As for Belmonte, it seemed Gates had been so impressed with his clandestine burglary at Kew Gardens that he had instantly decided Belmonte’s special skillset might prove of further value before this increasingly desperate operation ended.
Belmonte, ostracized for years, had jumped at the chance to return to the government fold, albeit under the directions of a different country. He had even offered the additional help of his protégé, a woman known only as Emma.
As the passengers began filtering through, Hayden again put her life on hold. At this rate, the friggin’ pause button would be worn out before she got the analysis down.
Maybe she analyzed her problems too closely.
In any case, she walked forward with a genuine smile when the Swede, Dahl, strode toward them.
“Torsten.” She stretched out a hand, then felt herself grabbed and given a friendly hug.
“Hayden!” Dahl cried warmly. “It is so good to see you again. The wrong circumstances, I’m sure, but good nevertheless.”
Hayden let herself be held just for a moment, basking in the security offered by the big, kind Swedish Special Forces officer. The sanctuary she sought was the sanctuary her father had once given her. That ultimate feeling of safety and the deep knowledge that if she ever started to hurt, she could always find a refuge.
And now, she knew why she couldn’t stay with Ben Blake. No matter how hard he tried, he could never offer her that.
Hayden pulled away, smiling. “To hell with the bullshit circumstance. It’s great to see you.” She waved Kinimaka aside. “Over here is Jonathan Gates, the US Secretary of Defense.”
Whilst the pair shook hands, Hayden assessed their surroundings. She had men positioned at every egress point and scattered around the room. Despite Cayman’s assurances and his insistence that even the Secretary of Defense and his plethora of secret service agents was welcome to accompany them to this meeting, her shit-radar remained on full alert.
“We should get going soon,” she said. “The meeting’s in forty-five minutes. We don’t wanna give this shitheel any excuse.”
“Agreed.” Dahl nodded. “I have met said shitheel, and must say I can’t disagree with your statement.”
Dahl’s rhetoric was already jarring her. She suddenly understood why Drake teased him endlessly. It wasn’t through spite; it was simply a way of coping. And, Dahl, in his way, understood that.
“And meet Mano Kinimaka, my partner.” Hayden stepped aside as the big Hawaiian now came forward, offering a gruff hello.
And then her heart leapt as a familiar face threaded through the crowd. Daniel Belmonte, the master thief, her ex-lover, the Englishman every woman wanted to hate, but always ended up wanting more than they bargained for.
Alongside him walked a thin blond girl, hair curled into tight ringlets. Big blue eyes rounded off the archetypal likeness of the pretty blonde, but Hayden knew that if this woman accompanied Belmonte to a live job, being pretty would be the least of her attributes.
“Daniel,” she said with forced neutrality. “Thanks for coming.”
“How could I resist?” His eyes sparkled, then went blank. “But no, seriously. I couldn’t resist. I was ordered to come here.”
“Huh?” Hayden frowned. “But who—”
“Gates. Jonathan Gates.” The Secretary of Defense came alongside her. “Pleased you accepted my invitation.”
“Well when I say ordered,” Belmonte turned his voice down to a whisper. “You know I’ve always used the term loosely, don’t you?”
Hayden took a deep breath. This was going to be a long day.
Gates turned and led them outside to a waiting limo. The hot L.A. air struck them as soon as they were out of the building and a dusty wind swept along the road. Hayden took a second to introduce herself to Belmonte’s friend, not wanting to exclude anyone, and learned her name was Emma, and that she was Belmonte’s charge and responsibility, not to mention his apprentice.
In what? Hayden wondered. Was Belmonte blasé enough to want a thief’s life for such a young girl?
When the limo moved away from the curb, Dahl began talking.
“Excuse my manners. I know introductions haven’t yet been completed, but I have information that I must impart.” He nodded at the secretary. “It has been a long flight. I was hoping Drake would be here, but I guess he felt he should be in London, yes?”
Hayden nodded. “Right. He’s following up the Wells lead.”
