“Some would say the most important part,” Crouch said. “Which is why it has to be the lost symbol. To my mind, it is also the ancient doomsday weapon.”
Drake stared. “What? Why?”
“You said it yourself. It is the most important part of the pyramid. It has a power all its own. And it is the focal point of the curse. The lost symbol you must follow.” He shrugged.
“But how could a capstone be so powerful?” Dahl asked.
“Well, maybe it isn’t. I’m still looking into it. But all the clues point that way. And, Torsten, it was incredibly large.”
Drake didn’t want to commit before the team conferred, but knew time was short. “All we have to do is search this first tomb for a capstone symbol? And we’re hoping we find bugger all, right-?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Crouch said.
“The heathen way,” Dahl groaned. “The moment I think I’ve managed to curb his ignorance we’re back to square bloody one.”
Drake gave him the finger.
“And we’re back to the multi-million-dollar question,” Mai said. “How can we all travel to Egypt and attend a star-studded gala whilst searching for a lost symbol?”
Drake frowned. “Yeah, it’s not exactly an everyday question.”
“So you’re coming?” Crouch whistled his relief. “Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Coming?” Alicia said. “Sounds like the party of the year to me, Michael. Just imagine all the booze we can drink in the knowledge that we’re helping to keep the world safe.”
Kenzie sidled close to Crouch. “Do you have access to a sword?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Kimberley Crowe, the United States Secretary of Defense, found herself once again seated in the dark, private, walnut-paneled room with two men she had begun to despise. General George Gleeson sat opposite and the CIA high-flyer, Mark Digby, sat to one side, right foot crossed over the left and wagging comfortably.
“Tempest,” Digby said, smiling “That is the code name.”
“You’re official now?” Crowe asked quickly.
Digby winced. “I didn’t say that. And don’t you mean we’re official?”
“So, what are we?” She so badly wanted to say you not we, but resisted. “And what is Tempest?”
The general diverted the questioning. “We are evaluating the recent efforts of SEAL Team 7. I was always doubtful about sending military men after military men. We need something different. If Tempest is to succeed we need an edge.”
“How many . . .” Crowe hesitated, “know about Tempest?”
“Not many.” Digby was deliberately vague. “A presidential aide is one of our better placed colleagues. But there are many working for us quite blindly. It’s always the best way.” He kicked his feet some more. “Better deniability for us.”
Crowe didn’t like where this was going. The two men seated in front of her had never been so open before about their secret operation and the circumstances behind SPEAR’s disavowing. She wondered what the true nature of Tempest really was.
“In the end,” she said. “SEAL Team 7 were unsanctioned. That should never have happened. I’m not entirely sure I’m on board with this, gentlemen,”
Digby sat forward sharply. “Then get on board, Madam Secretary. You’re with us now, all the way. Just as culpable. Just as involved. Do not start acting the fucking angel now.”
Crowe winced inside, but gave Digby a hard look. So there it was. Low down, dirty and mean. She was a part of this, as liable as they. Throughout her life she’d faced immeasurable odds; she’d overcome most and failed at a few. Now though, it appeared she would have to concede to get ahead.
She looked away from Digby, allowing him to win the staring battle. “And what of this seven seals problem? How do you see it benefiting Tempest?”
Gleeson fiddled with the buttons on his jacket as if impatient. “The tomb unveiling must be monitored. It may reveal some ancient weapon and we all know, after what happened a few years ago in Iceland and then the discovery of the tombs of the gods, that it may now directly link to Tempest and our ultimate goal. Everything we have worked for.”
“And it may lead to nothing,” Digby admitted. “But we have to be sure.”
Crowe acquiesced. “Of course.”
“Covert ops working indirectly for Tempest will be on hand,” Gleeson told them. “If anything shows up they’ll find it.”
“And SPEAR?” Crowe steered the conversation to a place where she felt more comfortable. “What plans are you making for them?”
