Flight to Destiny (A Samantha Starr Thriller, Book 2)

by S. L. Menear

  Our thirty-six-hour layover in Delhi allowed for moderate consumption of alcohol up to fifteen hours before flight time, a company policy stricter than FAA regulations.

  A waiter was ready with pen in hand. “What would madam like?”

  “I’ll have lamb chops and a glass of the house merlot. Also, a bottle of Evian.” I smiled and pulled out my cell to check for messages.

  Pete said, “Chicken curry with the house Chardonnay.”

  “I’ll take the baked Salmon and a Jaipur Lager,” Lance said in his Texas drawl.

  He turned to me after the waiter left. “I heard the celebs aren’t having dinner until eight tonight. Why so late?”

  “Haven’t you noticed they’re vampires? The full moon won’t be over the Taj Mahal until midnight. They’ll sleep until early evening, slowly rise from the dead, and have dinner in their suites before they launch for the Taj in a luxury bus with a bar, bathrooms, and waiters.”

  “I did notice one has vampire-like tendencies.” Lance shook his head.

  “Don’t forget she bit you in Hawaii.” Pete feigned concern. “We’d better check your teeth to see if you’re growing fangs.”

  “We have to go with them tonight.” I raised a brow. “Is it too late to purchase Kevlar vests?”

  My iPhone chimed for an incoming text message. Professor Armitage again.

  I read aloud, “Artifact carbon dated approx. 11,000 years old. Map on pyramid mostly matches one found later in Minoan kingdom, except Atlantis and symbols on pyramid map not on Minoan map. No maps that accurate again until 1800s. According to ancient legends, Poseidon’s Sword was a doomsday weapon created by scientists in Atlantis. Possible prototype too small for mass destruction. More later.”

  “Whoa, woman, you found an eleven-thousand-year-old weapon that still works? Dang.” Lance shook his head in amazement. “Every trip with you truly is an adventure!”

  “I checked to see if dragon currents or ley lines, as the Brits call them, have any connection to unusual artifacts. Turns out ancient temples, medieval churches, Stonehenge, and other significant sites were built at the intersections of ley lines.” I sipped the merlot.

  “How did they know where the ley lines intersected? They didn’t have electronic sensors.” Pete shook his head.

  The waiter approached with our meals.

  “Whoa, that was fast.” Lance leaned back to accommodate the waiter.

  He looked at Pete. “They didn’t have EMF interference back then like we do now with all the modern communication signals and other electronic devices. Maybe they felt the dragon current.” Lance took a bite of salmon.

  “More important, how do we locate the dragon current and follow it to what I’m supposed to find?” I was eager to begin the hunt.

  “I thought you already found it. Isn’t that what the pyramid thing is?” Pete asked.

  “Maybe it’s a prototype for a much larger weapon, like the professor texted. In my dream, the black pyramid was a hundred feet high, and the three women standing on top were real.” I slipped a forkful of tender lamb into my mouth.

  “Yeah, but that could have been a vision of the ancient past, like what you saw when you rubbed the crystals. I don’t recall any reports of discovering a giant black pyramid in the modern world.” Lance took a long pull on his beer.

  I had an idea. I texted Professor Armitage.

  “What are you doing?” Pete asked.

  “I texted the professor and asked him to compare dragon currents with where the trident symbols are located on the map. Dragon Master implied the pyramid artifact and dragon current would lead me to what I seek.”

  “And what do you seek, fair maiden?” Lance asked with a wave of his hand.

  “I seek enlightenment. I haven’t a clue why Dragon Master gave it to me or why it lit up when I touched the crystals. Is my destiny tied to the artifact? Who were the men with the guns? Why did the store disappear after we left?” I shook my head.

  “I don’t know if my pyramid dream was a vision of the past or the future. All I know is my other dreams were about the future.”

  Dundee, Scotland

  A young man with an acne-scarred face waved in the dimly lit room to a middle-aged man wearing earphones. He grinned and pointed at his computer monitor.