“Hmm. Well, good luck to him. But now. . .as regards the eight pieces of Odin. Do you remember them?”
“Eight?” Belmonte immediately interrupted. “I think you mean nine, don’t you?”
“No. I mean eight. The ninth piece, the Shield, was lost in Eyjafjallajokull.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Dahl blinked. “I once said that to Drake. It wasn’t funny then, either. Now please shut the fuck up and let me talk.” Dahl moved in his seat, the leather creaking loudly. “The remaining eight pieces of Odin were transported to the Swedish Museum of National Antiquities in Stockholm to be assessed and carefully guarded before a decision could be made as to their final destination. All standard procedure.”
“I’m aware of all that.” Gates flicked his gaze between the Swede and the road ahead. The road that led to Russell Cayman. Hayden wondered what percentage of Gates’ brilliant mind was focused on the job. He’d barely begun to grieve for his murdered wife.
“Good.” Dahl looked around the limo. “Then is anyone aware that all eight pieces were removed by the American government a few days ago and transported to a military base in Stuttgart, Germany?”
Gates snapped his head around. Hayden felt her mouth go dry. “What?”
“How on earth could the American government authorize the removal of Norse artifacts from Scandinavian soil?” Belmonte wondered.
“Because someone. . .” Dahl’s voice dropped even though he was among friends in the limo. “A very powerful someone in the Swedish government allowed them to. The same someone—I’m guessing—who gave them control of my exploration.”
Gates shook his head. “I’ve heard nothing of this. If the order came from Cayman, then I don’t think it came directly from the US government.”
The big Swede stared. “You’ve lost me there, sir. Isn’t Cayman DIA? A man from the special weapons division? Does he not work for a US agency?”
Gates pursed his lips. “We’re about to find out, Dahl. My philosophy for getting by on the Hill has always been a simple one—don’t trust the bastards.”
Dahl was momentarily silent. “The good news is that I managed to place one of my trusted men onto the exploration team before I left Iceland. He is nothing more than an ancient language specialist, but. . .” Dahl paused, purposely waiting so he could gauge who was the brightest in the car.
The limo slipped off the 405 onto the I10 and headed toward Santa Monica. Gates and Hayden were the first to speak up. “The whorls? They’re the key?” Hayden said. “So the key to everything is deciphering the language that was written by the ancients? By the gods?”
“Isn’t it always?” Dahl said with a smile.
Gates frowned. “So you’re staking everything on a guess – that the gods recorded their intentions—from the map that shows the location of tomb three to the method of starting and stopping the doomsday device? Forgive me, Dahl, but that’s one big-ass wager.”
Hayden felt a pang in her heart when she immediately hit on what Kennedy Moore would have said. “Pussies don’t last long in Vegas, baby.”
Even Kinimaka cringed. Hayden quickly addressed her boss. “What I mean is—the wager’s informed enough to warrant the pay-off, sir.” She turned to Dahl with an earnest appeal in her eyes. “Isn’t it?”
“Exactly.” Dahl managed to remain deadpan. “Well said.”
“Your man.” Gates was clearly thinking hard. “He could translate all this stuff and give us the heads up before Cayman’s guys?”
“He is capable of th
at, sir.”
“Excellent.” Gates nodded. “Then we may have an ace in the hole.”
“We may have more than one.” Dahl smiled. “I bring more than one gift. I am Swedish, after all. This”—he pulled out a cell phone and clicked a few buttons—“is a photograph of the map I found in the tomb of the gods.” He glanced at Hayden. “Is Ben still helping you?”
“Sure.”
“Give me his mobile number, Hayden. He deserves a chance to decipher this too.”
*****
Ben Blake smiled to himself as his sister, Karin, fended of the advances of the second geek of the day. Before she had left for her meeting, Hayden made sure that the pair were not only safe, but also in a position to help out at a moment’s notice. Thus, she had ensconced them in a little room crammed with other uber-geeks in one of the Los Angeles CIA buildings. At first, Ben had rebelled, citing that he had stayed behind to help Hayden, not to be hidden inside the citadel of geekdom. Drake would never have left him marooned amidst so much angst and acne. But Karin had talked him into it, exerting her hard-hitting sisterly love, and now she was bearing the brunt of ninety percent of the churning hormones in the room.
