The Four Corners of the Earth (Matt Drake Book 16)

by David Leadbeater

  The Four Corners of the Earth

  (Matt Drake #16)

  By

  David Leadbeater

  Copyright 2017 by David Leadbeater

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase any additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Thriller, adventure, action, mystery, suspense, archaeological, military, historical

  Other Books by David Leadbeater:

  The Matt Drake Series

  The Bones of Odin (Matt Drake #1)

  The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake #2)

  The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3)

  The Tomb of the Gods (Matt Drake #4)

  Brothers in Arms (Matt Drake #5)

  The Swords of Babylon (Matt Drake #6)

  Blood Vengeance (Matt Drake #7)

  Last Man Standing (Matt Drake #8)

  The Plagues of Pandora (Matt Drake #9)

  The Lost Kingdom (Matt Drake #10)

  The Ghost Ships of Arizona (Matt Drake #11)

  The Last Bazaar (Matt Drake #12)

  The Edge of Armageddon (Matt Drake #13)

  The Treasures of Saint Germain (Matt Drake #14)

  Inca Kings (Matt Drake #15)

  The Alicia Myles Series

  Aztec Gold (Alicia Myles #1)

  Crusader’s Gold (Alicia Myles #2)

  Caribbean Gold (Alicia Myles #3)

  The Torsten Dahl Thriller Series

  Stand Your Ground (Dahl Thriller #1)

  The Disavowed Series:

  The Razor’s Edge (Disavowed #1)

  In Harm’s Way (Disavowed #2)

  Threat Level: Red (Disavowed #3)

  The Chosen Few Series

  Chosen (The Chosen Trilogy #1)

  Guardians (The Chosen Tribology #2)

  Short Stories

  Walking with Ghosts (A short story)

  A Whispering of Ghosts (A short story)

  Connect with the author on Twitter: @dleadbeater2011

  Visit the author’s website: www.davidleadbeater.com

  All helpful, genuine comments are welcome. I would love to hear from you.

  davidleadbeater2011@hotmail.co.uk

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  Other Books by David Leadbeater:

  CHAPTER ONE

  Secretary of Defense, Kimberly Crowe, sat down with a growing sense of trepidation in her already pounding heart. Admittedly she hadn’t been in the job for long, but she guessed it wasn’t every day that a four-star army general and a CIA high-flyer all but demanded an audience with someone of her stature.

  It was a small, dim, but lavishly adorned room inside a hotel at the heart of DC; a place she had grown used to using when matters required a tad more tact than was usual. Low lighting glistened faintly off a hundred golden and solid oak objects, lending the room a more relaxed air and complimenting the features and ever-changing expressions of those that met there. Crowe waited for the first of them to speak.

  Mark Digby, the CIA man, got straight down to business. “Your team is off the rails, Kimberly,” he said, his tone cutting through the ambience like acid through metal. “Writing its own ticket.”

  Crowe, expecting this acidic barb, hated going on the defensive but really had no choice. Even as she spoke she knew this was exactly what Digby wanted. “They made a judgment call. In the field. I might not like it, Mark, but I do stand by it.”

  “And now we’re behind,” General George Gleeson rumbled unhappily. The new engagement was all he cared about.

  “In the race for the so-called ‘resting places’? The Horsemen? Please. Our best minds haven’t cracked the code yet.”

  “Stand by it, huh?” Digby went on as if Gleeson hadn’t interrupted. “And what of their decision to murder a civilian?”

  Crowe opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. Best not to. Digby clearly knew more than her and was going to use every last fragment of it.

  He glared straight at her. “What about that, Kimberly?”

  She stared back at him, saying nothing, the air now crackling between them. It was clear that Digby was going to break first. The man was practically wriggling with his need to share and vent and mold her to his way of thinking.

  “Man named Joshua Vidal was helping them with their enquiries. My team on the ground didn’t know why they sought him out, or why they killed all the cameras in the surveillance room—” he paused “—until they checked later and found ...” He shook his head, feigning distress worse than most soap stars.

  Crowe read between the lines, sensing many layers of bullshit. “You have a full report?”

  “I do.” Digby nodded decisively. “It’ll be on your desk by tonight.”

  Crowe kept silent about all she knew regarding the last mission. The SPEAR team had kept in touch—barely—but she knew a little of what went down. That said—the murder of this Joshua Vidal, if in any way accurate, would have deep and far-ranging repercussions for the team. Add to that Mark Digby, who was the kind of individual happy to chase down any mistake that furthered his own particular agenda, and Hayden’s team could easily be marked down as an embarrassment to the United States. They could be disbanded, classed as fugitives marked for arrest, or ... even worse.

