Eddie grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “Wine, women, and more women,” he said, then looked past him to the G5 jet. “That’s some ride and you don’t look like you’re hurting for company.”
Sebastian glanced between the two. Olivia’s attention was on the Rock dominating the landscape, and he knew she was racking her brain to figure out where the relic was hidden in there. He introduced them.
Eddie’s gaze slid to his. “Doctor? You’ve come up in the world.” He went still, frowning at her.
“Yes, that Olivia,” he said before he could embarrass himself, and she met his gaze. “Eddie and I served together. He saved my life.”
“And God has never forgiven me,” he said winking, then inclined his head to the staff cars waiting for them. He tossed Esposito a set of keys and pointed to the second car. “I don’t know who is running your team, but they have some stones. Sorry, ma’am.”
Olivia just smiled to herself. With four brothers, she’d heard it all before she was ten. “McGill. The mess in the arctic.”
Eddie’s brows shot up as he held the door open for Olivia. “Bugger me, no kidding. Bloody damn Russians, just like Serbia, they want everyone suffering under their version of socialism.” His gaze followed her as she gingerly climbed inside and he whistled to himself, shaking his head. “American women. God, I love them.”
Olivia in leather pants was a feast for any man within a hundred yards, but Sebastian felt a little pinch of jealousy and eyed Eddie. “Off limits, pal,” he said climbing in beside her. She grasped his hand, yet was strangely silent. “You okay? How’s your hip?”
“Sore as hell, but I’ll live. I need to get out there.” She ducked to see the Rock, frowning. She’d seemed uneasy since they landed.
Max climbed in the front, then looked back between the seats. “Gibraltar is locked down and has been searched. Tourists aren’t happy about that, apparently. Nevolin could have landed at any airstrip. We have alerts across the wire, but her broadcast should put her face across the world. Someone will spot her.”
“A woman with two Russian men can’t be that hard. The accents were pretty heavy, but I promise you, she’s changed her appearance. She’s already here.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“She’s had her father’s notes and he found the first half. It’s reasonable to think he knew where the rest was located.” She sighed hard. “This thing was never meant to be found.”
Eddie turned over the engine and drove off the flight deck, then maneuvered through the streets to the Devil’s Tower Camp. The British Royal Regiment there was offering assistance but since the missile capture and the hit on the Northern Lion—his heart skipped with the memory—it was dicey politics. The UK declared the abandoning of the seventy-three men an abomination and the broadcast proved the harsh reality of the Russian FSB. With MiGs dropped inside Danish waters, the Danes were going for blood along with the United States. Deep Six was trying to draw out her benefactor. Someone paid her millions. They’d expect a return. Sebastian hoped Nevolin’s backer did them all a favor, but with her moving through three countries easily—it was a sure thing that she had some heavy-duty help. He suspected it came from inside the FSB. And the Russian mafia, a given, but there weren’t too many with the ability to move money, equipment, and MiGs that quickly. Infiltrating either organization wasn’t healthy. Beckham had already tried it.
In less than fifteen minutes, they were walking into the NSA SIGINT listening post. They waited for the Marines and security checks. Sebastian was amused when Olivia flashed her ID and the agents aboard couldn’t bow and scrape fast enough. She seemed oblivious as Eddie led the way into a conference room set up for their use. They were prepared.
Safia and Riley were already there, looking a little tired from the long flight hops to get here, but that didn’t stop Safia. She leapt from her chair before a computer, rushing to Olivia. Sebastian smiled as they exchanged hugs, and Riley brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Welcome back from the dead, lass.”
“Nice to be here, and thanks for keeping Ice Harvest together. I’d be really pissed if Nevolin had destroyed that, too.” Her staff were all back on the dig, finishing the excavation while Noble and Cruz tried to narrow the jade’s location.
“I’m linked with Deep Six,” Safia said, “and Sam and Viva should be arriving at Ice Harvest by now. I’m really glad you’re alive.”
“Me, too.” Olivia’s gaze slid to Sebastian’s and her lips twitched with a sexy smile.
