The Stone of Secrets

by K. L. Nelson

  One Week Later

  Galem was looking beautiful in the yellow and white plaid that she wore. Her hair shone beautifully and her eyes were sparkling with happiness. She came to Vuradech and embraced him.

  “I love you husband,” she said to him.

  Though he had never told her the words he knew she longed to hear, she knew that he loved her. In Pictland, it wasn’t right for a man to say those things to his woman. Men said men things. But how he longed to say those words! He liked to imagine that when he said the words, her eyes would light up like a midnight fire and her sweet lips would smile for him only. But he could never say the words.

  “Our son will be named today,” she said.

  She was by now used to his stubbornness against returning her feelings.

  “Yes wife,” he swept his hand down the length of her back. “We will name the fruit of our loins this very day.”

  For him, it was a day in which he felt so much joy. During the week, Galem had gradually regained her strength just like Kavera said she would. His sister was long married with a brood of her own but Vuradech imagined that her children never gave her so much trouble like his son had his wife. If they did, she surely wouldn’t have five. No, he corrected, there were seven. He always forgot to count the twins.

  She had birthed the twins last fall and there seemed to be no problem. Yes, she surely wouldn’t have so many if there were problems involved.

  He was yet to tell Galem that he didn’t want her to have more babies. He knew that she wanted more children but he feared what would happen to her if he got her in the way again. He began assembling a list of excuses why he would not come to her in bed when it was time. He knew that in not many days she would expect to meet him. He sighed when he realized none of his excuses were any good. He had no idea what he would say.

  But he would think of that another time. Now it was a great day. Vuradech took Galem’s hand and walked her to the Great Hall, where his son would be named. The gold and red color of their tribe decorated the walls of the rectangular structure. Made of sturdy timbers, the Great Hall stood atop a small rise in the center of the village. Hadrian had done impressive craftsmanship on the building. Truly every chisel mark was his work. And today the hall was full. The entire village was present for the feast. All stood to hail their chief as he entered.

  Vuradech shook his head in wonder. At times like this he still found it hard to believe that he, Vuradech, son of Friar, brother to Bardoch, was the head of the tribe. And he wouldn’t have been if his father and brother hadn’t died in battle. His father was the leader of this proud clan and his brother was set to take over from him when he died. Vuradech had been left to his herbs and he had been content with that. Now the common healer was the leader. He still had little idea how he was going to protect them from invasion. At least now, the broch was ready and the men were training every day.

  But not this day. Today, it was his son’s naming feast and every warrior was given reprieve. They were the ones presently making so much noise and singing ballads. The ale had already begun to flow.

  He and Galem took their seats and the feast began. There was more than enough ale for all and every one made merry. As the feast progressed, Galem arose to sing a beautiful song to their son. Her voice rang out beautifully and everybody was enchanted. She sang of their lands and their history; she sang of their pride and honor; she sang of their beauty and future. She reminded Vuradech that he had a duty to this people, his people. She sang into his son’s ears that he would grow to love his people like his parents did.

  Vuradech was proud of his Galem. When she came back to sit beside him, he drew her to him and kissed her soundly on the mouth. The inebriated assembly erupted in cheers at the kiss, and Galem turned a dark shade of red. He winked at her as she took her seat.

  They gazed at each other as if they were in another place, far from the boisterous gathering. ‘Soon,’ his eyes promised. ‘Soon,’ hers said.

  They named their son Harbald. It means, ‘the giver of freedom.’

  Chapter Ten

  Tintbay Garden

  10:14 p.m.

  “Rogue One to Red Leader. Come in, Red Leader.”

  The eye rolls could almost be heard over the comlink. Mert had just settled into position at the window in Emmett’s house with Damien, and he was feeling very FBI.

  “You can just use our names, dork,” Lindsay said, adjusting her night vision apparatus. “I know it’s hard, but try and tone down the inner geek.”

  “Fine,” Mert relented. “But you’re throwing away a fine opportunity to use call signs. They would make this way cooler.”

