The Last Oracle: A Climate Fiction Thriller (Sam Jardine Crime Thrillers Book 3)

by Christopher Hepworth

  ‘That’s correct. It’s positioned about half a kilometre behind their reserve troops, which in turn are about a kilometre south of the sandstone monolith.’

  ‘We have a satellite going over your position in about one minute. We’ll take its coordinates and deal with it.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘We’re trialling a few land attack harpoon missiles here at El Kharga. They pack quite a punch so make sure you’re well clear of the area. They’ll strike in the next twenty minutes.’

  ‘Rania, they’ve got Sienna. She’s in the courtyard of the monolith.’

  ‘That does complicate things. We’ll try to get her out too.’ Rania paused for a moment. ‘Okay, Sam, the satellite is over you now… I’m zooming in… Yes, I’ve got the missile battery… Locking its coordinates in now… Just a minute, Sam.’ There was more silence on the radio. ‘Sorry about that… I was transferring the details to artillery commander… We’re launching the harpoons in two minutes... Get yourself to the north side of the rock and we’ll pick you up there… My goodness, those terrorists are sitting ducks, especially the ones in the hollow. This is too good to be true.’

  ‘Rania, you can’t attack the courtyard. That’s where they’re holding Sienna.’

  ‘Got to go now, Sam. We’re heading for the helicopters. Over and out.’

  Sam was left clutching the transmitter. He felt sick. Once the harpoons struck, the rebels would murder Sienna and her servant instantly, even if Rania did not target the courtyard itself. Sam came to a decision. He slipped the Sirius into gear and eased into the desert.

  * * *

  Almost invisible in his elevated hide, Jack peered through the telescopic lens of his ancient sniper’s rifle. His job was to place a bullet between the eyes of anyone attempting to interfere with the execution that was about to take place in the centre of the courtyard, one hundred metres away. For the first time since he had joined Jamal’s rebel battalion, he was feeling alienated and unsure of the morality of their cause. The tough battalion veterans had ridiculed him when no government troops were located inside the temple and they blamed him for the bizarre and gruesome deaths of the four martyrs. Even worse, he struggled to understand the need to execute the beautiful woman who had been discovered within the temple. Jack did not admit it to his fellow soldiers, but the woman was having a profound effect on him. She had the ability to put strange thoughts in his head and join the profusion of voices that were clamouring for his attention. The rebels described her as a sorceress, but to Jack she possessed a goddess-like quality. He studied the woman through his telescopic lens and shuddered at the prospect of her imminent death. His heart pounded with adoration at the sight of the beautiful creature with her mesmeric emerald-coloured eyes and flowing white dress. Jamal was filming her from behind the tripod while Tariq, who had was wearing a black hood, stood behind her with a long-bladed knife held to her throat. The woman looked upwards to where Jack was hiding and stared straight into his eyes with an expression of such intensity, his vision misted over. It was impossible she could have spotted him in his hidden position, and yet no woman had ever looked at him with such passion. Her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. Her eyes blazed deep into his soul, causing adrenaline to course through his veins while confused thoughts and voices swirled in his head.

  Tariq grabbed a handful of Sienna’s long black hair in his left hand and pulled it back, exposing her slender neck. He spent thirty seconds ranting into the video camera and predicted a similar fate awaited all those who defied the one true cause. He raised the blade and plunged it towards Sienna’s throat.

  * * *

  Sam drove around the sandstone monolith as carefully as he could to avoid creating a dust cloud that would alert the rebels. He looked at his watch. He had five minutes to go before the harpoons struck. He saw the hidden archway to his left and turned the Sirius in towards it, retracting his wing mirrors to squeeze through the slender arched entrance. He drove through a narrow rocky gulley that was lined with ancient battlements on either side, and turned sharp right at the hairpin bend. Ten metres ahead was the end of the natural fold of rock that hid the archway from the view of the courtyard, where fourteen rebel soldiers were preparing to execute their hostages. Sam shifted the gear selector to sports mode and revved the engine as he held it on the clutch. A high-pitched whine like a tiny jet engine emanated from the electronics as Sam piled on the power. The car quivered like a thoroughbred racehorse, and then shot forward into the courtyard as he released the clutch.

