The Revelation Relic

by Rob Jones

  “His name is Yuri and he works for Chornomornaftogaz. They operate some offshore jackup rigs in the Odeske gas field out in the Black Sea. Tonight, just for me, he stole his company helicopter and is waiting for us on the other side of this hill.”

  “What sort of bird is it?” Blanco asked.

  “Airbus H15. Why?”

  “Because I know that helicopter well,” Hunter said, stepping in. “And it’s range is about half what we need to get to Mount Ararat.”

  “We’re not flying it to Mount Ararat,” said Neverov. “We’re flying it to Izmir Airport, a short distance away from here.”

  Amy frowned. It was not easy putting the fate of her team in this man’s hands. “What happens at Izmir Airport?”

  Neverov smiled. “I am not stupid, Agent Fox. I have already made contact with the Kremlin. Three hours ago they ordered pilots at our base in Khmeimim in Syria to fly an Ilyushin to Izmir Airport. After it picks us up it will fly us into eastern Turkey and land at an airport a few miles to the north of Mount Ararat. There, we will pick up an ex-military vehicle and drive to the Ark.”

  “You seem to have thought of everything,” Amy said.

  “I leave nothing to chance, but with my men dead I need your help.”

  Amy looked uncertain. “I don’t know…”

  “I saved your lives, Special Agent Fox and in doing so I risked my own life.”

  “Not all of our lives,” Amy said. She turned and stared at the black hole in the hillside. “I have to make contact with Jim Gates and tell him the men from the air base died here today… died defending us. I want their bodies pulled out of this mountain and returned to the States.”

  Blanco put his arm around her shoulder and steered her away from the carnage. “Of course.”

  “We can talk on the plane,” Neverov said, glancing at his watch. “It will already be waiting for us and time is running out faster than you think.”

  *

  A rose-pink ribbon of sky appeared low above the Armenian Highlands. Through its warm dawn light, the Ilyushin roared above an endless ocean of harsh, untamed wilderness. The deep growl of its powerful engines thundered out into the void around them.

  Are we too late?

  Hunter’s thought came to him as he stared out of the window across the mountains flashing past below them. It was getting a little rockier now, here and there, a little bleaker. He imagined Kandarian and the rest of the Brotherhood already at the site. What were they protecting? Would everyone in HARPA make it out alive?

  He recalled a story he had done for an edition of National Geographic a few years back when he had gone into the Mayan jungles with a photographer called Ashleigh Reed. He was on a UNESCO-funded expedition sailing up Mexico’s Tzendales River to locate a missing city named Sac Balam, or the White Jaguar.

  Many had tried to find it but never succeeded. Hunter was making good progress and was convinced the prize was within his grasp when they had stumbled on an illegal coca plantation hidden in the depths of the rainforest. Chiapas State was a big, empty place. Wild, too. He loved it, but drug dealers armed with AR-15s and six-barrelled rotary cannons, he could live without.

  He made the call to pull back and live to fight another day, but it was too late. The Comitán cartel had other ideas and broke away from their work producing cocaine to track Hunter and Ashleigh down in the jungle. They had become separated and he had escaped but they had found Reed and killed her, hanging her body up on a makeshift crucifix as a warning to others. Her face haunted him when things got dark, like now.

  Hunter pushed the memory away. The four Soloviev turbofans hummed gently in the background as the Russian airlifter cruised at thirty-seven thousand feet. The atmosphere on board the foreign military plane had been tense but not threatening. Settled into the flight, Hunter now turned to the old Russian colonel.

  “Tell me, Colonel Neverov. How did you get involved in all this?”

  “It was a long time ago,” Neverov said. “The KGB found one of the statues and locked it away from the world in the vaults deep beneath the Lubyanka. After the Cold War, everything changed. Fell apart. Imploded. My life as I had known it ended. The system frayed and crumbled and then the statue was stolen and dumped on the black market. I was fascinated by it and knew from a note there were more of them.”

  “A note?”

