"We have company behind us and to the right. The large bush next to the gatehouse--the second guard, I suspect--and he has a rather large weapon trained ... well, trained on the back of my head."
"It's that take-charge personality you have, Jack," Everett said as he slid farther toward his door.
"Funny."
Suddenly the large twin gates started to part. The guard reappeared and stepped to the car's front window.
"Please keep to the paved drive until you arrive at the front porch, where you will be met by Mrs. Laughlin, a very close friend of Mr. Rothman. I have been instructed to tell you that you have only one minute to convince Mrs. Laughlin of your sincerity. If you fail, we will remove you from the property."
The guard abruptly turned and walked back into the gatehouse. Mendenhall drove slowly through the gate.
"Lucky we have both of the people that interest us the most," Jack said under his breath.
When they arrived at the front porch, they saw an elderly woman standing in front of the ornate and gilded front doors. She slowly made her way down to the car as it stopped. Collins stepped out of the backseat and looked at the casually dressed woman, who was short in stature. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Collins to speak.
"Ms. Laughlin? Martha Laughlin?"
If the woman was taken back because Jack knew her first name, she didn't show it.
"Yes."
"My name is Colonel Jack Collins, of the United States Army. You were informed that we're here to see you and Mr. Rothman about the death of Jackson Keeler. I assume you have heard of this man?"
This time Jack saw the woman blink. That was all she did, but in that brief moment he saw sadness there, but not shock at the news of Keeler's death.
"Why is the army interested in the death of an attorney, Colonel?"
"You and Mr. Rothman's names were on a slip of paper Mr. Keeler hid in his person before he died. Do you know why he would do that?"
"Colonel, this line of questioning has no interest for me or Mr. Rothman. I do not see any reason to share information of a private nature with U.S. Army, which, as I understand it, is not tasked to do the work assigned to agencies far better equipped to deal with the matter of Mr. Keeler's death."
"Well, I can start with the death of thirty-six of my colleagues for doing nothing more than examining artifacts from antiquity."
Jack once more saw the woman blink, and now she switched the weight of her body from foot to foot.
"Artifacts. The army is dealing in artifacts now? Can you explain this sudden change of direction for a branch of the armed services, Colonel? I mean, with all that's happening in the world, I would think you would have your hands full instead of antiquing."
Jack smiled but said nothing.
"Very well, Colonel, you have piqued my interest. You and your men can come this way."
Jack watched the woman walk up the four steps leading to the door. He knew that she smelled something that didn't sit right with her. That and the fact that the woman was fully clothed at four o'clock in the morning told him that there was little relaxation occurring behind these closed doors. He waved the others out of the car and followed the woman into the house.
Two white vans pulled into the drive and waited for the guard to exit the gatehouse, while another van pulled in across the street. Four men exited that van and knocked on the door. As soon as it was opened they pushed the man who had answered backward and then tossed something inside and close the door again. They heard a muffled whump and then they pulled on black hoods and entered the building. Inside there were five men in total, the one who had answered the door and four other guards who had been sleeping in bunks that lined the wall. All were gasping for air. Very carefully and silently, the guards were dispatched with one round to the head in very short order.
Across the way, the first guard out to meet the white van met a similar fate. Shot once in the forehead, he fell backward and hit the concrete. The rear doors opened and two men exited and ran into the gatehouse. One soon reappeared and held up a hand and then closed it. The second man saw the signal and started firing with his silenced MP-5 into the bush where they had observed the guard previously when the car arrived. The man was satisfied when he heard a loud grunt, and then he made sure by going to the back of the bush and firing three more rounds into the guard who had thought himself well hidden.
The elimination of Rothman's security element was accomplished in thirty-two seconds. Then both vans, filled with fifteen heavily armed men, started making their way up the drive.
Jack, Carl, Ryan, and Mendenhall were led to a large den, where Martha Laughlin told them to take a seat at the large table in the center of the room. Then she turned and left.
Collins looked at Everett as he sat and nodded. Carl, with a blur of movement, removed his Beretta 9-millimeter and pulled the slide backward, chambering a round, and then allowed his hand to vanish beneath the table. Mendenhall did the same thing.
Soon Martha returned. She was helping a man who was fully clothed in slacks and a white shirt. He wore a dressing gown over his clothes and looked as weak as a newborn. The man, obviously Carmichael Rothman, was small in stature at only five-foot-five and he held the arm of Martha Laughlin as if he could fall at any moment. Collins looked at Everett, and Carl in turn felt silly for having his weapon out.
Jack stood and watched as Rothman was led slowly to the table. The old man did not meet any of his visitors' eyes as he slowly sat down. Jack sat too.
Martha stood by his side for a brief moment and then sat next to him. The man finally looked up and found the man who he assumed to be in charge. It just happened to be Collins.
"Jackson Keeler was ... was our friend."
The old man said the words slowly, his eyes never leaving Jack's face.
"Why would he and other innocent people be slaughtered like that? What was being sought that all that blood would be spilled?"
Rothman looked from Jack to Martha, who squeezed his arm in support.