  “It would take more than a call sign to make you cooler,” Sebastian offered.

  “Guys I’m sure Emmett would like us to keep the chatter to a minimum,” Skye chided.

  Emmett sat in his car and chuckled at the banter going back and forth in his earpiece. When a pause presented itself, he decided to make his own contribution.

  “Rogue One this is Red Leader. Go ahead.”

  “Yes!” Mert responded. “I knew call signs were appropriate.”

  “That’s affirmative, Rogue One,” Emmett said. “We never have a stakeout without ‘em. But we’re going to have to change yours per FBI protocol.”

  “Oh?” Mert asked cautiously. “And pray tell; what is my new call sign going to be?”

  “You’re going to be Prowler. Lindsay, you’ll be Hacker. Seb and Andrew are the Break-in Twins, and Damien will be Sneaker. Much more fitting, don’t you think?” It was obvious to everyone he was referring to the break in the previous night.

  There was a short and very awkward pause.

  “You’re never going to let that go are you?” Mert finally asked.

  “Let it go?” Emmett replied. “It was one of the best moments of my life. I shall treasure the look on your faces for as long as I live.”

  “Well that’s just great,” Mert said. “But I have a call sign for you. How ‘bout we call you Night Terror.”

  “I would be deeply honored, Prowler.”

  The conversation came to a sudden end when another voice was heard:

  “Contact.”

  “I have him,” Emmett replied softly, “making his way along the wall to the south. Let’s see what he does.”

  “Stand by till he makes his move. Wait till he enters the structure, then we go on my mark.” This second voice was unfamiliar to the students, but Skye knew it was Dax.

  Tensions were high as the man moved stealthily in the dark towards the garage where the Marnoch Stone was kept. He seemed to be unaware his every move was being watched. The padlock on the door presented his first obstacle, which he easily overcame with bolt cutters. He slowly slid the door open just enough to gain access, and disappeared into the building. Inside he found a large blanket covering objects on the table in the center of the room. He threw off the covering and found not an ancient artifact, but a dozen common river rocks laid neatly in a rectangle.

  It didn’t matter though, because at that moment the lights in the room went on and four FBI agents had their weapons drawn and pointed right at his head.

  “I wouldn’t,” Dax said as the man reached a hand into his pocket.

  Slowly he pulled it out. Emmett saw he had something in his palm. It wasn’t a gun, it was something very small.

  “Drop it!” Emmett commanded.

  The man put it in his mouth. The agents rushed forward and tackled him to the floor. Emmett forced the man’s mouth open, but he’d already swallowed it. Suddenly he was convulsing, writhing violently. It lasted only a few seconds before his body succumbed to the pill, a suicide drug. He was dead.

  Standing up, Emmett hit the table in anger.

  “All teams report,” Dax said.

  “Alpha team clear.”

  “Bravo team clear.”

  “Charlie clear.”

  “Delta clear. There’s nothing.”

  There was no activity in the area
. Dax had posted sniper teams around the entire compound to observe the operation and provide cover if necessary. But it appeared the man had been alone. Rashad searched his body and found nothing. No wallet, no weapon, no identification.

  “What was this guy doing?” Rashad said. “He has no gun, no camera, and no phone. There’s no way he’s walking out of here with three hundred pounds of stone artifact.”

  “He’s a decoy,” Angela said.

  Dax was already on the phone while they were speaking. “How’s the package?” he asked, referring to the real Marnoch Stone. Dax and Emmett had moved it to a secure location earlier that day as a precaution. “Ok, keep your eyes peeled,” Dax replied into the phone. “Something’s going on here.”

  Emmett’s mind was working fast. “They’re not after the stone,” he said. Putting his hand to his ear, he called to the archaeologists. “Skye, you guys okay?”

  There was no answer.

  “Mert? Seb? Lindsay?”

