The 5 Greatest Warriors

by Matthew Reilly

  It was a small boy of eleven.

  Jack’s eyes widened in surprise. Of course, he knew the boy, but he hadn’t seen him in a long time.

  It was Alexander, Lily’s twin brother—and the only other person in the world born with the ability to read the Word of Thoth.

  Two years ago, Alexander—a proud, pretentious boy—had been sent to live in a top secret safehouse in County Kerry, Ireland. But in December last year, on the very day Jack’s farm had been attacked by Mao’s Chinese forces, the boy had been broken out of there in a bloody raid by a crack force of persons unknown.

  ‘You were the ones who grabbed him. . . ’ Jack breathed.

  ‘Like I said, Young West, I have been watching you for a long time,’ Carnivore said. ‘Now, if you would be so kind . . . ’ he indicated the waiting Halicarnassus.

  Jack and Lily boarded the plane, looking back up at Alexander as they did so.

  Minutes later, the big Chinook helicopter carrying Vulture, Scimitar and Mao lifted off, pivoted in mid-air, and powered away to the south, toward China—while the Halicarnassus rumbled down the runway, took to the air, and banked south-west, in the direction of the Indian Ocean.

  Both were watched by Carnivore, his cold eyes squinting.

  THE BRISTOL CHANNEL

  OFF THE WEST COAST OF ENGLAND

  18 MARCH 2008, 0500 HOURS

  2 HOURS BEFORE THE 4TH AND 5TH DEADLINES

  The waters of the Bristol Channel heaved and churned as if acted upon by some unearthly force. Powerful forty-foot waves crashed against the rocky coast of Lundy Island. The moon was veiled by clouds and a hard rain fell.

  A lone Lynx helicopter flew low over the waves, a spotlight on its underbelly slicing through the rain, trained on the shoreline.

  Inside the chopper, looking intently down at the shore, were the twins, Pooh Bear and Stretch, flanked by four of lolanthe’s Royal Marines.

  In a pack on Pooh Bear’s chest was the Fourth Pillar, long held by the British Royal Family. Last year, at Mortimer Island, it had been cleansed by the Philosopher’s Stone and the Firestone.

  Late yesterday, in a hangar at Stansted airport, it had undergone a second ritual cleansing: first, the Basin of Rameses had been joined with the all-powerful Firestone—as with Stonehenge and the Philosopher’s Stone, the Basin needed the power of the Firestone to activate its special properties.

  The pyramidal Firestone had slotted perfectly into a matching pyramidal indentation in the Basin’s chunky stem. Then the Basin had been filled with water from the Spring of the Black Poplar. After that, the Pillar was immersed in the Basin’s pool. . .

  . . . and the second cleansing took place.

  The water flashed momentarily, as if it were deflecting a passing light, and suddenly the Fourth Pillar took on a lustrous glassy sheen. If indeed it were possible, now it looked even more crystalline, more beautiful than before.

  It was now ready to be placed at its Vertex.

  After that second cleansing lolanthe’s had departed immediately, boarding a waiting private jet—taking the Basin, some springwater, and the Firestone with her—while Pooh Bear and his team were pushed onto this military helicopter with orders to find the Fourth Vertex and plant the Pillar there.

  Which was how they came to be here, flying in the midst of a night-time storm above the furious Bristol Channel.

  After a time, they came to that part of the coast where the rock formation known as ‘The Well’ could be found. It was low tide and the formation was visible, and it looked just like the image on Genghis Khan’s shield.

  The chopper swung into a hover above the rock formation. Pooh Bear was lowered by winch-cable down to it.

  It was certainly peculiar, Pooh thought as he dangled from the chopper in the pouring rain. It was cylindrical in shape but the single piece of rock that formed it—whether by an accident of nature or by the hand of an ancient culture—had been fashioned into the shape of a brick well. The waves of the Channel sloshed over the unusual formation, draining away through the joins between the ‘bricks’.

  Hanging from the helicopter, with the cleansed Fourth Pillar in his chest-pack, Pooh Bear touched down on the Well and he peered into it.

  It wasn’t very deep. The shaft of the Well ended with solid rock a short way down, barely a few feet. This added weight to the conclusion that its formation was merely a fluke of nature.

  But then as Pooh leaned further down, bringing the Pillar closer to the rock formation, a curious thing happened.

  That solid rock base of the Well suddenly rotated and retreated back into the rock, leaving a deep black void plunging into darkness.

  Pooh Bear’s eyes went wide.

  ‘Open Sesame,’ he breathed. ‘The twins were right. We found it. . .’

  DIEGO GARCIA, INDIAN OCEAN

  18 MARCH 2008, 0500 HOURS

  2 HOURS BEFORE THE 4TH AND 5TH DEADLINES

  At the same time, Jack and Lily were arriving at the remote island of Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean.

  While it was just after midnight in the UK, it was five in the morning here; the eastern sky glowed purple, announcing the coming dawn.

