The Matt Drake Boxset 6

by David Leadbeater

  “An ancient Egyptian tomb is about to be unsealed and unveiled to the public. Barely disturbed by the authorities except to make it safe, it will be unveiled with everything in-situ. The Egyptians are billing the event as top-level, all sorts of socialites, celebrities and well-known figures are attending. They’re going to feed it across the Internet for maximum exposure.”

  Drake sighed. “And that’s a problem why?”

  Alicia smirked. “You weren’t invited?”

  Even Crouch cracked a smile. “Well, no. But that’s not the worst of it. They will unveil that tomb and then they will go inside. They’re planning to unseal an inner chamber on the night itself to ramp up the drama of it all.”

  Hayden shifted on her feet. “I still don’t see where we come in.”

  “It’s the first seal,” Crouch said with some fear in his voice. “And when the first seal is broken the curse is unleashed.”

  “What curse?” Alicia looked around. “Is this something to do with a bloody mummy?”

  “What are you looking for, Michael?” Mai wondered.

  Alicia spoke first: “You know, the usual. Scarabs. Dead things wrapped in bandages. I don’t like the sound of where this is going.”

  Dahl leaned over to whisper. “But can it be worse than sleeping just a few miles from Dracula’s castle?”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  “Listen.” Crouch sounded genuinely shaken, which surprised Drake. He’d rarely seen his old boss so anxious.

  “The curse simply points us toward the final seal, of which there are seven. All the seals need to be broken, but the seventh is literally—Armageddon. The problem is—” he gulped more water “—as explained, when they break the first seal the whole thing is going to play out, right down to the wire, right down to the seventh seal.”

  “You’re talking an ancient Egyptian curse?” Hayden said doubtfully. “Kinda like Tutankhamen? They say his tomb was cursed.”

  “No,” Crouch said. “Nothing like that. I’m not talking about a curse as described by Hollywood or sensationalist press. This curse is very, very real, and very, very deadly. Believe me when I say I need you on this. I need the best. Anything less . . .” he sighed and looked out the window.

  “And we’re doomed.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Hold on, hold on,” Dahl said. “I think this needs a little more explaining before we start purchasing plane tickets, don’t you?”

  Crouch nodded quickly. “Apologies, I’m very conscious of the time constraints. Of course, we’re still learning about ancient Egypt, still discovering old scrolls and hieroglyphics and, in some cases, still trying to decipher an archaic language. Every day springs a new surprise. The amount of warnings, curses and caveats out there are enough to fill a library. We all know this supernatural stuff is pure bollocks.” He paused. “Except Alicia, naturally, but a curse can have dozens of connotations. It could be a warning intended to help explorers; it could be a mischievous riddle; it could be part of a map that helps locate something carefully hidden from grave robbers. It all falls under the general label of ‘curse.’”

  Alicia put her feet up. “Can someone make the popcorn? I’m enjoying listening to Dad ramble on.”

  Crouch ignored her. “Luckily, you all know my lifelong passion for investigating ancient relics. My job—” he glanced at Drake “—with the SAS and other regiments got in the way for thirty years, but since I left the Army I have been thrown headlong into quite a few adventures.”

  “Yeah,” Alicia said wistfully. “And most of them were cool.”

  Drake knew she was thinking about her last op as part of the Gold Team, where Zack Healey had been killed. The young man’s death haunted her daily and, though she bore no guilt, a part of her had died that day too. Drake saw the same look in Michael Crouch’s eyes. He cleared his throat gently. “Understood mate, we know you’re one of the best in the world at this kind of stuff.”

  “Well, thanks. I try to keep abreast of everything that is happening in the relic hunter world.” He shrugged. “What else do I have to do? Leads spring up weekly, but most of them pan out to nothing. Less than nothing.” He gave another shrug. “They’re a waste of time. But the curse associated with the Tomb of Amenhotep has existed for centuries along with uncountable others, not particularly famous but prominent enough to make certain people in certain circles take notice. Now, when the tomb was found and the unveiling announced I naturally sat forward and took notes.”