  “We’re fine,” Mert replied. “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s the professor?” Emmett asked, bursting out of the garage with his weapon drawn. As soon as he was clear of the building, a bullet struck his vest and knocked him to the ground. The Pact had their own sniper watching their every move.

  “Delta team,” Dax called out from inside the garage as he watched his agent writhing on the ground outside. “Sniper fire. You got ‘em?”

  “Stand by,” came the reply. The FBI sniper posted on the hill a few hundred yards away had spotted the muzzle flash of the enemy sniper’s shot in the trees not far from him. But it was not enough to guarantee a kill. “Dax, I could use one more shot to pin him down…” He set up on the enemy’s position and signaled his readiness to Dax.

  Dax sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to having the same twelve inch bruise Emmett was going to have for the next few weeks. He looked around the room for another decoy idea.

  “Rashad, give me your vest,” he said. In seconds, they had Rashad’s body armor on the man who had just killed himself. Dax hefted the dead man onto his back and made his way out the door. Suddenly, he too was on the ground not far from Emmett. But he was smiling. The bullet had struck the dead body and spared him a painful injury.

  “Get him?” Dax asked into his earpiece.

  “That’s affirmative,” the sniper replied. “Target is eliminated. You’re all clear.”

  Still writhing in pain, Emmett rose to his feet and made his way to the main house with the other agents. Weapons drawn, they entered the house through the front door and covered each other as they started clearing rooms. Emmett let the other three clear the rest of the house as he made his way to where Skye and Lindsay were posted.

  Skye was gone, and Lindsay was lying on the floor unconscious. Emmett checked her for a pulse. She was alive, but she would have a nasty headache when she woke up.

  “All teams,” he said into his comlink. “Hostage situation. Do you have a vehicle leaving the compound?”

  “Bravo team affirmative. South road heading west.”

  Emmett was already running for his SUV when he asked, “Can you stop him?”

  “Roger that,” came the reply. “Hostage situation. Stopping the vehicle.”

  Agent Broc’ Southerland peered through the scope of his .50 caliber Barrett as he lay on the ground. He and his spotter, agent Sean Pierce had been sitting in the trees for several hours. But suddenly years of intense military training now came into play as Pierce looked through his range finder and began calling out data for Southerland to make the shot.

  “Range eight niner zero... elevation two seven… wind southeast one four…”

  The car would crest a hill in another few seconds, and then it would be gone. But Southerland patiently adjusted for all variables. He had learned that when a sniper leaves things to chance, the wrong people die. When everything was set, he reached up with his thumb and clicked off the safety. Then while slowly letting his breath escape, he gently squeezed the trigger.

  Emmett raced out of the compound and onto the A97 heading south. He ignored the cutting pain in his ribs as he put the accelerator to the floor. All he could think about was Skye.

  “Target stopped,” he heard in his ear. “One shot, one tire.” Agent Southerland was proud of this one.

  That’s what Emmett wanted to hear. “Roger that,” he replied. “Do you have a visual on the subjects?”

  “That’s affirmative. Subjects are on foot, heading east into the trees. Happy hunting.” Southerland and Pierce would take too long covering the distance to join the chase. All they could do was reposition and see if anything came out of the trees. They were of more use to the operation where they were.

  When Emmett came to the disabled car, he didn’t stop. Turning his SUV off the road, he blew right through the fence and barreled into the field towards the trees at full speed. Dax and the others were not far behind him in two more vehicles. Mud and foliage flew up as the SUV’s tires fought for traction under full power. The agents split up and took opposite paths around the thicket of trees and met on the other side. They had the man contained.

  Emmett got out of his vehicle. “He’s going to kill her,” he said, running to the others.

  “Alright. Bravo team, are you in position?” Dax said holding his earpiece.

  “Affirmative Dax,” Southerland replied looking through his scope at the tree line. “You hook him; I’ll clean him and fry him.”

  The agents were tense as they split up and approached the trees. The situation was critical. Skye’s life would be in danger if everything didn’t go according to plan. She may already be dead, but Emmett and Dax didn’t think so. They were gambling that Skye was more valuable to The Pact alive.

