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

by David Leadbeater

  “Was that your attempt at a kiss, Yorkie?”

  “I’ll give you a kiss if you stick that shaggy mop you call a head into my face again. A bloody Yorkshire kiss.”

  Of course, nobody heard him. They were all concentrating on the new revelation.

  Hayden peered inside, craning over Kenzie. “Sheeyit,” she said offhandedly. “I never imagined it would be that.”

  “Nor me.” Mai was standing.

  “The true last judgment,” Lauren said, reciting the text again. “The worst one of all.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Alicia muttered. “But all I see inside is a fucking scrap of paper. Looks like my shopping list.”

  Mai looked over. “Somehow, I can’t imagine you inside a supermarket.”

  Alicia shuddered. “Just once. All those trolleys, aisle-blockers and choices totally freaked me out.” She studied the approaching attack choppers wistfully. “This is much better.”

  Kinimaka reached inside the box, lifted the scrap of paper out and held it so that everyone could see. “It’s just a set of numbers.”

  “Random,” Smyth said.

  Drake felt anger. “So the Order of the Last Judgment sent us halfway around the world to find a scrap of paper in a tomb that has lain hidden for hundreds of years? A place we’d possibly never have found if we hadn’t had experience with the tombs of the gods? I don’t get it.”

  “The Nazis were relic and treasure hunters,” Kenzie said. “You know that incredible mass they recently found under the polar ice? Some say it’s a Nazi base. They looted everything from ornaments to scrolls and paintings. They tried to make zombies, sought eternal life and lost thousands of men in perilous quests. If they chose to leave that inside Attila the Hun’s tomb rather than steal the wealth—there’s a terrible reason.”

  Lauren pointed to her ears. “DC want to know what it is.”

  Hayden took it from Kinimaka. “Right guys, it’s an old scrap of notepad paper, quite thick and torn around two sides. It’s yellowing and feels quite brittle. Now, there is a line of writing across the middle that consists only of numbers.” She read them out: “483794311656 ...” She took a breath. “There’s more ...”

  “A geek’s wet dream.” Alicia sighed. “But what the hell do we do?”

  “Get out of here,” Drake said, standing as the helicopters touched down. “Before the Huns find us.”

  A pilot jogged over. “You guys ready? We’re gonna have to keep this under the radar.”

  The team walked with him back to the choppers. Hayden finished her recital and passed the scrap of paper around as they settled into their seats. “Any ideas?”

  “You couldn’t even do the lottery with those,” Alicia said. “Useless.”

  “And what do they have to do with death?” Drake said. “And the Four Horsemen? Since numbers seem to be important, could this have anything to do with birth dates? Death dates?”

  “We’re on it,” a voice said in his ear, and he was reminded again that they were universally connected unless they turned DC off for a mission, in which case they only connected to Lauren.

  “Not only on it,” another voice said. “We got it.”

  Drake listened as the choppers rose slowly into the air.

  “Those numbers, broken down, are coordinates. Easy. The Nazis left you a big ass target, people.”

  Drake started to check and prep his weapons. “Target?”

  “Yeah, the first set of numbers points to the Ukraine. The sequence is one long, unbroken number so that’s why it took us a while to break it down.”

  Alicia checked her watch. “I don’t call five minutes a while.”

  “You don’t have an IQ of one-sixty.”

  “How the hell do you know, smartass? I never got it checked.”

  A moment of silence, and then: “Anyway. We input the entire sequence and plugged it into a satellite. What we’re looking at now is a large industrial area, maybe eight square miles in total. It’s full of warehouses mostly, we’ve counted over thirty, and appears to be empty. Something from the war era abandoned. It could be an old storage area for the Soviets, now disused.”

  “And the coordinates?” Hayden asked. “Do they point to anything in particular?”

  “Still checking.” The line went quiet.

  Hayden didn’t have to inform the pilots; they were already headed for the Ukraine. Drake felt himself relax a little; at least their rival teams couldn’t beat them to this one. He looked over at Hayden and mouthed.

  Can we turn these off?

