Shrouded in Secrets

by Kim McMahill

  “This is the result of an unsuccessful experiment. I tried what you jokingly suggested, and made a giant cigarette lighter. The high voltage produced as the hammer hit the crystal ignited a tub of flammable fuel as the current jumped the spark gap. Impressive, but not what we’re looking for.”

  “Interesting,” Zara muttered.

  “Next, I started focusing in on vibrations. In 1917, a student of Pierre Curie used quartz piezoelectricity to detect and generate sound waves in water. Using this theory, I set up an experiment with a fish tank full of water and two crystals. I introduced a sound wave at one end of the tank. The vibrations replicated as they traveled, each one stronger than the previous. I then provided direct light to the first crystal, and the results were even more dramatic.”

  “What does this mean?”

  Mustafa pointed to a mop and bucket in the corner and a large pile of shards and debris. He relaxed as he realized Zara’s ire had now been replaced by curiosity.

  “The aquarium glass shattered with unbelievable force, all from the introduction of a tiny sound wave and light. There is something about the head’s size and shape and quartz’s reaction to light that amplifies the effect. These are not normal reactions. As I suspected, there is an unusual property associated with these unique and complex crystal relics. Maybe the heads need to be arranged in some sort of formation or order and exposed to the right amount of light and stress to keep multiplying the size and strength of the vibrations, until an unfathomable disturbance is created. I’m not sure, short of trial and error, how we’ll be able to ascertain the precise arrangement. That would take time we don’t have. But, I think I’m on to something, so don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

  Zara never worried. Once they acquired the last three relics, Mustafa would have the mystery solved, or he would be replaced with someone more capable. The effect from his small experiment boggled her mind. She walked to the metal filing cabinet at the opposite end of the room and pried an embedded piece of glass from the front panel. She held it up and shook her head.

  “Mustafa, I do believe you are a genius, and quite valuable to me. If I trusted men, I might consider marrying you.” She studied the glass shard held between her fingers.

  He didn’t know how to respond. She nearly slit his throat just moments ago, and now she stated he was valuable, which she had never said before. The abrupt change in his worth made him uncomfortable. His lips quivered as he forced himself to nod and smile. “I could only be so lucky,” he replied as he turned and led her out of the room before she could see the fear and revulsion etched on his face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  September 29, 8:00 A.M.

  Navajo Nation, Arizona

  BENNY PULLED UP on the reins, bringing his mule to a stop. The old man dismounted and walked to a rock cairn and slowly lowered himself to his knees. He raised his hands skyward and began to sing a hypnotic song.

  Cash watched with fascination. He assumed they must be somewhere significant, but he had no intention of interrupting Benny’s ritual to ask. He couldn’t understand the words uttered in the entrancing rhythm. Diane and Olivia had stopped next to him; Pete and Ian halted a few feet behind. No one said a word, they only stared. Even the mules abandoned their restless ways and paid respect to the Navajo Chief.

  After several moments, Benny stood and walked back to the group, leading his mule close behind.

  “Do you see the big exposed grouping of stone across the arroyo?”

  Everyone nodded and waited for him to continue.

  “I’ve never confirmed the tale, so I hope it’s true, or I’ve wasted your time. According to the legend if you travel a straight line from this cairn to that out-cropping, you will reach a small cave about three-quarters of the distance up the other side. We can ride the mules into the gulch and a ways up the opposite slope, but then the grade gets too steep even for their sure hooves, so we climb the rest of the way on foot. Once we locate the mouth, which probably isn’t as easy as it sounds, or someone would have stumbled across the opening by now, the story claims a series of precautions were built in by our ancestors to protect the relic. I hope my aging mind can remember the account well enough to avoid the dangers.”

  “Benny, you’re as sharp as ever,” Olivia said. “Just show us what to do. We’re right behind you.”