“I brought you a couple changes of clothes,” Safia said, nudging a travel case across the floor. “I didn’t trust Cruz, but that’s from him, with a message, don’t be like China.”
Olivia thanked her, then went to the box, ripping through the tape. She lifted out a leotard-like suit, a zipper up the front from thigh to throat. “Dragon Skin. Aww, he’s worried again.”
Safia laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. It’s a good worry, and that suit works great, but it almost drowned me.” Safia glanced at Riley.
“And every woman needs to feel thirty pounds heavier, huh?” She dropped it into the box, nosing through the rest, and Sebastian frowned at the devices to register thermals and electrical current. Sebastian plucked it out, held it up, and Olivia shrugged. “Cruz thinks we can use it to track the jade’s energy.” She went to the computers, keying in the codes to reach Ice Harvest and waiting for the connection.
“You can’t explore in the dark,” he said, tapping his watch.
“I’m ready. I just need to check with Noble. Maybe he has more, because we sure as hell don’t have time to search the entire Rock for eight inches of jade.”
Behind her along one wall two TVs were tuned to BBC and CNN. Sebastian moved closer, glancing between them. The protests and violence covered Russia like a blanket. No statements were coming out and he spotted a film clip of Putin leaving his country estate, where he’d been showing off his body for the press. Protesters filled the streets and police were fighting them back with hoses. “Nevolin has her revenge and she’s gaining sympathy.” People marched through the streets with her picture on a post. “Christ. They’re hailing her as a hero.”
“I don’t give a damn.” He looked at her. “That sub was made for war, nothing else, and they almost succeeded.” When Nevolin’s photo flashed on the screen, Olivia tensed. Sebastian felt her outrage as if he wore it, and touched her arm. She snapped a look at him. “That woman needs to go straight to hell.”
“When I see her, I’ll be happy to oblige.”
She kissed him. “I’ll hold you to that.” A ping sounded and she turned to the laptop, sliding into the chair. He joined her, waving at Noble. Cruz was behind him at a desk in the communications hut.
“It has a pulse. The jade. Cruz feels that since the vibrations stopped after your adventure on the Northern Lion, that it’s giving off energy.”
“That explains the extra equipment in the box. Thank you. But what do you mean a pulse? It’s inanimate. EMP maybe, but I was within two feet of it and didn’t get anything except a pretty play of light and a bit of awe.”
Noble smiled patiently. “The monk wrote that the princess buried it in the mountains full of copper and silver ore. If it doesn’t give off some kind of effect,” he said, “then how did the wolves find it to dig it up?”
The Prudential logo was the Rock alone in the water.
The reality of Gibraltar was another view entirely, especially at dusk.
Olivia stood on the top and turned full circle. The city spread out like a skirt around three sides, the tallest point of the rock open to the Mediterranean Sea. She spotted the twelfth-century Tower of Homage from here. Like most of Europe, Gibraltar was an ancient city coated with everything modern in a cramped space. Thirteen hundred feet below, police and Royal Marines kept surveillance. Traffic had to be stopped for landing aircraft because the only runway bisected Churchill Avenue, a major highway and the only road to Spain. Even the tunnel construction to change tha
t had been stopped.
But up here, the only sound was the warm breeze. She tipped her head back and tried to imagine it eight hundred years ago and Jal sailing between the straits of Gibraltar: the unblemished coastline, nations of ships scattered in the bay. Was he here first before Benzù? She envisioned the ships on the sea, the noise of the open markets, the stream of goods unloaded. There would have been Crusader knights with their entourages, as well as peasants, farmers, and slave markets.
A few feet from her, Sebastian was rigged with PRRs and the Marines were spread out like a fence farther down the Rock at the cable car landing. Olivia wanted to climb the rock face, but at this hour, it wasn’t wise. The Rock itself stretched for three miles with a seven-mile coastline. The Straits of Gibraltar had been the hub of trade for centuries, but Olivia wanted only a clue where to look for the Viking’s hiding place. Three miles was a lot of land to cover. Through the binoculars, she sighted on the land below. The beach was empty except for a couple people fishing, and she studied the shoreline. Cruz had gathered weather patterns and climatology to estimate the twelfth-century shoreline, about fifty yards wider than present day, but near the Rock the erosion proved that at least on this side of the peninsula water hit the rocks.
