The Four Legendary Kingdoms: A Jack West Jr Novel 4 (Jack West Junior)

by Matthew Reilly

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Because although we have never met, I feel that I know you. I have followed your career for a long time. I have read so many confidential files on you, from the time you emerged from seclusion with the daughter of the Oracle of Siwa to the time you found the Seven Ancient Wonders and killed my colleague, Francisco del Piero.’

  ‘He was a gigantic asshole, who—’ Jack said.

  ‘—you threw into a jet engine.’

  ‘—who got what he deserved.’

  ‘Father del Piero was committed,’ Mendoza said. ‘He was a believer. Like I am.’

  ‘Committed to what?’ Jack asked. ‘To this? Rich assholes ruling the world?’

  ‘The ruling elites do not rule because they want to,’ Mendoza said. ‘They rule out of a sense of obligation.’

  Jack gestured to the assembled diners around them. ‘They don’t seem to be suffering too much from that obligation.’

  He rounded on the cardinal. ‘I’ve seen files on you, too, Cardinal Mendoza. I know who you are. The files say you’re a member of the Catholic Church’s “Omega Group” and an expert on the “Trismagi”. Tell me, what are they?’

  Mendoza nodded slowly. ‘As you have already discovered, the Catholic Church is merely the current name for a cult of priests that has survived for over five thousand years since Egyptian times. It is a cult devoted to the worship of the sun and the stars and the wisdom of an ancient civilisation that once flourished on this Earth. It is the civilisation that built the Sphinx and the pyramids, the stone circles of England and the three secret cities of Thule, Atlas and Ra. The civilisation that gave us the two sacred trees and the Life Stone itself.

  ‘The Omega Group is a small elite within the Church that for over five thousand years, during wars and famines and Dark Ages, has kept secure the most critical ancient knowledge of that incredible civilisation.’

  ‘And what exactly is the most critical knowledge of that civilisation?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Knowledge about the Omega Event. The end of all things.’

  ‘You mean the end of the world?’

  ‘I mean the end of all things,’ Mendoza said firmly. ‘Our world is but an outpost in a much larger cosmos, Captain. An important outpost, to be sure, but still part of a greater whole. The Omega Group are custodians of the Ancients’ knowledge pertaining to the end of the entire universe.’

  Jack sat back in his chair. ‘The end of the universe.’

  He threw Iolanthe a look.

  She said, ‘We are living in a momentous time, Jack. The time when mankind proves its worth. The Tartarus Rotation, the Dark Star, they were but initial tests, preliminary tasks to let whoever is out there know that intelligent life is still here on Earth.’

  ‘They didn’t feel like mere preliminary tasks to me,’ Jack said.

  ‘They weren’t supposed to be hard, Jack,’ Iolanthe said. ‘They were only hard because the ancient knowledge regarding the Golden Capstone and the Machine had been lost and had to be found again. The knowledge behind the Great Games was never lost, which is why this time it’s different.’

  Cardinal Mendoza said, ‘Even the three previous passes of the Hydra Galaxy were merely exploratory visits to test our worth. The three Games held in honour of those passes were thus minor tests for mankind. They occurred in 10,000 B.C., 2,700 B.C. and 1,250 B.C. and were won by Osiris, Gilgamesh and Hercules respectively. This time it is different, for this time the coming of the Hydra Galaxy heralds the Omega Event.’

  ‘Which the Omega Group knows about?’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes.’ Cardinal Mendoza leaned forward. ‘Captain, listen to me closely. We all know the universe is expanding. Newton knew it. Einstein knew it. Modern telescopes have proven it. What few know is that when the universe expands to its limit, it then begins to contract. This contraction ends in the ultimate singularity—the colossal implosion of all matter in the universe into a single black hole—which scientists have crudely labelled “The Big Crunch”.

  ‘Throughout the ages, the universe has progressed through a constant cycle of Big Bang–expansion–contraction–Big Crunch. Each Big Crunch is like the core of a nuclear weapon imploding: in a single instant it extinguishes the universe and in the next instant it causes the next Big Bang and so the cycle continues.

