The Secret of Excalibur_A Novel

by Andy McDermott

  “I guess so,” she said, “but I still don’t understand how. And why’s it lighting up here. We’re in the middle of a city!” She put the piece of Caliburn back in its case.

  Mitchell looked thoughtful. “Maybe all the highways leading through the countryside and converging on London disrupt the lines of earth energy, even redirect them. We know we can use an antenna array to gather earth energy, so there could be other ways to affect it as well. But that’s something we can figure out now that we’ve got it.” He carefully folded the velvet around Excalibur, then placed it in its case and closed it.

  “So what happens now?” asked Chase.

  “Now? Both the swords go to DARPA for analysis. Then after we’re done, Excalibur comes back to England and I’d guess takes pride of place in the British Museum or Buckingham Palace or wherever. And meanwhile, Vaskovich gets jack shit.” Mitchell smiled. “Suits me just fine.”

  “And what about us?” said Nina.

  “You go back to the IHA with yet another string to your bow. Atlantis, the Tomb of Hercules, and now King Arthur and Excalibur—that’s a pretty goddamn impressive résumé! You should be proud.” He picked up the two cases. “As for me, well, back to the States with these babies so we can figure out how the hell Merlin made them in the first place. Once we do, we can create our own superconductors—and Uncle Sam gets the world’s first fully functioning earth energy generator.”

  Nina nodded. “I’m going to have to be more open-minded in future, I guess. I thought this whole thing about earth energy was just pseudoscientific nonsense, but Bernd was right about that too. I bet he never imagined that I’d actually be physically able to prove it, though.”

  “But you did,” Mitchell said. He paused, then put down one of the cases. “I owe you a hell of a lot. We would never have found the swords without you, Nina … and you, Eddie.” He kissed Nina on the cheek, then extended his hand to Chase. “Seriously, man—you did a great job.”

  “You weren’t too shabby yourself,” said Chase flatly. After a moment, he shook Mitchell’s hand.

  “Okay, then,” said Mitchell, picking up the aluminum case again. “I guess this is it for now. You’re still booked into the hotel for tonight, compliments of DARPA, so you’ll finally be able to put on some clean clothes. And enjoy the rest of your vacation—sorry it got interrupted.”

  “Actually, I didn’t mind that part so much,” Chase muttered. Mitchell smiled, then left the room, taking the cases with him.

  Nina waited until the door closed before speaking. “I think I do know why the sword reacted to me and nobody else,” she said. “I just didn’t want to bring it up in front of Jack—I don’t know how much he knows about the Atlantean genome. After we discovered Atlantis, Kristian Frost told me that his research found that about one percent of the world’s population possessed the same genome as the ancient Atlanteans—that they were directly descended from them. I’m one of that one percent. Some of the more fanciful Atlantis legends said the Atlanteans had unusual powers; I never believed them because they sounded like pure fantasy, but who knows?” She looked at her hands. “Causing a sword to light up just by touching it would definitely qualify as unusual. Maybe the Atlanteans knew how to make a superconducting metal, even if they had no idea what that meant. Merlin might just have been trying to re-create the same thing.”

  She waited for a response from Chase. Nothing seemed forthcoming. “Eddie? Did you hear me?”

  “Course I heard you, I’m not deaf,” he replied, frowning. “I just didn’t care.” He stepped toward her. “For fuck’s sake, Nina! I told you not to go, and look what happened! You almost got killed. And I don’t know what …” He took a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

  “To Jack?” Nina exclaimed, incredulous.

  “What?” Chase was briefly confused before realizing she had completely misunderstood him. “No, that’s not what I—”

  “For God’s sake!” Nina snapped. “I cannot believe you are actually jealous of Jack! What, you think that first he took your job and now he’s going to take your woman?”

  “What do you mean, my job?”

  “You think your job is to look after me, don’t you?” said Nina. “I just run around getting into trouble so that you can save me. But Jack comes along and can do the same thing, and he’s an American, like me, and he’s a Ph.D., like me, and you feel threatened!”