  When the older man removed his headset, the young man said, “We just hit the jackpot, partner. Look at these texts between Samantha Starr and Harvard Professor Ben Armitage. This takes the saying ‘two birds with one stone’ to a whole new level.”

  The older man stood behind him to read the monitor.

  “This intel changes everything. I must notify our employer. Looks like all the money he spent on this state-of-the-art spyware has paid off in spades.” He exited the surveillance room.

  The brisk breeze blowing across the Firth of Tay chilled the spy as he gazed toward the SAS base, took a drag from his cigarette, and hit a number on his mobile phone. Exhaling smoke into the damp air, he heard the sharp voice of his employer.

  “What do you have for me?” Lord Edgar Sweetwater asked.

  “Your expensive spyware is paying off. We gathered some interesting texts. Samantha Starr found an artifact in Hong Kong that may be a small working prototype of Poseidon’s Sword. Someone named Dragon Master gave it to her before he gunned down three of your men. The fourth man escaped.”

  “I didn’t send men after her in Hong Kong. Tell me about the weapon.” Sweetwater sounded excited.

  “She sent it to Harvard Professor of Antiquities Ben Armitage.” He briefed him on the findings.

  “Are you certain it isn’t Poseidon’s Sword?” Lord Sweetwater sounded breathless.

  “The scrolls found in the sunken temple described an obsidian pyramid the equivalent of one hundred feet tall. The artifact she found is small enough to carry—too small to destroy cities like the weapon described in the scrolls.”

  “Continue monitoring her communications. Learn as much as possible before I send a team to steal the prototype. Excellent work!”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Your expertise is one of the reasons I pay you.”

  “Miss Starr and the professor have agreed to secrecy concerning the search for Poseidon’s Sword. Why not let them do your work for you? Have your men shadow her and protect her while she searches for your prize. The professor can use his vast resources at Harvard University. Once we know where it is, your men can take her prisoner. Keep her alive until you’re certain you have everything you need to activate the weapon.”

  “Where’s the prototype?”

  “Inside Armitage’s safe. Once they locate Poseidon’s Sword, you can send a team to retrieve the artifact and kidnap the professor. You may need him to operate the weapon.”

  “I want to know who was after Samantha. She’s mine. I’ll protect her until she finds the weapon.”

  “Aye, we need to know who your competition might be. She mentioned a group called Black Sun. I’ll check them out.”

  “Stay on it. Expect a big bonus deposited in your account tomorrow. Well done!”

  The spy smiled as he opened the heavy steel door to the building.

  His work held a place of major significance now. If he handled this right, he could soon be rich enough to retire with a lifestyle better than an Arab prince.

  Seven

  My crew, a photographer, the three celebrities, and a few women in their entourage exited the luxury bus in Agra. We climbed aboard an electric trolley that whisked us through the western gate and parked in front of the long walkway to the spectacular Taj Mahal.

  A full moon lit our way, and a reflecting pool the length of the walkway shimmered as the translucent white marble mausoleum glowed like a giant pearl.

  A light breeze carried the scent of jasmine incense as crickets punctuated the silence. The property was closed to the general public.

  A perky young tour guide from England named Hollie gave a brief speech and ended with, “The main spire o
n the central dome combines the horns of the moon with the finial point to create a trident shape. This beautiful mausoleum has won global recognition as the greatest single monument to love—‘One teardrop on the cheek of time,’ according to poet Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore.”

  I froze and glanced at Lance and Pete. They were staring at me.

  Lance scanned the area and whispered, “Didn’t Dragon Master tell you your destiny lies hidden in one teardrop on the cheek of time?”

  “That was the first part. Could mean I’ll find a clue inside.” I tried to sound positive, but my stomach churned.

  “Yeah or you could find armed attackers waiting for you.” Pete clenched his jaw.

  I felt a strong pull to the Taj Mahal as its majestic reflection sparkled on the water. I reminded myself to look for trident symbols inside.

  “Guys, I really want to know what I’m supposed to find in there.”

  Carlene snagged Lance’s arm. “I’m stickin’ with you, handsome.” She edged up against his side. “Lead on, big guy.” She smirked at me.