  As they began their descent, Jack was sitting at his laptop, examining one of the digital pictures of Stonehenge taken during the lightshow, specifically the shaft of light marked ‘5’:

  It all made sense now. As with Hokkaido, the coastline had changed a lot over the millennia—Sri Lanka had been completely detached from mainland India—which was why Jack’s team hadn’t been able to pinpoint the Fifth Vertex. But Wolf had, either through good research, good contacts or prior secret knowledge.

  And there it was, in the middle of the Indian Ocean: Diego Garcia.

  On the way to the remote atoll, Jack had looked into its history.

  It was certainly intriguing.

  Lying a thousand kilometres south of India, technically it was owned by Britain—although, like the Rosetta Stone and the Basin of Rameses, it was actually owned by Napoleon’s France before the British seized it from the French in 1814.

  In 1971, however, an eager British minister—perhaps unaware of the island’s importance—allowed the atoll to be used as a military base by the US. It is still the launching point for all of America’s military activities in the nearby Persian Gulf.

  Its other activities, however, are highly classified.

  What is known is this: Diego Garcia supports a standing squadron of B-2 Stealth Bombers; it is technically part of US Space Command; and perhaps most curiously of all: no family dependents of service personnel are allowed to live on the island. This is most unusual for an offshore US base.

  For the last 37 years—and perhaps the 200 years before that— activity at Diego Garcia had taken place under the tightest of security, unobserved by the rest of the world.

  Jack shook his head. Napoleon, the British, and now America. They had all known about Diego Garcia’s importance for some time.

  ‘Why am I always the last to know?’ he said aloud as the Halicarnassus touched down on a long island-runway at the southern tip of Diego Garcia.

  The big black 747 taxied to the end of the runway, coming to a halt between a pair of semi-trailer-sized MIM-104 Patriot missile launchers.

  A motorcade of Humvees, jeeps and motorcycles was waiting for it, plus about thirty Army Rangers.

  And there, standing at the head of this welcoming party, leaning lazily on the bonnet of the first Humvee in her hiking boots and cargo pants, was Miss Iolanthe Compton-Jones of the British Royal Family.

  Jack emerged from the Halicarnassus with Lily close behind him and two Spetsnaz guards flanking him. They stepped cautiously down some airstairs onto the tarmac, where they were met by Iolanthe.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful to be met at the airport?’ Iolanthe said lightly. ‘So nice to see you, Jack. I hear you might be single.’ She winked suggestively.

  Jack just glanced at the Army Rangers flanking the line of Hum vees. They looked pissed as h
ell. Clearly Jack and Iolanthe were not welcome guests, but Wolf—no doubt unhappily—had made the call to allow them total access before being imprisoned completely in his tank.

  Iolanthe guided Jack to the most senior American, a grey-haired three-star general. ‘Captain Jack West Jr, this is Lieutenant-General Jackson T. Dyer, commander of the base here at Diego Garcia.’

  ‘So this is Wolf’s prodigal son,’ Dyer said, assessing Jack. ‘I’ve known your father a long time. He’s a great patriot.’

  ‘Are all you Caldwell Group guys “great patriots”?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Dyer snorted. ‘Yes, we are. Welcome to Garcia.’

  Standing with the general was a hunched, bespectacled man Jack hadn’t seen since Genghis Khan’s Arsenal: Felix Bonaventura, Wolf’s archaeology expert from MIT. Bonaventura’s little black eyes peered at Jack through John Lennon glasses.

  ‘This is Dr Bonaventura,’ Iolanthe said. ‘He’s been based at Diego Garcia for many years now. He’ll be taking us to see America’s hidden jewel here.’

  ‘The site is remarkable, beyond anything you will have seen so far,’ Bonaventura said.

  ‘You’d be amazed at what I’ve seen,’ Jack said.

  General Dyer said, ‘I have instructions to allow West, the girl and the woman inside, but those two Russian assholes are going to have to wait out here.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Jack said. ‘They’re not travelling with me by choice.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Iolanthe said calmly. She spoke quickly with the Spetsnaz guards in Russian. They nodded obediently, although clearly not entirely comfortable with waiting on a US military airfield.

  ‘You ready, then?’ General Dyer said.

  Iolanthe turned to Jack: ‘I have the Firestone, the Basin and the springwater. Did you bring the Fifth Pillar?’

  ‘I did.’

  Iolanthe smiled. ‘Then, yes, we’re ready. After you, General.’

  Leaving Sky Monster and the Spetsnaz guards with the Halicarnassus, Jack, Lily and Iolanthe were driven from the runway onto the atoll proper via a sweeping mile-long causeway not unlike those found in southern Florida.

  In shape, Diego Garcia resembles a warped ‘V’—with a sheltered lagoon in the middle and most of the main military facilities on the left-hand western arm of the V. Jack’s motorcade joined the V at the base and zoomed up the right-hand arm.

  After passing through several checkpoints, they arrived at twelve-foot-high chain-link fence covered with opaque black material. Here their Ranger escorts were left behind, and only Jack, Lily, Iolanthe, Bonaventura and the general progressed.

  It was 5:31 a.m.

  They had two hours till the Fourth and Fifth Pillars had to be laid simultaneously.

  Jack keyed his radio. ‘Pooh Bear? You read me?’

