, and what might be at stake, she already knew that several fortifications would be needed soon.
  
  The taxi dropped her off at the hotel. Lauren climbed out of the car, throwing a long, heavy coat over her outlandishly dressed body so as not to attract prying eyes, a maneuver she had long been familiar with. Even then, passers-by gave her more than a second glance, some of the creepiest trying to make sustained eye contact.
  
  Lauren pushed open the front doors and purposefully made her way to the elevators, ignoring the front desk. A few minutes later she was walking up to the eleventh floor, ignoring the bellboy's gaze, unable to shake the feeling that everything was about to go wrong. Hell, she had to be sure it was her job, her only profession. The mechanics weren't exactly complicated. Both Stone and Bell would be putty in her hands. But for that to happen, she had to feel something more than confidence, she had to radiate it, use it as a weapon.
  
  Usually by this time Nightshade had the upper hand. Lauren found herself knocking on the General's door with a doubt deep in her mind.
  
  Faster than she expected, it opened. Stone stood there, glaring, his eyes hard and black as obsidian, assessing everything.
  
  "Yes, yes," he said. "Do we have a problem?"
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Smith left the Pentagon shortly after Lauren, stating to Hayden that he needed a few hours to rest. The team was in full intelligence gathering mode, which is not exactly typical of Smith, and no one thought it was unusual when he left. Besides, the others needed some sort of break from his relentless, steady irascibility, they all told him that often enough.
  
  Smith took the car, a nondescript black Chevy, and followed Lauren to her house, then back into the cab. Fortunately there was little traffic. All this time he wondered what the hell he was doing.
  
  Lauren didn't need his help. She would have beaten him-orally, at least-if she knew he was following her. The rest of the team did not express any serious concerns, although Smith noticed Drake's hesitation. An inexplicable need for help was clearly reflected in the dark eyes of the Englishman. But he did not voice anything: no promises, no requests. Obviously this team has evolved to the point where if you didn't ask for help, you didn't get it.
  
  Smith didn't really believe it. Real life always got in the way, and real life now involved trying to prevent a major international crisis involving these Pythian assholes and something with Pandora. He quickly curbed his anger, knowing that it was unfounded.
  
  Why then did he feel the need to follow Lauren?
  
  Well, who wouldn't? was his immediate, flippant reply. But that was not all. Lauren was part of the team and the only one in danger tonight. Smith just couldn't afford to let her handle it alone. After losing Romero...
  
  Smith gritted his teeth, suppressing the urge to hit the wheel. Quick to anger, he was also quick to forgive, although he kept this dubious value to himself. The image he portrayed pleased him - it gave him privacy when he needed it, and it was always convenient to end a difficult conversation. Conversely, it also allowed him to follow orders, which was the highest purpose of Smith's life. He acted like he didn't like them, but he always obeyed because that's where he wanted to be - out of the spotlight.
  
  When Lauren's taxi left Dupont Circle and stopped outside the square, Smith allowed his Chevrolet to pull over onto the opposite curb. Having illegally parked and ignoring it, he crossed the road to her blind side. Worried that he remained hidden from her sight, he didn't have to worry. Lauren's eyes were fixed straight ahead, both in an attempt to avoid the appraisal looks and in order to immerse herself in the game. They entered the door of the hotel, and then Smith saw his first serious problem.
  
  Elevators.
  
  As Lauren made her way through the large lobby, Smith scanned the room for an ally. The first thing that caught his attention was a short bellboy dressed in an elegant hotel livery. Bound Smith was next to the guy.
  
  "Woman heading for the elevators." He didn't need to go into details. Judging by the eyes of the bellboy, there was only one woman in the lobby at the time. "I need to know the number of the room she enters."
  
  He threw in a twenty, then a second, secretly hoping the little ass would just move.
  
  "A prostitute?" asked the bellhop. "Or cheating wife?"
  
  Smith wanted to slap him in the face. "Both," he hissed. "Now hurry up. You will help a good person."
  
  The bellboy, already sold, snatched the bills from Smith's hands and rushed forward, pushing a cart with half-loaded suitcases. Smith nodded in appreciation.
  
  The bellboy grinned. "Not my first rodeo."
  
  Smith didn't smile back. His lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes clouded over as he watched Lauren enter the elevator.
  
  Something was about to break out here in this hotel, he was sure of it. Something big. Lauren only fanned the flames, heading for the heart of the fire. For the first time in his life, he just hoped he was wrong.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Lauren reacted quickly. Luckily, just then, a bellhop was passing by, pushing his half-loaded cart. Her eyes darted from Stone to the bellboy, and she said nothing.
  
  Thank God for the bellhop.
  
  The General winced slightly, perhaps realizing that he was close to being noticed, perhaps not caring one iota. In his game, at his level, any kind of advertising could be faked, promoted and put to good use. He held the door open.
  
  Lauren squeezed inside, clearly aware that Stone had not made the slightest attempt to move away. When their bodies touched, he moaned, licking his lips. These were times when Lauren really had to rein in her true nature. The image of the average New Yorker was confident, outspoken, street-smart, and more than acerbic. Her professional style hid these qualities, preferring to express them in other ways as soon as she locked up her most obnoxious subjects.
  
  Or wrapping paper from Saran, she guessed.
  
  The client at the moment was Stone. She squeezed into the room, waiting and immediately saw the luxurious apartment. Would someone like Stone chalk it up to the taxpayer?
  
  She almost laughed out loud. Stupid question.
  
  Fingering the buttons on her coat, Lauren walked up to the ceiling-high windows, pretending to be entranced by the light as she gathered her courage. Tonight she was sure she was working for the good guys against the enemy. And this simple adaptation to her stock Nightshade character made all the difference, damn it.
  
  In less than a minute, Stone was behind her, arms at her sides. "Before we start," he said. "Perhaps you should meet my colleague, Mr. Bell."
  
  Stone put a hand on her shoulder, turning her around. Nicholas Bell stood off to the side, grinning. Lauren's first thought was Damn, did we all get it wrong? Bell looked like a nice guy: great smile, strong body, laughing eyes. The complete opposite of Stone. Lauren was immediately drawn to the man, a rare occurrence in her profession. Did he really work with Stone? And what did those damn pythoness want from these two?
  
  Bell stepped forward, holding out his right hand. "Nicholas Bell. Constructor. Nice to meet you ".
  
  Lauren smiled and shook her head. The only chink in the man's pleasant armor was that he told her his real name and perhaps his occupation. Builder? Maybe not. Only those with a ridiculous superiority complex will give away the game on first contact.
  
  She remained alert. "Nightshade," she said with a wry smile.
  
  "The curse of many good people." Bell offered her a glass of champagne.
  
  Lauren never drank in someone else's apartment. She refused with a wave of her hand. "Maybe we should start?"
  
  Bell bowed. "I'm at your disposal."
  
  Stone retired to the living room, leaving them alone. Bell leaned over and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "Thank God, I thought the old bastard was going to stay and watch."
  
  Lauren tried to hide a quick grin, but couldn't. "Are you ready, Mr. Bell? Before we start, I would always like to agree on a stop word. You know, if things get a little too... a challenge? Purple suits you?
  
  Another charming smile. "As you say".
  
  Lauren hesitated. "Stone explained to you what I do?" Twice in the past she has visited clients who were "set up" by their so-called friends, men who ran screaming when nipple clamps appeared.
  
  Bell just nodded.
  
  Lauren unbuttoned her coat, letting the material fall to the floor. Bell gasped in admiration. She wore black stockings underneath, a leather skirt that reached mid-thigh, shiny boots that ended at the knees, and a matching jacket with a shiny silver zipper unbuttoned to maximize her cleavage.
  
