Hancock nonchalantly nodded. She wore an invisible earpiece in her right ear.
“Stay calm and do whatever your contact tells you. We’ll grab him when he tries to leave.”
The sergeant imperceptibly nodded her understanding.
“We’ve got company,” reported one of the MP cutoff teams.
“What can you see?” asked Jones.
“I’ve got a black Mercedes SUV coming your way. It looks like there’s only one man in the vehicle.”
“Roger that. Keep an eye out for any other vehicles.”
Jones keyed her radio. “Looks like Mister Black is on his way.” On her tablet, she watched as the Mercedes drove straight past Hancock’s car before turning around and coming to a halt right beside it.
Hancock lowered her window.
Jones could see her talking with the man in the car but couldn’t hear a thing from the mic they had hidden on Hancock. Jones pressed her lips together in frustration. They were being jammed. Before she could tell her team to spring the trap, the man in the Mercedes brought up a pistol and fired it twice into Hancock’s head, killing her.
The MP sergeant with Jones turned over the ignition, placed the vehicle in drive, and jammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The SUV’s tires squealed as he spun the wheel around in his hands and sped toward the ambush. From a back alley sped two more vehicles trying to box in the assassin.
The driver of the Mercedes saw the vehicles coming but did nothing. He turned off his engine and remained in his seat with his hands on the steering wheel.
Adrenaline pumped through Jones’ veins. Whoever had killed Hancock was going to pay for his crimes.
When the MPs were less than fifty meters from the assassin, their vehicles shuddered and stalled. The power had ceased to function.
Before Jones’ partner could push his door open, the Mercedes started up and quickly accelerated away from the powerless SUVs. The sergeant jumped outside and drew his pistol. With a snarl on his lips, the sergeant fired off three shots before the vehicle vanished from sight.
Jones reached for her radio to warn Colonel Andrews that the mission had failed, but found it, like everything else, had ceased to work. She got out of the SUV and ran over to Hancock’s car. She brought a hand to her face when she saw Hancock slumped over the steering wheel with half of her head blown away. Without warning, a wave of nausea hit Jones in the stomach. She staggered back from the car, placed her hands on her knees, and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground.
“You’ll be okay, Ma’am,” said the sergeant, trying to console her.
Jones retched until only bile came out. She stood up, wiped the spittle from her face, and nodded at the MP. “Sergeant, please send someone to get in touch with Colonel Andrews and let him know what has happened. And then ask him to send an ambulance for Hancock’s body.”
“Will do, Ma’am.”
Jones realized her hands were shaking and took in a deep breath to calm her shattered nerves. She looked back at her SUV and swore. The man had to have known he was being targeted. Why else would he have killed Hancock and been prepared enough to carry with him a powerful device used to fry their electronics?
29
Gauntlet Headquarters
Grant walked through the ops center unsurprised by the tension in the air. The operators all sat behind their computers, barely saying a word to their compatriots. He made his way to the briefing room and found only Maclean sitting there, with a tray of coffees in front of him.
“Not sure why I always buy,” said Maclean, handing Grant a cup. “After all, a captain makes way more than a sergeant.”
“I have never asked you to buy me a single cup of coffee, now have I?”
“No, I guess not. I just know you’d whine if I didn’t get you one.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Grant replied, taking a seat.
“Have you heard from Captain Jones?”
Grant nodded “We spoke last night. She’s on sick leave for a few days.”
“Sergeant Takei filled me in on what happened here while we were gone. It’s too bad about what happened to Hancock, but she was working for the opposition.”
“There’ll be repercussions. The boss will be lucky to keep his job.”
“Yeah, but we’re too small of an organization to try and do everything ourselves. If we’re going to continue to do what we do, this place will have to grow.”
At that moment, Hayes and Elena entered the room carrying stacks of papers in their arms. Behind them hobbled Gabrielle.
Maclean sat up and smiled at Gabrielle. “Morning, Doc. I take it they shanghaied you into joining as well?”
“I was getting restless back home, and the chance to work on ancient and possibly extraterrestrial artifacts was something I couldn’t turn down,” replied Gabrielle.
“The more, the merrier,” added Grant.
Colonel Andrews strode in. Everyone but Gabrielle got to their feet. He pulled out his chair and motioned for everyone to take their seats.
“Good morning, everyone. Lieutenant Colonel Mason won’t be joining us this morning, as she is being interviewed by the DIA regarding Technical Sergeant Hancock’s death.”
Grant could see Andrews’ eyes were red and puffy. He doubted the man had slept since the shooting. “Sir, did you get my preliminary report outlining our activities inside Mount San Fernando?”
“Yes, I did, and I’m thankful that the four of you made it out of there alive.”
“Sir, the pictures and samples taken from the site show that an unknown civilization was present sometime in the past.”
Hayes sat forward. “Colonel, I’m waiting for the results of the samples I sent for radiocarbon dating. However, some of the hieroglyphs we saw are similar to those found on the map we discovered in Libya.”
Gabrielle raised a hand. “Sir, I can confirm that four of the hieroglyphs on the map are identical to some of the ones found at the temple. Unfortunately, at this time, I have no idea what they mean.”