  She made a face. Would look suspicious.

  Mole? He mimed it slowly, leaning forward.

  Hayden did too. There is no one we can trust.

  Alicia laughed. “Fucksake, Drake, if you wanna kiss her just do it.”

  The Yorkshire man sat back as the helicopter scythed through the skies. It was almost impossible, working at full capacity when you weren’t sure if even your own bosses had your back. A weight settled into his heart. If they were being plotted against by anyone—they were about to find out.

  The comms squeaked.

  “Whoa.”

  Hayden’s head came up. “What?”

  The super-geek in DC sounded terrified. “Are you sure, Geoff? I mean, I can’t tell them this and later discover it’s just guesswork.”

  Silence. Then their liaison took a deep breath. “Wow, I have to say. This is bad. This is real bad. The coordinates appear to lead directly to the Horseman of Death.”

  Dahl paused in the middle of loading a magazine into his handgun. “That makes sense,” he said. “But what is it?”

  “A nuclear warhead.”

  Hayden gritted her teeth. “Can you pinpoint it? Is it live? Are there—”

  “Wait,” the geek breathed, catching his breath. “Please, just wait. There’s more. I didn’t mean ‘a nuclear warhead.’”

  Hayden frowned. “Then what did you mean?”

  “There are six nuclear warheads inside three warehouses. We can’t see through the walls, since the buildings are lead lined, but we can see through the roof with our satellites. Images show the nukes are eighties era, probably worth a fortune to the right bidder, and heavily guarded. The security is mostly inside, with the occasional drive around the empty base.”

  “So the Order of the Last Judgment secreted six nuclear weapons inside three warehouses for later use?” Mai asked. “That does sound like the Nazi thing to do.”

  “Weapons are operational too,” the geek said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “The computer system is operative. They can be armed, guided, released.”

  “Do you have an exact location?” Kenzie asked.

  “Yeah, we do. All six are strapped to the back of flatbed trucks, sitting inside the warehouses. Strangely, the activity inside has recently doubled. Of course, they could also be moved.”

  Drake looked over at Hayden who stared back.

  “Mole,” Kenzie said aloud.

  “And the rival teams?” Dahl asked.

  “Chatter has increased according to the NSA. Doesn’t look good.”

  “I’d love to know what they’re hoping to find,” Mai said. “Apart from six old nuclear warheads.”

  “The Sword of Mars.”

  Drake twisted his neck around fast. “What?”

  “Everyone got the coordinates, assuming this mole works here. Everyone tasked a satellite. Our imaging software is equipped with all manner of sensors and, since the Odin thing and subsequent near misses, we can detect the rare element associated with the tombs and the gods. Our instruments display the approximate size and shape of the object, and it matches up with the missing sword. They all know we found the sword and are headed for the nukes. We have to.”

  “Leave the sword on the chopper.” Smyth shrugged.

  Drake, Dahl and Hayden exchanged glances. “Not a chance in hell. The sword stays with us.”

  Drake hung his head. “The one bl
oody thing that’s more valuable than Genghis, Attila, Geronimo and Hannibal combined,” he said. “And we’re forced to take it to the nukes.”

  “Foresight,” Mai said. “And they need it for any number of reasons. Wealth.”

  “Reward,” Smyth said.

  “Greed,” Kenzie said.

  “A failsafe,” Hayden said with conviction. “For all those reasons combined. Where are the six nukes?”

  “Two inside Warehouse 17,” the geek said. “The other nukes are in Eighteen and Nineteen, and I’m pinging you over their exact locations right now. It’s a big base, and we’re counting heat sigs from at least two dozen bodies, so be careful.”

  Drake sat back, looking at the roof. “One more time?”

  Hayden knew what he was thinking. “You believe it’ll all change after this?”

  He smiled sadly. “I do.”

  “Then let’s hit it hard,” Dahl said. “As a team, as colleagues. Let’s do this one final time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  The SPEAR team came in hard. The old, abandoned base was simply a haphazard arrangement of large, elongated warehouses with a network of flat dirt roads running between them. The roads were extra wide to allow for larger trucks. Drake imagined it had been some kind of storage depot once, a place to shout at for a vast array of military equipment. The helicopters came down on the outskirts, outside a rusted, wilting fence-line, and powered down almost instantly.

