“You can’t even tell,” Yasmine said. “Who knows how far the rubble stretches.”
And Pang, ignoring everyone’s shaking heads, kept looking for a signal, even pushing into the furthest excavated inch of rubble to try there. Bodie didn’t have the energy to criticize him anymore.
The weary group dragged themselves up once more and hauled more stone away from the exit.
A chunk of masonry fell from the roof, narrowly missing Jemma’s shoulder, and shattered with a crash across the floor. Bodie kept going.
Cassidy climbed a smaller pile of rubble and started throwing rock across the cavern. Two CIA agents joined her. They made good progress.
They all fell when the rockpile collapsed, and emerged with various injuries, but that didn’t stop them climbing the next pile.
Bodie thought he was hallucinating when a beam of light forced its way through a hole in the rubble. The thin shaft caught Cassidy’s eye too and made her stop.
“Is that...”
It was.
Bodie felt his heart leap.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
From the Great Wall of China to a covert troop transport and a quiet passage to Pakistan, the whole group were driven away from their tomb by operatives Pang called to the area as soon as he got the satellite signal he’d been searching for. They took the time to rest. They could do little else. Bottles of water were provided but no food, and the entire journey was a swaying, bouncing escape sat in the cloying darkness of a canvas-covered truck.
Bodie finally found time to wash down a handful of painkillers. They couldn’t wash the blood and dirt of the cavern away. They couldn’t research because their signals didn’t work. They could do nothing except rest and wait to either be captured by the Chinese or arrive at a waystation in Pakistan.
Luckily for them it was the latter.
Bodie knew how much time they’d lost. Eight hours from the moment the explosion went off.
Pakistan was warm, windy and bright under a midday sky. They were smuggled through a kitchen entrance and shown into a sprawling suite.
Bodie looked from one face to the next. “You guys shower first. Jemma and I need to research.”
The team showered, ate and drank water before sipping at miniatures of whiskey.
Bodie joined Jemma in a seat by the window. Cassidy and Yasmine knelt close to them, and Pang came to look over their shoulders. It was a strange and uncomfortable reunion with their hunter, and even Bodie didn’t really know how to address him at that point. Butcher also joined them as they reviewed the footage Jemma had taken.
“It’s incredible,” Jemma breathed. “Alchemy created so long ago, kept integral by the atmosphere in the cavern. Hidden so well at the foot of the wall. And that crucible, designed for a single purpose.”
“It’s cool,” Cassidy said. “Now where the hell is Hades?”
“That... I don’t know.”
Butcher slid in beside Jemma, ready to lend some practical aid. Together they watched footage of the crucible shedding its brilliant white light and then took screenshots of the map that was created.
“The contours and outlines might not be definitive,” Jemma worried. “Many coastlines, rivers and mountain ranges have similar outlines.”
“Any agency like the CIA, FBI, or NSA will be able to help,” Butcher said. “They all have topographical software programs that can match forms and features of a particular landscape. I guess it can even be retrogressed thousands of years.”
“Let’s see.” Bodie waited as Butcher made a call to his office back at Langley, soliciting help from a friend.
“Tell them it’s urgent,” Cassidy said. “We have to get moving.”
Bodie used the wait time to grab a shower and some food. He was forced to drag on the same dirty clothes he’d escaped the cavern in but at least felt clean and fresh underneath. He didn’t bother to count the cuts and bruises, the scrapes and welts, that covered his skin. His knee continued to throb despite the painkillers. One ache fused with another until his entire body was a blend of hurt.
It was a large suite, but there were ten of them. It soon became a strained suite, the air laced with thick tension. Bodie and his team didn’t help matters by constantly urging Butcher on, all of them conscious of the dreadful passage of time.
Butcher’s phone rang.
Bodie was so wound up he jumped. Cassidy grabbed Butcher’s arm and then let go, imploring him to answer.
Butcher held a hand up for silence. “Hey,” he said, sounding cool.