“The hieroglyphs pale in comparison to the fact that we found a carving showing an alien-like figure inside the temple,” said Elena. “Along with what Captain Grant described as an ancient incubation factory and a disc that had been there for who knows how long.”
Andrews looked over at Grant. “Captain, there was no mention of an incubation factory in your report. Why not?”
“Sir, I’m not one-hundred-percent sure what I saw. I left it out until I can talk with Rebeca and Susan Dove.”
“I’m not following you. What do they have to do with this?”
“Everything…and nothing. Sir, I just know I need to speak with them.”
“If you insist, but make sure to include something about this factory when you submit your final report.”
Grant nodded.
“Sir, has anyone in the intelligence community been able to identify the man behind all of our troubles?” asked Maclean.
“Yes, they have. Peter Roth is an unbelievably wealthy man who has businesses all over South America and Eastern Europe. More importantly, Roth has ties to the current administration in the White House. I was politely told by the secretary of defense to tread lightly around him.”
“Tread lightly!” Maclean bolted out of his chair. “Sir, this man is behind the deaths of my mates in Iraq and your people in Georgia, as well as Sergeant Hancock. The bastard has to pay for what he’s done.”
“He will. But no one has seen or heard from him in the past few days. Gentlemen, for the foreseeable future, what happens to him is out of my hands.”
Grant nudged Maclean’s leg and shot him a not now look. Maclean resumed his seat in a huff. Grant turned to face Andrews. “Sir, I’d like to take Elena with me and fly out to visit Rebeca and Susan as soon as possible. I’ve already checked the flights, and we can be back by tomorrow evening.”
“Are you okay with this?” Andrews asked Elena.
She smiled and nodded.
“Very well then. Doctors Ha
yes and Collins will continue to sift through the evidence you brought back from Bolivia, while Ms. Leon and Captain Grant fly out to Montana.”
“What about me?” asked Maclean.
“I want you to conduct a summary investigation into what went wrong with the attempted capture of Sergeant Hancock’s contact. You don’t have a lot of time; I’m going to be on the hot seat soon, and I want answers, now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Andrews stood. “Folks, I have no doubt that you all feel the same as I do. We’re being drawn into something far beyond our comprehension. If it’s a viable threat, then I want to know how we can neutralize it before anyone else dies.”
Grant waited until he and Maclean were alone in the room. “Jesus, Jim, you’ve got to learn to watch that hair-trigger temper of yours. Colonel Andrews isn’t the enemy.”
“You heard him, Roth’s friggin’ untouchable.”
“No, he never said that. We just have to bide our time. Now that everyone knows he’s not a true friend of the administration, the heat and light will be turned on him.”
Maclean sat back and crossed his arms. “We should be on a plane right now to South America to kill the son of a bitch.”
“Who says we didn’t? Chances are slim he got off the mountain alive.”
A slight grin flashed across Maclean’s face. “Yeah, there is that. But what if he did somehow manage to survive? Then what?”
“When this mission is over, we’ll put in for some leave. Ever been to Chile?”
30
South Atlantic Ocean
The storm seemed to come out of nowhere. Lashed by tall, gray, waves, the aged trawler’s bow rose and plummeted so far that it threatened to snap the boat in two. Anything not properly lashed to the deck was washed overboard. Belowdecks, the metal hull shrieked and moaned, as if some unseen creature was trying to claw its way inside so it could drag the ship down into the cold, dark depths.
Captain Lin stood staring defiantly out of the bridge’s windows as if he were challenging Poseidon himself to sink his boat. The Southern Dragon was registered in Malaysia as a cargo ship, but in reality, it was an illegal fishing trawler, one of many plying its trade in the rarely patrolled, frigid waters of the South Atlantic.
“Here it comes again, Captain,” a sailor cried out excitedly from the portside of the bridge.
Lin walked over and cursed the rain as it pelted the windows, making it hard to see very far. He moved from window to window. “I don’t see it. Where is it?” he asked the sailor.
“There,” said the man pointing a few degrees off the port bow.
Lin brought up his binoculars and focused them on a bright light just below the surface of the water as it closed in with his ship. He shook his head when he estimated the light was a good thirty meters in circumference. Lin had been at sea since he was a boy but had never seen anything like the submerged glowing disc before. Legends of lights in the water had been around for as long as he had sailed the seas. Lin had always dismissed them as drunken tales men told to frighten and amuse their equally sloshed colleagues.
The object picked up speed and shot underneath of the vessel. Lin reached out and grabbed hold of the radar station, expecting the disc to strike the belly of his ship and rip it wide open. Instead, the mysterious object reappeared directly in front of the ship and positioned itself about fifty meters away, matching the vessel for speed and bearing.
Lin looked over at the sonar screen and felt a cold shiver go down his back when he saw that the disc wasn’t registering on the display. It was as if it wasn’t there.
“Sir, I don’t like this. Shall we haul the nets back in?” asked Lo, the ship’s executive officer.
Lin hesitated. If he went back home with an empty cargo hold, his creditors would seize his ship and all of his assets to pay for their losses. “What is the craft doing?”