Payback.
“Have they never seen a girl before?” Karin leaned over and whispered in his ear.
“Not one they could physically talk to.” Ben grinned widely. “It’ll be interesting when I have to step out and use the men’s room.”
“Do not leave me alone in here.” Karin hissed. “Unless you wanna see a roomful of virgins singing soprano.”
“Oooh, sis.” Ben laughed. “What would Dad say?”
Karin pointed at his cell phone. “Ask him. That’s him ringing now.”
Ben chatted a little with his father before a message pinged up on the computer screen in front of them. Karin reached out to click the mouse, and Ben swatted at her hand.
“Mine,” he whispered. “Could be from Hayden.”
“Like I wanna see what you two mail each other.”
Ben quickly ended the call. “Well, I’ll say this, sis. There’s no way it’s as dirty as the stuff Komodo and you have been texting each other. Or is it called sexting now?”
“Shut up.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Sexting.”
Ben clicked on the message and was pleased to see it came from Torsten Dahl, and that it consisted of several attachments, each a picture of the map the Swede had discovered in the first tomb of the gods.
Karin mumbled about her contact with Komodo being curtailed for a while because of a friggin’ mission, whilst Ben looked at the map from the various angles.
“We need to figure out where the third tomb is,” Ben said seriously. “And fast.”
Another geek made his move on Karin.
“Piss off!”
Ben’s sister stood up, shook her hair out, and addressed the room. “Get this. I’m not one of you. I don’t think like you. I do have a large brain, but it does not focus around penis. I don’t heart nerds. I heart soldiers. I’m not a secretary. I’m a friggin’ black belt. So unless you’re severely into S&M, I suggest you stay the fuck out of my way.”
Karin sat back down and sighed. “Okay, Ben. Now we can focus. Let’s find that third bloody tomb.”
*****
The limo stopped outside a high, nondescript building far enough away from Santa Monica beach that they couldn’t even smell the sea, let alone see it. Gates’s three-man secret service patrol exited first, closely followed by Hayden, Kinimaka and Torsten Dahl. Hayden saw Belmonte place a restraining hand on Emma’s knee as she made to follow and watched as the British thief waited for Gates to receive the all clear.
Hayden walked up to Gates as he came around the back of the limo. The street was quiet. Only a few cars cruised its length, and the sidewalks were relatively deserted. They were far from the shopping district and most of the office workers were already chained to their eight-to-fives.
“Any more contact from Cayman?” Hayden asked quietly.
“Nothing. But Cayman’s a man of principal. We all agreed the time and place. He’ll be there.”
Hayden looked up. A forest of tall buildings filled her gaze. She glanced at the secret service agents and received a faint nod in return.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”
As they walked, Hayden thought back over what Cayman had said to her. He’d called out of the blue the day after they brought the Blood King up from the depths of the Diamond Head volcano. At first, she’d been highly suspicious, listening without comment as he explained that he would reveal what he knew about the ancient language of the gods and the map Dahl had discovered in the Icelandic tomb. He’d said he wanted to tell her who he worked for and what he knew about the doomsday device. He was a good speaker. Even then, he was starting to make sense. He told her that he’d invited Torsten Dahl to the meeting, as a peace-making gesture. And then he told her that he’d also invited her boss, the Secretary of Defense, along with the secret service.
Hayden was impressed and convinced.
Maybe Cayman was working deep undercover for the DIA, or even the CIA, and wanted them on board. Their actions so far certainly deserved some kind of recognition.
Dahl walked alongside her. “I sent the pictures to Ben. We need his intellect, my dear, so please tell me you haven’t shagged all his brains out yet?”
Hayden coughed. “C’mon, Dahl. Let’s focus, shall we? Gates might suddenly love this guy Cayman, but we both know that his judgment may be impaired.”