  ‘Whatever you call it—ultimate singularity, universal implosion, Big Crunch—that is the Omega Event. The great ancient civilisation knew about this cataclysmic event and how to prevent it, too.’

  ‘And the “Trismagi”?’ Jack asked. ‘What does that mean? Three magicians?’

  Mendoza said, ‘That is the literal translation, yes: three magicians. But in older times, anyone with advanced knowledge was considered a magician. Think of them as the three most senior initiates of the Ancients, three individuals who are privy to that civilisation’s most prized wisdom.’

  ‘Are they here at these Games?’ Jack asked, glancing around the hall.

  ‘No,’ Mendoza said. ‘They are the keepers of the three secret cities, the guardians of those extraordinary places. Occasionally, the three of them come together to pass on their knowledge. The three wise men who arrived at Christ’s birth by the light of a star were the Trismagi of that age. After these Games are done, the Trismagi of our time will—hopefully—guide us through the dreaded Omega Event.’

  At that moment, Iolanthe’s brother, Orlando the Land King, spoke. ‘Cardinal, you are, as ever, far too dour.’

  He slammed his glass down on the table, causing some of the wine in it to slosh out. He was clearly drunk.

  ‘Do not cast a cloud over these Games. This is a time for celebration, not foreboding. The Games will be won, the golden apples will be set in place in the two temples atop this mountain, the Mysteries will be given to the winning king, and the world will be saved. As for the death and maiming part, well, I know of no greater pleasure than watching capable men get cut to pieces.’

  He drained the remainder of his wine in one messy gulp and stood abruptly.

  Iolanthe, the cardinal, Major Brigham and Vargas all immediately stood respectfully. Jack and Lily didn’t.

  Orlando said, ‘But right now, I need to take a fucking piss.’

  Jack stood as well. ‘If you could point me in the right direction, I need to go, too.’

  ‘I’ll take you via the scenic route,’ Orlando said as he and Jack stepped away from the table.

  Wobbling slightly, Orlando led Jack onto the balcony outside the dining room. The balcony ringed the mountain and one could, it seemed to Jack, walk all the way around it.

  Orlando lit a cigarette while Jack beheld the vast crater of the Underworld.

  Looking up, he saw the immense camouflage netting encasing the entire crater. It swooped from the summit of the mountain down to the crater’s rim. Dappled sunlight filtered through it. The sun, Jack noted, was still high in the sky.

  Below him, Jack beheld the broad circular crater.

  He saw the wall-maze far below, off to the right, and the Circus Maximus–like structure directly in front of him. To his left, also down at the base of the crater, nestled against the wall, was the grim castle of the minotaurs.

  ‘What’s that castle?’ Jack asked Orlando, feigning ignorance.

  ‘It’s where all the minotaurs live,’ Orlando said. ‘Dirty fucking things. Live in squalor. There’s a whole city back there behind that gate. But they’re good workers, I’ll give them that.’

  In his drunkenness, Orlando had become very chatty. If Jack could keep him talking, he might be able to get some useful information out of him.

  ‘They built this mountain?’ Jack asked, looking up at the towering palace around them.

  ‘Oh, goodness, no,’ Orlando said. ‘They’re not smart enough to do that. They’re ignorant brutes. Neanderthals. This place was built a long time ago by a civilisat
ion far more advanced than us. The minotaurs are Hades’s slaves, his subhuman army and the source of every myth about Satan’s infernal servants.’

  Orlando took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘They do all the grunt work here and are happy to do it. Vacheron designed all the arenas and mazes for the challenges and the minotaurs built them under his direction.’

  ‘That’s an enormous logistical operation,’ Jack said. ‘Where do they source all the material?’

  ‘They bring in all the food, vehicles and construction materials from the west dock.’

  Jack kept his eyes on the view of the crater, trying to look casual, trying not to let his concentration show.

  A western dock . . .

  He recalled something E-147 had said earlier: that the only land entrance to this place was inside the minotaur city somewhere. He must’ve meant this dock that Orlando mentioned.