“Nothing, Captain,” reported one of the deckhands. “It’s still in front of us.”
“For now, let’s remain on course and leave our nets in the water,” said Lin, trying to sound confident in front of the frightened men on the bridge.
“As you wish,” said Lo, reaching for a handset to pass the news to the men working the nets.
“Captain, the light has moved closer,” reported a sailor.
Lin looked out into the storm and bit his lip. The man was right; the disc was slowly moving toward the bow of his ship. Could it be warning him to go no further? Lin wondered. Creditors or not, Lin had seen enough. His confidence melted away. He wanted nothing more to do with the strange underwater light. Lin looked over at his XO and said, “Haul in the nets and then set a course for Madagascar.”
“Sir…sir, the disc…it’s disappeared,” said the junior watch officer.
Lin wiped the condensation from the window with his hand and scanned the choppy water ahead. The officer was right; it was gone. But where? Lin walked the bridge from port to starboard trying to spot it. After a minute, he gave up, and resumed his post next to the ship’s wheel, thankful that the mysterious shape was no longer bothering him and his vessel.
At the stern of the ship, the five hundred-meter-long nets were slowly being pulled back in. David Long’s wet cigarette dangled from his mouth as he watched the fish tumble out of the net into the trawler’s first storage bin. Although dressed from head to toe in rubber garments, Long and the ten men under his direction were already soaked to the bone. His breath hung in the cold air. Long hated his job, but since he couldn’t get work elsewhere because of his extensive criminal record, he was grateful for the money he earned.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something large fall out of the net, only to be covered right away by thousands of smaller fish. He thought about calling the bridge to let them know but decided against it. In a couple of minutes, whatever it was would be found by the men working in the ship’s fish processing room. As far as Long was concerned, it was probably just a seal, and the men belowdecks could deal with it. He turned his back and helped pull the nets aside, so they could be stored away for the long journey home.
Back on the bridge, the XO reported to Lin, “Captain, the nets are almost all aboard.”
Lin nodded. By the looks of things, they had brought in three-quarters of their usual catch. Perhaps he was being overly pessimistic. With the price of fish increasing daily, he and his crew might just break even.
A phone rang. The XO reached over and picked it up. Right away, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that,” said the XO. “Calm down, Yong, and repeat your message.”
“What is it?” asked Lin, sensing something was wrong.
“Sir, the call was from the processing room. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but it sounded like men were screaming, and then nothing.”
Lin snapped his fingers. “Get down there immediately and see what is going on.”
The XO nodded and rushed to head belowdecks.
Lin’s guts were churning worse than the storm battering his ship. He took a deep breath to calm himself. The last thing he needed was for his crew to see how scared he was. From experience, Lin knew that fear was like a disease, which could, if not held in check, run rampant through a vessel.
“Captain, it’s back,” called out a sailor.
Lin turned on his heel and walked over so he could look out the windows. His eyes widened when he saw the disc was no longer under the waves but floating in the sky about fifty meters off the starboard side of his ship. The craft’s orange and white lights pulsed on and off like a heartbeat.
“What is it, sir?” asked a frightened crewman.
“I have no idea,” he replied, running a hand over his unshaven chin.
Without warning, every electrical circuit on the ship went dead. Less than a second later, the ship’s diesel engines ceased to operate. The bridge plunged into darkness.
“Switch on the auxiliary power,” ordered the captain.
“I’ve tried, sir,” reported the junio
r watch officer. “Nothing is working.”
“For God’s sake, will someone turn on a flashlight so we can see in here?” said Lin, no longer hiding his growing fear.
“They’re no good, either,” reported a deckhand.
Without power to steer, the ship was doomed. The storm would batter the ship until it took on too much water and began to slip below the waves. Lin clenched his fists and glared at the disc. For reasons he would never know, it had sealed the fate of every man on the ship.
“Why?” screamed Lin. “Why did you do this?”
The disc hovered silently in the leaden sky for a few seconds before speeding out of sight, leaving the Southern Dragon and her crew to face a cold and miserable death.
31
Montana
Grant turned off the highway onto the dirt road leading to Rebeca and Susan’s home. Right away, he felt uncomfortable. A police car was parked outside the house.
“That’s not a good omen,” said Elena.
“No, it’s not,” replied Grant, speeding up until he came to a stop next to the cruiser. They jumped out and ran to the porch. Grant didn’t bother to knock. He yanked open the door and rushed inside.
Rebeca was inside, sitting at the dinner table with a police officer; she waved at them to join her.
“What’s wrong?” asked Grant.
Rebeca wiped the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s Susan—”
“She’s missing,” said Grant, finishing the sentence.
The police officer turned in his chair and looked up at Grant. “Sir, would you mind telling me who you are, and how you know that Susan Dove is missing?”
Grant dug out his military ID. “My name is Captain David Grant, and my partner is Doctor Elena Leon. As for Susan, I didn’t know she was gone until I stepped inside the house.”
“Officer, these people are my friends,” explained Rebeca.
Elena sat next to Rebeca and took a hand in hers. “What happened?”
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