  * * *

  Jack traced the silver car through his telescopic sights as it raced towards the execution scene. He focused on the forehead of the driver and applied pressure to the trigger. Then, Jack gasped. ‘It can’t be…’ Outlined in his crosshairs was his half-brother, Sam Jardine. A dozen conflicting voices assaulted his brain. Jack froze as he was gripped by indecision.

  ‘You must kill him, my darling Jack.’ The voice of his long-dead mother emerged from deep within the recesses of his mind. ‘He abandoned you when you needed him the most. Now he must pay.’

  ‘But he’s me brother. He’s all I’ve got,’ Jack shouted at the voice.

  ‘You have new brothers now. They respect you. Do this for me, Jack, and be a man.’

  ‘No! I can’t do it!’ Jack screamed at the voice. He swung his rifle away from the silver car and towards the woman in the white dress. He saw Tariq’s blade plunge towards her throat, but watched in astonishment as her wizened old servant threw himself in the way of Tariq’s knife and took the full force of the blow. Tariq extracted his knife from the dying man’s chest and pushed him to the ground. The Oracle looked once more into Jack’s eyes as the knife swung towards her neck for a second time.

  * * *

  Sam accelerated towards the execution scene, knowing he had arrived too late to save Sienna. He had witnessed the selfless but futile sacrifice of Sneferu, but was still fifty metres away when the executioner swung his razor-sharp blade at Sienna’s throat for a second time. The rebel soldiers were aware of his approaching silver car, but they were mesmerised by the gruesome scene unfolding in front of them. A single soldier swung his rifle in Sam’s direction.

  Sam stared in astonishment as the executioner’s hand exploded into a bloody mass of flesh and bone centimetres from Sienna’s throat. The crack of a sniper’s rifle echoed simultaneously around the courtyard.

  Tariq looked in horror at the bloodied stump attached to his arm. His eyes bulged through the black mask and a low moan escaped from his lips. The second bullet hit him in the middle of his mask and his head exploded like ripe fruit. His body slumped backward into the sand at Sienna’s feet. Half a second later, the soldier who had aimed his rifle at the Sirius pitched forward as Jack’s third bullet tore out his throat.

  Sam slewed the Sirius around in a circle and brought the car to a halt centimetres from where Sienna was standing. As dust and sand clouded the courtyard, he leaned across and opened the passenger door. Sienna gathered her bloodied white skirts in her hand and stepped into the car. As she pulled the door closed, the tyres spun, causing the tail to flick out before the car shot forward towards the concealed entrance. ‘Keep down!’ yelled Sam. A dozen rifles were aiming in Sam’s direction, but the crackling, fizzing sound of a rocket engine caused the rebels to look upwards to the sky. The long, slim, pencil-shaped missile flew over their heads on a downward trajectory, causing the rebels to scatter in all directions. A second harpoon followed and two massive explosions were heard a kilometre away as they obliterated the anti-aircraft battery.

  Sienna pointed to a position high in the rocks and Sam stared in shock as he saw his half-brother Jack slip out of his sniper’s nest and disappear over the crest of the monolith. A cold wave of guilt swept through him and squeezed his heart like a vice. He felt sick at the realisation his own actions had driven his half-brother into the embrace of extremists. Sam was in a daze as he negotiated the maz
e-like fold of rock and emerged into the bright sunlight. Once more Sienna pointed upwards, and Sam saw a third harpoon missile head straight towards them on a dipping trajectory. Sam shifted through the gears and accelerated the Sirius away from the monolith.

  ‘The jet engine is malfunctioning,’ Sam said as the fins on the missile wobbled and the flare of rocket fuel trailing behind it turned smoky black and then cut out completely. The harpoon spiralled out of control over their heads and then slammed into the base of the monolith where the ancient archway had been milliseconds before. Two hundred kilograms of high explosives detonated and a ball of flame shot thirty metres into the air.

  The Sirius rocked and slewed but continued undamaged towards the rendezvous point with the helicopters.

  * * *

  The battalion’s explosives expert Rashid turned to his long-time friend and commander Jamal as the government’s attack helicopters butchered the remnants of their rebel army. ‘We are finished. The dream of a south Egyptian caliphate is over.’