  “From my commanding officer, General Patrushev. He was in a secret society called the Creed and I think he knew things about this world that most of us cannot even imagine.”

  Hunter’s eyes flicked over to the others. Amy and Blanco had heard the reference to the Creed, but were keeping their shock to themselves. Before Hunter could ask more about what Neverov knew of the secret society, the Russian spoke again. “I spent my life searching for the statues. When they finally resurfaced, I thought I was dreaming.”

  “This is more like a nightmare,” Amy said. “Not a dream.”

  Neverov accepted the point. “Yes, a nightmare which has killed many of my oldest friends.”

  “Why the hell did you save us, Neverov?” Hunter asked.

  “Because on the yacht, I overheard Kandarian talking to Belisarius about the relic and what they plan to do with it.”

  “You know what it is?” Blanco asked.

  “No, but he said he intends on wiping out most of humanity with it. That I cannot allow.”

  Amy frowned. “But I thought that’s what you wanted to do with it.”

  “Then you don’t know the first thing about me, Special Agent Fox. I have devoted my life to this quest precisely to stop men like Kandarian from having it, and that includes the US Government or any other government. If this really is the doomsday device we all think it is, then I know I have done the right thing with my life. We cannot let Kandarian get away now.”

  Amy said quietly, “No…”

  Neverov reached for a hipflask full of vodka from his bag and downed a generous triple measure. As the spirit burned its way deep inside him, he winced at the pain behind his eyes. Another slug of the vodka, another wince. “We cannot let him destroy mankind… however he plans on doing it.”

  In the silence, the pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Landing in ten minutes. Buckle up.”

  Amy and Hunter exchanged a glance.

  “Looks like this is it, then,” she said. “It’s down to us to stop Kandarian and whatever the hell this Revelation relic really is.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  After the Ilyushin touched down at Iğdir Airport in the foothills of the Armenian Highlands, the team and their new Russian addition drove an ex-Turkish Army Otokar Cobra to Mount Ararat.

  The winding journey took them through a dusty valley to the west of the famous peak and then south through the town of Doğubeyazit. They skirted the settlement’s northern sprawl without drawing attention to themselves and continued on their way, east now and up onto the western slopes of Ararat. From here, they headed down the range to the east as they drew closer to Kandarian Kargo HQ. In the back, Lewis charted their progress against John the Apostle’s Tabula Dei.

  The military mobility vehicle rumbled and crunched its way up an isolated track, gaining elevation at a steady pace. Blanco was driving, sitting up front with Vladimir Neverov and the rest of the team were in the back. Hunter peered through the tiny windows in the back panel and studied the incredible sight of dusk settling over eastern Turkey’s Ağri Province. Moments like this, he thought, make everything else worth it.

  “We’re here.”

  It was Neverov, sitting in the Cobra’s cockpit. He checked his pistol was loaded and in working order as Blanco pulled the vehicle off the track and cut the engine. The man from Brooklyn raised a pair of chunky field glasses to his eyes and fixed them on a target through the windshield. “I can see some sort of concrete structure built into the saddle of the mountain on its southwestern slope.”

  “Good,” Neverov said flatly. “Then Kandarian will be dead in an hour.”

&n
bsp; “This can’t be about revenge Colonel,” Amy said. “That’s not the goal of this team. HARPA is here to secure the Revelation relic, Revelation 23 and the Tabula Dei and bring Kandarian to justice.”

  Neverov stuffed his gun into his tactical vest. “Don’t get in my way, Agent Fox.”

  “Hey, best not threaten Amy, mate,” Hunter said. “Might not turn out how you planned.”

  “I threaten no one,” he said. “But Kandarian is mine.”

  “Leave it, Max,” said Amy. “We need to get on.”

  Hunter turned and scanned the desert’s craggy, bouldered surface. How this place had supported life all those years ago would be a mystery to most people but he knew how much the regional climate had changed over so many thousands of years. Like ancient Egypt, this barren landscape had once been very different. After studying the mountain slope, he said, “All right, everyone here had experience of mountains?”

