Threshold

by Robinson, Jeremy

  Yes.

  Ridley would be immortal and hold the keys to life, death, and to some extent, creation. He would be a god and much of the world would bow down and worship him. But that couldn’t be the end. Not for a man like Ridley. He was interested in power. In domination. But he was just one man. It might take him centuries to build a large following and he wasn’t a patient man. There had to be something else.

  With his mind spinning with theories, King headed back to his seat. His body ached and he needed to rest. Alexander sat at the rear of the plane, his seat tilted back, and his eyes closed. King marveled how the man was able to fall asleep so quickly when there was so much to think about.

  He sat down across from Alexander and sighed.

  “Unforeseen complications?” Alexander asked.

  King jumped at the man’s voice. It seemed he wasn’t sleeping at all. “You could say that.”

  Alexander opened his eyes and sat up. After pushing a button on his armrest, a stewardess entered from the front of the plane. “Yes sir?”

  He held up two fingers. She nodded and disappeared.

  “In your … experiments with Hydra’s blood. When you created the Forgotten and made yourself immortal, did you ever…” King searched for the right words. They all sounded ridiculous. Then again, so did immortality. “Duplicate yourself?”

  As usual, Alexander took the question earnestly, without laughing or even cracking a smile. For him, nothing was out of the realm of possibility. “No. Never. Removing the head, in Ridley’s case, and in mine, would simply render the body dead. Regeneration would begin at the neck. Splitting into two unique selves is not an attribute of Hydra’s genes.”

  “So he couldn’t just hack off a body part and grow a new self?”

  “He is limited by the DNA of Hydra, and if he did his job correctly, regeneration is the only gene he transplanted into himself.”

  “So it’s not possible?”

  “I didn’t say that. There are species that have the ability to split in two, creating two separate entities, which can later split again. Earthworms for instance. If he continued to modify his genetic code, well, anything is possible. What resources were available to him after the Hydra incident?”

  “Manifold was shut down,” King said. “His funds were frozen. But he likely had secret accounts. Facilities no one knew about. It’s possible that Manifold Genetics is operating under the radar.”

  King adjusted his body in the seat. Despite the plush cushion, he couldn’t find a pain-free position. “Like you said, anything is possible.”

  The stewardess returned with a tray. Two glasses and a dark brown, one-ounce bottle, sat atop it. She placed the tray on the foldout tabletop in front of Alexander. “Anything else, sir?”

  “No, thank you. How long until we land?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  He tilted his head in thanks and she left without looking back. Once the cabin door was closed again, Alexander continued. “Where is the second Ridley?”

  “Danta Pyramid in Guatemala.”

  “Interesting,” Alexander said, rubbing his chin.

  “You know the place?” King asked, and then thought, Of course he does.

  “It’s a Mayan city stretching over ten square miles that was consumed by the jungle. I’ve been meaning to visit, but haven’t had the chance.”

  King felt a mild surprise at the ancient man not having been everywhere in the world.

  “What’s interesting is that like the ancient pyramids in Egypt and the Tower of Babel before it, the construction techniques that allowed the Mayans to build a pyramid of such magnitude remains a mystery. Of course, you and I know that golems were used as laborers in the old world. And that several other ancient architects used the same method for building wonders all around the world.”

  King saw where he was going with this. There was a connection. “Including Stonehenge.”

  Alexander opened the brown bottle and extracted a dropper. A tan liquid with tiny swirling flakes filled the glass vial. He dropped five drops into each glass. “It would appear he is visiting the ancient sites for some purpose, perhaps in search of information or relics that might add to his knowledge of the protolanguage.”

  Both men sat in silence for a moment. Alexander focused on the steps they would take upon landing. King’s mind drifted back to Fiona. He looked at Alexander, the oldest man on the planet and asked, “Do you have any children?”

  The question took Alexander by surprise. He turned to King, with a lopsided smirk. “Children?”

  King waited for more.

  “There was a time, before I was immortal, that I wanted children. Acca and I tried to conceive, but she was barren. I never did get an heir. As it turns out, I didn’t need one. But there hasn’t been anyone worthy of bearing my children since.”