  Chase crossed his arms angrily. “That’s the most fucking ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Is it?” She turned away to look out across Grosvenor Square, its trees and buildings silhouetted against the dusk sky. On the street below, she saw Mitchell descend the steps outside the embassy’s front entrance and climb into a waiting black cab. For some reason, he was only carrying one of the two cases. “You’re the one who’s being paranoid about Jack and behaving like a …” She trailed off.

  A taxi …

  “It’s got nothing to do with Jack!” Chase protested behind her, but Nina was no longer listening.

  She stared at the taxi in growing horror, color draining from her face as realization hit. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “Oh my God!” she repeated, whirling to face him. “It’s Jack—he’s not taking Excalibur to the States. He’s taking it to Vaskovich!” She ran to the door. “Come on!”

  Chase stared at her, anger turning to bewilderment. “What’re you talking about?”

  “He’s stealing it, he’s stealing my goddamn sword! Come on!”

  She ran for the stairs, Chase following in confusion. “How do you know?”

  “Because he just got into a taxi!”

  Sarcasm filled his voice. “Oh no, a taxi! That proves he’s evil! Now who’s being paranoid?”

  They clattered down the stairs, a couple of embassy workers jumping out of their way. “Since when does Jack use taxis? Every time he’s gone anywhere, he’s had an official U.S. government vehicle—car, plane, whatever! But now he’s carrying something incredibly valuable—and he decides to take it to the airport in a cab?”

  They reached the lobby. Nina spotted Peach talking to a tall, granite-faced man with a close-cropped brush of pure white hair—who was holding the other metal case. “Mr. Peach! Hey!”

  Peach looked around in surprise. “Dr. Wilde! What’s the matter?”

  She jabbed a finger at the case. “Did Jack Mitchell just give you that?” she asked the white-haired man.

  Peach spoke for him. “Yes. We’re putting it into secure storage until it can be transferred to DARPA.”

  “Uh-huh. And what about the other case?”

  “What other case?”

  “The case he’s about to give to the Russians! Eddie, come on!” Nina rushed for the exit, Chase shrugging helplessly at Peach before following her. One of the Marines stationed at the metal detectors inside the doors moved to block them, but Peach shouted for him to let them through. They ran down the steps and into Grosvenor Square.

  Nina hunted for the taxi. “Where’d he go? Where’d he go?”

  “Over there.” Chase pointed to the left; the road around the square was a one-way system, circulating clockwise. The traffic was light, the only cab in sight heading east along the long side of the gardens toward the heart of London.

  Nina spotted a black cab outside the Marriott hotel to their right. They ran to it, the driver looking up expectantly. “Follow that cab!”

  “Are you joking?” the driver hooted.

  “No, no! That cab, over there!” She pointed to the opposite corner of the park. “We need to be wherever he’s going, fast!”

  The driver regarded her as if she were an escaped mental patient. Chase sighed and took out several banknotes. “Fifty quid do you?”

  “That’s the ticket,” said the driver with a broad smile. “Hop in!”

  The taxi set off with a determined diesel rasp. Nina peered ahead as they drove past the embassy and turned to head east. “There! There he is!
”

  The driver accelerated. “Saw you both come out of the embassy,” he said. “So this geezer we’re after—terrorist, is he? Spy?”

  “A thief,” Nina told him. The driver didn’t seem impressed, but continued the pursuit regardless.

  “You think,” said Chase.

  Nina addressed the driver. “If you were going to Heathrow from the embassy, would you go the way he’s going?”

  “God, no!” the driver said, laughing. “Completely the other direction, miss.”

  “Told you,” she said to Chase. “That’s why he didn’t take an official vehicle—he doesn’t want anyone from the embassy to know where he’s going.”

  “I still don’t get what you’re thinking,” he complained. “If he was going to give the sword to Vaskovich anyway, why didn’t he just hand it over at Glastonbury?”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to blow his cover. Not in front of us.”

  “Okay, so if he’s really working for Vaskovich, he could have had Kruglov kill us and then make up whatever story he wanted. Why would he care about keeping us alive once he’s got the sword?”