  Everyone except Jodie and Quinn raised their hands.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ve had a look and it’s not too bad. Looks like a goat track leads up most of the way and then it gets trickier, but no ropes or anything like that.”

  “Damn,” Jodie drawled. “There goes the foreplay.”

  Hunter smirked. “Hey, just put your hands and feet where I do and don’t look down.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Jodie said.

  Quinn shuddered. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Amy said. “Let’s go.”

  *

  When they reached the top, they were on the outer perimeter of Kandarian Kargo HQ. It was a vast complex from where Kandarian ran his empire, nestled on a plain tucked down between craggy peaks in the highlands. A large airfield sprawled out to the complex’s west but Hunter was more interested in a potential ingress route to the south.

  Positioning themselves behind a raised concrete drainage channel running to the south of the entrance, they had a bird’s eye view of the main entry point. Two box trucks were pulling out of the complex while a large MAN truck pulling a nondescript, filthy curtainsider had finished groaning up the steep gradient leading to the complex. Men in some kind of gatehouse were ambling about and talking to the driver. They shared cigarettes and smoked and laughed as the darkness of night gathered around them.

  “I say we kill them and go right in.”

  Hunter turned to Neverov. “Too many CCTV cameras, Colonel. By the time their bodies hit the tarmac there’ll be dozens of armed men out here, guns blazing.”

  “But we are running out of time!” he said.

  “He’s right,” Lewis said. “Don’t you remember what he said back in the adytum at Pergamon? He said by midnight it would be too late to stop his plan. We have less than two hours!”

  The men walked to the back of the trailer and checked inside. Then they walked back to the cab and lit more cigarettes.

  Hunter wiped sweat from his forehead and waved a fly away with the same hand. Even now up at this elevation, well after sunset, the summer night was hot and close. “We’ve got plenty of time, but only if we stay alive.”

  “So you have a better idea?” Neverov said.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Watch this.”

  Without warning, Hunter scrambled back from the drainage ditch and moved slowly down the slope toward the flat asphalt area outside the large concrete entrance. With her heart in her mouth, Amy watched as the Englishman broke cover and crouch-walked through the darkness to the back of the trailer. He was out of sight for a few seconds and then appeared again, waving them down.

  “Here we go again,” Amy said, her voice uncertain as she led her team away from the entrance and down the slope toward Hunter. “What’s the plan, Max?”

  “Anyone like an apple?” He tossed a bright red apple at Lewis.

  The ex-marine darted a hand out and caught it. “Thanks.”

  “There’s a lot more where that came from,” Hunter said. “This truck’s carrying about twenty tons of fruit and vegetables. Either Kandarian is going into the grocery trade or he doesn’t have a very optimistic view of future food chains. Anyway, all aboard!”

  “An apple truck?” Quinn said. “This is how we’re getting inside?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Hunter.

  “I like it,” Jodie said. “As break-in ideas go, it’s hard core.”

  Hunter smirked. “I see what you did there, Jodie.”

  She hid her smile. “Move your ass, Hunter.”

  He jumped up into the trailer and helped Amy up beside him. Moments later the whole team were hiding behind crates of fruit, and then they heard the heavy duty diesel engine fire up. As the truck pulled away and headed inside the complex, Hunter checked his gun.

  “All good?” Amy asked the team.

  “Ready,” Blanco said.

  The truck rumbled deeper inside the compound. “Are we there yet?” Quinn said.

  “No,” Amy said.

  “Are we there yet?” Quinn said again.

  “Not funny, Quinn.”

  “Humour is how I protect myself.”

  The truck grumbled on for less than ten minutes and then pulled to a stop. The engine cut and the trailer stopped vibrating. “We’re here.”

  “We need to move fast,” Lewis said.

  “Ordinarily I would agree with you, but not this time.” Hunter got to his feet and moved to the back of the trailer. “This time, we wait.”

  “For what?” Neverov said.