  Jamal watched as a dozen men with their hands raised were murdered by the spitting bullets of the ruthless Rapid Deployment Force. ‘This is not the end, Rashid, but a sign from the Almighty that we must take the war to the heart of the enemy and strike them where they are most vulnerable.’

  ‘How so, my friend?’

  ‘The treacherous imbecile Zahir has told me all about his brother and how he worships at the altar of oil and gas. He has also told me they search for oil in the most remote and sensitive places on the planet. We will strike them there and create an incident so dreadful the whole world will take note of our cause.’

  CHAPTER 24

  Greenland, October

  The white Gulfstream G550 glided over the shimmering meltwater lake, an immense body of water so vast it appeared to have no beginning or end. The pilot checked his fuel gauge and decided to turn the plane around and head back to the little airstrip at the Upernavik Icefjord on the west coast of Greenland. The two Daingerfield employees peered through the windows of the company jet, open-mouthed at the watery panorama below.

  Chad Bolger, Daingerfield’s most experienced engineer, turned to his boss across the Gulfstream’s narrow aisle. ‘That’s gotta be the most goddamn beautiful sight I’ve ever seen in my life, Chuck.’ He whistled through his crooked teeth. ‘Don’t get me wrong, after months of living in that frozen shithole, I’m sure as hell happy to be heading back home to Texas to see the wife and kids. But my Lord, if that ain’t a sight to make the angels soar, then I don’t know what is.’

  Chuck Crawford did not respond. He stared out of the Gulfstream’s window, transfixed by the world’s newest inland sea.

  ‘The funny thing is, I can’t remember seeing this lake when we flew in three months ago,’ Bolger said as he pushed his wire-framed spectacles up his nose. ‘But man, it’s pretty.’ He looked across at Crawford, whose face resembled a death mask.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Chuck? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten sick? Mind you, you’ve been working your ass off these last few months. Anyone who managed to clear up a major fracking blowout and still ship fifty thousand barrels of oil in one season is bound to feel burnt out. Think of that fat bonus cheque waiting for you at The Woodlands. That’ll soon bring the colour back to your cheeks.’ He laughed at his own joke, but Crawford continued to gawp at the body of water stretched from horizon to horizon.

  Bolger turned to look out of the window at the never-ending sea of meltwater. A sudden thought crossed the engineer’s mind and a frown spread across his face. ‘Chuck, I don’t understand. If it’s so goddamn freezing here in Greenland, how come that lake ain’t, you know… ice? Hey, Chuck? You sure you’re okay?’

  Crawford did not respond, but remained transfixed at the sight below him.

  Bolger persisted. ‘You don’t think it could be anything to do with our fracking accident, do you? Maybe we should report this to Rex Daingerfield.’

  Crawford swivelled his head and looked straight at Bolger. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. ‘Now listen to me, Bolger. This kind of shit happens all the time in Greenland and it ain’t nothing to do with us, right? It might look a bit scary from here, but it’s nature doing what nature does. It’s just a little ice dam. In a few months’ time, this lake will freeze over and no-one will be any the wiser.’

  ‘A little ice dam? Holy fuck, It’s bigger than Lake Michigan! We’ve gotta report it, Chuck.’

  ‘If you spill your guts to Daingerfield, every environmentalist on the planet will slither out of their stinking cesspits and point their scrawny fingers straight at you and me. Take it from me, this kind of thing happens every day in Greenland.’

  ‘But Chuck, look at it! Even Texas ain’t that big. Someone’s gonna find out pretty soon.’

  ‘How many people do you think live here on the edge of civilisation?’ Crawford retorted. It ain’t exactly Times Square. And with winter around the corner, our problem will soon end up in the deep freeze, so to speak.’

  Bolger pushed his spectacles up his nose once more and looked at Crawford doubtfully. ‘I don’t know. But if you say so, boss.’

  Crawford leaned across the aisle and patted the senior engineer on the shoulder. ‘Good man. I’ll make sure Rex knows what a great job you did out here. I’m sure he will be most generous.’