  Lance rolled his eyes. “Stay sharp and don’t stray from the group, Sam.”

  April, a young woman in Carlene’s entourage, latched onto Pete with a death grip. “Dead people are in there. Could be scary. You’ll keep me safe, won’t you?” She pulled him forward.

  Poor Pete looked like a cornered rabbit, ready to bolt.

  Rod took my arm and strolled with me toward the famous mausoleum. I decided he was far better than having to deal with a randy action hero.

  Four of our flight attendants flanked Jack. The other six had lost interest. Smart.

  We admired the exterior of the Taj and how the semi-precious stones inlaid in the marble sparkled under the full moon. When we entered, the glowing opalescent outer walls and ceiling lit our path through the surreal interior. The polished marble floor amplified the clacking of Carlene’s stilettos.

  I pulled out the military night-vision binoculars/camera Mike had given me for my birthday. As I scanned the peak of the central dome ceiling, I found a tiny gold trident that blended into the mosaic and would have been impossible to see without my special binoculars, even in the daytime.

  The trident glowed a little brighter than the surrounding mosaic. Why would the trident have been included in the ornate ceiling built in the mid-1600s? My integrated night-vision camera didn’t need a flash as I snapped pictures of the dome and nearest wall.

  Tiny gold trident symbols spaced in six-foot increments led from the dome to the wall on my right. The last one on the wall was six feet above the floor where I stood. When I reached up and touched the gold trident, my hand tingled, and a three-inch square compartment sprang open.

  The tour group gathered around the sarcophagi in the center of the building and didn’t seem to notice what I was doing.

  I felt inside the compartment and pulled out a square gold pendant embedded with a trident beside a diamond pyramid. When I touched the tip of the pyramid, it lit up like a halogen bulb.

  The marble compartment snapped shut and blended back into the wall. I touched the gold trident on the wall again, but the compartment didn’t open.

  Now what?

  I hid the lighted pendant in my leather shoulder bag and took pictures of the area with the hidden box.

  “Hey, Captain, why are you taking pictures of the wall? The tombs are way cooler.” Rod pointed at the two sarcophagi.

  “Those are fake. The real tombs are beneath these on the lower level. These prevent people from walking over them,” the guide said.

  “Let’s head below and check it out. I bet it’s dark and spooky down there. No telling what we’ll see,” Jack said and grinned when Rod looked panicky.

  “No way am I going down there! I’ve seen the movies. The brother always dies first.” Rod’s eyes widened with fright.

  “Relax, Rod, I’m sure Lance and Pete will protect us.” Carlene winked up at Lance as she snuggled against him.

  “That’s not included in the tours, and it’s very dark, especially at night.” The guide stepped closer to our group.

  Jack used a deep, authoritative tone. “Madam, this is a VIP tour, and we’re not afraid of the dark. You have an approved lantern, so show us what’s down there.”

  The flight attendants seemed to swoon over his take-charge attitude.

  “Too bad your rules don’t allow us to use our cell phone lights,” Carlene said.

  “Sorry, according to India’s rules for site preservation, your phones and all lights except mine must remain off. Now stay close together.” The guide motioned us forward. She headed for the stairs and switched on her light.

  Probably shouldn’t mention the glowing pendant in my purse. Hard to explain.

  I hooked my arm through Rod’s and followed Jack and his groupies down the stairway. Our footsteps echoed as we descended into the dark crypt.

  The room was almost the same size as the area above but much darker with a chill in the air. The lantern illuminated only the center where the guide stood by the two stone sarcophagi. The remainder of the chamber looked like the Netherworld.

  As we gathered around the tombs, the dark corners came alive.

  A disembodied, German-accented voice resonated on the stone walls. “Everyone on your knees! Foreheads against the floor, hands behind your backs. Now or we kill you!”

  Adrenaline surged through my body as I realized the emergency button on my DARPA watch wouldn’t work below ground.

  “I warned everyone not to come down here. Nobody listens to the brother,” Rod hissed.

  “Silence!” a German-accented voice shouted.