  “Team ready,” Hayden said into her comms.

  “Go,” DC told her. “Ensure the warheads are disabled and the other item is safe.”

  Dahl grumbled at the ground. “Talk about locking the stable door after the horse has bolted.”

  The team had already fixed the position of all three warehouses in their minds, and had a good idea of the twisting road network. Basically, everything crossed with everything else. There were no dead ends, no cul-de-sacs, no exit routes except one. The perimeter warehouses all backed up against dense forest, but the interior ones—the vital three—sat in the midst of others in a random arrangement.

  Together, they ran.

  “We’ll have to split up, neutralize the nukes, then find a way of getting them out of here and to a nicer place,” Hayden said. “Romania’s not far.”

  Lauren was with them now, fully plugged in to DC and, having proved that she could think under pressure, they might need her when it came to handling the nukes. A steady head capable of relaying information through channels couldn’t be underestimated. They stayed low, fast, and on course for the warehouses.

  A dirt road opened up before them, deserted. Beyond that the entire area was bare earth and shale with just a few tufts of straggly brown grass. Drake surveyed the scene and gave the order to move. They ran out into the open, guns at the ready. The smell of dirt and oil struck his senses and a cold breeze slapped his face. Their gear jangled, their boots struck the earth hard.

  They came up against the first warehouse wall, and paused with their backs against it. Drake glanced down the line.

  “Ready?”

  “Go.”

  He examined the next leg of their route, knowing they didn’t have any CCTV to worry about since instruments detected no signals coming out of the base except cellphones. The nukes themselves gave off a low frequency hum. Beyond that, the place was barren.

  Another run and they came up against another warehouse. Each one had its designated number painted in black scrawl across the side. Each one appeared rundown, tawdry, with runnels of rust descending from the roof to the floor. Guttering swung free, jagged lengths pointing at the ground, dripping dirty water.

  Ahead now, Drake made out the left corner of Warehouse 17. “We cross this road,” he said. “Make our way up the flank of that warehouse until we reach the end. That way, we’re only twenty feet from Seventeen.”

  He moved out, then paused. A security vehicle passed along the road ahead, traveling the path that intersected theirs. Nothing happened though. Drake heaved a sigh of relief.

  “No friends here,” Dahl reminded them. “Do not trust anyone outside the team.” He didn’t have to add, “Even Americans.”

  Now Drake moved, hugged the warehouse wall and made his way forward. Warehouse 17 had two small windows looking out front. Drake cursed silently, but saw there was no other way to go.

  “Move,” he said urgently. “Move it now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  They ran for the warehouse doors, splitting up into three groups. Drake, Alicia and Mai took Seventeen; Dahl, Kenzie and Hayden took Eighteen, which left Smyth, Lauren, Kinimaka and Yorgi with Nineteen. They hit the main doors as one.

  Drake kicked it in, smashing it off its hinges. A man was just exiting an office inside. Drake took him under his arm, wrenched hard and flung him against the opposite office wall. The narrow passage they were in opened up ahead into the warehouse proper so Alicia and Mai bypassed him.

  Drake finished the man off, left him comatose, and checked the small offices before joining the women. A spectacular sight met his eyes. The warehouse was vast, long and high. At its center, facing a set of roller doors, sat a long, low flatbed truck—a big-engined cab at the front. Two nuclear warheads sat on the back of the truck, plain as day, their nosecones facing the front, black straps fastening them down at regular intervals. The straps would allow flexibility without great movement—a good idea for transit, Drake guessed, since nobody wanted a deadly missile smashing against an immovable object. A vast bundle of side-curtains lay at the side of the huge truck, which he guessed would be attached before departure.

  “No guards,” Mai said.

  Alicia pointed out another office to the right of the truck. “My guess.”

  “You’d think they would be more concerned,” Mai said.