“What can we do?” Gleeson blustered, suddenly looking like he might throw a fit. “We helped create them. We helped them. Now . . . how do we stop them?”
“I think that’s taking it a little too far, General,” Crowe said. “They’ve saved this country countless times.”
“Listen—” Digby waved that away with a flap of his hand “—right here, right now; this is what counts. History is for poets and has-beens. SPEAR are connected. They have a mix of first-rate skills. What we need is something totally different. Something they won’t be expecting.”
Crowe made sure she looked impressed. “Interesting. And that is?”
“A new section of Tempest,” Digby said. “A very special team.”
Crowe looked between the men. “Like SPEAR?” She tried to hide all traces of irony from her tone.
“To succeed Tempest will need to . . .” Digby picked his words carefully, “skirt the line, not stick to it. Walk through the shadows. It has to dwell between the dark and the light.”
“Why?” Crowe had to challenge that.
“Because our long-term plan, to gather together all the weapons of the gods, will attract attention from every single part of the world—the good, the bad and, particularly, the ugly. We should be able to deal with that attention without . . . revealing ourselves. Our methods have to remain covert.”
“The Central Intelligence Agency should be all over that,” Crowe said.
“Well, that depends where we all want to end up.”
Crowe was fully aware of everything Digby might mean, including a hole in the ground. She was aware that the cards were now well and truly laid out on the table. “I’m assuming you have already engaged this different solution?”
“Oh yeah.” Gleeson showed positive animation for the first time. Even a little glee. “An old-fashioned, balls-out blood-warrior called Luther. Old style, no rules, no book. Luther has never used a computer in his life, nor anything bigger than a cellphone. You set this guy on someone’s track and he’s a fucking bloodhound. He’ll track SPEAR down using just his nose and bury ’em all where they lie. Never to be found.”
Crowe suppressed shock. She’d heard of Luther. Just the legend—but that was more than enough to give her nightmares.
“Luther and his team?” she breathed. “They’re Judgment Day, for God’s sake. You want real noise and destruction? You want catastrophe? Are you kidding me?”
“As far as I can tell,” Gleeson gave her a heartfelt sigh, “they’re the only kind of team that stands a chance of taking SPEAR out.”
“Plus,” Digby said, “every local authority around the world, when they hear Luther’s involved, will get the hell out of the way.”
Crowe breathed a tense breath. Not everyone, but most. Digby had it about right. Her own knowledge of Luther and his band of old-world misfits was purposely vague, but what she’d been able to pick up during her short term in office was enough to make her heart pound.
“You know,” she said, “something doesn’t smell exactly right. Luther is potentially worse for American relations than SPEAR. Yet, we’ve condemned them for the events in Peru that nobody except us knows much about.” She held up her hands, seeing protest coming. “Now I know . . . I know it’s all about Tempest. I’m not sure what your endgame involves for these weapons of the gods, but I do understand.”
“America, leader of the free world, forever,�
� Gleeson said with satisfaction.
“Based on what knowledge exactly?” Crowe asked, realizing they were getting side tracked but unable to stop fishing for a little more information.
“The Swords of Babylon,” Gleeson said. “Remember that? Let me refresh your memory. All the power unleased from the tombs on that day came from the weapons of the gods. It destroyed the tombs. But we still have a list of weapons. Weapons that are still out there. The Sword of Mars, for instance. This Doomsday Machine in Egypt. This capstone, we believe, is endowed with the same power as the weapons of the gods. Perhaps it even was one. . .” he shrugged. “It makes sense, with all these other weapons appearing.”
“Disappearing. . .” Crowe said drily.
“Well, yes, but we must find them. Find them all and use them for our own purposes. The Sword of Mars has now gone, but the great capstone is close at hand. Several others that were lost, stolen or traded. What can they do?” He gave her a grin of excitement. “I mean—what can they do?”
Crowe was momentarily shocked at his excitement. She also knew all about the old Tesla devices and how the brilliant engineer and inventor had created immense weapons out of seemingly nothing. Remembering more of the other mysteries from the ancient world she began to wonder just how many might be out there.