  “What makes you believe it’s real?” Hayden asked, still unconvinced.

  “It may not be,” Crouch said. “But if this is the first seal and, inside, there’s something that points toward a second—are you willing to take that chance?”

  “I dunno,” Kenzie said. “What is this curse?”

  Crouch spoke from memory. “Translated into modern English it reads: Find the seven seals for seven tombs and settle the fate of men. Follow the lost symbol that entombs the Ancient Doomsday Machine. Break the seven seals of Egypt and start the End of Times.”

  “Crap,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Even cast out as we are we still end up in the middle of it.”

  “I wouldn’t have sought you out now, traveled all this way, if it weren’t vital.”

  “I know that,” Drake said. “But you’re still playing a hunch.”

  “There’s no gray area here,” Crouch insisted. “The texts clearly state that the Tomb of Amenhotep guards the first seal. Nobody knew of this tomb until quite recently. The fact that we now know it exists gives credibility to the text and the seven seals curse.”

  “But an ancient doomsday machine?” Dahl said. “Come on, man.”

  Crouch shrugged. “I’ve seen less believable theories proved true. And so have you. I’m convinced we have to be there at the unveiling and get a look at this tomb before anyone else. We don’t know what we’re looking for, we don’t know what we’ll find there, but it’s the ‘better safe than sorry’ principle I’m convinced we should follow.”

  “It may not even exist,” Kenzie protested softly. “And you want all of us to walk right in there?”

  “I don’t know you,” Crouch studied the Israeli. “But I assume since you’re here, you’re good. I believe we—”

  “Sorry,” Alicia suddenly interrupted. “We forgot to introduce you. Kenzie, this is Michael Crouch, ex-SAS and Ninth Division commander. Michael, this is Bridget McKenzie, Dahl’s new whore.”

  The Swede closed his eyes in resignation. Kenzie watched his reaction and then added no more. Crouch shook his head at Alicia.

  “Still good at making friends, I see. As I was saying, I believe we need the whole team in place, ready, in case the so-called curse proves to be true. You can be assured there will be others present and prepared to hunt for this doomsday machine. You can be assured there will be corrupt organizations represented, with similar orders. Our enemies will be crawling all over this, folks. I think we need to look sharp about it too.”

  “You don’t want to chance it that someone ancient planted a series of clues that leads to a terrible, hidden power,” Hayden said. “I get that, and understand. But still . . . it’s a risk. Even government-sanctioned SPEAR might not have been sent to this party.”

  “It’s true,” Mai said as Yorgi nodded. “Sometimes, we do find it hard to play well with others.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because the others are assholes,” Smyth growled. “All of ’em.”

  Mai nodded her agreement. “I do have a question for you, Michael. You say when the seal is broken we will find a clue to the second seal. How do we find the first seal?”

  “It’s part of the curse. ‘Follow the lost symbol that entombs the Ancient Doomsday Machine.’ It’s saying the seals are the way to the machine, they entomb it. You have to break them all to find it.”

  “And the lost symbol?” Kinimaka asked.

  “The most famous lost symbol of all time. Of all Egypt and quite possibly of the whole world. T
hat is my guess.”

  Alicia grumbled. “Okay, just imagine for one second that I’m dumb. True, it’s a tough job, but I’m sitting here trying to think of the most famous lost symbol of all time—” she shrugged “—and I’m coming up with a blank.”

  Surprisingly, nobody agreed with her. Drake saw even Kenzie was stumped. “Come on, Michael. What’s the most famous lost symbol of Egypt?”

  His ex-boss smiled. “Oh, if we weren’t in such a hurry,” he said. “I could have so much fun with this. Of course, it is the golden capstone that should top the Pyramid of Giza, which in itself is one of the most important and famous symbols in the world.”

  “Last surviving wonder of the world,” Kenzie said.

  Alicia tapped the arm of the sofa. “Until recently. I heard on the news they found another.”

  “None of that really matters,” Crouch broke through. “The Pyramid of Giza is one of the most geometrically flawless structures ever built. Countless men and women have devoted their entire careers to studying it. But to newcomers, or if you look at a photo, one thing is plainly obvious. It has no top.”