  It all depended on Digby’s agenda.

  Crowe needed to tread very carefully, keeping in mind her own rather rocky career. Coming this far, climbing so high, hadn’t been without its dangers—and some still lurked at her back.

  General Gleeson grunted. “This ain’t moving anything forward. In particular those guys out in the
field.”

  Crowe nodded at the general. “I agree, George. But SPEAR have and are one of our most effective teams, along with SEAL Teams 6 and 7. They’re ... unique in so many ways. I mean, quite literally, there is no other team in the world quite like them.”

  Digby’s eyes were hard. “I see that more as a highly volatile position, not a superior one. These Special Forces teams need shorter leashes, not more loose chains.”

  Crowe sensed the atmosphere deteriorating and knew there was worse to come. “Your team are off the rails. They have internal problems. External secrets that may yet come to bite us all in the ass ...” He paused.

  General Gleeson offered another grunt. “Last thing we need is a team of rogue multinationals employed by the United States going crazy abroad, creating yet one more shitstorm. Best to cut ties while we can.”

  Crowe couldn’t hide her surprise. “What are you saying?”

  “We’re not saying anything.” Digby glanced at the walls as if expecting to see Dumbo ears.

  “You’re saying they should be arrested?” she pressed.

  Digby gave the slightest shake of his head; barely noticeable, but a movement that rang warning bells deep in Crowe’s soul. She didn’t like it, not the smallest sliver of it, but the only way to break the terrible tension in the room and move away was to move on.

  “Put a pin in it,” she said in as light a voice as she could muster. “And let’s discuss the other reason we’re here. The four corners of the earth.”

  “Let’s speak plainly,” the general said. “And look at the facts, not the fables. The facts state some bunch of crackpots stumbled across thirty-year-old manuscripts that were written by war criminals whilst hiding in Cuba. The facts state that this bunch of crackpots went right ahead and fucking leaked them onto the goddamn Web, par for the course for this bunch. Those are the facts.”

  Crowe knew of the general’s distaste for archaeological folklore and his complete lack of imagination. “I think they are, George.”

  “Would you like some more?”

  “Well, I’m quite sure we’re about to hear them.”

  “Every mad scientist, every wannabe Indiana fucking Jones and enterprising criminal in the world now has access to the same information we do. Every government, every Special Forces team, every branch of black ops, has seen it. Even the ones that don’t exist. And right now ... they’ve all got their dirtiest attentions fixed on one place.”

  Crowe wasn’t sure she liked his analogy, but said, “Which is?”

  “The blueprint of the Order of the Last Judgment. The blueprint to end the world.”

  “Now that sounds a little dramatic coming from you, General.”

  “I was reading verbatim, that’s all.”

  “We’ve all read it. All of it,” Digby interjected. “Of course, it has to be taken seriously until it can be discounted. The main document, the one they’re calling the Order of the Last Judgment, refers to the Horsemen and, we believe, an order in which to look for them.”

  “But—” Gleeson clearly couldn’t help himself. “Four corners. It’s completely illogical.”

  Crowe eased him along. “I’m guessing it’s coded purposely, George. To make it harder to solve. Or to make it discoverable only by those the Order chose.”

  “I don’t like it.” Gleeson looked like his mind had been blown.

  “I’m sure.” Crowe tapped the table before her. “But look—the manuscript throws up many questions, all of which are so far unanswered. Chiefly, where are they now ... the Order?”

  “That is by no means the biggest riddle we face,” Digby disagreed. “This blueprint—that is what we must address with all haste.”

  Crowe enjoyed winning that particular manipulation. “SPEAR are already in Egypt,” she affirmed. “Taking the manuscript at face value and assuming our early interpretations are correct—that is where we should be.”

  Digby chewed at his lower lip. “That’s all good,” he said, “but brings us full circle also to where we want to be. A decision must now be made, Kimberly.”

  “Now?” She was genuinely surprised. “They’re not going anywhere, and it would be a mistake to take them out of the field. You’ve understood the manuscript, I’m assuming? The Four Horsemen? The final four weapons? War, Conquest, Famine, Death. If this is a valid claim, we need them doing what they do best.”

  “Kimberly.” Digby rubbed at his eyes. “You and I have a wildly different view of what that is.”

  “Surely you can’t dispute their previous successes?”

  “How do you define success?” Digby spread his hands in an infuriatingly smug manner. “Yes, they neutralized a few threats but so could the SEALs, the Rangers, the CIA’s Special Activities Division, SOG, Marine Raiders ...” He paused. “See where I’m going?”