“I did wonder. Why not take a leave of absence?”
“He wants to see this through. For his wife as much as himself, I guess. And he’s very good at what he does.”
“And you, Hayden. What do you think of Cayman?”
They entered the lobby. A man wearing a smart suit sat behind the desk opposite, looking surprised at the sudden influx of people into his building.
Hayden let the secret service take the lead. “Cayman? Well, he talks a good game. But then—” She smiled. “Don’t we all?”
“The man’s lower than dirt,” Dahl said. “I’ve met him.”
Kinimaka made a point of getting her attention. “We’re going up, boss,” he said, indicating the elevators ahead. “You ready?”
Hayden nodded and gave Dahl a look. The big Swede nodded his readiness. Belmonte and Emma were busy surveying the room and its CCTV cameras, as well as the windows, doors, air vents, and any other means of ingress.
“Let’s use the elevators,” Hayden said to him with a grimace. “So much easier.”
“You would think so, Miss Jaye,” Emma said in a reflective tone, “but they’re chiefly just another way of controlling and surveying the masses.”
Hayden now remembered the most annoying thing about Belmonte. He was a massive conspiracy theorist. Clearly, he’d passed along much of what he believed in.
“Let’s try them anyway.”
The large group moved toward the nearest elevator. The secret service insisted on checking it out and then made noises indicating that only the Secretary and themselves should travel on the first one. Hayden acquiesced to keep the peace and filed into a second elevator. Kinimaka jabbed the button for the top floor.
They traveled up in silence. Weapons were checked. Belmonte pointed out the location of a cleverly hidden camera. Emma stood on tiptoe to plaster chewing gum over it.
“Always let them know they can’t beat you,” she said with a cheeky little smile.
Belmonte smiled happily as if to say that’s my girl. Hayden kept her gaze firmly on the flashing floor numbers, trying hard not to think about the weeks she had spent with the British super-thief.
But, truth be told, they were good weeks. Hard to forget.
The elevator slowed. The doors slid open. Hayden stepped out and saw Gates with his secret service guard just ahead of them. She peered around the room. Kinimaka padded to her side, voicing a few choice expletives of surprise.
The enti
re top floor of the building spread out before them, unfurnished and empty apart from two men clad in combat gear and full-face helmets walking toward them, guns held loosely at their sides.
Gates was just turning toward her, his face puzzled, when fire and fury erupted around him.
CHAPTER THREE
Drake broke into Wells’s apartment and then stood back whilst Mai moved in to disable the alarm. They were prepared for the men following them to make a move, but nothing had happened. In less than a minute, they had free reign. Drake remained motionless for a while, studying the layout of the place. A short hallway led to a living room beyond which sat a kitchen and a bedroom. The living room was furnished in a Spartan manner. Nothing existed that didn’t have purpose. There was no sign of a woman’s touch. All the colors were dark, making the corners hard to distinguish—a mirror to the apartment owner’s soul.
Alicia remained outside the door, using a well-positioned set of hallway windows to her advantage, and set about cataloguing their potential enemies in the street below.
Drake waved Mai into the bedroom, whilst he took the living room. The irony of the Japanese agent finally making it into Wells’s bedroom after the man was dead was not lost on either of them and they shared a somber look. Mai would be going through more than a few inner torments, Drake thought, since it was she who pulled the trigger.
He would have put money on it being Alicia. But then, that girl had never failed to surprise him.
A large oak table dominated the back of the living room. The only item standing on its polished surface was a framed photograph. The picture showed Wells and a few of his army pals, arms over each other’s shoulders, most likely at the end of some secret operation or other. An operation for the British government? Drake wondered. Or for this secret group he and Cayman worked for?
Drake moved on. The front of the living room held a two-seater leather sofa and a forty-inch TV. A drinks cabinet was well stocked. Drake resisted the urge to investigate. He rummaged through another cabinet, but found it to be nothing more than a tasteful frontage for a DVD/CD rack. One by one he checked every case for hidden contents. As he worked, he listened to Mai poking around the bedroom.
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