  The old man slipped the toe of his boot into the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle. Hesitating for a moment, he studied the group waiting behind him. At first he had regretted letting so many accompany him, but something told him they might need everyone, even the tall, lanky scientist with a hair-trigger finger. No one to his knowledge had ever attempted to find the sacred relic before. He had always heeded the warnings to never disturb its resting place or divulge its location, but fear for his people if the artifact remained hidden on tribal land encouraged him to relent. Benny was still torn, unable to shake the premonition that death was unavoidable no matter what decision he made. He prayed the loss he sensed was simply the result of Pete’s accidental killing of his packer and no more fatalities would occur.

  Benny tapped his mule’s sides with his heels and slowly approached the edge of the arroyo. The steep slope covered with loose soil and slippery sandstone eroded under the animal’s hooves. Once they started down the slope it would be difficult for the mules to stop, even if they wanted to.

  “Hold on tight, trust your mount, and regroup at the bottom,” Benny said as his sweat-stained straw hat disappeared over the lip of the gully.

  Olivia followed the chief with Cash riding close behind. Diane held back, letting Ian and Pete ride ahead. She stood at the rim and watched the mules slide as the loose soil gave away and trot when they obtained solid footing. She couldn’t help but smile as Pete clung to the saddle horn, trying to stay upright as his mule overtook Cash and Olivia at a quick awkward-looking gait. Even though only his back remained visible, she pictured his eyes tightly shut and his attempt to quickly discover religion.

  By the time they all reached the dry creek bed, Benny had dismounted and appeared deep in concentration. “See that green spot,” he said as he pointed a crooked finger toward a place located a few feet above the creek bank that looked a little greener than the surrounding area. “We can dig down to a small spring to find enough water for the mules. Set up camp above the creek bed. Those clouds don’t look too good, and if we get much rain flash flooding is possible, so we need to stay on higher ground. Hopefully we’ll be out of here before the storm hits and before night fall, but it’s best to be prepared. Olivia, come with me to help me scout, and the rest of you unsaddle and unpack the mules.”

  “I’ll take care of the mules,” Diane volunteered. “Pete, you better stick to making lunch. After your last interaction with the animals, I don’t want you anywhere near Benny’s stock. He treats his mules like family, so I’m surprised he took your stupidity so well, but I doubt he will a second time,” she said, figuring Benny’s calm acceptance was probably due to the fact that the packer was old, and Pete saved Benny from having to make the decision to retire the animal.

  Cash chuckled as he took a small shovel and attacked the rocky soil covered with delicate grasses and shrubs. He doubted they’d locate much water, since the flow wasn’t enough to breach the surface, but hopefully a sufficient amount to sustain the mules. They had packed drinking water for themselves, but hauling the quantity needed for the eight mules they started with, which had now grown to nine, wasn’t possible.

  He dug until the soil was saturated and stopped, knowing they wouldn’t hit an actual pool of water. They would now have to wait until the slow seep filled the hole. Cash sat on the ground, tracking Olivia and Benny’s progress as they weaved up the opposite hillside. He respected Benny and didn’t want to question the old man, especially since he was helping against his better judgment, but Cash felt uncomfortable letting him and Olivia go so far away without a gun. In fact, he hadn’t wanted Olivia to come at all. He enjoyed being with her
, but he wasn’t accustomed to allowing civilians anywhere near possible danger, and on this mission, he had twice.

  “Here’s one of Pete’s sandwiches,” Ian said as he plopped down next to Cash.

  “He didn’t kill anything in the process of putting this together, did he?”

  Ian laughed. “I know you have to be frustrated. I usually work alone too, but our governments didn’t give us much choice in this matter, and Pete isn’t all bad. You would have been proud of him in the Bahamas.”

  “If you hadn’t pulled the trap door he was leaning against, he’d be dead.”