  "Lady," Bell almost choked. "This-"
  
  Lauren cracked her whip. "Shut your mouth," she said. "And get on your knees."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  While performing her usual ritual, Lauren found her mind wandering. There was no point in wondering why a man like Bell would pay for her attention. Humans were complex animals that could never be fully understood, overflowing with all sorts of primal needs. The men kept their secrets deep, which was why it was difficult, if not impossible, for Lauren to have any kind of relationship with any of them. Yes, she was jaded, cynical, but she saw the opposite sex in all its manifestations.
  
  Take Nicholas Bell as a prime example. Rich, powerful, very attractive. No doubt he drove an expensive car, roamed the streets during the day, and visited clubs and private parties at night, leaving with a girl slung over each powerful shoulder. Playboy. A celebrity in his own little world.
  
  Remove the rich trim and Lauren might have been attracted to it. Add a dash of darkness, and every bit of perception in her body screamed in warning. The problem was that where people were concerned, they always did.
  
  Restrained laughter was heard from the hall, Stone was watching some kind of regulated comedy. Lauren straddled Bell's back, running her blood-red nails down the length of his spine. The man winced. Lauren turned and continued to caress the bulges of his buttocks, the sensitive backs of his legs. She ran the tip of her whip along the soles of his feet. Bell, caged, could only grunt and roll. Lauren got down and taught him the fallacy of his ways.
  
  Two hours have passed. Lauren alternated between pleasure and pain, always leaving Bell to wonder what would happen next - the gentle tickle of her long dark hair on his chest or the sharp sting of a whip; bite of teeth, human or otherwise; the delightful tip of her tongue. There came a time when Bell barely knew what century they were in and didn't care. The sounds of his delight finally drowned out the monotonous television.
  
  Later, they lay together on a luxurious sofa, one of them sipping wine. Lauren found Belle, now wrapped in a thick white bathrobe, relaxed, leaning back in her chair and taking the time to listen to her as well as respond to her comments. In those moments, it seemed to her that she was the only one he thought of, but she could not help but know another. This man was a consummate gambler or an unwitting innocent. Lauren could only guess which one. Again, she was struck by how different he was from Stone-Bell lay half-naked and gradually got drunk, while Stone was always reserved, inflexible, as tight as the suspension cables on the Brooklyn Bridge.
  
  It wasn't until the general entered that Lauren fully remembered her mission. Hours passed, and she hadn't come a step closer to any truth. On the plus side, both men seemed to be at ease with her.
  
  "In a moment," Stone said. "I'll get in line, but in the meantime, I need to speak to Mr. Bell here. Alone."
  
  "Wait right here." Bell patted her thigh.
  
  "Oh, I don't think she's going anywhere," Stone bellowed. "I think the girl likes our little dates."
  
  Lauren shrugged, poured herself another glass of wine, and stretched along the couch so that her long legs were visible. The two men returned to the living room with long-drawn eyes, just clay dolls that she could manipulate. As they closed the door, Lauren suppressed her anxiety, poured the wine into a nearby flower pot, and headed across the room.
  
  The best part of her job as Nightshade, she reflected, was that she didn't actually have to go to bed with men like these. She was broad-minded to say the least, but some of the requests still shocked her, and powerful characters like Stone and Bell playing submissive role-playing games weren't a good fit. Now she gently put her ear to the closed door and thought a soft "Yes!" when she heard Stone turn off the TV.
  
  "Enjoying my gift Nicholas?" Stone's voice was weak, but Lauren still heard superiority in him. She pressed closer to the door, angered by his arrogance.
  
  "Passing away the boring hours of waiting," Bell replied without any emotion in his voice. "I'm still at a loss as to why Webb suggested that I come here instead of returning home."
  
  Lauren remembered the name. Stone's laugh was cold. "Maybe it's for your safety."
  
  Bell lacked Stone's deep sense of sarcasm and condescension. "You think? I thought he might be trying to keep an eye on me."
  
  Stone didn't answer. He was silent for a while, causing Lauren's heart to skip a beat. Did he approach the door? If she had lingered, she would not have been able to cover the sofa in time ...
  
  Then he spoke again. "While you were... busy... I received a call from Mr. Webb. Events have moved forward."
  
  Lauren heard footsteps. With a trusted instinct born from years of checking on customers, she jumped back to the couch, covering herself at the last second. The living room door opened and Stone stuck his head out.
  
  "Do you have everything you need, dear? Don"t you dare fall asleep in front of us, now."
  
  Lauren made a practice swing with her whip. "Just keep him warm."
  
  Stone left, closing the door once more. Lauren immediately took her life into her own hands and jumped across the room, putting her ear back to the smooth surface.
  
  "You can't be too careful," she heard Stone say. "As I said, events have moved forward." Now Lauren heard a completely uncharacteristic and frankly bizarre note of excitement in his voice. "Factory," he said. "It's finished".
  
  "Really?" Bell seemed shocked. "That was fast."
  
  Stone's utter delight showed in his raised voice. Lauren found this sound more than creepy.
  
  "The factory is finished. Pandora can now be turned into a weapon!"
  
  "Crap". Bell's voice betrayed his fear.
  
  "What? Does it scare you?"
  
  "We don"t even have Pandora yet. It's still too early. There is so much to be done."
  
  "Don't take off your damn panties, Bell. Unless that whore put them where the sun doesn't shine. Yes? Yes?"
  
  Lauren felt her hands curl into fists.
  
  "No, Bill. I mean the factory is everything. The center of our activity is in Pandora."
  
  "My operation," Stone put in.
  
  "Yes, and the factory is on the other side of the world. Out of our control. Is Webb sure they got it right? For an operation that started off so slowly that it's no doubt picking up speed at a tremendous rate. "
  
  "If you were in the military, you would know that operations do this," Stone said. "A slow start, then a great sprint and you're done. Everything is fluid, constantly changing. You must go with the flow, ride the treacherous waves. Jesus, man, this is the funniest part."
  
  "If you think I view this particular operation as fun, then you are much more deranged than I first thought."
  
  "Well, Miranda will be up soon. Imagine what miracles this perverted bitch can create. Between us speaking, I am looking forward to her proposal."
  
  Once again, Lauren put that name away. Whatever these people were doing, it was clearly not Macy's shopping, and they seemed to have accomplices. Then she heard a comment that nearly made her heart stop.
  
  It was Stone's heartless voice. "If governments do not obey, thousands will die. Hundreds of thousands. This Pandora plague... it will force us."
  
  Lauren didn't hear what else was said for at least thirty seconds. This single word, despite its apparent absence in any standard worldwide form for centuries, still pierces the hearts of most people like a white-hot spear.
  
  Plague.
  
  The word conjured up rotting bodies on the streets, a horrific, agonizing death from a pustule, no chance of immunity, and this dreadful waiting...waiting to see if you or your loved ones have been infected.
  
  Lauren pushed her horror aside, forcing herself to focus on what was being said in the living room. Now more than ever, the information she had gathered tonight was needed.
  
  "... time to find the three plague pits," Stone said. "If we fail there, we will fail the whole operation."
  
  Good to know, Lauren thought.
  
  "And then Miranda?" Bell's voice shook.
  
  "May be. I heard that Clifford is diligently looking for this lost kingdom," said Stone, not holding back his glee. "But first, it's my turn. The factory will start working in earnest as soon as we provide samples. So let's get started on this. Our network of soldiers is huge, and every regiment, even every cell, believes they are working for someone else, and that person is working for the Pythians. Brilliant, huh?"
  
  Once again, Lauren missed Bell's answer. Pythia? Was this the reason why the secret group was interested in Stone and Bell? Because they denigrated their infamous name?
  
  Then Stone said, "Let's get back to our pleasures."
  
  And Bell answered. "I'll leave you with this. We are Pythians."
  
  Stone's response was equally respectful. "We are Pythians."
  
  As the footsteps approached the door, Lauren's jaw hit the floor.
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  "Forgive me my dear, but I think we can double your money." Stone left the room during the performance, then took a hard look at her position. "What are you doing?"
  
