The Labyrinth of Minos (A Carter Devereux Mystery Thriller Book 5)

by JC Ryan

  Mackenzie nodded and started smiling. “Yep, I know all of that, and I’m not going to hand over my work to anyone. I have to maintain what control I can over it. I’m going to finish what I started. I just wanted to tell you what’s been troubling me.”

  At first Carter was stumped by her response. Then he started laughing. “Now that’s my Mackie. For a moment there I thought you were trying to tell me you wanted out. See, I don’t know you as well as you alleged earlier.”

  She grinned. “Well, at least you know enough to see when something is bothering me. So, now that my psychoanalysis is complete, and you know what’s going on in my mind, I guess we need to start planning how to get my project kickstarted again?”

  Before they’d gone much further in their discussion, they were interrupted. Carter was needed at the translation building, where a team of translators worked around the clock to extract the information about ground-breaking science contained in the ancient libraries of the Giants.

  Mackenzie gave in to the inevitable and went to clean the train wreck she’d made of the kitchen earlier. She didn’t mind cooking every now and then, but it was definitely not one of her favorite activities. She did her part in the kitchen when she had to but made sure to keep her dishes quick and simple. If the recipe said it would take more than fifteen minutes to prepare, she’d usually start looking for another one.

  After seeing to the needs of the translation team, instead of using one of the electric carts, Carter decided to walk the two miles to the Executive Advantage training facility, Camp Tala. He loved the exercise, and besides, he needed some time to think. The name Tala, the Sioux word for wolf, was James Rhodes’s idea, passionately supported by Mackenzie, of course. Originally, the name had been selected because of the relationship Mackenzie and the people of Freydis had with the wolves on the ranch. However, the name took on a new meaning when, a few days after the construction of the camp started, the entire wolf pack turned up at the site as if they were reporting for duty.

  It turned out that was exactly what they did, reported for duty. At least the six young ones did. They seemed to be all very keen to be enrolled in an Executive Advantage training program conducted by one of the members, John Ruschin, who was an experienced military dog handler. Soon, six of the young wolves were trained as military “dogs” and they certainly showed their mettle when they were instrumental in protecting the inhabitants of Freydis against a murderous attack by a group of ex-Russian Spetsnaz mercenaries, hired by the Council of the Covenant of Nabatea.

  Carter used the time he was walking to think about how fast his son was growing up, and what he wanted to teach him. Liam already showed signs of intellectual brilliance. His time as a prisoner in Saudi Arabia with his mother had given him a sweet bond with her and his little sister, and as a result he was almost as protective of them as Mackie was of him.

  Carter wasn’t jealous of the connection, but he needed one of his own to develop, and his frequent absences from the ranch made it difficult to establish more than the normal father-son relationship. He knew that to guide a brilliant child in emotional intelligence would require more than that.

  2

  CARTER’S TRANSLATION TEAMS now had two libraries to translate, that of the Giants, which was housed on Freydis, along with a team of translators and computer experts who worked together to develop a program to translate the massive amount of data still unexplored. The Nabatean library was now housed near A-Echelon headquarters in DC, and translation on it had begun there. His and Mackenzie’s ancient languages expert, Liu Cheun, traveled back and forth as needed.

  The Executive Advantage team continued to train new recruits at their compound on Freydis. Sean Walker, the CEO of Executive Advantage once described the organization to Carter and Mackenzie.

  “EA is a type of international mercenary force — much like a mini French Foreign Legion. Almost like the NATO of black ops — in other words, we are the free world’s top-secret country-less antiterrorism organization with very little red tape or bureaucracy. Just a bunch of good guys hunting and eliminating the bad guys — agile and extremely effective, thus far. We are independent, apolitical, areligious, anti-dogmatic, et cetera, and therefore we have the support of intelligence agencies across the globe.

  “EA was established when leaders of a few security agencies from around the world got together and agreed to form an independent, global Special Forces unit with a deep pool of expertise. We are officially part of the American black ops community, but we are funded by all the member countries. It’s a unit of specialists who can assure swift and successful clandestine missions anywhere in the world. The result of this international interagency agreement is that Executive Advantage has access to the skills of former Special Forces members from around the globe. That means we recruit people from the Navy SEALS, Delta Force, Green Berets, AFSOC, British and Australian SAS, Canadian Joint Task Force 2 - JTF2, French Foreign Legion, Israel’s Kidon — part of Mossad, Oman’s Desert Phantoms, India's Gurkhas, and others.

  “We’re an organization of last resort, which means we’re called upon whenever security and intelligence agencies find themselves with an intractable problem that must be dealt with when commercial, diplomatic, and political solutions have failed or are not an option.

  “However, and I’m sure you can imagine, politicians of the member countries don’t want to have any ‘knowledge’ about us or our activities — they want results and no links to them — plausible deniability.”

  Dylan Mulligan, second in command at EA, former SEAL team member under Sean Walker and his best friend, oversaw the training compound at Tala. He and Liu had married just two weeks after he and Sean, with a team of EA special forces operators, had helped Carter and Mackenzie wrap up the Nabatean affair. And although that was the end of the threat, another kind of busyness crept into their lives.