  Just then, the beating rotors of a helicopter could be heard in the distance. It was a good sign. It confirmed that this was an extraction operation, not a suicide one. The last thing they wanted was to leave the kidnapper with no way out.

  “Rashad, Angela,” Dax ordered. “You two get those vehicles up on top of the rise. Turn all the lights on. Let’s show the pilot we have the high ground.” The two agents quickly jumped back into the SUVs and sped up the hill, lights flashing.

  Emmett and Dax donned their night vision headgear and stepped into the trees. Silently they made their way from tree to tree, working their way down the hill with guns drawn. Near the bottom of the hill, not far from the edge of the thicket, they saw Skye and her kidnapper taking cover behind a tree. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder.

  Taking cover, Emmett addressed the assailant. “Steinbridge is gonna want their professor back,” he shouted. He jerked his head back behind the tree as a bullet struck it and sent splinters flying. “Let’s talk ransom,” he continued. “There’s a lot of money in those Ivy League schools.”

  It was a distraction. Emmett knew ransom was not the objective. They would torture Skye until they found out all she knew, and then they would kill her. If Skye got on that helicopter, she was dead.

  “It’s not worth it,” Emmett continued. “Look we can work something out. Don’t throw your life away like this.” Another shot ricocheted past.

  “Bravo team, stand by,” Dax whispered into his comlink. “Do not disable the aircraft unless advised to do so.”

  “Copy, let the bird fly,” Southerland replied from the hillside a thousand yards away. If the helicopter was disabled, the kidnapper’s options would close and Skye would be killed.

  “I’d like to get a message to the professor if I may,” Emmett shouted. Another bullet close to his head was the answer.

  Emmett whispered into his comlink, “This is gonna get ugly. Angela, Rashad, where are you?”

  “In position,” Angela replied. “Fifteen meters either side of you.”

  “Professor McAlister,” Emmett shouted as the helicopter grew near. “I understand you’re planning a trip. You should reconsider your travel arrangements. It’s always safer to travel on the ground.”
>
  The helicopter landed in the field not far from the trees, and suddenly everyone was in motion. Skye struggled against her kidnapper as he held her between himself and the agents. A human shield is always an effective cover. He shot into the trees as an added measure to keep the agents where they were.

  Suddenly, Skye brought her arms up and broke the hold the man had on her. Then she dropped straight to the ground, taking Emmett’s hint. A thousand feet away, Southerland was ready at that moment. He put his bullet right through the man’s head, scattering tissue into the grass fifty feet downrange. His body would have to be identified from the neck down.

  The pilot of the helicopter saw his comrade fall and agents start showing themselves out of the darkness. He decided this was not a situation he wanted to handle. He immediately pulled the collective control and lifted the ship off the ground.

  Dax saw the pilot was the only soul on board. It was a mistake on the part of The Pact, and the FBI was there to exploit it. “Bravo team,” Dax called.

  “Go ahead team leader,” Southerland replied.

  Dax looked at the pilot as the aircraft ascended. Their eyes met, and Dax realized this was one of those moments he lived for. It was one of those times when the good guys win.

  Still looking at the pilot, he put his hand to his ear and said, “Take out the ship.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tintbay Garden

  The next day

  5:33 a.m.

  Emmett felt like a thief as he deactivated the alarm and entered the house. Skye and the team were being debriefed by the FBI at the Aberdeen field office, so he had some time to snoop around. He told himself it wasn’t about his feelings for the woman. Things can get ugly when work becomes personal. It was about the investigation. He said it again in his mind. He wished he believed his own story.

  He was supposed to be in bed healing from the sniper shot, and the throbbing pain in his ribs made him wish he was. But something didn’t add up. The Pact knew far too much about them. The sting operation told him that. One of the things he liked about working for the FBI was how tidy things were. The previous night wasn’t tidy at all.