  Lauren turned away from the window with an empty glass in her hand. "Admiring the view, Mr. Stone. Would you like to do the same?"
  
  She struck a pose, the lights of Washington shone behind her, the handcuffs hung from her waist and touched her hips, her jacket now completely unbuttoned.
  
  Stone pointed to a bag containing the techniques of her trade. "Want to take care of both of us at the same time? This is five thousand for you."
  
  It took all the years and every drop of Lauren's experience to put on a lewd smile. "Nightshade would be pleased with that."
  
  Stone moved forward, followed by Bell. Lauren noticed a wide smile that replaced the pained expression on his face. "Second round?" he asked.
  
  "Last round". Lauren couldn't help smiling back.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  A few hours later, Lauren left, and two tired, injured men dressed in luxurious bathrobes. Seeing another opportunity, she drank from a bottle of champagne, draining it dry so they would think she had drunk more than a whole bottle that evening. The three sat talking quietly, now opening the bourbon, Stone with his typical conceited reserve, and Stone with his open charm. Lauren had to admit that together they made a very difficult team. What did this mean for the rest of the Pythians?
  
  Feigning exhaustion, she mentioned quitting and then sleeping, drank a full double bourbon, and pretended to pass out right there on the couch. The ball was on their side. They would either make her comfortable, call her a cab, or take advantage of some advantage. Lauren was covered in every way, she could always pretend to be awake. Not only that, but she believed that Bell would defend her honor.
  
  A warning sound sounded. Are you crazy?
  
  Probably. How else could I live this long?
  
  In any case, her need for information was now above everything else, including her dignity, and above all, she loathed the very thought of ever seeing Stone alone again. Her debt to Jonathan was paid off. The General was a monster, straight out of his own mouth.
  
  "The girl is drunk as hell," Stone said matter-of-factly. "So I guess she's not getting paid."
  
  Bell chuckled. "Don't be more of an ass than you already are. Entertainment like her for people like us? She is golden. You should encourage her, not drive her away."
  
  "Maybe. But anyway, there's one more thing we need to discuss before we leave. Let her get some sleep."
  
  Lauren heard movement, felt Stone's heavy hand patting her bottom, and then footsteps crossed the living room. The door closed. Fear gripped Lauren's soul as she opened her eyes and stood up. She stood so close to the edge that she felt herself hesitate. If Stone finds her this time, she could very well be thrown off the outside balcony.
  
  Lauren hesitated. It wasn't until the scraps of information she'd already discovered flooded back that she felt the urge to move. Pythia... a factory turned into a weapon... a plague!
  
  Damn, if only she had support.
  
  Putting her ear to the door and making sure her path back to the couch was clear, she returned to her old role... the thought flashed through her mind that she had played so many roles tonight that there was a chance she would forget who she was. But then voices filled her head.
  
  Stone was in full swing: "...London, Paris and Los Angeles remain the three areas of our need ... the freshest graves."
  
  Lauren recalled from the Kinimaki briefing earlier that the SPEAR team already knew that the Pythians were highly motivated by these three specific cities - something about recruiting mercenaries and offering ridiculous money to wait for instructions in one of their choice. SPIR received information from the mercenaries, who later rejected the Pythian offer. The fact that Stone said it now only confirmed what they already knew.
  
  Bell then said, "As you know, General, I don't have to work. I am ready to watch any of these cities if required."
  
  "I know you don't work, Bell. This fact is only evident from your vitality."
  
  "It's a compliment?"
  
  "Not at all".
  
  "Oh. What a fool I am."
  
  "Listen, Bell. Why did you even need to oversee these operations? Have you forgotten that I personally organized them?"
  
  "Some time ago you mentioned that the three plague pits are the most important part of your operation. Doesn't it make sense to have a leader to watch over each of them?"
  
  Stone didn't answer for a while. Lauren imagined him considering Bell's words. The information she had already gathered was enough to kill her. At least twice. As much as she wanted to stay and find out more, Lauren began to wonder if she could push her luck as much as she could.
  
  However, her devotion to SPIR and Jonathan kept her ear glued to the door.
  
  "My commanders on the ground will do just fine," Stone finally said. "They are all vetted and, most importantly, they are all ex-military special forces. I doubt a newly rich builder could match them."
  
  "Homemade". Bell made his first stand against the general. "I made every penny out of this. Can you really say the same, Bill?"
  
  "I'm not sure I understand."
  
  "I meant your power. The power you have. You deserve it on the battlefield, don't you? Or was it some Harvard freeloader?"
  
  For a moment, nothing was said, and Lauren, with great concentration, missed her hint. Of course, she should have imagined the selfish general losing his temper, full of bluster and self-satisfied anger. Then she might not have lost everything in his bloodthirsty hands.
  
  Stone pushed the door with such force that it hit Lauren and threw her back into the room. At first, his expression was polaroid-like, complete disbelief and shock, but then surprise turned to absolute fury.
  
  "You bitch! You are a fucking bitch. I knew you were too damn good to be true!"
  
  "I just... I just came by to pick you up."
  
  Stone swung at her, but missed. Bell stepped on his heels. "Wait. Wait! She could be telling the truth."
  
  Lauren backed toward the door. Stone lunged and punched her in the chest with an outstretched arm, knocking her off balance. As she fell, he pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Come here!" he shouted. "We have a big problem."
  
  Lauren hit the wall, the impact took her breath away. She exhaled with a scream. Some instinct kicked in. She recalled how the Koreans sent a brainwashed soldier to silence her in New York, and how she fought tooth and nail with this killer, eventually sending him over the balcony. The same fire, the same voice rose within her now, commanding her to stand up and fight, to give an account of herself. She quickly rolled over and jumped to her feet.
  
  Just at the moment when the door of the hotel room swung open.
  
  The men burst inside with weapons at the ready but pressed to their sides to avoid the CCTV cameras in the hallway. Lauren saw a glimmer of opportunity and immediately rushed forward. As soon as that door closed, she was dead.
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  The attackers were wearing suits and ties. Feeling slightly ridiculous, a woman dressed in leather and high boots pounced on them, first tugging at the knot of his tie so that he stumbled past her, then kicking the other between the legs with an uninhibited kick. Her left hand gripped the door, throwing it wide open, while her right jabbed clumsily at the nearest pistol. Yes, she trained, but only in the dojo, where mistakes were never punishable by death.
  
  Not like that.
  
  As she slid to the gap in the door next to the frightened men, she felt a hard blow to the center of her back. Someone's shoe. Stone's boot.
  
  Unable to stop herself, she flew forward, slamming her head into the door frame; blood came out from behind the edge of the frame on her forehead. A man pinched her neck before she fell completely out into the hallway, another grabbed and dragged her by the legs.
  
  Still kicking, screaming, Lauren was dragged back to her hotel room. Feeling the end, and more concerned with relaying the information she received than with her own well-being, she spread both legs and pushed off. The men around her staggered. Lauren tore herself out of their grasp, ripping through her clothes and a lock of hair, ignoring the flash of pain. She was alone, she was SPIR, she was chosen for this.
  
  She disarmed one man with a kick of her foot and hit another with her elbow. When a third attacked her, she caught his blows on her biceps, writhing into them, and then delivered her own punch. Mastered space, the path to freedom. Lunging, she dealt with the three men, already feeling the fresh air of freedom as she slipped between their flailing legs, but the others stayed behind. They couldn't use their weapons, not in this hotel, but they could use their bodies. Perhaps sensing her imminent escape and their own terrible reprimand, they dove in front of her.
  
  Unable to dodge the road, Lauren fell, entangled in the mass of arms and legs. As she lay there, breathing heavily, a fist slammed into her ribs, another into the back of her neck. The stars exploded before her eyes. She fell sharply. Now she could see a gloating Stone in front of her, an embarrassed Bell, and a man who was already purposefully heading for the French windows.
  