“Hey, you, it’s me. How are you keeping?” a female voice replied.
“Oh, pretty good. Out here fighting in the field, you know. I helped—”
Cassidy took a firm grip of Butcher’s right two fingers. The urgency and unsaid promise in her eyes were clear. Get on with it.
“Anyway,” Butcher winced, “Lou, do you have something for me?”
“I guess.” Lou sounded irked. “I used the topographical program as requested to scan for rifts and contours as you asked. And, believe me, there’s only one place on earth that looks like that.”
“There is?” Butcher asked.
“Yeah, don’t you recognize it?”
“Well, did you?”
Cassidy squeezed, reminding Butcher of the need for speed.
“Actually, yeah,” Lou said. “But I double- and triple-checked it for you anyway. That large lake next to the massive rift line is a dead giveaway, if you ask me.”
Butcher raised an expectant eyebrow. Bodie and Cassidy leaned toward the phone, but Lou said no more. In the end, Butcher was forced to prompt her. “And it is...”
“Lake Mead, duh.”
Bodie closed his eyes, reminded of more than one school day spent squabbling. Then, it had been normal. Today, stuck in Pakistan and hours behind the Illuminati, it was bordering on infuriating. “Please, Lou, lives are in the balance.”
“Who’s that? Never mind. I know. You’re the CIA. So... the lake is Lake Mead, obviously. And the rift line is the Grand Canyon.”
Bodie blinked. “That’s brilliant,” he said.
“Why thanks...” Lou drawled.
“No, no, I mean...” He sought the right words. “It’s a brilliant way of hiding something four thousand years ago. Of all the places on the planet, the Grand Canyon is one of the most recognizable from a map and least likely to change. Same with Lake Mead, I guess.”
“But that can’t be,” Butcher broke in. “Lake Mead was formed when the Hoover Dam was built back in 1935. It’s basically a reservoir.”
Lou laughed. “And that’s why we work so well. I knew you’d get there eventually. You see, that’s what Lake Mead used to look like before it existed. It threw me for a while until I factored in the age of the map.”
“And the pin?” Bodie said for want of a better word.
“You mean the point on your shiny map highlighted by the intense dot of light? Yeah, I’ll ping you those coordinates.”
Bodie felt a rush of adrenalin. They had purpose, forward momentum once again. The Illuminati had long suffered from arrogance. Maybe, in their newest victory, they would do so again.
Pang held up a hand. “These Ishtari,” he said. “They were well traveled. Europeans didn’t even arrive in the US until the fifteenth century.”
“Not necessarily true,” Bodie said.
“He’s right,” Butcher shrugged. “Native Americans have been around since 15,000 BC. There’s strong evidence that the Vikings landed in the tenth century. I’m sure the Ishtari had the capabilities to make the journey too.”
Bodie stood up and shrugged into his filthy jacket. “It’s immaterial,” he said. “We go where the map sends us. Heidi and Lucie are in big trouble, and the Illuminati are playing out their endgame. Pang, we need your fastest jet.”
The CIA man pursed his lips. “That’d be our only jet,” he said. “But we can change in Europe. I’ll make the calls.”
Bodie caught the eyes of his team
. “This is it,” he said. “This time we take them down for good. Forever.”
“Agreed,” Cassidy said. “We don’t want them to keep popping back up like Freddy friggin’ Krueger.”
“How long’s their head start?” Yasmine asked.
“Almost a day,” Jemma said. “We’re good.”
Bodie nodded. It was important they remain hopeful. It was important that—no matter what they found in Arizona—they finished this once and for all.
“We’re ready,” Pang said. “You guys coming?”
Bodie nodded. “Just try stopping us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Bacchus held his blood-stained knife close to the slender throat. He already had a hand around the quivering neck, could feel the lifeforce pumping through the veins. It would feel good to stop that life force all together: powerful, god-like.
The female tied to his slab watched on as Bacchus flirted with murder while standing over her husband.