  ‘How do all you royals get here?’ he asked lightly. ‘Do you fly in?’

  Having walked partway around the balcony, Orlando opened a door leading back inside.

  ‘How else would we get to this godforsaken shithole? We fly in on helicopters from one of Hades’s mines. There’s a chopper platform and hangar up on one of the fortresses near the top of the mountain.

  ‘The four kings are all board members of Hades’s mining company, so a trip to India like this is passed off as a “board inspection tour” of the mines. Hiding in plain sight, as they say. Hoping to figure a way out, eh? Don’t get your hopes up, Captain. The odds of you leaving this place alive are infinitesimal. My advice to you: fight a good fight and die a good death.’

  He led Jack inside and down a short corridor to the men’s room.

  Back in the dining room, Shane ‘Scarecrow’ Schofield sat with his patron, the King of the Sea, a man by the named of Garrett Caldwell.

  In his sixties, with sweeping silver hair and the tan of a man who played a lot of tennis, Caldwell was a gracious and refined host.

  Two other American champions sat at the table with Scarecrow: the Navy SEAL named DeShawn Monroe and the Delta operator, Jeff Edwards.

  As the lunch wound down, their patron stood to take his leave and, one by one, shook hands with each of them.

  Scarecrow didn’t take much notice of the ritual until Caldwell shook his hand and surreptitiously left something in it:

  A small syringe, with a curious red liquid inside it. The label on the syringe read: HYPOX-G4–62.

  Scarecrow knew what that was. Every elite soldier did. It was a hyperoxygenated blood additive, designed to give you extra stamina in the battlefield by upping the oxygen levels in your blood. It was the military equivalent of anabolic steroids.

  Scarecrow had never used it, but he knew guys who had. Exhaustion was the biggest enemy in the field, and ‘Hypox’, as the men called it, kept you energised and alert for many hours.

  Caldwell smiled at Scarecrow. ‘A little pick-me-up, should you need it. Could be the difference between life and death. Best of luck.’

  In a cubicle in the men’s room, Jack folded down the lid of the toilet seat and sat down on top of it, thankful for a moment’s solitude during which he could gather his thoughts.

  A thousand things ran through his mind.

  Hades. The Great Games. The mountain in the crater, all of it covered by camouflage netting. The minotaurs and their gated city. The lion-helmeted killers, Chaos and Fear. The deadly jester, Mephisto.

  Snippets of recent conversations:

  Mendoza speaking about the end of the universe.

  Orlando talking of arriving here by helicopter from a mine in India.

  And one odd statement: Hades saying that only a classically-educated champion could prevail in the Games.

  The sound of a door opening made him look up.

  Two men had entered the men’s room, chatting.

  The first one was saying ‘—that last challenge was simply brilliant! Your brother, Zaitan, was on fire. And Mephisto was fucking livid that the fifth warrior caught him. That jester is cunning and it’s not often that he gets outwitted by anyone. He’ll be gunning for West during the second phase.’

  ‘If West survives the Fifth Challenge, George,’ the other one said and Jack recognised his voice as that of Dion DeSaxe, Hades’s son and the prick who had got close to Lily at Stanford. They were standing at the urinals.

  The one named George said, ‘You don’t know the half of it, Dion. Seriously, the next challenge is massive. I saw Vacheron do a trial run a month ago. The circus, the course, the chase pack. It’ll be fucking mayhem. Fucking brilliant.’

  Dion said, ‘Vacheron has done well with his challenges. I heard someone say that if the Games are a success, as a thank-you gift, Orlando will give his sister, Iolanthe, to Vacheron as his wife.’

  ‘Vacheron has long wanted to become royal,’ George said. ‘It’s his greatest desire. He has a lot riding on these Games.’

  There was a pause as they urinated.

  ‘Tough shit for the hostages, eh,’ George said.

  Jack frowned as he heard this.

  Dion said, ‘What are you gonna do? After the Fifth Challenge, there’s no further need for them. The champions fight alone in the second phase, so slaughtering all the hostages is perfectly reasonable.’