  “He gave those three a heck of a chase, and they’re no amateurs. As I followed the gunfire and lights, I didn’t expect to make it in time to back Pete up. Navigating the mangrove like he did showed his determination. Trapped in a dead-end tunnel, he had his knife out, ready to fight, even though the thing was as dull as a spatula by the time he sawed through all those roots.”

  “I’m stunned he survived Zara, and impressed, but don’t ever tell him. At the moment, I’m still furious about the mule.”

  Ian chuckled. “I can’t wait to share that story with my mates back at the office. But, in all seriousness, we need him. You and I are soldiers. We wouldn’t know the difference between a crystal ball and a crystal head, and I can barely even pronounce piezoelectricity.”

  “I just don’t want anyone else to die, including our hardworking transports. I hate being responsible for others, especially innocent bystanders. Unfortunately, Benny had no intention of drawing us a map and sending us on our way, so I guess we didn’t have a lot of choice there either.”

  “Sometimes we need other people, whether we like it or not,” Ian replied.

  “I prefer to rely only on myself. I know Zara. I killed one of hers, so she will be desperate to kill one of mine, and I doubt she’ll care if it’s a civilian.”

  “Well, then, we just find her and the rest of her group and take them out before they can strike. We’re all aware of the risks, and for most of us, this is our job, and you sure as heck are not responsible for our safety. I know the gist of what happened in Hong Kong, and somehow you have to put it behind you. If you’re in this business long enough, something like that happens to all of us.”

  Cash met Ian’s gaze. By the tone of the Brit’s voice and the look in his eyes, Cash figured he was probably speaking from experience. They studied each other for several minutes, but Cash didn’t ask. It was an unwritten rule.

  “Prague, 2008. Intel came from my source.”

  Cash nodded. He had heard about MI6’s disastrous attempt to nab a high-level al Qaeda operative reported to be hiding in the city. Four agents and seven civilians died, and the terrorist slipped out of the country unscathed.

  “Come on. Pete should have the Sat Comm Link up by now,” Ian said as he slapped Cash on the back and headed toward camp.

  When Cash reached Pete and Diane, he realized instantly that something was wrong. Diane stepped aside to give him an unobstructed view of the computer screen, clutching his arm in a show of support.

  He read every word twice before the meaning sunk in. The news was so unbelievable, that he didn’t even notice Ian hovering over his shoulder, Diane’s fingers digging into his forearm, and Pete inching away.

  “I can’t believe it,” Diane finally said, breaking the silence. “I hated Washburn, but I didn’t want him dead. After all he’s put you through, I suppose its justice.”

  “It never crossed my mind Washburn leaked the information that turned Hong Kong into a blood bath. I had no idea he was anywhere near the operation. If the man had a conscience, he would’ve felt so guilty he’d have come clean, or at least been kissing my feet all these years, not stomping on my toes.”

  “Sorry guys.” Ian stepped back to give the three CIA agents room. This was an internal issue, which had nothing to do with him. He doubted Cash and Diane had it in them to mourn the loss, and he was unsure about Pete’s opinion of Washburn. He didn’t personally know the CIA’s NCS director well, but it was clear from the brief meetings no love had been lost between Cash, Diane, and their boss. No matter what anyone thought of Washburn, a bullet to the brain was a heck of a way to die, and Ian mourned for the man’s family.

  “My colleagues sent some data on the crystal’s properties for me to review,” Pete said, bringing them all back to the situation at hand. “And, they identified Olivia’s ‘Sultan of Rum.’ Sultan of Rum was the title assumed by the ruler of Byzantine Anatolia in 1071. So, it appears her chat room buddy isn’t a Jamaican party boy. He’s a Turkish physicist who goes by the name Mustafa. Authorities have been watching him since he left Turkey and showed up in Afghanistan, but lost track of him a year or so ago, around the same time Olivia started corresponding with him about the relics.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Diane demanded, fire raging in her eyes.

  “Better step up to the plate, Pete, and be a big boy. I’ll let you explain to Diane how you tapped into her sister’s computer and phone, among other things. Ian and I’ll go check on Olivia and Benny and see if they need any help.”