  Drake couldn’t help but check for CCTV, finding it hard to rely totally on a band of geeks sat in an air-conditioned office. “Our old friend, complacency, is probably at work,” he said. “They’ve been sitting on this secret a long time.”

  Through the comms they heard sounds of combat, the other teams were engaged.

  Alicia sprinted for the truck. “On me!”

  *

  Dahl picked up the closest man and threw him toward the rafters, getting a decent amount of air time before seeing him smash awkwardly down to earth. Bones broke. Blood oozed. Kenzie slipped past, firing her machine pistol, striking running men who then introduced their faces to the ground hard. Hayden ranged to the other side, favoring her Glock. The enormous truck they’d found sat at the center of the warehouse, with a trio of offices alongside and several rows of crates. They had no idea what lay inside, but thought it might be prudent to find out.

  Hayden headed for the truck, eyes scanning the pair of nukes seated above her head. Damn, they were enormous at this distance. Monsters with no purpose other than to lay waste. Assuredly then, they were Death, and clearly a part of the fourth Horseman. Attila was the second most ancient figure of the four, born seven hundred years after Hannibal and, coincidentally, seven hundred years before Genghis Kahn. Geronimo was born in 1829. All horsemen in their own right. All kings, killers, generals, unequalled strategists. All had defied their supposed betters.

  Was this why the Order chose them?

  The DC mole, she knew, was mocking them with knowledge.

  No time to change anything now. She crossed behind the flatbed, angling for the crates. Some of the lids were askew, others leaned against the wooden sides. Straw and other packing materials leaked out of the top. Hayden shot one man, then traded bullets with another, and was forced to dive to the ground and take cover.

  She ended up at the rear of the truck with the tail end of a nuclear warhead looming over her.

  “What the hell happens if a bullet hits one of these things?”

  “Don’t worry, it would have to be a good shot to directly strike the core, or the explosive,” a voice told her through the comms. “But I guess there’s always the chance of a f
luke.”

  Hayden ground her teeth. “Oh, thanks, buddy.”

  “No problem. Don’t worry, it’s unlikely to happen.”

  Hayden ignored the bland, unemotional commentary, rolling out into the open and firing an entire magazine at her adversary. The man fell, bleeding. Hayden rammed in another mag as she dashed over to the crates.

  The vast warehouse surrounded her, resounding with gunshots, spacious enough to be unsettling, the rafters so high they could easily hide an unfriendly antagonist. She peered over the top of the crates.

  “I think we’re good,” she said. “Seems that they have more than one operation going on here.”

  Kenzie ran up, brandishing the Sword of Mars. “What is it?”

  Dahl crouched by the flatbed’s huge wheel. “Keep an eye out. We have more than one enemy here.”

  Hayden sifted the straw. “Stolen goods,” she said. “Must be a waypoint. Quite an assortment here.”

  Kenzie drew out a golden statue. “They have teams doing house raids. Burglaries. It’s a huge business. Everything gets shipped off, sold on or melted down. The conscience behind these crimes rates is below zero.”

  Dahl whispered, “To your left.”

  Hayden ducked behind a crate, sighted her prey and opened fire.

  *

  Lauren Fox followed Mano Kinimaka into the lion’s den. She saw Smyth take out an adversary and leave him for dead. She saw Yorgi pick the lock of an office door, enter and declare it obsolete in less than a minute. Every day, she tried desperately to keep up. Every day, she worried she might lose her place in the team. This was part of why she courted Nicholas Bell’s favor, why she ran the comms and looked for other ways to help.

  She loved the team, and wanted to stay a part of it.

  Now, she stayed at the back, Glock in hand and hoping she wouldn’t have to use it. The flatbeds took up most of her vision, outsized and terrible. The warheads were a dull greenish color, non-reflective, surely one of the most menacing shapes the modern human mind might summon up. Smyth engaged with a large guard, took several blows and then disabled the guy just as Lauren was sneaking up to help. To her right Kinimaka shot two more. Bullets began to crisscross the warehouse as the rest realized they were under attack.