  Liu and Dylan wanted to get married on Freydis. Carter and Mackenzie, with Bly’s help with the catering, threw a lavish wedding reception for them. Then the newlyweds had gone to Boston to celebrate again with their friends and family there, and then departed on a month-long honeymoon.

  While they were gone, Sean filled in for Dylan at the training compound, and one afternoon he’d gone for a horseback ride in the late evening sun with Samantha ‘Sam’ Rawlins, IT lead for the translation effort. They’d hit it off after her boyfriend, Rick Winslow, was killed. Rick had been abducted by hitmen working for the Nabatean secret society and refused to give up information about the dolphin research conducted by Carter and his team. After this incident, Sam moved to Freydis to help with the computer translations of the Library of the Giants. That was when she and Sean started spending as much time together as they could whenever Sean was visiting the ranch.

  On the night in question, they’d come back engaged, which prompted another party.

  In August, James Rhodes retired as he’d threatened, despite President Grant’s request he stay on through the end of Grant’s term the following January. James’ second in command, Irene O’Connell, was promptly promoted, and James, with his wife, Carolyn, came to Freydis for a retirement party and long visit. At Carter’s invitation, they’d selected a little west-facing plot about two miles from the homestead, on the side of a hill overlooking a beautiful, lush green valley. The mountains in the background would be snow-topped most of the year. They had built an ecofriendly log cabin, where they frequently stayed now.

  Irene was also a frequent guest, but her visits were always work-related, or at least that was always her official reason for a trip to Freydis. Unofficially, she loved Freydis and the company of the Devereuxs, often saying that a day or two at the ranch, and in their company, was enough to energize her to face the politicians of DC and the demands of her job for a month to six weeks at a time. President Grant had encouraged her to name a new deputy director, but she hadn’t yet done so. In addition, she refused to give up her duties as Mackenzie’s handler, so she really needed the R&R breaks o
n Freydis every now and then.

  Carter got tired just thinking about it all. In addition to all the parties and his frequent trips to DC, he had been needed at the Alboran dig several times. Once or twice, Mackenzie went with him to visit Merrybeth, the dolphin who’d helped recruit others of her species to help with the search for the sunken city of the giants and their library.

  Carter realized she’d been right earlier that morning. She had been away from the children too much, as had he.

  THE NEXT MORNING, after Carter’s turn to make breakfast and clean the kitchen, the children were sent off to school, and the two of them were back on the porch, coffee mugs in hand.

  “I have an idea,” he said, thinking even as he spoke. “What if we build you a lab here and bring in anyone you need to help you?”

  Mackenzie’s jaw dropped. Yesterday had been busy, and the activities had swept their discussion to the back of her mind, so Carter’s remark had come out of left field.

  “Carter, that would cost millions!” she exclaimed, instantly catching up with his train of thought.

  Carter had been a wealthy man in his own right, thanks to his discovery of the gold-laden Viking longboat off the coast of Florida during one of his university breaks, which put more than thirty million into his bank account. Apart from that, when his grandfather Will died, he’d left his only grandchild, whom he’d raised, his extensive land holdings and many more millions. Carter was able to cut a two-billion-dollar check that would not be dishonored. On top of that, Mackenzie had negotiated a contract with DARPA for the development and exclusive use of her respirocyte technology, when it came to fruition, that would make her a multi-millionaire on the spot. In short, Carter and Mackenzie were in the fortunate position that they didn’t have the money worries that ninety-seven percent of the world population had. They could easily afford a state-of-the-art molecular biology lab, especially since they already owned all the land they’d need on which to build it.

  “Where…” she began.

  “We’ll expand the translators’ village,” he answered, anticipating her question about where they’d house the scientists she’d need. What had started as a dormitory resembling a nice apartment building had been expanded by several single-family log cottages when some of the workers brought their partners and children with them. Others had inevitably formed couple relationships with co-workers or other residents on the ranch. There was still plenty of space for more cottages if the scientists Mackenzie needed were married, and some empty apartments in the dormitory if not.

  “I’ll need…” she tried to start again.

  “Wait, let me get my laptop. Let’s start planning it right now.”

  Morning briefing forgotten, Carter typed as fast as he could while ideas for Mackie’s research facility flowed out of her mouth. They paused only for him to answer the phone and tell the lead translator to go ahead with the daily standup meeting without him.

  At some point, Carter and Mackenzie moved into the home office to use the whiteboard there. A sketch of the building and its floor plan along with a mind map of the departments she’d want for support of her research grew there.

  By the end of the day, they were mentally drained, but Mackenzie was too excited to sit still. While Carter and Liam went into the kitchen to cook dinner, she began a list of the scientists she wanted to contact and recruit. Ever practical, she knew not everyone would want to leave a university environment for a tiny compound on a vast ranch in the middle of the Québécois wilderness, no matter how sophisticated the lab was or how beautiful the setting. She therefore put at least five names under each category, the last of each being someone who could refer her to others if needed.