  A moment later, his earpiece crackled. ‘Loud and clear, Huntsman.’

  ‘Are you in position?’

  ‘We’re at the entrance to the Fourth Vertex! I’m entering now with Stretch and the twins!’ Pooh Bear had to shout over the roar of his helicopter.

  ‘We just arrived at the Fifth Vertex and are about to go in,’ Jack said. ‘Stay in voice contact because we have to plant these Pillars exactly the same time, two hours from now.’

  ‘Good luck, Huntsman.’

  ‘Same to you.’

  As he said this, Jack’s Humvee emerged from the final check point and Jack saw what lay beyond the high black fence.

  A superlong hangar-like building stretched away from him. Apart from its size, it was actually a pretty simple structure: just peaked tent-like roof mounted on steel supports, open to the air at the sides.

  ‘Daddy?’ Lily asked, confused.

  ‘It’s an awning,’ Jack said, ‘to conceal whatever’s underneath it from satellite observation.’

  Their car sped into the hangar-like tent and Jack and Lily got to see what lay beneath it.

  ‘Wow . . . ’ Lily gasped.

  An enormous rectangular pit yawned before them, completely covered by the massive temporary root. It resembled an open-cut mine, at least seven storeys deep, with a broad earthen ramp running down into it.

  Parked around the great pit were many eight-wheeled HEMTTs— Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Trucks, the workhorses of the US military. The size of a semi-trailer, a HEMTT is a versatile eight-wheel-drive that can be adapted for many uses: most of the HEMTTs here had been configured as dumptrucks and bore trays on their backs filled with earth. Others, however, towed mobile Patriot missile launchers. They guarded the rim of the pit.

  At the far end of the pit—in total contrast to its tent-like roof and dirt walls—was a sparkling modern structure, a cube made entirely of glass that butted up against the northern wall of the pit.

  An airlock, Jack realised.

  As their Humvee zoomed down the earthen ramp into the pit, Jack discerned an object inside the glittering glass cube.

  Built into the face of the brown earthen wall, not unlike the famous rock-cut buildings at Petra in Jordan, was a beautiful arched stone doorway.

  LUNDY ISLAND

  Pooh Bear, Stretch and the twins entered the Well, abseiling down its tight vertical shaft. Two of lolanthe’s Royal Marines accompanied them to make sure they did what they were supposed to.

  Rain fell on them as they roped down the shaft. The harsh white spotlight of the chopper danced overhead.

  After about a hundred feet they emerged in a wide tunnel that led downward at a gentle angle. Glowsticks were cracked, flares ignited. The four of them, plus their two armed Royal Marine guards, walked cautiously down the tunnel, before they came to an ornate arched doorway that opened onto a larger space.

  ‘Whoa . . . ’ Julius breathed.

  DIEGO GARCIA

  Jack, Lily and Iolanthe were driven into the big glass cube at the end of the enormous pit.

  The cube itself was three storeys tall, an airlock that could hold within its clear walls an entire semi-trailer rig.

  Their Humvee stopped briefly at the towering ancient doorway cut into the dirt wall of the pit. It must have been sixty feet high. Hieroglyphs covered it. The circular symbol for the Machine was carved above its great stone doors.

  Jack pulled out a printout of Genghis Khan’s shield, and noted the image at the upper left corner:

  It was the same door, perfectly replicated on the shield.

  But it was far more impressive in real life: it was utterly huge and impossibly ancient. The dirt path passing through it was wide enough for HEMTTs to fit and easily big enough for their Humvee.

  The Humvee drove through the massive ancient archway, looking positively tiny, then headed down a long sloping passageway beyond it, before it arrived at a larger space and stopped.

  Jack, Lily and Iolanthe stepped out of the car, their jaws dropping.

  ‘Whoa . . . ’ Lily said, just as Julius had done on the other side of the world.

  LUNDY ISLAND (4TH VERTEX)

  Pooh Bear, Stretch and the twins stood at the summit of a vast and complex box-like structure mounted on the wall of an enormous abyss.

  Directly in front of the wall-mounted structure, dwarfing it, was the inverted bronze pyramid that was the Fourth Vertex.

  But unlike the other Vertices so far—where a pyramid had been suspended above a narrower abyss, or where the abyss itself had been surrounded by a viewing hall or a model city or a lava lake—at this Vertex the entire cavern was the abyss, one giant four-sided shalt.

  ‘This is beyond vertiginous,’ Lachlan said, peering out at the bottomless darkness.

  The box-like structure was a complicated tangle of interconnected towers, all clustered in a descending pattern one on top of each other, like a miniature city mounted on a wall, until at the very bottom of the irregular structure there appeared a long half-bridge of stone that stretched out to meet the peak of the inverted pyramid.

  ‘What are these gaps?’ Stretch nodded at some curious voids built into the waist-high stone wal
ls on the summits of all the towers. They looked like open gates. Every rooftop bore at least one such void, while some, like their current one, bore as many as three.

  Julius looked at the three gaps on their rooftop. ‘There’s a handrung ladder cut into the wall below each gap. It’s a pathway down the structure, but you have to choose the correct ladder. The

  question is how?’