  * * *

  Aswan, Upper Egypt

  Cantara checked the direction of the gentle Nile breeze and trimmed the felucca’s cotton sails. She was perched in the helmsman’s seat at the stern, holding the tiller of the traditional Egyptian sailing boat. Sam’s heart skipped a beat as he watched her from the shaded comfort of the main deck. She handled the boat like a professional and smiled as the wind whispered through her lustrous fair hair. She wore a loose-fitting white cotton top and a pair of cut-away jeans that revealed her tanned legs. Complemented by a pair of the latest Sperry boating shoes and white cotton ankle socks, her nautical outfit made her look preppy and young.

  ‘Prepare to jibe,’ Cantara yelled as they rounded the southern tip of Elephantine Island located in the middle of the Nile, next to the city of Aswan. Sam ducked his head to avoid the swinging boom and switched sides to balance the felucca. Cantara waved to the helmsman of a nearby boat packed with tourists. The felucca’s sails filled with wind and the boat quickened as it hugged the west side of the one-kilometre-long island that had once been the southernmost fortress of the pharaohs. Sam opened the lid of an ice box and pulled out the bottle of sauvignon blanc he had smuggled onto the boat. He tipped two generous measures into the wine glasses and carried them to the helmsman’s seat where Cantara was perched. She adjusted the trim of the sails as the fickle wind toyed with the boat. Sam sat on the comfortable cushioned stern seat positioned below the helmsman’s chair. He shuffled close to Cantara’s tanned legs and handed her up one of the overflowing glasses. Cantara punched Sam playfully on the shoulder.

  ‘Oi, what was that for?’ Sam said in mock annoyance.

  ‘Are you trying to lead me astray?’ she said as she took a sip of wine. ‘Good Muslim girls should not be drinking alcohol.’

  ‘I promise not to tell your family,’ Sam retorted.

  ‘You’d better not, although I suspect my father enjoys a sneaky whisky when he thinks no-one is around.’

  Sam’s relationship with the Sharif family had deteriorated since his return from the temple. He had criticised Rania for her overzealous attack and she had reminded him he had driven to the geologist’s camp without appropriate provisions and had endangered the life of Cantara in the process. Rania had also insisted Sienna leave the country on the first flight out of Egypt lest her strange religious beliefs become a flashpoint for further rebel attacks. Osman Sharif had fumed when Sam returned the Sirius prototype to the Luxor factory looking like it belonged in a scrap yard. Cantara had stood by him, but Sam suspected something was bothering her about his time in the desert.

  Sam moved closer to Cantara and draped an arm across her kn
ees. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the late afternoon sun and the soothing sound of the Nile as it rushed beneath the felucca’s keel. Cantara shifted her legs so they rested against Sam’s upper body.

  ‘Do you have to fly back to The Woodlands tomorrow, Sam?’

  ‘Daingerfield wants me back.’

  ‘Daingerfield can cope without you for a while longer, but the Sirius Motor Company is on a knife edge. You once promised me you would never give up on my company.’

  Sam looked up into her honey-coloured eyes and saw the pain in her expression. ‘I will keep my promise,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you every day from the United States. But Daingerfield pays my wages and I have delayed my departure three times already.’

  ‘My father has sunk the last of his money into the Sirius and he thinks we should accept Van der Schaft’s latest offer.’

  ‘It’s your company, Cantara. What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t trust Van der Schaft.’

  ‘He has offered to finance the Sirius through to production in return for a twenty-five per cent shareholding. You’ll still be the majority owner.’

  ‘We still have three months of cash reserves left, thanks to my father.’

  ‘That’s not enough, Cantara.’ Sam brushed his fingers along her silky-smooth legs. ‘You need a strong and regular income stream. Van der Schaft can offer you that certainty.’

  Cantara handed Sam her glass of wine, adjusted the tiller and let out more sail as they rounded three half-sunken statues of Ramses the Great. The head and shoulders of the famous pharaoh rose above the water and Cantara sailed the felucca within centimetres of the first statue. Sam leaned out and touched the top of the pharaoh’s double crown. He had come to love the land of the Nile and its exotic, friendly people, despite the turbulent politics that were threatening its stability. On board Cantara’s felucca, he could enjoy the majesty of the river and the wild beauty of the Sahara that had encroached to the very edge of its banks fifty metres to his left.