  Drake sipped at a bottle of water and checked to make sure Kinimaka and Smyth were ready to check the perimeter. Hayden gave them a nod and they were out the door. No point playing the odds now.

  Crouch continued. “It’s the most famous missing treasure of Planet Earth.”

  Alicia coughed. “Now hold on a minute—”

  “This month at least,” Crouch amended with a small smile. “But the Giza capstone was reputed to be made of solid gold. Of course, it may have been looted; it may never have existed; it may be lying in a rich man’s collection somewhere or even buried under tons of sand. In truth, the pyramid is a thirteen-acre, six-million-ton puzzle; larger than life and impossibly perfect.”

  “Looted?” Kenzie asked. “How on earth would anyone ever accomplish that?”

  Alicia stared. “You’re the expert. You tell us.”

  “But of course she is right.” Crouch nodded. “The capstone would have weighed many tons, even if it was smaller than many think. You see, I believe not only capstone is missing but several more layers of stones. It would have stood six to nine meters high atop the Giza pyramid . . .” He let that sink in for a while.

  “Isn’t the capstone one of the most important parts of a pyramid?” Dahl asked.

  “Some would say the most important part,” Crouch said. “Which is why it has to be the lost symbol. To my mind, it is also the ancient doomsday weapon.”

  Drake stared. “What? Why?”

  “You said it yourself. It is the most important part of the pyramid. It has a power all its own. And it is the focal point of the curse. The lost symbol you must follow.” He shrugged.

  “But how could a capstone be so powerful?” Dahl asked.

  “Well, maybe it isn’t. I’m still looking into it. But all the clues point that way. And, Torsten, it was incredibly large.”

  Drake didn’t want to commit before the team conferred, but knew time was short. “All we have to do is search this first tomb for a capstone symbol? And we’re hoping we find bugger all, right-?”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Crouch said.

  “The heathen way,” Dahl groaned. “The moment I think I’ve managed to curb his ignorance we’re back to square bloody one.”

  Drake gave him the finger.

  “And we’re back to the multi-million-dollar question,” Mai said. “How can we all travel to Egypt and attend a star-studded gala whilst searching for a lost symbol?”

  Drake frowned. “Yeah, it’s not exactly an everyday question.”

  “So you’re coming?” Crouch whistled his relief. “Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  “Coming?” Alicia said. “Sounds like the party of the year to me, Michael. Just imagine all the booze we can drink in the knowledge that we’re helping to keep the world safe.”

  Kenzie sidled close to Crouch. “Do you have access to a sword?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kimberley Crowe, the United States Secretary of Defense, found herself once again seated in the dark, private, walnut-paneled room with two men she had begun to despise. General George Gleeson sat opposite and the CIA high-flyer, Mark Digby, sat to one side, right foot crossed over the left and wagging comfortably.

  “Tempest,” Digby said, smiling “That is the code name.”

  “You’re official now?” Crowe asked quickly.

  Digby winced. “I didn’t say that. And don’t you mean we’re official?”

  “So, what are we?” She so badly wanted to say you not we, but resisted. “And what is Tempest?”

  The general diverted the questioning. “We are evaluating the recent efforts of SEAL Team 7. I was always doubtful about sending military men after military men. We need something different. If Tempest is to succeed we need an edge.”

  “How many . . .” Crowe hesitated, “know about Tempest?”

  “Not many.” Digby was deliberately vague. “A presidential aide is one of our better placed colleagues. But there are many working for us quite blindly. It’s always the best way.” He kicked his feet some more. “Better deniability for us.”

  Crowe didn’t like where this was going. The two men seated in front of her had never been so open before about their secret operation and the circumstances behind SPEAR’s disavowing. She wondered what the true nature of Tempest really was.

  “In the end,” she said. “SEAL Team 7 were unsanctioned. That should never have happened. I’m not entirely sure I’m on board with this, gentlemen,”

  Digby sat forward sharply. “Then get on board, Madam Secretary. You’re with us now, all the way. Just as culpable. Just as involved. Do not start acting the fucking angel now.”