  “I don’t know,” said Nina, shaking her head. “But Jack knew Kruglov and the rest … and they knew him.”

  “If they’re so matey, why were they trying to kill him?”

  Nina didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, she sat back and watched as they caught up with Mitchell’s taxi, their driver keeping a couple of cars between the two black cabs. They turned south, eventually emerging on Regent Street and passing through the neon blaze of Piccadilly Circus before heading east again.

  “Looks like he’s going to Leicester Square,” the cabbie said. Traffic had slowed considerably even by London’s sluggish standards, people crowding the pavements ahead.

  “What’s going on?” Nina asked.

  “Film premiere at the Empire, miss. I dropped some girls off there earlier—they wanted to see that American bloke starring in it, wossname, that guy with teeth. Grant Thorn, that’s the one. My missus likes him, but I reckon he’s just another one of those plastic Americans. No offense, miss.”

  “Uh-huh. Hey, he’s stopping,” Nina said, seeing the other taxi pull over.

  “Stop here,” Chase told the driver. The taxi squealed to a halt a few car lengths behind its quarry as Mitchell climbed out. Chase paid the driver. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks, mate,” the driver replied. Nina opened the door as Mitchell headed into the crowd. “Hope you catch your thief!”

  “Do you know your way around here?” she asked Chase as they hurried after Mitchell, battling to keep sight of him through the throng.

  “More or less. I lived in London when I was with Sophia.”

  “You did? Huh. You never told me.”

  “Can we not fucking start all that again?” They followed Mitchell into Leicester Square itself. Its northern end had been cordoned off to form a roadway leading to the Empire cinema, flanked by a crush of onlookers. Cameras flashed and people yelled in excitement as a limo pulled up at the red carpet, only for their enthusiasm to disappear as its occupants emerged, apparently not famous enough to earn a cheer.

  Nina glanced at the cinema. A huge billboard proclaimed the movie as Gale Force, the face of Hollywood flavor-of-the-moment Grant Thorn dominating an image of stormy seas, an exploding helicopter and a voluptuous young woman in a bikini. “Looks like your kind of movie,” she quipped. The crowd then caught her attention: more specifically, the number of yellow-jacketed police officers and security personnel in and around the cordon.

  Chase had the same thought. “If he really is going to give the sword to Vaskovich’s people, he’s picked a good place to do it. Lot of people around, lots of cops—less chance of them just killing him and taking it.”

  Mitchell was now heading south down the side of the garden at the square’s center. Though much less crowded than the area in front of the Empire, it was still busy, Leicester Square being home to several other cinemas as well as restaurants and bars. He reached the southwestern corner of the garden, stopping beside a bust of Sir Isaac Newton at its entrance.

  “Shit,” Chase muttered. “We can’t keep going this way, he’ll see us. Go back, go into the park.”

  “What if we lose him?”

  “Doesn’t look like he’s planning on moving. Come on.”

  They doubled back, entering the gate at the garden’s north western corner and hurrying down the diagonal path toward its center, passing a Union Jack-emblazoned stall selling London-themed tourist junk. To Nina’s relief she quickly sighted Mitchell again, still waiting by the statue. Then she froze, grabbing Chase’s arm as she recognized someone else. “Eddie, Eddie!”

  “Whoa, shit,” said Chase, making a rapid half-turn away from Maximov, who was crossing the square not far ahead. “Did he see us?”

  Nina cautiously peered around him. “No, he’s still heading for Jack. Oh, God, that punk bitch is there too.”

  Chase followed her gaze and saw Dominika emerge from behind the ticket office at the garden’s south end, her green hair standing out like a flare under the streetlights. She too was making for Mitchell. He realized they were dangerously exposed—if any of the Russians took their eyes off Mitchell … “Come on, get behind that tree.”

  They moved into the limited cover of a tree at the edge of the grass and hunched behind it, less than twenty feet from Mitchell as the two Russians slowly closed in on him. Mitchell had seen Dominika and Maximov approaching, but stood his ground.

  “Can you see any more of ’em?” Chase asked.