  ‘I know, but—’

  ‘Honestly, George, don’t think of the hostages as people. In the grand scheme of things, their lives don’t mean shit. They should be honoured to die doing something important.’

  The two men zipped up and left the men’s room.

  Jack remained in the stall for several more minutes, to give them a head start.

  When he emerged, his eyes were set in a determined stare.

  This was no longer just about surviving challenges to protect his friends.

  He now had to figure out what he was going to do after the next challenge, because at the end of it, no matter how well he performed, Alby and Sky Monster—not to mention Scarecrow’s hostages, Astro, Mother and Tomahawk—would all be killed.

  Jack whispered softly to himself. ‘What the hell am I going to do?’

  A few minutes later, he returned to the dining hall.

  As he was about to step through the main doorway, a figure blocked his way.

  Major Gregory Brigham.

  ‘You’re dangerous,’ Brigham said, his eyes hard.

  ‘Is that so?’ Jack said.

  ‘When all this started, you didn’t know shit from Shinola. Looked like a deer in the fucking headlights. But you learn fast. Which means now you’re dangerous. No offence, but when I win this next challenge, I’m going to use my reward to blow your fucking head off.’

  Brigham shoved past Jack, bumping his shoulder on the way.

  ‘No offence taken,’ Jack said after him.

  Jack returned to his table and sat beside Lily.

  He gazed forward, deep in thought, as if in a trance.

  ‘Dad?’ Lily asked, concerned. ‘You okay?’

  He looked up quickly.

  Then he leaned in close to her and whispered, ‘They’re gonna kill all the hostages after the next challenge. Can you do something for me during the challenge?’

  Lily turned to face him and for the first time in two days, she dared to hope. This was the Jack West Jr she knew.

  ‘Of course. If I can.’

  ‘Good. It’s time to bust our people outta here.’ He told her what he needed her to do and she nodded gamely.

  ‘It’ll be tough, but I can try,’ she said.

  Moments later, the guards returned and took Jack away to compete in the Fifth Challenge.

  After the champions departed, the dining hall emptied quickly, the various royal households decamping to the viewing balcony for the Fifth Challenge.

  Iolanthe was about to guide Lily that way when th
ree young men arrived in front of them.

  Dion, his friend George, and Dion’s brother, the champion from the Underworld named Zaitan.

  ‘Princess Iolanthe,’ Dion said. ‘If you don’t mind, before the next challenge begins, we’d like to show Miss Lily one of the more remarkable places in the palace.’

  Iolanthe looked warily at the three princes. Lily could see that she wasn’t happy about this, but Dion, as Hades’s heir, clearly outranked her.

  ‘But of course, Dion,’ she said.

  Leaving the dining hall, Dion guided Lily to an internal elevator that descended through the core of the mountain.

  ‘Lily, this is my younger brother, Zaitan,’ Dion said. Zaitan was a shorter, more muscular version of Dion: square-jawed, handsome and, like Dion, he knew it.

  Zaitan looked Lily up and down lasciviously. ‘She is just as you described her, brother. Ripe.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Dion said.

  The elevator stopped and the three princes led Lily through some winding rough-hewn tunnels.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Lily asked.

  ‘My father and his guests are so old,’ Dion said. ‘In age and in attitude. We’re going to where the young people are.’

  They stepped out onto the railway tracks behind the hostage train. Lily tried to catch a glimpse of her people in their hostage carriage but she couldn’t see into it from this angle. Looking out from the open-faced tunnel, however, she could see the odd-looking racetrack for the upcoming Fifth Challenge.

  Dion guided her away from the hostage train before cutting into a tight stone-walled passageway that delved into the tunnel’s inner wall.

  After walking a short way down this passageway, Lily emerged inside a large chamber and stopped dead in her tracks.

  She was in a dungeon, an enormous ancient dungeon.

  Arched alcoves lined the walls, some of them veiled by ragged curtains, others sealed with iron bars. Torture devices were everywhere: in the alcoves, on the walls, hanging from the ceiling.