It was grand sport. The Great Dragon would approve. Bacchus intended to keep this going all afternoon and into the evening until dinner was served. After that, a full bottle of expensive wine and he’d retire to bed happy.
“Please.” He’d left the woman ungagged so he could enjoy her pleas. “Please, we’ll do anything. Please don’t kill us.”
“If I’d received a penny for every time I’ve heard that.” Bacchus pushed the blade into the contours of her husband’s face without breaking the skin. “I’d be a billionaire. Oh, wait, I am a billionaire.” Bacchus laughed, offering up a silent prayer to his all-powerful benefactor.
“But why? Why do this?”
“Because I can. Because I lead the most formidable entity on the globe. Because I am blessed by the Great Dragon and... well, the closest thing you’ll ever see to a god.”
The woman’s eyes grew confused. Bacchus poised himself to draw first blood, but a faint vibration gave him pause. He’d left his phone close by for the first time ever simply because this was the most important night of his life.
Of the Illuminati’s entire existence.
If they were contacting him, it would be important.
Bacchus winked at the woman and crossed over to a table before scooping up his phone. “Yes?”
“They are out of the cave, Grand Master. They have completed their mission.”
Bacchus fought hard to maintain a calm demeanor. “I expected no less. And... the final destination? Hades?” Speaking that word sent palpitations through his body.
“The great journey’s end foretold by the prophecy has not yet been identified. It is only a matter of time though.”
“Of course. Any opposition?”
“Guy Bodie and his cohorts. Our men left them trapped inside the cavern. Hopefully, they will suffocate.”
“Hopefully?”
“The team—Nimrod and the High Minervals included—thought it best to make all haste, Grand Master. Even now, they fly toward us.”
“That is good. And our captives?”
“They made it difficult,” the speaker said. “But we still have them.”
“Excellent. The harder they struggle, the sweeter their final sacrifice will be. Make sure they have no chance of escaping, Melchior. Make sure of that the moment you put down your phone.”
“Of course, Grand Master.”
Bacchus hesitated. The news had set him on edge, as it should. The problem was, he no longer felt in the mood to play with his prey. And soon, he’d be jetting off to Hades for the final ritual. A moment of ecstasy, a prelude to the Illuminati’s greatest victory.
“Start making ready,” he said. “I want everyone on notice. And, Melchior, I mean everyone.”
“Across the world?”
“Oh, yes, but I will take care of that. Prepare the video call.”
Bacchus ended the call, picked up the knife, and returned to the couple tied to the concrete slab. After a moment’s reflection, he plunged the blade into the man’s stomach while whispering a silent ritual and then left the room. He’d leave the man to die and the woman to watch it happen. Later, if Bacchus did not return for some time, she would die too. Suffering, he thought, was good for the heart.
And for the Great Dragon. He fed endlessly on the torment of others.
Bacchus made his way to a conference room, took a seat, and crossed his legs. A row of monitors clung to the wall in front of him, eight linked screens that would enable him to access the eight men and women who pulled Illuminati strings in various parts of the world. While he waited, Bacchus thought of the approaching plane, the upcoming decisive trip to Hades. The very idea made him salivate.
Eight screens flickered to life. Eight faces regarded him with respect.
Bacchus nodded and leaned forward. “I assume you can all hear me.” He didn’t wait for replies. “I have been given the greatest news and I am sure you will soon want to sacrifice a dozen or so, but I must urge restraint at this time. The prophecy led us to the cavern and the crucible, and now the crucible has shown us the way to Hades.”
He allowed a stunned whisper of sheer bliss to pass between the screens.
“Now is the time,” he said. “The time to rise up. The time to make a difference and show the Great Dragon what you can do. To prove his faith in you.”
“And will we attend the great ceremony?” one man asked.
“As soon as I know our final destination, so shall you. We should all attend. It will be the greatest ceremony of its kind the world will ever see. The riches, the reward, heaped upon us will be endless.”