She swung her attention right, to the east and a lone figure sitting on a large boulder on the edge of the sand. She narrowed the view and the old man looked over his shoulder up at the top. His face filled the lens, and he looked right at her. Chance, she told herself, lowering the glasses. Just coincidence. Then she looked again. He was still staring. She stepped back from the edge, glanced around. She was the only one standing on the very top, she reasoned as Sebastian moved up beside her.
“Something’s up, I can tell.”
She felt silly for even mentioning it, but told him about the man. He scowled, immediately sighted with the single scope. “The one on the shore with the stick?”
“Yes, but forget about it. Let’s go. This isn’t useful. If there was a Norse marking or anything remotely like it here, it would have been found by now. The Rock was used as a defense post during three wars. There were holes bored through it for gun batteries as early as World War Two. Surely someone would have seen something?”
“I agree, so what do you want to try next?”
She let out a sigh. “The shore. Maybe Saint Michael’s cave?”
His glance held doubt. “It wasn’t discovered till the eighteen forties.” They headed back down.
“All the more reason to think he hid it there.” He arched a brow. “Okay, fine, I don’t know.”
The answer was like a word lingering on the tip of her tongue, just out of her reach. She tried thinking like a Viking with a secret to bury as she stepped carefully down the stone path of the overlook. The café and gift shop were closed up, an officer outside it. An iron fence surrounded the cable landing and while it was a habitat for macaque monkeys that usually crawled over everything, the place was empty. The police probably scared them off, she thought, though Recker and Lewis were doing a great job at looking mean and deadly. Even the guards gave them a wide berth.
“I feel like I’m really reaching here,” she said softly. “And it’s ticking me off.”
“Try this.” He handed over the EMP device. “Can’t hurt.”
She turned it on, working the controls. The device made a high tone and the meter dial shot right—to the electrical box on the cable car. “Oh yeah, that’s helpful,” she said, stuffing it in her jacket pocket.
A few minutes later, they left the cable car, passing the entrance to the World War II and Great Siege tunnels. Men in plainclothes with radios watched the streets, the crowds. It was an impressive show of force. Near the turnstile, one man in a guard’s uniform tossed food to several dogs lingering around the hillside. At the base, she jogged across the parking lot and down to the shore. Behind her, the trot of footsteps made her turn. Sebastian did not look happy.
“Uh-oh, what’d I do?”
“Made yourself a target,” he growled. “You’re the brains of this outfit, honey. If Nevolin wanted to stop us, all she has to do is take you out.”
She felt her skin creep up her arms. “Thank you for that visual.”
His expression softened and he moved in close. “I have plans for you. Don’t screw it up.”
She smiled and was more than willing when he leaned down to kiss her. Her gaze shot to the troops, expecting she didn’t know what, but all she got were big smiles. Recker gave her a thumbs-up and she laughed quietly, walking toward the shore. The tide was out, the sand a powdery pale gray. She tried positioning herself at the same angle of the Viking’s etched glass, with the highest peak on her left. It was a view from the sea, she realized, yet beyond the familiar Rock shape, the land was just as craggy, a huge portion cut smooth for rainwater runoff to the water catchments. It flowed to a reservoir supplying the British territory with fresh water. On the north side was the port and city.
She studied every shadow on the stones and while she couldn’t be certain the lines on the glass represented the two pillars, Noble was researching any known artifacts recovered from the Rock to see if Norse symbols had been collected over the years. But it felt right.
She looked at Sebastian. He was turning slowly, watching the terrain. Armed and dangerous, she thought, glancing at the Marines. His carbon copies were inspecting people, passing cars, blades of grass. She walked farther onto the sand pebbled with boulders she assumed broke off the Rock. Usually pictured dark, the Rock of Gibraltar was actually white limestone with great patches of green near the long buildings on the cuff of the formation.