  “You … haven’t been celibate all this time?” King asked.

  Alexander gave a gentle laugh, which escaped his nose as a sniff. “For fifteen hundred years, yes.”

  King couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Alexander was wealthy beyond belief, handsome, could speak a number of languages, live anywhere and do anything. And he’d chosen to live underground and alone for fifteen hundred years? It didn’t add up. It didn’t seem … human.

  Alexander could see what King was thinking and ended the line of question with a preemptive statement. “I have seen and done everything imaginable with the opposite sex. After nearly a millennium of indulging, some things lost their novelty, starting with the primal act of procreation.”

  “You are an old man,” King said with a grin.

  Alexander smiled. “Very old.” He looked out the window for a moment, and then turned back to King. “While I may not be able to answer the questions of a new father, I can tell you this with confidence: for men like us, nothing is impossible.”

  King’s smile widened, but wasn’t fully genuine. Despite being flattered that the immortal Hercules was starting to think of King as an equal, he still felt unsure about being a father. The problem wasn’t whether or not he could be a father, but whether or not he should be a father.

  Alexander picked up both glasses and swirled them around until the tan liquid dispersed in the water. He offered one to King.

  “What’s this?” King asked.

  “You look tired.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Alexander smiled. “You don’t trust me yet?”

  “I don’t think I ever will,” King said, and he meant it. Alexander, unlike Ridley, was a patient man. He’d already lived more lifetimes than Ridley could imagine. And though he had no concrete evidence, he suspected Alexander’s involvement in tracking down Ridley was more than altruism or one immortal protecting the world from another. The man had an endgame, he was sure of it. But finding out what that was would have to wait. For now, Alexander was an essential asset in stopping Ridley. After all, Alexander had coexisted with mortals for thousands of years without enslaving the human race. But that could change, King knew, and for that reason, Alexander needed to be watched closely.

  Alexander gave a chuckle and made a face that said, “I’ll drink first.” He swigged the water down and grinned. He also looked much more rested and energetic.

  “If you weren’t immortal,” King said, “that gesture might mean something. What’s in it?”

  “It’s a homeopathic mix. My own. I cannot say what it contains. In the wrong hands it could be very dangerous.” Alexander looked out the large round window next to him. The rocky shore of England wasn’t far off. “When we land we will be moving fast. And since I have yet to see you sleep or rest that mind of yours, you will need some help to keep up.”

  King wanted to argue, but couldn’t. As well trained and physically fit as he was, without rest his body would start to work against him. He already felt fatigued, and if things got rough in England, he might become a liability. He took the drink and swallowed it in two gulps. It tasted like mildly sweet w
ater with a touch of—

  A burst of energy hit him and brought an involuntary smile to his face. He felt rejuvenated and awake. And his mind was clear and focused. It wasn’t the adrenaline boost he’d seen Alexander give himself in Rome, but it was amazing. He could see how this tonic in the hands of the military could cause trouble. An army that didn’t require sleep to be at its peak would be a very dangerous thing.

  “Feeling better?” Alexander asked.

  “Much,” King answered.

  “Good,” Alexander said, “because from now until we finish this fight, we won’t slow down.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  El Mirador, Guatemala

  THE HELICOPTER LURCHED downward. Wind and rain beat against its black shell. Dark clouds blocked the rising sun while lightning coursed through the sky, illuminating the jungle beneath in a continuous strobe. A streak of lightning flashed past, striking a tree below with a burst of sparks. The immediate boom generated by the bolt as the super-heated air around it expanded into a shock wave pushed the chopper to the side.

  Hell had temporarily taken up residence in the airspace above northern Guatemala.

  The chopper’s three passengers weren’t fazed by the inclement weather, but the pilot, Luis Azurdia, was terrified. However, the bonus offered to him by his three wealthy clients was too generous to pass up. During the rainy season, travel to El Mirador was nearly impossible by land, and the site was mired with mud, flash floods, and few options for overnight stays. Tourists were few and far between as a result. The money Luis stood to make from this flight would cover the rest of the rainy season.