  "On the balcony?" someone's voice said. "Judging by the way she's dressed, it's almost expected."
  
  "Certainly. I don't care," Stone said dismissively. "But wipe it off first. All that leather and PVC could have been our fingerprints."
  
  Lauren fought back wildly, kicking her shins as she rolled away from the hesitant grips. The men grabbed her. Bell expressed concern. Stone told him to fucking get over it, that bitch was doing a night dive.
  
  Lauren spun around once more, her face hitting the carpet in the room. As she landed, almost blinded by pain, she took one last look at the rapidly closing hotel room door.
  
  Someone stood in between, someone she knew.
  
  Did she have hallucinations?
  
  Smith was rushing forward, one against seven, but this man was a former Delta player and a member of SPIR. What men like Smith could do was kill or incapacitate with one blow, grab a weapon, and fire three fatal shots out of three. He started it now, but Stone had already radioed for backup. Smith saw that these guards were better trained than normal feed and he unleashed his anger by focusing his attack on the people holding Lauren.
  
  "Who is this?" Stone said stiffly. "Her pimp?"
  
  Smith broke the wrist of the man holding Lauren by the waist, slipping in as she fell and taking her weight. As he moved, he attacked the others. He could see their anxiety, their confusion. Who was this new intruder? Since he fired first, can they now repay him in kind?
  
  Stone's orders did not exist. Smith broke his larynx and nose, grabbed his gun, and fired an off-target shot. As expected, Stone and his men reacted with fear, immediately realizing that anyone and everyone would call the authorities. Smith took advantage of the confusion to capture Lauren and disarm two more of Stone's men.
  
  He kept the gun, pointing it at Stone's face. "Do not move. Any of you."
  
  "You will regret this," Stone said. "Whoever you are. And Nightshade too. I was really interested in you from the very beginning."
  
  Lauren tried to stand up, but found her battered body unable to do so. Hell, she wanted to help her savior. Never before had she felt so inadequate. Without warning, two men separated from the group and charged at them. Smith, still supporting her, shot one in the thigh, at the same time making sure that the last hit the elbow.
  
  Smith returns to the door. "The first one who sticks his head out will have it blown off." With these words, the hot-tempered soldier dragged Lauren into the corridor. "Sorry about the whip," he said. "I didn't have time to grab it."
  
  "It's... it's all right. I'll get another one."
  
  "Do you mind if I pick you up?" he asked with more politeness than she could imagine possible. "Over my shoulder? We will move faster." He cast a wary glance towards the hotel room.
  
  "Whatever you have to do, Smith. Just get me out of here!"
  
  "Yes, ma'am." Smith bent at the waist, slung Lauren over his shoulder, and rushed forward. As one, they rushed down the corridor, stopping at the first row of elevators.
  
  "How the hell did you find me?"
  
  "Followed you here. Used the bellhop to get Stone's room number. Sit on the comfortable seats there-" He pointed to several deep leather couches located opposite the elevator doors. "Until I heard all this commotion. I always thought that if Lauren Fox was in trouble, she would fight back fiercely."
  
  Lauren lowered her head, trusting that Smith would protect her. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you very much".
  
  "Not required". Smith led them into an elevator. "You are part of my team, Lauren. You are family."
  
  "I am?" She caught her eye on the polished walls. "God, I look so scary that they could hire me as a Halloween ghost."
  
  Smith, challenging everything she knew about him, lowered his eyes to the ground. "Maybe perverted."
  
  Lauren slid off his back and landed on her feet with a groan. "Thank you".
  
  "As I already said. You are family."
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  Drake answered the call late at night, waking up instantly. So early, Hayden's words were a little vague, but he got the point.
  
  "Get down to the fucking headquarters! Now! "
  
  Mai was already awake, staring up at the high ceiling. "It's time to go?"
  
  Drake sat up in bed, rubbing his face. "Yes. Did you sleep?"
  
  "A little. I'm worried about Grace and... other things."
  
  "I know. I thought over the past few weeks we might be able to touch on this topic a little more."
  
  Mai looked at him. "A bit more?"
  
  "Well, just once would be nice."
  
  "This is my mess, Matt, and if he comes back to bite me..."
  
  "We'll get through this together." Drake hugged her tightly. "I knew I should have gone to Tokyo with you."
  
  Mai pulled away and stood up, keeping her back to him as she dressed. "Really? And what would you do differently?"
  
  Drake sighed, realizing he was on shaky ground. "I don't know, love. You didn't tell me a damn thing. Either way, if we hurry, we can get a ride off the Mad Swede."
  
  Mai gave him a quick, long-suffering smile. "Are you talking gibberish again?"
  
  "Oh sorry. In Queens' English - speed up, my dear, and perhaps we can use Mr. Dahl's vehicle."
  
  "That's better".
  
  They ran out of the room together just in time to see Dahl, who was renting a large apartment opposite their somewhat more conservative apartment with his newly arrived family, struggling to free himself from his wife's arms.
  
  "Need help, buddy?" Drake asked dryly.
  
  Dahl managed to free one hand.
  
  "We can wait two and a half minutes if you like."
  
  Dahl was then free, but Joanna grabbed his hair at the last second.
  
  "Seriously. We'll wait in the car."
  
  The Swede caught up with them some time later, throwing a sideways glance at Drake as he fell. "Not a single damn word."
  
  "I? As if..."
  
  Washington was quiet in the dead of night; office buildings, museums and monuments were still on fire, giving it the appearance of a functioning ghost town. Mai stared out the window as they made the short trip to the famous five-sided concrete structure, her mood also affecting the men. None of them knew why they had been called, but given the current unrest and the hypothetical consequences of the Pythian threat, the outlook was grim. Not knowing where in the world they would be at this time tomorrow, Drake decided to reach out to Dahl.
  
  "But seriously, buddy, does Joanna like Washington?"
  
  Dahl made an evasive face. "It"s like walking through a minefield with them. For now, they treat it like a holiday. But when the novelty wears off, who knows, especially now that Bloody Vendetta has been cancelled."
  
  "You did the right thing." Drake said, looking ahead. "Bring them here."
  
  "Try telling them that," the Swede grumbled.
  
  "Doesn't matter, mate. Sometimes the best thing to do is what upsets someone the most and you can't explain why. They can handle it."
  
  Mai chose this moment to get his attention. "Do you believe in that?"
  
  "Certainly".
  
  "Fine". She turned away again.
  
  Drake exchanged a pair of raised eyebrows with Dahl and fell silent. Soon they were entering the Pentagon and heading for their new headquarters. Drake was still accustomed to the divergent corridors and polished floors, the men in black suits and military uniforms pacing the halls, the reflecting medals, the endless walls of guards. Finally they entered through the oak door.
  
  The first thing Drake saw was a disheveled, bloodied Lauren Fox. Then the strange sight of Smith protecting her, standing behind her, also looking shabby.
  
  Hayden moved to the center of the room. "Lauren's mission went a little... things went awry." She moved on to a detailed account of the events of the night, focusing mainly on the conversations Lauren had overheard. Drake was overwhelmed by the amount of information, glad to see a few bits and pieces of clues fall into place.
  
  "So London, Paris, and Los Angeles are the locations of the three plague pits, and they're going to try and weaponize whatever they find there? Score one, two and three for Miss Fox."
  
  He saw Smith nod and put his hand on the woman's shoulder, then suddenly changed his mind. "We were all supposed to be there," Drake said softly.
  
  Hayden raised both hands. "We'll save the blame for later," she said. "Right now, these cities are in serious danger. We must focus our efforts on them."
  
  "What about this factory?" Dahl asked. "Immediately disable the factory - destroy the threat."
  
  Lauren gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, they didn't reveal his whereabouts."
  