  He suddenly felt Nina tense behind him. “Oh, yeah,” she said nervously. “Eddie, kiss me! Now!”

  Chase turned and Nina locked her lips against his, quickly spinning him around. Kruglov was barely five feet away, on the other side of the garden’s perimeter railings. He strode past, eyes flicking to her—and continued toward Mitchell, having seen only the back of Chase’s head in the evening light.

  Nina turned Chase all the way around before releasing him. “You’re a good kisser when you’re scared,” he said quietly. She batted his arm before they both returned their attention to the Russians.

  “Hello, Jack,” said Kruglov as he stepped around the corner to stand before Mitchell. Dominika and Maximov waited nearby, eyes fixed coldly upon the American.

  “Aleksey,” Mitchell replied. “You mind telling me what the hell you were doing today?”

  “I could ask you the same.” Kruglov slowly circled Mitchell, glancing at the case in his hand. “After what happened in Austria, I had my doubts about your loyalty. So I decided to take charge personally.”

  “I told Leonid I’d bring him the sword,” Mitchell snapped. “He trusted me—why couldn’t you?”

  “Jesus,” a shocked Nina whispered to Chase, her fears confirmed.

  “Because it’s my job not to trust people,” said Kruglov. “Especially people who are trying to … what is the phrase? Take us for a ride.” He narrowed his eyes. “We had the German’s notes; you could have just given us the broken sword in Austria. We would have found Excalibur ourselves, and the IHA woman would have nothing. Instead, you kept it, and now some of my people are dead. We even lost a helicopter! They are not cheap.”

  “I had to keep my cover,” Mitchell insisted. “I would have given your guy the sword right there at the castle if he hadn’t been completely incompetent and let Chase take him out.”

  “You should have let us kill Chase and the woman,” Dominika said angrily. A passing couple gave her odd looks.

  Kruglov spoke in Russian, a command to keep her voice down. “But she has a point,” he went on to Mitchell. “Once you had Excalibur, there was no need to keep Wilde alive.”

  “Like I said,” Mitchell began, exasperated, “I had to maintain my cover. I’d be no use to Leonid if DARPA even suspected I was feeding him information. They’d cut me off, put me under a full investigation. But doing everything I could to keep her alive puts me above
suspicion.”

  Kruglov frowned, considering his argument. Eventually, he nodded. “And what now?” he asked, regarding the case again. “Are you prepared to give us the sword?”

  “That’s why I’m here. As far as DARPA’s concerned, they’re going to take delivery of a sword—but not the one they think. I’ve taken care of all the paperwork. Officially, this sword,” he held up the case, “no longer exists. So I’m ready to take it to Leonid.”

  “What’re we gonna do?” Nina hissed. “We can’t let them take it!”

  Chase glanced back to where they had entered the garden. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What? Where’re you—Eddie!” She watched in disbelief as he hurried away, then turned back to the scene playing out before her.

  Kruglov’s wide mouth twisted into an expression suggesting he had just sucked dry an entire lemon. “You want to take it to Leonid?”

  “That was the deal,” Mitchell insisted. “I said I would personally take it to Leonid, and he agreed.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you do or not. The point is, Leonid trusts me. I told him I’d bring him Excalibur. Well, I’ve got Excalibur right here, and I’m ready to take it to him. He’s waiting for it, Aleksey. And you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  A cheer rose from the other end of Leicester Square; somebody famous on the red carpet. Nina looked around to see Chase hurrying back, crouched low to stay hidden from the Russians. He had something in one hand. “Er, what?”

  “Big Ben was the best I could manage,” said Chase, holding up a rather poor gilded miniature of the world-famous clock tower, bought from the nearby stall. “Wait here.”

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Nina, just stay back here. Please, don’t argue,” he added as she began to protest. “I’ll handle this.”

  Lowering his head, he stepped out from behind the tree, casually walking through the other people on the path toward the group. Kruglov’s back was to him, while Dominika and Maximov were both focusing their attention on Mitchell.

  Kruglov finally nodded. “Okay. We will bring Leonid the sword … together.”