“We’ve proven that the old gods were once real,” Digby said.
“No,” Crowe said. “SPEAR did that.”
“As you wish. But, if these gods were once men that inspired courage and leadership and did great deeds, elevating them to deities in the eyes of their fellow men, then maybe their weapons were powerful too. That’s Tempest, Madam Secretary, and Luther is its cutting edge.”
Crowe managed a nod. “You mean bludgeon, I assume?”
Digby smiled. “So long as he crushes whomever we tell him to crush, that’s fine with me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Of course, FrameHub were gods, they all knew that. Not a single person but a collective, they ruled their kingdom with an iron rod, and their kingdom was the World Wide Web.
FrameHub looked out on the world through liquid crystal displays, monitoring in real time, taking anything and everything that they wanted to. This was the only world they cared about, not the ordinary day that existed above their carefully concealed bunker, beyond the hard concrete walls and outside the network of security systems, barriers, firewalls and next-generation tech that protected their environment.
FrameHub Fellow, codename: Piranha, spoke a word to grab the attention of the collective. It was a “hot word”, something to make the group take notice, as normally they would never speak, lost in their data-filled world as they were.
He waited until they all paused in their work. “Today, is the day.” He adjusted his glasses, feeling foolish, unused to social interaction and hating it. “I have your emails and messages.” They all preferred to email, even those sitting beside each other. “Today, two assignments begin at once. The war games and the Egyptian tombs. I mean . . .” He couldn’t stop a smile. “Isn’t that cool?”
Seven similar-looking geeks grinned back at him: young, enthusiastic, utter geniuses in the computer field and consummate hackers.
Piranha went on: “First the Egyptian tombs game. The hired mercenaries are in place . . .” Several grins and chuckles at that. “We are hoping for success at the first seal, the first level, and hope to move on to the second. If government chatter is anything to go by this could be huge. So many people heading to the unveiling, so many dangerous people, it’ll be fun. Remember when you played Call of Duty for the first time? This is that, in real life.”
More chortling.
Piranha went sober for a moment. “Hiring these men as we do, online, is at best—chancy, but Vladimir, our man in charge, does appear up to the job. And he likes the money. But, of course, it’s not our main mission.”
“But it is a cool one,” Codename: Manta spoke up. “Knowledge is power. And our ultimate goal is power. This is perfect.”
“Agreed, Manta. We will follow the clues and own the machine. As you say, knowledge is power.”
“We must stay hidden,” Barracuda fretted. “Off the radar. At the moment, nobody knows we even exist.”
“Of course, it’s better that way. Don’t worry, we will. And now for our real life war game.”
They were interested, these vicious, distant gods. In one stroke they could cripple a town or a city, shut down a bank, lose a man’s money, change a woman’s entire life; but here they sat—eager and hopeful about the outcome of a new dream.
“Everything’s in place, but we all play our part. Moray? You have Turkey. Orca and Manta, you have Greece. I’ll take Egypt along with Barracuda and the rest are backup. All right?” He was desperate to get out of the mini-spotlight.
“There is one other,” Moray said slowly. “The approach should be made quickly.”
Piranha hesitated, caught off guard. “Karin Blake? I know we agreed to approach and offer her to be a part of this, but I don’t agree that now is the right time.”
“I do,” Moray said.
The collective spoke up, as they rarely did, and came down on the side of Moray. The approach to Karin Blake would have to be made.
“Encrypt it well,” Piranha said. “We want her because she’s our equal. It will do no good to let her know who and where we are.”
Moray glared as if insulted. Piranha realized what he’d said and shrugged in apology. He rushed ahead to get it finished and hopefully avoid any more physical confrontations.
“Let’s go. Turkey, Greece and Egypt will be ransomed for our pleasure, our war game. Just for fun, because we are FrameHub and we do what the hell we want. Three countries threatened, the first to come up with the ransom wins. Are we ready?”