  The trailer’s locking gear clunked and then the rear door swung open. A man in a dark blue boiler suit and baseball cap emblazoned with the Kandarian Kargo logo looked up and saw Hunter. A look of confusion registered on his face but then Hunter swung his leg back and kicked him in the head, knocking him out cold. Hunter leapt out of the truck and dragged him back up to the trailer.

  “Some help, please.”

  Blanco was there, grabbing the man’s legs. When they had the unconscious man tucked away in the curtainsider, Hunter closed the door again and looked down at him. “He’s about my size, I’d say – wouldn’t you?”

  Amy was horrified. “You’re not seriously going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

  “And I’d like some privacy to change, please,” he said by way of reply. “I’m a very modest man.”

  Jodie nearly choked on her apple. “Now I’ve heard it all.”

  *

  Hunter adjusted the boiler suit, stuffed his Glock in the pocket and pulled the man’s baseball cap down low over his face. Hopping from the trailer, he found himself in a busy delivery area. Another half dozen full-size rigs were being unloaded by men dressed in the same outfits. More food – dried goods, pasta and rice. Thousands of bags of flour. Thousands of boxes of water. Endless sacks of wheat and potatoes and sugar.

  Standing at the rear of the truck, he whistled and got the attention of the men unloading the next truck in the bay. He beckoned them over with a generous wave of his arm and then glanced up into the trailer. “Ready for some action?”

  “How many?” Lewis said.

  “Five.”

  “We need six more uniforms,” Amy said.

  Hunter saw the problem and called out at another man. He joined the others and strolled over to the rear of the fruit truck. Whatever language these men spoke, Hunter didn’t know it, so before they got to the truck he made a big show of swinging open the doors and climbing up inside the trailer. The rest of the team were already hidden down behind the crates.

  Hunter moved through to the front of the trailer and waved the men forward. When they climbed up into the truck, the HARPA team swung into action. Jodie and Quinn broke cover and slammed the doors shut. Under cover of Amy’s gun, Blanco, Lewis and Neverov leapt out from behind their crates and attacked the men.

  The battle was not hard. Whoever these men were, they were no match for a crew who counted British and US Army, US Marines, FBI and ex-KGB among their number. They went down like the sacks o
f potatoes they had been unloading from the next truck and then the HARPA team stripped their unconscious bodies of the boiler suits. After changing into the Kandarian Kargo uniforms, they tied and gagged their prisoners and stacked crates of fruit around them.

  “That should keep them hidden from any casual observation,” Hunter said. “But it won’t take long for someone to notice they’re missing and start a search. We haven’t got long.”

  “So let’s get on it, cowboy,” Amy said.

  As they walked away from the delivery bay, they entered a tunnel carved into the bedrock of the mountain. The floor was smooth, polished concrete but the sides were roughly hewn. Minutes passed. When they reached the end, they emerged onto an elevated platform looking out across a vast cavernous hangar. “This place is like some kind of bunker,” Quinn said. “I find that appeals very much to the prepper in me.”

  “You’re not far off,” Hunter said. “I think this place is exactly like a bunker. I think it was built to survive the New Apocalypse that only Kandarian and a handful of his closest initiates and disciples know about.”

  “You really think so?” Quinn said.

  Hunter glared out into the cavernous space. “Absolutely! Just take a look around! Everything here suggests that the Brotherhood created this place to hunker down and protect themselves in.”

  “Something so terrible it required a bunker carved out of granite two hundred feet inside a mountain…” Jodie said.

  Hunter turned. “Basalt, but yeah.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “It still gives me the shivers.”

  “Me too,” Lewis said. “And I’m a tough former marine.”

  Amy stared up at the ceiling and whistled. “Just what the hell is Kandarian and his followers planning that is so bad he had to create this place?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” Hunter said.

  Blanco took the weight off, leaned on a rail and looked out over the bustling scene. “My brother’s pizza parlor seems very far away, right now. I’m not so sure I want to know what this psycho has in store for the world.”