  "No need to apologize," Dahl said. "This is a big step forward. Jonathan never trusted the general, and since you shared his opinion to the end, you allow him to help us even now."
  
  Lauren's face broke into a smile.
  
  "We have a lot of work to do," Kinimaka said from behind a wooden table. "Nicholas Bell; this guy Webb and Miranda Le Brun - they need to be identified."
  
  "And plague pits," Karin added. "Where exactly are they?"
  
  "We don't have clear ideas," Hayden admitted. "But on the plus side, the Pythians won't know who Lauren and Smith are or how they're connected to SPIR. If we finally want to get one step ahead of our enemies, now is the time to do it."
  
  "May I ask-" Komodo spoke from his seat at the back of the room. "What exactly is a plague pit?"
  
  Karin was next to him. "They go back to the bubonic plague and the Black Death," she said. "If you imagine that two-thirds of Europe's population was wiped out, you can see how difficult it would be to get rid of the bodies. Eventually the recognized burial schemes collapsed, leaving us plague pits during major outbreaks. In times like these, these cemeteries quickly filled up, and only the rich used their graves."
  
  "And those plague pits are still there?" Komodo asked in surprise. "Under the streets of London, Paris and Los Angeles?"
  
  "Well, yes. There's one in Knightsbridge and one in Soho. Several around Paris and all other major European cities. It is generally accepted that organisms like the plague would not survive that long, but it was also believed that all who died were only infected by the Black Death, until recently. Now they are speculating on other diseases, including anthrax. What is in the plague pits may be a mixture of several deadly, ancient diseases."
  
  "They intend to use the ancient plague as a weapon?" Mai suddenly announced as if waking up. "Are they crazy?"
  
  "If they're all like General Stone," Lauren put in, "they're crazy, depraved sons of bitches. No conscience."
  
  Smith patted her shoulder to calm her nerves.
  
  "But also extremely powerful," Hayden said. "Let's not forget about it."
  
  Hayden winced as the landline rang. "I already called Robert Price," she told latecomers, referring to the new secretary of defense. "I want permission to move forward on this issue immediately, and move forward on a massive scale."
  
  Hayden spoke quickly, bringing the secretary up to date. "Everything we have is essentially unverifiable, sir, but it's actually solid as a rock."
  
  "You understand that these are two extremes, don"t you?" Price knew she did and continued, "Anything else about what happened at Drago?"
  
  Drake knew he was referring to the "house on the hill" atrocity. The entire US was united in finding the culprit, from the highest level of government to the lowest rung above the worst of social media trolls.
  
  "No, sir."
  
  "Fine. Do we know where they will strike first?"
  
  Hayden coughed. "Excuse me, sir, but that's one of the reasons I called you so quickly. We believe they will hit all three at the same time."
  
  Price was speechless for a moment, then: "Are the Pythians attacking three major cities at the same time? Do they have such a workforce? That kind of organizational ability?"
  
  "General Stone, despite his shortcomings, is a first-class strategist. And who knows who else is on their payroll?"
  
  "Of course of course. God, this is getting very serious, very fast. I'm going to make some international calls, iron out some of the bumps. How is our labor force? Motherland. FBI. Do you need commands?
  
  "We trust that we will be fine for now, sir. We have people in mind, but we would appreciate increased readiness in target cities."
  
  "After I relay this information, the entire world will be on high alert."
  
  "Right now, it's not that bad, sir."
  
  There was tension in Price's voice. "I also assume that you want Stone to be left alone?"
  
  "This is the best way. He is still our best way to get into their inner circle."
  
  Drake passed out as Mai approached. The eyes of the Japanese woman were lowered, her posture was dull. "What's the problem, love?"
  
  "I can't get Grace out of my head."
  
  "Her past isn't as rosy as she wanted, but we can't change that. And we will help her get through it all. It"s also a damn bad time."
  
  Mai rolled her eyes. "What do you mean, the wrong time?"
  
  Drake didn't back down. He knew that his words were not spoken with malicious intent. "Didn't you pay attention? Catastrophe is on the loose and is heading into town with a mean bastard attitude, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. We have to deal with this, Mai."
  
  "We always deal with this, Matt. Don't you remember Babylon? Hawaii? My damn trip to Tokyo?"
  
  Drake pulled her aside, sensing the others starting to show interest as Mai raised her voice. "You never fully explained that journey. What happened?
  
  "I told you. Didn't you pay attention?"
  
  "I don't believe you killed a man, Mai. The term implies the intent and desire to kill. By your own admission, he was not innocent. Did you even have a choice?"
  
  Mai looked at him sideways. "That's the problem, Matt. I really had a choice. I could leave Tokyo. I could say no, give up looking for my parents.
  
  "But he was your only way to Tsugarai."
  
  Mai nodded. "He was".
  
  "And you saved Grace, and others besides her."
  
  "And he also had a daughter. Son. Wife."
  
  "He played with their lives the second he accepted blood and drug money from bad people."
  
  "Some people don't have a choice."
  
  Drake trailed off after realizing that Mai was referring to her own parents and how they originally sold her in order to survive with their firstborn daughter, Chika. He fought a losing battle. There was no way he could win this.
  
  He suddenly realized that Hayden was talking to him. "... as soon as you can."
  
  He blinked rapidly. "What?"
  
  Dahl shook his head. "Ask him again. The northerner has to tinker a bit."
  
  Drake didn't even react to the insult when Hayden asked him to call Crouch and Alicia again. "We need them now," she said. "If they are not accepted soon, it may be too late."
  
  Drake nodded, pulling out his phone. Enough impossible questions, theories, and bad news had piled up to give him a headache. Crouch was basically self-employed these days and wouldn't have rushed to help if he didn't think it was deadly serious. Maybe what he really needed was a chat with Alicia. It might help ease some of the tension.
  
  But he didn't feel comfortable enough to cross blades with the brash heroine right now.
  
  A male voice answered his call. He spoke in a very tense tone. "You are free? Are you done?
  
  Crouch paused for a second, then said, "We."
  
  "Then we need you. I mean all of you and more. This Pandora thing has gone intercontinental; now we are at war in four countries."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Drake?" Alicia's voice drifted over the line. "Your words don't make any sense."
  
  Drake grabbed the bridge of his nose. "It's the end of the world, Alicia. Pandora's Troubles. Pythons are everywhere. We are losing. It will require every resource, every ounce of brain power, every ounce of courage. We will all be bloodied or dead in this case, Alicia."
  
  "We have faced Armageddon before, and recently. And not just once."
  
  "Not this way". Drake felt more uneasy than ever in his life. "Something so important only happens once in a lifetime. Survival isn't even on the damn menu. Saving our society, that's all that matters."
  
  Alicia fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words. Then Drake heard her say, "We have to help them."
  
  Crouch spoke again, his voice as determined as iron and stone. "My team is at your disposal, Matt. What do you need?"
  
  Drake thought about what Hayden, Price, and Lauren had already brought up. "First of all, go to Europe. You will be our response team there. We are in the process of appointing others."
  
  "Europe is a big place, mate," put in some smart guy. Drake didn't recognize the voice.
  
  "I understand it. We do not yet have the necessary information, this is a well-established operation. Start with Rome. I want you to be on the mainland."
  
  Hayden glared at him. "Why Rome?"
  
  He put his hand on the mouthpiece. "Pretty central location. Who knows, perhaps the Pythians are even now leading us along the garden path. If it turns out to be Paris, Crouch could make an hour-long trip to the SPIRA coin."
  
  "Done," Crouch said. "I'll contact you when we land."
  
  "Thank you. Oh, and guys?"
  
  "Yes?"
  
  "If you have loved ones and relatives, I would call them before you land."
  
  Drake ended the conversation by making eye contact with everyone in the room. "What?" - he asked. "Don't you feel it too? This is pure fight or death. We've been here before, more than once, and I remember every ounce of pain, anxiety, and emotion. Every time-sensitive heartbeat."
  