  Crowe winced inside, but gave Digby a hard look. So there it was. Low down, dirty and mean. She was a part of this, as liable as they. Throughout her life she’d faced immeasurable odds; she’d overcome most and failed at a few. Now though, it appeared she would have to concede to get ahead.

  She looked away from Digby, allowing him to win the staring battle. “And what of this seven seals problem? How do you see it benefiting Tempest?”

  Gleeson fiddled with the buttons on his jacket as if impatient. “The tomb unveiling must be monitored. It may reveal some ancient weapon and we all know, after what happened a few years ago in Iceland and then the discovery of the tombs of the gods, that it may now directly link to Tempest and our ultimate goal. Everything we have worked for.”

  “And it may lead to nothing,” Digby admitted. “But we have to be sure.”

  Crowe acquiesced. “Of course.”

  “Covert ops working indirectly for Tempest will be on hand,” Gleeson told them. “If anything shows up they’ll find it.”

  “And SPEAR?” Crowe steered the conversation to a place where she felt more comfortable. “What plans are you making for them?”

  “What can we do?” Gleeson blustered, suddenly looking like he might throw a fit. “We helped create them. We helped them. Now . . . how do we stop them?”

  “I think that’s taking it a little too far, General,” Crowe said. “They’ve saved this country countless times.”

  “Listen—” Digby waved that away with a flap of his hand “—right here, right now; this is what counts. History is for poets and has-beens. SPEAR are connected. They have a mix of first-rate skills. What we need is something totally different. Something they won’t be expecting.”

  Crowe made sure she looked impressed. “Interesting. And that is?”

  “A new section of Tempest,” Digby said. “A very special team.”

  Crowe looked between the men. “Like SPEAR?” She tried to hide all traces of irony from her tone.

  “To succeed Tempest will need to . . .” Digby picked his words carefully, “skirt the line, not stick to it. Walk through the shadows. It has to dwell between the dark and the light.”

  “Why?” Crowe had to cha
llenge that.

  “Because our long-term plan, to gather together all the weapons of the gods, will attract attention from every single part of the world—the good, the bad and, particularly, the ugly. We should be able to deal with that attention without . . . revealing ourselves. Our methods have to remain covert.”

  “The Central Intelligence Agency should be all over that,” Crowe said.

  “Well, that depends where we all want to end up.”

  Crowe was fully aware of everything Digby might mean, including a hole in the ground. She was aware that the cards were now well and truly laid out on the table. “I’m assuming you have already engaged this different solution?”

  “Oh yeah.” Gleeson showed positive animation for the first time. Even a little glee. “An old-fashioned, balls-out blood-warrior called Luther. Old style, no rules, no book. Luther has never used a computer in his life, nor anything bigger than a cellphone. You set this guy on someone’s track and he’s a fucking bloodhound. He’ll track SPEAR down using just his nose and bury ’em all where they lie. Never to be found.”

  Crowe suppressed shock. She’d heard of Luther. Just the legend—but that was more than enough to give her nightmares.

  “Luther and his team?” she breathed. “They’re Judgment Day, for God’s sake. You want real noise and destruction? You want catastrophe? Are you kidding me?”

  “As far as I can tell,” Gleeson gave her a heartfelt sigh, “they’re the only kind of team that stands a chance of taking SPEAR out.”

  “Plus,” Digby said, “every local authority around the world, when they hear Luther’s involved, will get the hell out of the way.”

  Crowe breathed a tense breath. Not everyone, but most. Digby had it about right. Her own knowledge of Luther and his band of old-world misfits was purposely vague, but what she’d been able to pick up during her short term in office was enough to make her heart pound.

  “You know,” she said, “something doesn’t smell exactly right. Luther is potentially worse for American relations than SPEAR. Yet, we’ve condemned them for the events in Peru that nobody except us knows much about.” She held up her hands, seeing protest coming. “Now I know . . . I know it’s all about Tempest. I’m not sure what your endgame involves for these weapons of the gods, but I do understand.”