"If I ask you who you work for, Colonel, would I receive truth in your answer?"
"I work for people who lost thirty-six men and women to the same murdering bunch that killed your friend, Mr. Rothman."
"I see. That explains your interest in that regard." He turned and accepted two pills from Ms. Laughlin and swallowed them without water. "Martha here has informed me that you said your people were examining artifacts, I believe?"
Jack did not respond. He was not in Virginia to be questioned; he was there to get his questions answered.
"Could this be the artifacts recovered from New York, an account of which I have read in the newspapers?"
The four men before them sat motionlessly.
"I'm afraid the men who are responsible for the death of so many were not just after the names of Martha and myself. They were chasing something much more valuable to them. We were just a bonus. We knew our old friend kept a journal, and we couldn't convince him that it was dangerous, not only to himself but to others."
"Like you two?" Jack asked.
Martha smiled and her look never wavered away from Collins.
"Yes, like us, Colonel."
"There are people in the world, Colonel, who don't wear their intentions on their sleeve. Very powerful men and women who ..." Rothman looked at Martha for support.
"They seek power and continuity. They want the world as a whole, a nice dream of one central government, but separate races. Their willingness to attain such a utopian society has been a rather ruthless one throughout the years. These are the people responsible for the death of your men and women and our friend. As I said, they have sought to bring about their way of life for many years. They actually have an ancient precedent of that utopian society, Colonel."
"Do you mean Atlantis?"
Martha went silent. Rothman only smiled.
"Colonel, you have said nothing, but told us everything," Rothman said, patting Martha's hand.
&n
bsp; Collins and the three other men saw strength returning to Rothman. The pills he had taken must have been taking effect.
"I really didn't believe you and your people existed any longer. My father told me about a wonderful organization that was in existence many, many years ago. However, he lost track of your organization just before World War Two. Do not look so shocked, Colonel. It was the mention of artifacts that gave it away. For the life of me, I can't remember the name of your Group, though."
Jack remained silent but he see that Everett, Mendenhall, and Ryan were having a harder time of it.
"Yes, I can now see why you angered certain people. It was your organization that conducted the raid on their storage facility, was it not? No need to answer; your statement about Atlantis is circumstantial, but makes sense."
"You seem to be a very informed man, Mr. Rothman," Jack said, unsmiling.
"Yes." Again he patted Martha's hand. "We used to be. We are old now and just want the world to go on. Colonel, we are informed because at one time, very many years ago, my father assisted President Wilson in the writing of your organization's charter."
"Department 5656. The funny little moniker attached to that agency slips my mind, though," Martha said, looking at Rothman.
"What a wonderful concept, I have always thought, learning all there is to know about history and studying ways to prevent the horrid parts from happening again. Throughout our long lives and vast knowledge, your Group remained deeply hidden to the point that I did not believe it existed, even though my father said it did." He fell silent for a moment as he went into deep thought. "Group ... Group." He smiled and slowly looked from face to face. "The Event Group!"
Jack exchanged looks with the others. They had come to get answers, but these two very strange people had turned the tables on them somehow and now they had guessed at one of the world's foremost secrets.
Rothman looked at Martha and seemed happy. They stared at each other for the longest time and then Rothman turned and looked the men over.
"Do not worry, Colonel. Martha and I can keep a secret as well as anyone in the world."
Jack watched as Martha covered her mouth and he would have sworn that she chuckled at Rothman's small joke.
"Our time is short and Martha and I have wasted a lot of it because we do not normally interfere with the affairs of your ... well, the affairs of the world. I think, though, and I'm sure Martha would agree, that you may just be the people who could assist us."
"Colonel, it's not just a coincidence that you and we have been thrown together. The situation in the world is dire and we believe we know who is behind it. I speak of the actions in Korea and the murders here; they are tied together," Martha said.
Jack was beginning to feel as though he had stepped down the rabbit hole. He looked at Carl, who was looking at Martha as if she were an alien.
Collins was about to ask just what in the world these two were talking about when a servant stepped into the den through the sliding doors and approached Martha. He watched as a concerned look crossed her face. She thanked the man and then excused him. She looked closely at Jack, then she stood and made her way to the small desk and removed the phone there and placed it on the center of the tabletop. Jack saw a flashing light, which meant that someone was on hold. Martha sat back and looked at their guests.
"It seems we have a call, Colonel. A gentleman has asked to speak to you, Carmichael, and me."
"Don't tell me the director has learned we took the plane already," Everett said, half joking, as he stood and went to the large window that looked out on the pool in the back. He gestured for Mendenhall and Ryan to cover the other windows.
"I assure you men that this property is well guarded," Rothman said as he watched the three men at the windows.
"Nothing personal, sir, but we have already discussed the shortfalls of your security arrangements, and I'm sorry to inform you they are sorely lacking."
Rothman looked from Everett to Jack and nodded.
Martha reached out and placed the call into conference mode by pushing the flashing button.
"Hello," she said as if the call were anything but unusual.
"I assume I am speaking with Martha Laughlin?"