  “Cruel, very cruel,” Ian said as he and Cash started climbing the hill in the direction they had last seen Benny and Olivia. “Will she hurt him?”

  “Compared to Zara, Diane’s a creampuff. I think deep down she has a soft spot for Pete, and if she stops and thinks for a minute, she’ll realize he was only doing his job.”

  Ian chuckled. He wasn’t as certain about Pete’s safety as Cash, but he supposed Pete might as well figure out how to deal with his fiery colleague. He just hoped Pete didn’t rat him out and tell Diane he had encouraged him to order the tail on Olivia. The thought of Diane’s rage aimed in his direction made him pick up the pace and scramble up the hill ahead of Cash’s long stride. He didn’t slow until Diane’s voice faded.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  September 29, 9:00 A.M.

  Salta, Argentina

  THE MUSEO DE ALTA MONTAÑA didn’t open for another hour, but Diego had arranged with the primary historian, Miguel de San Martin, to meet before the other employees and visitors arrived. The man had reluctantly agreed to the meeting, which made Diego more anxious than ever to talk to him.

  Diego swung the rented two-door SUV in next to the only other vehicle parked in the lot behind the museum, killed the motor, and checked his gun before glancing over at Marjorie.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Marjorie nodded and got out. She had verified her weapon’s load before leaving the hotel and had stowed it under her loose sweatshirt. She wasn’t sure if Diego remembered she still had the firearm from the day before when they had run into trouble at the village, and she had no intention of giving it back. Normally she hated guns, but ever since the events of yesterday, she found comfort in the cool steel against her skin.

  When they reached the entrance they spotted Miguel through the glass, waiting. His hands shook as he fumbled with the lock and let them in. He quickly secured the doors and led them around the new high-tech metal detector the museum had just installed.

  Marjorie glanced at the exhibits as they followed Miguel down the dimly-lit hallway to his windowless office. He locked his door before turning on the overhead light and taking a seat behind his desk, which was piled so high with texts and paperwork that it made her a bit homesick for her own office back in London.

  “I’m sorry for the early hour and precautions. When someone inquires about the crystal relics I get very nervous. I usually deny any knowledge, but Interpol has never contacted me before, so I was exceptionally concerned.”

  “Someone is trying to amass the artifacts, annihilating an entire village in the process. We are unsure what these individuals plan to do, but we must locate and secure the remaining relics before they do. It is critical that the items are removed from the general population before any more innocent people die,” Diego said.

  Perspiration beaded on Miguel’s forehead. He dabbed at the droplets w
ith a handkerchief while studying Marjorie.

  “I’m sorry for our poor manners. I’m Marjorie Burton with the British Museum of Mankind in London,” she said as she stood and extended her hand.

  Miguel took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze while continuing to scrutinize her features.

  “I have seen your name before in various museum publications, mostly concerning Egyptian artifacts. I do not understand the connection with the relics you seek.”

  “A large crystal head thought to be one of the legendary thirteen was found in Egypt recently while I was on an excavation project there. The object was stolen by my assistants and they destroyed the Sphinx in the process. I can identify the artifact and the thieves. One of them is here in Argentina and one is already dead.”

  Miguel glanced back to Diego, eyes wide with fear. “This can not be happening. The crystals are too powerful and dangerous together. They were not to be reunited, which is why our ancestors went to such great lengths to hide them. The relics must remain lost or humanity will suffer the consequences.”

  “Why are they powerful and why are they dangerous?” Marjorie asked. “What can they do?”

  “No one knows where the power comes from, but the legends all agree that together the thirteen crystals possess the ability to enlighten man or inflict massive destruction, depending on how the possessors choose to use them. One story claims the artifacts have made the seas stand up and move violently over the land, swallowing up civilizations and erasing evidence of their existence from our history.”