  I knelt between Rod and Jack and felt Rod trembling against my left side. Large hands bound my wrists together with a plastic tie wrap. A few minutes later, a strong man yanked me to my feet with one hand and held me in front of him.

  Another man threaded a rope through the lift rings on the tombs and through everyone’s bound arms. He secured them to the heavy stone sarcophagi. Two men pointed silenced pistols at the captives. I counted four armed men.

  “If anyone yells or tries to escape, I kill everyone,” a cohort said as my captor dragged me up the staircase.

  When he took me outside, his men joined us, and the moonlight revealed little about them. Tall in combat fatigues, they wore black balaclavas covering their hair and faces. Were they working for Nicolai, or were they connected to the men who attacked the Hong Kong shop?

  The leader searched me. “What’s this?” He hung the pendant around my neck and took pictures of me with his camera phone. “Come.” He shoved me.

  The men led me down a long side path bordering the gardens. Trees and bushes cast shadows in the eerie silence. Even the crickets were quiet.

  My heart pounded as my mind raced. I struggled to devise an escape plan.

  The leader walked point while two men flanked me, and another walked behind us. They hadn’t left a man behind to guard the hostages.

  Sixty yards from the Taj Mahal, I heard phuumfh, phuumfh on either side of me.

  The men flanking me fell backwards with bullet holes in their chests.

  I dived onto the ground a second before the leader’s head exploded. He landed with his bloody head just inches from my nose.

  The man behind me collapsed too. I couldn’t see or hear the shooter.

  Trembling, I remained prone and prayed the shots had come from a British sniper who somehow knew I’d been taken.

  I waited five terrifying minutes. When I heard crickets again, I risked sitting up and looking around. The expected laser dot on my chest never appeared. My breath came in fast spurts, like I had run a 100-yard dash.

  I couldn’t use the night-vision binoculars hanging around my neck because my hands were cuffed behind me.

  The pendant’s light illuminated the immediate area. A knife strapped to the belt of the dead man on my left solved my problem. Cutting the plastic cuffs with my hands behind my back wasn’t easy, but I succeeded with
out stabbing myself.

  After putting the brilliant pendant in my purse, I pushed the emergency button on my watch and scanned the area with the night-vision binoculars. No one was visible, and nothing moved.

  I clipped the sheathed knife to my jeans, gathered the handguns, and shoved three in the outer pockets of my big purse and one in the small of my back. Then I pulled off the balaclavas, revealing fair-skinned men with blond hair.

  After turning on my iPhone, I took a few quick pictures of their faces and bodies. Then I called the emergency number to summon local police in case a SAS team wasn’t coming.

  With a pistol in my right hand, I rushed back to the Taj to rescue my passengers and crew. Their fifteen minutes in pitch-black darkness must’ve felt like an eternity.

  I heard sobbing as I crept down the stairs. My people were more important than India’s strict rules against lights in the Taj, so I pulled a halogen penlight from my purse and pointed it at the sarcophagi. I was right. They’d been left alone.

  “Don’t worry, it’s Sam.” I took a moment to catch my breath. “I’ll have you free in a minute. Stay still while I cut the rope and plastic cuffs.”

  “You okay, Sam?” Lance asked.

  “How’d you get away from the kidnappers?” Carlene asked.

  “Shut the hell up and let her cut us free before the gunmen return. I want out of this ghost hotel.” Rod sounded panicked.

  Several of the women were crying.

  “I’m fine, and they aren’t ever coming back.”

  I severed the rope and pulled it away from the captives. Then I cut the zip ties, starting with Lance, Pete, and Carlene. I handed them pistols.

  “Stand guard while I cut the others loose.”

  “Hey! Why’d you give a weapon to Carlene instead of me?” action hero Jack Stone said.

  “She’s from Texas.” I gave her a confident nod. “And she’s a pistol champion.”

  “Don’t you worry none, honey-buns. Daddy taught me to shoot flies off a watermelon at thirty paces.” She moved the slide to see if there was a bullet in the chamber and grinned at Jack.