“Sacrifices?” a woman asked. “How many should we bring?
Bacchus smiled. “All of them.”
“How do you know... they’ll fit?” a man asked.
“The Great Dragon will provide. We will find a way. But first... divert all your resources. Cover our tracks. Use assets in the CIA, in the police, in Washington DC, Interpol and the British SIS. Use the media outlets and tabloids. Misinform the people. Draw forth a smoke screen to conceal our activities. Give them something big to think about: a celebrity bust up, a riot, a rampant disease. I care not. Just deflect them long enough for the great prophecy to be fulfilled.”
“Of course.” Compliance radiated from every screen.
“Our closest enemies have been contained,” Bacchus said, “maybe killed. We will have sufficient time to complete our ceremony. The Great Dragon will be pleased. Ave, Satanas.”
“Ave, Satanas,” they repeated.
“Rise up,” Bacchus said. “Do it now. Fight for your master. There will never be a more important time in your life than right now. Don’t forget, he is always watching, and this is your chance to shine brighter than a sacrificial blade.”
Bacchus watched them sign off. The screens went blank. His heart hammered. The end of everything was fast approaching. For the first time he gave serious thought to what the words “reap the reward” could actually mean.
The Ishtari were the forerunners to the Illuminati, the original devil worshippers. They were advanced and knowledgeable. Far more so than any other culture except, perhaps, the ultra-modern ones. Until now, Bacchus had imagined a great weapon—a way of taking control of the world—but what did he really know?
Would the Great Dragon himself appear?
In Bacchus’s head, it was possible. Somewhere, in a vague and distant niche of his mind, he knew that a once relatively sane man had long-since sunk into senselessness. But none of that mattered. The truth was what he made it. Him, Bacchus, the Grand Master of the Illuminati.
In reality, he was all powerful.
Let the end begin. It was going to be wonderful.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
“Aerial photos are coming in,” Pang shouted above the roar of the aircraft.
Bodie, seated next to Jemma in the big helicopter, nodded. “What are they showing?”
“Give me a minute.”
“We’re thirty out,” a voice shouted through the cabin. “Start making read
y.”
Orders streamed in through the comms in their ears and from around the loading bay where they sat. There were over thirty of them crammed into the back of the big chopper—sitting along both sides, facing each other—and they were just one of six.
Jemma tapped her computer. Butcher, at her side, leaned over. “Whoa,” he said. “The canyon’s 277 miles long. Up to eighteen miles wide and over a mile deep. That is some crack.”
Bodie grinned with wry amusement. “You’re sounding chipper, considering where we’re going.”
“They gave me a gun.” Butcher grinned, patting a sidearm.
Bodie winced. “Yeah, so I see. Of course, if you’re given a gun, you’re more likely to use it.” He dry-swallowed another load of painkillers.
“Only in self-defense,” Butcher insisted. “Mine and yours.”
Jemma continued to read out facts as the helicopter sliced the sky apart. Bodie guessed it was to help calm her nerves.
“The Colorado River determined its path about five to six million years ago. Continuously inhabited by Native Americans for thousands of years. It’s—”
Cassidy tapped Bodie on the shoulder, grabbing his attention. “You should really listen to Pang.”
Surprised, Bodie looked up and focused on Pang’s voice. “Aerial photos show a large amount of people gathered around our destination. Vehicles too. Taken minutes apart, the photos also reveal that these people are disappearing... perhaps entering a cave or something similar. We have a count of at least one hundred people, probably many more. It’s not clear if all these people are unfriendlies.”
Bodie stared at the photo in Pang’s hand. “And those?”
“Dozens of vehicles,” Pang said. “Ground transport and air. All proceeding toward our destination.”
“But not our people?” Yasmine asked.
“Not our people,” Pang affirmed. “Best guess... the Illuminati have called in all their forces. Playtime is over. This is the big one.”
The Illuminati Endgame (The Relic Hunters 7) Page 17