“Can’t wait to see what happens to the ones that don’t.” Barracuda rubbed his hands together happily.
Piranha stared. “They will be destroyed,” he said carefully. “We all agreed to that, Barracuda.”
“I know, I know.” Barracuda waved it away. “I was speaking metaphorically. Like . . . I can’t wait to watch!”
“Me too,” Mantra echoed.
As did the entire collective.
“The two losers will suffer total network destruction. Countrywide commotion. Uproar. Riots. Death. It will be war games, for real. Roads blocked, hospitals disrupted. Governments chasing ghosts. And when it’s all done, we will be millionaires several times over.”
He watched for reactions. There were none. This collective didn’t need money. It had everything it needed right here in this room. Because the outside world didn’t exist for them, the actions they perpetrated in it meant very little. Piranha knew this made them the most dangerous collective alive.
“FrameHub is go.” He grinned. “Make ready the ransom demands. Don’t forget, we expect them to ignore the initial communication and wait for something more . . . persuasive. Moray, you ready that. We’ll need it prepared for short notice.”
“And the Egyptian game?” Moray asked. “Are we fully prepped there?”
“Oh, yes. Along with the American government, the British, Mossad and China, it seems. Everyone wants a sniff inside Amenhotep’s tomb. I imagine there will be others too—unknowns. Our mercenaries will surely earn their money.”
“Joking aside,” Barracuda said. “We should ready the secondary option. With so many players involved in the game tonight it will be messy even for us.”
Piranha nodded. “Agreed. So . . . let the games begin.”
CHAPTER SIX
Whilst Crouch arranged for a discreet flight out of Romania, the SPEAR team continued to debate the rights and wrongs of all that had happened and what they were about to do.
“This Crouch can facilitate us all?” Kenzie asked, watching the newcomer work.
Drake nodded firmly. “You haven’t met him before, but I worked alongside him for years. Alicia too. He’s the best connected person I’ve ever known. Someone once said he
had more connections than British Telecom. I would say he’s one of a handful of people in the world right now that could pull this off.”
“And why didn’t we call him first?”
Drake made a face. “It was on my mind, but we’d hardly settled on a plan yet.”
“What of Lauren?” Smyth fretted gruffly. “You all happy with her leaving?”
Dahl squared up to the soldier. “We’ve been through this and more than once. If you feel so badly, Smyth—” he nodded toward the door “—go after her.”
The other bits of conversation stuttered as people sensed conflict. Smyth’s face was a clash of emotion; the soldier being pulled every which way. In the end though, surely nothing needed saying. Lauren had made her decision without duress; it was technically correct that she was innocent; also correct that their best chance lay with her being inside the capitol. Smyth didn’t like it, but she had forced him to live with it.
“Crap.” He walked over to the coffee machine and began to pour.
Drake watched Crouch make several calls. He trusted the man implicitly, despite Alicia’s odd misgiving, or maybe because of them. It was an odd day when Alicia didn’t show signs of mistrust. He saw now that she was happy to be moving on and wondered if, at her core, she really wanted to settle down with a soldier like him. The rest of the team were almost enjoying the anonymous break, he was sure, at least for a little while.
Maybe not Dahl. The Swede had been facing the toughest decision for a while. Johanna, his wife, was wavering between divorce and reconciliation, keeping Dahl guessing. Kenzie had taken a shine to the man, offering much more. Drake wouldn’t get involved unless he was asked. It was the way with them.
As for the others—Hayden was trying again with Mano Kinimaka, aware that her words and actions of the past few months had been unnecessarily hurtful. The Hawaiian, always easy-going and loyal, took it in the best possible way whilst looking more than a little confused. Kenzie was being Kenzie—in the short time he’d known her, Drake had never fully trusted her, and whilst he saw her good heart and how useful she could be to the team he still couldn’t bring himself to fully trust her. The deck on Kenzie had yet to be fully played.
The Seven Seals of Egypt (Matt Drake Book 17) Page 3