  The way they all nodded solemnly, like the people standing in front of the firing squad, showed him that they felt the same way.
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  Several hours passed and the SPEAR team contacted Crouch again.
  
  Hayden waited until the ex-Ninth Division player's team cocooned the high-speed jet with full sound and undivided attention before giving all the details. The SPEAR team worked diligently at their headquarters, collecting all the information about everything that could be relevant to the mission.
  
  "We're leaving for London soon," she said. "But despite what we know, we are still working almost blindly. London is a city built on bones; it has dozens of plague pits. Why do the Pythians keep referring to the Pandora plague? How does it all fit together? There are clues here, we just have to unravel them."
  
  "Can I just clarify..." a young woman's voice came over the comms. "And sorry, this is Caitlin Nash. When you say "plague pits", you mean bubonic plague, right? Like from the Black Death, when half the world's population was destroyed?
  
  "That's right, Miss Nash," Dahl said. "And, let me tell you, it's very nice to meet you."
  
  Drake snorted. "Get out of her pants, Dal. You already have enough worries to satisfy one woman."
  
  "I didn"t mean anything... I"m happy-"
  
  Drake shook his head. "God, you're such an easy target."
  
  Alicia broke into their banter with typical aplomb. "Stop it, you two. There is never a bloody change, is there? Also, this is the first time I'm learning about Miss Nash."
  
  "Jesus". Smith looked as if his legs were about to buckle. Lauren turned to look. "You carry me out of the war zone... on your back... and that makes you weak? People! "
  
  Smith turned bright red. "I... I... damn it."
  
  Caitlin's voice brought them back to harsh reality. "And what exactly do we know about the Pandora myth? This is mainly due to the casket, which was the death gift of the gods to mankind. Pandora is said to have been the first woman punished by Zeus in retaliation for Prometheus stealing fire from the gods and giving it to humans. Pandora was sculpted from clay, a beautiful goddess, then every god gave her a virtue - grace, courage, persuasion, curiosity and more."
  
  Hayden stopped her. "Why do we need to know all this?" Karin, the resident genius of the SPEAR team, nodded in agreement, even though she was probably about to start a similar monologue.
  
  "Because that brings us to how all the sins of the world were set free and how they might be related to what we're facing."
  
  Hayden pursed her lips in surprise. "Fine".
  
  "The use of the name Pandora can be anything from the Pythians using a simple code word to using the entire myth as a clue to something..."
  
  "Really?" Crouch interrupted this time, interest in his voice.
  
  "Certainly. Megalomaniacs love to reveal their intentions, even if it's in the form of a riddle. In any case, once formed, the gods gave Pandora a box and told her not to open it."
  
  Drake grimaced. Smith laughed. Even Dahl winced. "Not the best plan."
  
  "No. And Pandora was tempted, just like Eve with the apple. Now you understand? Pandora is a myth of origin. Just like Adam and Eve."
  
  "An origin myth that is also an apocalypse myth?" Karin thought.
  
  "Now you are with me. In any case, Pandora is said to have pretty much invented the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat'. She opened the box and released evil and plague into the world. Crime. Poverty. Pain. Hunger. Disease. Vice."
  
  "I understand". Karin said. "You're saying that the code word Pandora refers to one of these vices, specifically disease, I think, and that her story might provide more clues."
  
  "Exactly. Everything from origin or myth of the apocalypse to causes and places."
  
  "We'll start with the plague pits," Crouch said. "I think someone should also start investigating how someone could use the ancient bubonic plague as a weapon."
  
  Karin patted Komodo's hand. "We can do it. And we already have all the agencies that are tracking the other pythones who have been named."
  
  Hayden finished with a muffled "Goodbye." She turned to address the audience. "The pure, indifferent evil of this shocks me. Even today, when we know what is happening in many parts of the world. Even now, I am amazed that rich, educated people, no doubt, many of whom have families of their own, can do this."
  
  "For a boy born into power, wealth and privilege, this is not necessarily easy to come to terms with," Dahl said quietly. "He was born into a predetermined world with predetermined values. He has no freedom, no childhood or youth. He is expected to follow the necessary path laid down by his father and their ancestors. One day... he might rebel."
  
  Drake blinked at the Swede's words. "Sounds like it came from the heart, mate."
  
  "I was honored," Dahl said. "And I have risen. How else do you think I got here?"
  
  Drake shrugged softly. "Always wondered why this bizarre accent doesn"t go well with being an officer."
  
  "Because I became an independent person. And he went his own way."
  
  Hayden glared at Dahl. "It doesn't give anyone the right to commit genocide."
  
  Dahl glared back. "You think I don't know? I'm right here next to you, fighting the same battle, remember?"
  
  Kinimaka stepped forward and placed a massive hand on their boss's shoulders. "Is everything okay, Hey?"
  
  Hayden sighed. "I think I need more painkillers."
  
  Drake looked around the room. "I think that feeling is pretty universal."
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  Tyler Webb adjusted his laptop, carefully aligning each side so that it was perpendicular to the edges of his dark oak desk before pressing a button and leaning back in his luxurious chair.
  
  "We are pythonesses," he said. "What's going on?"
  
  There were five mini-screens in front of his eyes, each displaying the face of a fellow conspirator. It was the first time they'd tried video calling, but calling each member in person whenever they needed a meeting quickly became problematic, not to mention annoying.
  
  "Threat levels have risen in the three infected cities," General Stone reported. "There is no compelling reason why."
  
  Webb caught the hidden tone but ignored it. Perhaps the general was playing for time, or, more likely, he was annoyed at being turned into Nicholas Bell's nanny. "Don"t they have ways to keep track of chatter?" Webb said casually with a weary gesture. "The threat level is constantly going up and down in response. I wouldn't have to tell you about this, Stone."
  
  "Certainly".
  
  "And that's by no means a bad thing," Miranda Le Brun said softly. "Makes the game even more interesting."
  
  "Because the factory is now up and running," Webb continued. "I think it's important that one or two of us oversee the operation. Yes, yes, I know it's a long flight to get there, but the assignment will help stop the onset of boredom. With that in mind, I thought, Miranda and Nicholas? What do you think?"
  
  Bell quickly intervened. "I'm happy to do it!"
  
  Webb hid a smile. Perhaps the builder was just as annoyed with the Stone as the general was clearly annoyed with him.
  
  Lebrun stroked her hair. "I suppose so," she said with an air of boredom. "Anything to help the cause."
  
  Webb could have gladly strangled her, but he held back his anger. The Pythians worked surprisingly well together, and soon Lebrun herself came up with her own little project. If she hadn't shown herself, then perhaps his final fantasy might have become a blissful reality. Of course, he thought. You can't just strangle someone, even Le Brun. You must soften them first. Make them afraid. They derail their lives.
  
  Chase them.
  
  "As soon as the factory is up and running," he quickly continued. "We'll need another meeting at... the waterfall. In the tower." Despite the highest levels of security allowing real names to be mentioned and the web of secrecy placed on their campaigns, Webb still shied away from giving his exact location over the wire.
  
  Stone was talking offscreen, most likely to Bell, and turned back. "Sorry, it doesn"t look like Bell and Le Brun have a job, does it? Maybe they should both stop trying to pretend they're doing us a huge favor...let's fly over there."
  
  Webb sighed. "Fine. Are we really fighting right now? General - you are a public figure. Until you are compromised - and we all hope that this will happen in many years - you must remain in this post. I don"t need to remind you how much this has already helped our cause."
  
  "Yes, sure. I'm fine ".
  
  "After all," Webb made sure he kept his word, "thousands or even hundreds of thousands may die to advance our cause. But for now, let's look at our upcoming projects." His observations were mere gusts of air with no real consistency and no conscience, meaningless numbers to the ears that were listening. "Thus says the king of maniacs," he then added with a harsh laugh. "Embellishing the facts, shedding light on the crushed bodies that we will trample under our feet, ignoring their pain and suffering. But hasn't it always been like this?"
  