  “You’re saying we don’t need SPEAR.”

  Digby rolled his eyes on purpose. “Never have.”

  Crowe took more than a moment to consider the intended slight. She looked between Digby and Gleeson, but the general only offered an emotionless, stoic glare, the exterior expression of his creative streak no doubt. It was clear to her where SPEAR excelled. Gleeson genuinely didn’t see it, and Digby was seeking a different goal.

  “So far,” she said, “we only have words and reports, basically hearsay. This team have put their lives on the line, lost their own people, and sacrificed again and again for this country. They have a right to speak.”

  Digby screwed his face up, but said nothing. Crowe sat back, drinking in the calm ambience that still existed around the four corners of the room in an effort to stay focused. One required focus and calm when dealing with poisonous snakes.

  “I propose we send people to TerraLeaks in an effort to staunch this flow of information,” she said. “Until the authenticity of this Order can be determined. Which will be soon,” she added. “We investigate the Cuban bunker where it was found. And we let Team SPEAR do their job. Nobody will get it done faster.”

  General Gleeson nodded in agreement. “They are on site,” he rumbled.

  Digby then gave her a wide smile, intimating the cat that got the cream. “I accept all your proposals,” he said. “I want to go on record as not agreeing with them, but I will go along. And in return, I want you to accept a small proposal of mine.”

  Dear God, no. “Which is?”

  “We send a second team. To cover for and possibly assist them.”

  Crowe knew what he was saying. “Cover for” meant watch, and assist quite possibly meant execute.

  “Which team?”

  “SEAL Team 7. They’re already close by.”

  “Incredible.” Crowe shook her head. “We have two of our best teams in the same area at the same time. How did that happen?”

  Digby managed to stay impassive. “Pure chance. But you gotta agree, two is better than one.”

  “All right.” Crowe knew she had no recourse but to agree. “But under no circumstances do the two teams meet. Not for any reason. Are we clear?”

  “Only if the world depends on it.” Digby smiled, dodging the question and drawing forth a groan from Gleeson.

  “Staying professional,” Gleeson said. “I can have Seven in the right area in a few hours. Providing we wrap this up pretty soon.”

  “Consider it wrapped.” Crowe refrained from telling the pair not to let the door hit them in the ass on the way out. For SPEAR this could hardly get more serious. For the man that killed Joshua Vidal it was severe. For her, it could be any of those things and worse. But first, let’s save the world, she thought.

  Again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alexandria sprawled in all its modern glory beyond the plate-glass window; a thriving, concrete metropolis, bordered by a glittering sea, marked by palm trees and hotels, a curving coastline and the enormously impressive Bibliotheca Alexandrina.

  The CIA safe house looked out over six jam-packed lanes that carried traffic slowly around the bow of the coast. All
access to the feeble balcony outside was restricted by the heavy glass and bars. Only the main living room offered any signs of comfort; the kitchen was small and makeshift, the two bedrooms long since converted into steel cages. Only one person manned the safe house on a permanent basis, and he was clearly way out of his comfort zone.

  Alicia ordered a round of coffees. “Hey, dude, that’s four black, two with milk, three with creamer and one with a sniff of cinnamon. Got it?”

  “I don’t ...” The thirty-something man with thin-rimmed glasses and bushy eyebrows blinked furiously. “I don’t ... make coffee. Do you get it?”

  “You don’t? Well, what the hell are you here for?”

  “Liaison. Local contact. Housekeeper. I—”

  Alicia squinted hard. “Housekeeper?”

  “Yeah. But not like that. I—”

  Alicia turned away. “Fuck, dude. You don’t make beds. You don’t make coffee. What the hell are we paying you for?”

  Drake was trying hard to tune the Englishwoman out, concentrating instead on the meeting between Smyth and Lauren. The New Yorker had been prepped and flown out to Egypt the moment the new threat went from somewhat concerning to red hot priority. Standing at the center of the room, hair down and game-face on, she was ready to update the team, but as Smyth now approached Lauren a whole range of emotions struck her head-on.

  “Not now,” she said immediately.

  “I’m alive,” Smyth growled. “Thought you might be interested.”

  Instead of snapping back, Lauren took a deep breath. “I worry about you every day, every minute. I do. Is that pleasing to you, Smyth?”

  The soldier opened his mouth to retort, but Alicia stepped smartly in. “Shit, didn’t you hear? His name’s Lancelot. He prefers it to Smyth. We all call him it now.”

  Lauren was taken aback for the second time in a minute. “Lance-a-what? Isn’t that the name of an old knight?”