"I don't believe I recognize your voice."
"That is not a concern at the moment, Miss Laughlin. I take it I am being listened to by Carmichael Rothman and a Colonel Jack Collins?"
The three remained silent as Jack quickly glanced at Everett, who stood to the side of the window frame. He shook his head to indicate that the yard was clear. Jack did the same with Mendenhall and Ryan, who had a view of the front. They had the same answer.
"Your silence is answer enough. There is no need to tell you who I am. That does not matter. What does matter is that individually you three are bothersome, but together you are a threat. Colonel Collins, I do not know whom it is you work for, but as of this moment you will not interfere with me again. I suspect it was you and the three men you have with you that played the role of hero in Ethiopia. Well, I am here to tell you that such actions have an equal and far harsher reaction. This is a lesson I'm sure you have learned in the past few days."
"Something tells me you're not the type to carry threats out yourself. By the sound of your voice, I assume you order others to do the dangerous stuff while you manicure your nails and watch."
Martha and Carmichael watched Collins silently.
"Very good, Colonel. Your wit in times of stress tells me you are a man used to danger. The real point here is that I have the power to do it, as the body count of your people has clearly shown. Now, Carmichael and Martha, I believe you to be the last of our brothers and sisters. Mr. Keeler failed as his father and brother before him to protect that which was not his, nor yours. You may eventually guess at my identity and that is fine. I do, however, know yours. You and your kind have always been sorely lacking in strength and you are no exception. Your forefathers should have remained with us, because as a split entity, you have no spine."
"We are aware of what you are doing and now have the spine to tell the world about you. We may have been weak in the past and allowed you certain liberties in regard to world affairs. Now that it only Martha and myself left, what the hell, we are letting the world finally know about you and your people and all the misery you have caused throughout history."
"Your story should make very interesting fodder, Mr. Rothman. Far more interesting is the fact that I would have looked forward to your explanation as to why you and your kind allowed it to happen without helping those poor, poor people throughout history. You and that bitch beside you deserve to die with the colonel and his backward monkey-people."
"Hey!" Ryan said from his place at the front window. "Monkey-people?"
"Good-bye ... Oh, one last item, Colonel. Tell your men at the windows to duck."
The line went dead just as the windows on every wall in the den exploded inward in a hail of bullets. Jack threw himself to the floor, crawled quickly to Martha, and pulled her roughly out of her chair. Mendenhall duckwalked from his spot at the now-nonexistent front window, pulled Carmichael from his chair, and then covered him with his body.
"I think you pissed him off, Jack," Everett said as he fired three quick rounds out the window frame and then pulled back.
"That's what monkeys do," Collins said as he looked at Martha. More bullets flew through the windows and slammed into the expensive paneling. "We need a not-too-obvious way out of here."
"There is a passage that Carmichael uses to reach his helicopter at the back of the property. It's through the basement, but the electric car is on tracks and only carries two people at a time," she said, as something hit the table and thumped to the floor.
Jack looked until he found the object and then decided very quickly that he had no time to dispose of it. Suddenly Ryan was there; he picked up the grenade and threw it out the window, barely missing Everett's head. They heard the crump of the grenade as it went off in the pool.
"As I said, you're learning, Ryan. Come on, we're heading for the basement. Help Mendenhall with Rothman. Swabby, we need cover fire now!"
Everett fired six quick shots out the window and then turned and fired five more out the window that Ryan had been covering. He heard someone outside cry out in pain and then was quickly rewarded with a hundred return rounds slamming into the walls and artwork around them.
"Go, Jack!" Carl shouted as he quickly placed another clip into his Beretta and repeated the same sequence of cover fire.
Collins pulled Martha to her feet and ran to the double doors of the den. He opened the doors and went into the long hallway. He slammed Martha against the wall and waited for Ryan and Mendenhall to get Rothman out of the den.
"Get the hell out of there, Carl!" Collins ordered. "Lead the way, Ms. Laughlin."
Jack fell in right behind the older but agile woman as she went from the hallway into a large kitchen. Ryan, Will, and Rothman caught up through the swinging doors and then Ryan turned and held the door for Everett, who fired three times at an unseen entity behind him.
"At least ten, maybe more, Jack, and they're hot on our ass," Everett shouted and then quickly fired five times through the swinging doors. Another yelp of pain and then blood ran underneath the door. "Not bad for monkeys, huh?"
"This way," Martha said as she pulled open the door leading to the basement.
Jack pushed Will and Rothman ahead, and then Ryan quickly went by and down the stairs just as Everett ducked and the swinging door above him jerked as ten bullets punched through the wood.
"These guys are getting serious, Jack."
Collins fired his entire clip through the splintered doorway and then pulled Everett after him.
Once in the spacious basement, they heard the attacking force above them as they moved about. It was only a second later when they heard several objects bouncing down the stairs. Collins and the others ducked quickly behind one of the reinforced concrete walls as the three grenades detonated. Shrapnel spread out in a deadly arc and punctured everything exposed in the basement.
Ancients (event group thriller) Page 21