  "Amen," Lebrun said cordially.
  
  "The weak will be crushed under our boots like withering leaves," Stone said, too pretentiously for Webb's taste.
  
  "Did you mention our upcoming projects?" Robert Norris, CEO of SolDyn, looked at his watch. "I have an appointment that I just can't get out of in fifteen."
  
  Slightly frustrated, Webb understood the CEO's dilemma. "Everything is fine. We'll talk in more detail later. Just to say that Clifford's 'lost kingdom' theory is already bearing fruit, and Miranda's concept of 'galleons', if true, sounds extremely intriguing -"
  
  "I've always been fascinated by them," Le Brun put in.
  
  "Galleons?" Stone asked with a wry smile.
  
  "These specific galleons," Lebrun said. "You'll see".
  
  "And above it all," Webb said majestically, "St. Germain. Amazing person. Occultist. Prince of Transylvania. Philosopher-"
  
  "We can continue?" Norris asked.
  
  Webb suppressed an even stronger urge to strangle someone. "... and the greatest adventurer with more treasures, relics and artifacts than any man, any museum ever knew," he finished, as if he meant to end it that way. "Which have never... ever... been discovered."
  
  "Fantastic," Stone said dryly. "The sooner we can launch three or four of these endeavors at the same time, the happier I will be about the final plan."
  
  "Another reason I called this videoconference," Webb continued dispassionately. "This is the official announcement that we are ready to push the button on the Pandora project. I thought you all might want to be present as we begin to ride the three plague pits. This is a magnificent moment for the Pythians." Webb puffed out his chest and smiled broadly, magnanimously. "All assets are in place. The factory is ready. Backup facility prepared-" he looked around. This last announcement was a bit premature, but encouraging. "Are we ready?"
  
  Excited nods and declarations of approval told him he had made the right choice.
  
  "Then let's get started."
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  Alicia Miles experienced a strange moment of uncertainty when Crouch cut off their connection to the SPEAR team. More than a longing, she felt confident that she should be with these guys, part of the team that, in fact, saved her, changed her outlook on life. It was okay to run headlong down a winding road, but what if the people you left behind were the ones you were meant to be with?
  
  She studied the faces around the closed cabin of the plane. Their boss, Michael Crouch, sat deep in thought, his head in his hands, studying the small laptop in front of him. The soldiers, Zach Healy and Rob Russo, sat behind Crouch, looking visibly uncomfortable. Healy still looked fresh and innocent - an appearance that drew a lot of rough jokes - while Rousseau's outer shell was as hard as a mountain and twice as rocky.
  
  However, the two were good friends, a camaraderie born of war, liberation, and adversity. Healy was recently rescued by Rousseau and Alicia from the hands of a berserk African crime boss after helping to find a long-lost ancient Aztec gold treasure chest, a mission that brought action and chaos to Mexico, Las Vegas and Arizona. Alicia bonded very well with the two soldiers, already confident that they would protect her in any future situation.
  
  There were supposed to be two more people on board the plane. One thing was missing, a strange addition from any point of view, the laid-back Lex, a misfit who was part of Alicia's old biker gang and one of her only survivors, was sidelined from this dangerous mission. With so much at stake, Lex's inability to adjust and Nirvana's temptation to bike around Vegas, Alicia convinced him to sit it out this time.
  
  The last one was a young girl, Caitlin Nash. Despite a colorful, dubious history - she'd already burned out once working for MI6 at the tender age of twenty-one - Caitlyn proved herself during the Aztec Gold mission, under brutal torture and helping to unravel clues along the way. It was she who coined the expression "Golden Team" for the group. Alicia felt a little secure towards the girl, but couldn't help teasing her and Healy when they showed signs of a nascent relationship.
  
  And to Caitlin's credit, especially in Alicia's book, she began to show signs that she was not only good at teasing, but also reciprocated.
  
  Alicia leaned back in her chair and listened to the discussions. The first decision was made a few minutes ago; that they would deviate from their planned course for Rome and take a new course for Paris. Caitlin and Crouch were discussing plague pits and how many of them might be scattered around Paris.
  
  "Several sites have been identified," Caitlin said, already tapping into surveillance channels and analyzing data, her main function at MI6. "Too much. And if we wait for the Pythians to strike, we will be too late to stop them. In addition to this, there may be other, less well-known sites. Going back to what we talked about earlier, it is now widely believed by experts that not all pits are full of victims of the Black Death, Yersinia pestis, but they also contain other diseases such as anthrax, leprosy and something else that is especially frightening. - signs of extremely deadly and highly contagious filovirus-like viruses that cause hemorrhagic fevers."
  
  Crouch looked at her in horror. "You want to say...?"
  
  "Yes," Caitlin nodded, "Ebola."
  
  "Are these experts saying that Ebola could be behind the black death epidemic?" Alicia asked with some skepticism.
  
  "It was offered at levels above that."
  
  "We hear an awful lot about this Black Death," Russo grumbled. "Plague. But isn't it just a disease that our ancestors didn't have the technology to eradicate? Would it really be so destructive today?"
  
  "It's hard to say," Caitlin said. "Depends on the strain, virulence and whether it is a weapon or not. The Black Death itself killed most of the population and swept across the continent. Yes, they may not have previously been exposed to this strain of the disease, which inevitably exacerbates the infection. But the first recorded outbreak of the bubonic plague in history occurred in 541-542 AD, later called the Plague of Justinian and known as the greatest pandemic in history. There was a third pandemic that started in China around 1855, killed over twelve million people in that region alone, and was still considered active until 1959."
  
  Alicia took a deep breath. "Jesus".
  
  "Absolutely. But again, this only helps to challenge the notion that the Black Death was caused by rats. An outbreak of plague is always preceded by the presence of a huge number of dead rats, since they are also susceptible to this disease. At present, unlike in Asia, there are no plague-resistant rodents in Europe that could become a breeding ground for the disease, and dead rats are conspicuously absent from medieval literature. Also, despite two outbreaks of plague in Iceland in the fifteenth century, rats settled on the island much later."
  
  "So if it's not rats..." Alicia said. "People?"
  
  "And we're back to Ebola," Caitlin said.
  
  "What about all this talk about weapons?" Healy intervened. "Is it even possible to turn an ancient disease into a weapon?"
  
  "We were just getting there," a familiar voice interrupted, causing Alicia's heart to race.
  
  "God!" exclaimed the Englishwoman. "Have you been listening all this time?"
  
  "Of course," Karin said. "What, did you miss us?"
  
  Alicia snorted. "Oh yeah, like I'm going to miss having an ugly wart on my face. And speaking of which, how is Sprite?"
  
  "Mmm... very quiet. But you guys are on speakerphone right now, so let's move on. Obviously, there are a million different theories about weaponizing most diseases, so let's start from the beginning. In the event of any plague-related bioterrorist event, the region's healthcare system would be easily overwhelmed. Yes, I said it will. Especially if strict isolation is applied indiscriminately for most patients. The Yersinia pestis virus can be destroyed by drying, heating, and ultraviolet radiation, making weapon creation a very difficult process. Would you believe that during World War II, the Japanese multiplied billions of infected fleas and released them into the cities of northern China, causing untold epidemics? Since then, plague has spread in these areas."
  
  Healy took a deep breath, his fresh face twisted. "How do these people get away with it?"
  
  Crouch stared at his young protégé, égé. "Don't ask stupid questions, Zach. You may not have been to the block as many times as, say, Alicia, but you know how governments work."
  
  Alicia blinked in surprise. "Hey..."
  
  But Karin had already continued. "Initially, the United States dismissed plague as a bioweapon threat because the disease persists in the area and will kill people on all sides long after the initial attack. But..." she paused.
  