She was surprised to see the old man walking on the shore. She thought he’d left and felt compelled to meet him. Old man of the sea would offer what? she thought sarcastically. She started walking to him, then stopped a local guy gathering mussels into a bucket.
“Do you know that man?” She gestured.
He looked up, then swung his gaze in the old man’s direction. “No, sorry,” he said in accented English. “But he’s been here every day for a week now. He just sits right there, sunup to sundown.” He frowned. “In fact, I’ve never seen him leave.” He went back to collecting.
She thanked him and walked with Sebastian. He slung his arm around her waist, tucked her close. “You look…I don’t know, like you’ve seen a long-lost friend.”
She leaned back, eyes wide. “That’s exactly what it feels like. Like I’m waiting to be shocked. I’ve felt…just weird ever since we arrived.” She sighed into his shoulder. “It’s like I’m missing something really obvious, and I’ll hate myself when I figure it out.”
“Gibraltar in the eleven hundreds was one of the biggest trade ports of the Med. A Norse trader wouldn’t raise attention, except for their large size, so what’s different about him that he could get around here without notice?”
“That’s provided I’m reading everything correctly.” She hated to think Nevolin had some piece she didn’t. She went back to eliminating the obvious, counting off on her fingers. “Not his looks, for sure, his height, no, his Chinese partner couldn’t go far without getting snatched for slavery. Furs, cattle, horses.” She shook her head, then looked at him suddenly. “It’s his ship. It had a shallow draft, but wide. That’s what enabled the Norseman to travel through China by river.” She looked at the mass of limestone. “There were battlements up there for the protection of the port.”
“But the men at the battlements were looking out at approaching ships, not down.”
He was warming to the game of supposition, the staple of archaeology. “Up that way”—she flicked a hand north along the shore—“is the Moorish fortress, the Tower of Homage lookout. So if he wanted to get anywhere near the Rock he’d have to pass the battlements of Sultan Aloumed what’s his face, all the traders in the city, ships docking near where Devil’s Camp is now.”
He shook his head. “The cliff face makes it impossible to see the base of the Rock and centuries earl
ier—”
“He could get right up close to it.” He smiled, gave her a squeeze, and she said, “It has to be on this side. He could climb, but that risked being seen from the water.”
Several buildings were built on the rock face; the city was literally growing up the side of it. On the land side were the entrances to the tunnels and her gaze lowered to the caves. They’d been investigated by archaeologists for decades. At the base of the Rock were several cavities eroded by the sea that looked like a giant’s fingerprints in the limestone. The first two were on the tours, St. Michael’s and Gorham’s. From this distance across the water, they looked like hobbit holes, yet the entrances were nearly fifty feet high and just as wide. Neanderthal bones had been found inside in the late 1800s—there were diorama exhibits in one, she recalled from tour flyers—and during World War II, it had been blasted for ventilation for the maze of tunnels, and New St. Michael’s was found halfway up the western slope. Heck, old St. Michael’s was large enough to hold concerts inside.
Then the old man sitting on the rock twisted around and looked directly at her. Her breath caught. His pale gaze pinned her for a moment, and she walked across the sand. Sebastian called softly to her. She discreetly waved to stay close. Perched on the rock, the old man was hidden in the shadows of Gibraltar and small enough that his feet didn’t touch the ground. His head was covered with a tan knit cap pulled over his ears, and his entire body appeared drawn inside his ragged clothes. His skin was the color of pecans, his face and hands mapped with wrinkles.
She didn’t hesitate a step, feeling somehow forced to meet him. He smoked a hand-rolled cigarette like it was a joint, and in the other hand, he gripped a walking staff jammed in the sand. From the top of the twisted wood hung strips of frayed ribbon, the ends tipped with charms of twigs, metal—she recognized a Coke bottle cap—and shells.
The old man smoked, staring out over the water.
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