  The dinner, fresh-caught trout, broiled to perfection with a lemon, onion, and tomato garnish, and served with a baked potato and broccoli from Bly’s garden, was a big hit. Beth didn’t want to eat the ‘trees’, but Mackenzie’s make-believe enthusiastic enjoyment persuaded her to try them. Jeha also refused them when Beth tried to feed her the rest under the table. Beth declared that to be evidence that her mother and anyone else who liked them were weird.

  Liam, who was assistant chef in preparing the meal, took his sister’s criticism in stride. “It’s okay, Dad. She doesn’t like anything green.”

  Carter refrained from reminding him that he hadn’t either, at that age. He counted his blessings again as he and Mackie tucked the children into bed a little later. And he couldn’t help when his mind wandered off as he started thinking about resigning from A-Echelon. He loved the work, but these last few days with the children made him think again about what was important. After a while, though, his sense of duty and patriotism brought his mind back to reality. He could not just walk away from A-Echelon. The world was still fraught with danger, and the libraries he had in his hands contained the solutions to many of the threats, if not to prevent them, then to overcome them.

  3

  Six months previously

  HIS NAME WAS Ahab. Educated in London, he’d always found it ironic to be named after the seventh king of Israel. The Bible depicts King Ahab as a wicked king because he followed the ways of his wife Jezebel, killing his subject Naboth, and leading the nation of Israel into idolatry. His modern-day namesake, who was not married and worshipped no god other than himself, was also a wicked man who would have done the ancient king proud. In fact, on the wickedness front he would probably outdo the king.

  He’d been born in Saudi Arabia in a medical research facility to parents whom he never knew. He was told that his last name was Bashar. Growing up, he came to believe that he’d had the good fortune to be selected for an experiment that had given him near-superhuman strength and endurance. He was told, and he believed it, that it was only the very best and most brilliant who were selected for those experiments.

  He knew nothing of those who’d been treated before him. If he had known, he might not have characterized his fate as good fortune. All who went before him died, one after setting a new record for a human being in a marathon. But that man’s feat had gone unrecorded, as the race was not sanctioned. His record was known only to a few who’d been there, two of them scientists in the employ of a man named Algosaibi.

  Ahab was the last, for Algosaibi had met the unfortunate fate of anyone who dared betray his country and his ruler. He’d lost his head one day, and the scientists he’d employed, those who didn’t meet with the same fate as their employer, had scattered in fear for their lives.

  Ahab, one of the subjects who had been regarded by the Saudi authorities as an innocent victim, was never examined for the experiments conducted on him, and set free. He was left to fully discover his abilities on his own with no one else knowing what he was capable of. He was also left without guidance as he grew from a teen raised in the institutional environment of an experimental laboratory to manhood. He was therefore unchecked in his antisocial behavior, an unexpected side effect of his treatment. Now a man in his mid-twenties, he was gaining a reputation in his chosen profession as an unconventional thinker. His profession was not known to be kind to unconventional thinkers.

  Ahab was an archaeologist. He was also a sociopath and a serial killer but hid it well. Only his victims knew the truth, but that knowledge was always short-lived. He was disciplined enough not to take those of his colleagues who dared criticize him as his victims, though he was often tempted. However, he wanted to show them all that he was not the buffoon some thought.

  Recently, his studies had taken him to Crete. Unlike the archaeologists who’d searched for the Labyrinth of Crete before him, he had abilities that he felt would serve him well in searching deep in the earth. Crete had once been part of the mainland, the last vestige of a land bridge between Greece and Northern Africa that had formed when the Mediterranean had dried up in prehistoric times. The land had sunk, or the sea had risen. Both, according to his research. Previous archaeologists had searched only just below the surface of the island.

  Based on his enhanced
ability to go for long periods on only one breath, and to swim like a natural sea creature, he’d been exploring deep below the surface of the sea, miles offshore of the island. He therefore had no need to obtain permits for a dig, and no need for anyone to know of his interest, for that matter.

  The story of the Minotaur had always intrigued him. As the result of the experiment on himself, he felt there might be some truth to the story that most thought of as just a myth. And if that were the case, there must be evidence, DNA perhaps, in the real Labyrinth. He was determined to find it, and if possible, to use it, not only to prove his brilliance to the naysayers, but in his secret life as well.

  Ahab had only two goals in life. One was to make an enduring mark on the field of archaeology. In that regard, his role model was an archaeologist who had made a name for himself with discoveries of advanced prehistoric civilizations, Carter Devereux. A man who singlehandedly turned the modern version of human history on its head. Ahab reckoned that producing a living Minotaur would make that mark and put him in the cadre of revered archaeologists to which Carter Devereux belonged. Ahab’s other goal was to extract all the pleasure he could from the physical pain and fear of others, until he was inevitably caught and killed. He reckoned owning a Minotaur would also assist in that goal. What better way to get rid of the evidence of his kills than to feed the bodies to a Minotaur?

  He spent hours dreaming of the ways in which he could do it. After having his own fun, for example, he could watch as his pet monster made the kill. Or he could torture his victims by showing them the monster, telling them he would give them to the beast if they screamed, and then inflict pain in various ways while amusing himself by guessing how long it would take to wring a scream from them. He might even kidnap two victims at once and make one watch what was going to happen as he tortured the other. Oh, the joy it would bring him!