  Russo leaned over to Alicia. "You must admit that you have already seen the world a little."
  
  "It just makes me more proficient."
  
  "Yes, well, as long as this experience does not touch me, we will continue to get along very well."
  
  "Oh, Stoneface, are you sure? Just imagine how much sweet rock music we could create."
  
  Rousseau turned away, almost writhing. Alicia enjoyed embarrassing the withdrawn and-to tell the truth, rather stiff soldier-but the same could be said of Healy for entirely different reasons. The young man fully intended to ask Caitlin out on a date, meaning to court her in a "proper and proper" manner before fucking her half to death, as Alicia put it. Healy referred to this fact as Russo and she rescued him from a hell hole in Africa. But then Drake called, and the Pythians struck, thwarting all plans.
  
  Fucking grandeurs, she thought.
  
  Now she leaned over to whisper in Healy's ear. "Do you think she looks sexy banging on that computer? I know that I know."
  
  Healy stepped aside. It was two out of two. Alicia leaned back, relaxing. Work is done.
  
  Karin's dialogue went on without interruption: "... it is reported that the Soviets have developed a dry, antibiotic-resistant, environmentally stable variety of the plague organism. This brings us up to speed and informs the US CDC, which has now classified the weaponized plague as a Category A pathogen."
  
  "Fucking specialists hiding in their windowless labs and the soulless people who run them," she heard Dahl say. "I wish I could get my hands on a couple of them."
  
  "Maybe it will," Drake replied with the same disgust in his voice.
  
  "Okay, okay, according to this colonel, the most vile form of armed pneumonic plague was developed in Russia using canisters that fired it as a powder from cruise missiles. Difficult to detect." Karin's voice cracked as she spoke. "This... what the human race can come up with is terrible. In aerosol form, pneumonic plague reaches its zenith, it is the world's most feared, easily spread killer, all because of the contagiousness of the disease, its resistance to dozens of antibiotics, and, at least until the beginning of 2000, there was no vaccine to combat aerosol form".
  
  "So now they are creating diseases without a vaccine?" Crouch shook his head.
  
  "Well, according to the CDC, plague has been used as a weapon ever since the Tatars catapulted infected corpses into the city of Kaffa in an attempt to spread the disease. They say..." Karin hesitated again, "that the Soviets have one and a half thousand metric tons of this substance.
  
  "And what is the percentage of victims?" Hayden asked.
  
  Karin could be heard tapping out. "If fifty kilograms of aerosol were released over a densely populated city, pneumonic plague would occur in about two hundred thousand people. And, Lord, a footnote right here... there is no early warning system."
  
  Crouch chose this moment to stand up. "Well, we're still a good few hours from Paris. I suggest using this watch to get some rest."
  
  Alicia saw an opportunity to joke, but the latest flood of information weighed on her, and she gave up the pleasure. She met her boss's gaze and nodded.
  
  "We'll need it," she said.
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  The moment Drake took to the air, he knew that the days of peace and silence were long gone.
  
  The plane was honking, Karin and Komodo were in full exploratory mode, Hayden was in contact with the British authorities through Robert Price, Kinimaka, in his sweet clumsiness, realized that he had left Washington about three minutes after his sister Kono landed on her way to him. Dahl loomed over everyone, summing up and offering gleefully accepted advice, Smith glared at May and Lauren, but wickedly. Only Mai kept to herself, sitting quietly in the back of the high-speed plane.
  
  Drake was delighted to see the team back in action.
  
  There were three other people on board. Lauren, Yorgi and Grace. The team decided they might need Yorga's services and Lauren's memories. Grace was there at Mae's insistence. The Japanese woman simply could not leave her new ward alone - especially in light of yesterday's new information.
  
  Drake focused on flight and the flow of facts and figures. Preparation was imperative. They landed and then raced through the streets of London without restraint.
  
  Karin was at the forefront of the information attack, naturally understanding what type of intelligence they would need and in what order.
  
  "The plague pits of London," she said. "There are many, which has led some to call it the City of Bones. From end to end, all you have to do is venture a few yards below the surface to discover its many hidden secrets - tens of thousands of bodies are buried under the sprawling capital, a land of skeletons. In addition to the Knightsbridge Pit I mentioned earlier, we have another in downtown Soho, Golden Square. It is now a charming little area with a secret history as a plague pit. In 1685, Lord Macaulay described it as "a field that no Londoner of that time would pass without a shudder." Here, when the great plague was raging, wagons of corpses were thrown and buried every night. The land was thought to have been deeply infected and never again could not be buried without the risk of infection."
  
  "But it all turned out to be wrong," Smith said. "Right?"
  
  Karin shrugged. "We thought so. The bacteria should have died within a few weeks. But, as I mentioned, scientists have now noted the presence of other diseases. Diseases from which you may not die."
  
  Drake made a gesture with his hand. "Any more holes?"
  
  "A lot of. An interesting one is on the Bakerloo line. There is a crossroads at the south end of London Depot. One line leads to Elephant and Castle, the other leads to a dead end and to a line where trains cannot stop. There is a plague pit outside the walls of this tunnel."
  
  Drake suppressed a shudder. "Think about it the next time you're on the subway."
  
  "Another one exists in Green Park, it was discovered when the Victoria line was being built. And much more... so much more. Hayden, Drake, we may not be able to cover every single one. Not by themselves."
  
  Hayden nodded. "Perhaps the British police could help."
  
  Drake raised his hand in warning. "Be careful how you pronounce it. London is on high alert. If we send screaming patrol cars to all places, we will cause chaos that will make our own searches difficult."
  
  Hayden's eyes widened. "I'm with the FBI, Matt. I know how to be diplomatic."
  
  Drake winced, but said nothing. Dahl caught his glance, which looked like a frown. Hayden noticed the exchange and laughed. "Look at you two damn comedians. Do you have a better plan?"
  
  Dahl nodded slowly. "Actually, I know."
  
  Kinimaka sat next to Hayden, protecting him as always. "Please share."
  
  "We monitor chatter," he said. "And I don't mean how the cops do it. I mean how Interpol and the NSA do it. We know what channels they use, what methods they use. code words. More importantly, we know the identities of dozens of mercenaries allied with the Pythians, although we do not know their whereabouts since they disappeared from the network. If we can establish any proximity to them-" Dahl snapped his fingers. "Game Begins"
  
  Drake thought about it. "Lord Jesus, Dal, that's not bad."
  
  Dahl nodded towards Hayden. "Make a call. Let's get to those bastards."
  
  Drake let out a long sigh. "I just hope London is ready for it."
  
  "Not to mention Paris and LA," Hayden muttered.
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  As they were coming in to land, Hayden called the team they had selected to assist in Los Angeles. Recommended by Michael Crouch and Armand Argento of Interpol and the team that saved Kono Kinimaki's life more than once, the so-called Forsaken were ex-CIA agents and an unlikely but competent group.
  
  Hayden spoke to their self-proclaimed but now recognized leader, Claire Collins. "Hi again. If you're ready for some kind of out-of-the-box rollercoaster action where you're quite likely to get killed at least twice, then you're one of the gang."
  
  "We are ready for anything." Collins said. "At least twice. So, tell us what you need in Los Angeles."
  
  "Well, obviously you won't be the only ones there. But we need you guys to play to your strengths. The Disavowed team was the best in the business and could continue to be. We need them on the ground to operate from the streets."
  
  "We'll get to that."
  
  Hayden continued to share all the information they had gathered, keeping Collins up to date while her colleagues listened. When she finished, their West Coast team seemed to be ready for action.
  
  Hayden spent a few more minutes instructing them, and then passed out. "We're counting on you guys. Do not release the Pythians or their agents alive from this plague pit."
  
  "We're right over it," Collins said. "If there's anything we're good at..."
  
  
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