  A second flash of lightning filled the cockpit with blinding light a fraction of a second before a resounding crash filled the air. Luis’s heart pounded. He’d never flown in a storm like this. Hell, if it was raining most tourists would cancel their trip.

  He looked back at his passengers, hoping to see them fidgeting nervously, praying for fear in their eyes. If they called off the flight he might still be able to get that bonus. But the big Arabian man appeared to be meditating with his eyes closed. The skinny Asian man bobbed his head to music supplied by iPod earbuds. And the woman, her striking blond hair and forehead covered by a blue bandanna, simply looked out the window with a scowl. She, at least, looked like she wanted to be someplace else, but the storm was not on her mind.

  Queen focused on the jungle below, watching an endless sea of trees. El Mirador was one of the most remote locations in Guatemala, which allowed the ancient Mayan city to remain fairly unexplored until 2003, when a team of archaeologists set up camp and began excavating the overgrown city. Despite the area’s natural beauty, the mysterious location they would soon explore, or the potential danger that awaited them there, her thoughts were half a world away.

  In Russia.

  With Rook.

  News of his team’s extermination had been a blow to all of them. The men were comrades and friends. But Rook’s M.I.A. status was especially disturbing. He was more than a friend. She had worked hard denying her feelings, fighting against them as hard as any mythical creature they had faced, but with Rook missing, possibly dead, she couldn’t bury how she felt. And right now, she felt pissed.

  She had petitioned to be freed from the mission in order to track down Rook, and if possible, rescue him. But she had been denied by Deep Blue himself. The mission came first. She knew Rook would agree, but it didn’t loosen the knot twisting in her stomach. To lose him now …

  She shook her head, willing herself to not think it. She would find him when this was over.

  What bothered her most was that despite being brave in almost any scenario, neither of them had the guts to talk about their feelings for each other. Ever since their kiss a year previous she had sensed his quiet discomfort around her. But they never spoke of it. Like the hardships of battle, they swallowed it. Buried it. Because they both knew that love on the battlefield could get people killed.

  She realized now that soldiers died on the battlefield either way. And now Rook may have as well; a fact that would not have changed if their relationship had become romantic. At least then he would have died knowing, she thought, and then forced a new thought: I’ll tell him when I find him.

  A flash of light made her squint and look away from the window. As thunder rolled over and through the helicopter she glanced toward the cockpit and made eye contact with Luis. He looked desperate and pale.

  “I— Is the storm too much?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

  She grinned. “Not at all.”

  As a frown came to his face, Queen added, “We are more than halfway there, yes?”

  “Sí,” he said with a nod. “We are almost there.”

  “Then we will be on the ground shortly and the storm will most likely have passed or dulled by the time we leave.”

  Luis thought for a moment before smiling and nodding again. “You are right.”

  As Luis turned his eyes forward again, Knight plucked his earbuds free. “Almost there?”

  “Yup,” Queen replied.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “She’s worried about Rook,” Bishop said, eyes still shut.

  “We’re all worried about him,” Knight said. “But—”

  Bishop opened his eyes and glanced at Knight. “Seriously?”

  Knight opened his hands with a shrug. “What?”

  Bishop responded by raising his eyebrows.

  After a moment of thought, Knight realized what was being communicated. “Really?” He leaned forward and looked at Queen. “Really? Rook?”

  The slightest of grins showed on Queen’s face. She slugged Bishop’s shoulder and turned to Knight. “I don’t want to break that pretty jaw of yours, Fancy Nancy, but I will.”

  Knight was all smiles until Luis’s voice came over the headset. “El Mirador at three o’clock,” he said as he spoke his next words. “We made it.”

  Queen, Bishop, and Knight leaned over and looked out of Queen’s window. For endless miles in the distance the jungle grew in a flat sheet of green, but here it rose up high into the sky, as though mountains had sprung up in the middle of a plain. But they weren’t mountains. They were ancient temples and pyramids built by the ancient Mayans. Near the peak of the tallest rise, the jungle cleared enough to see the dirty white stone hidden beneath. To most, the site felt both ominous and wondrous.

  To Queen, Bishop, and Knight, it was something else entirely. For each knew that if they found the man they were looking for, it would become a place of violence and death not seen since the ancient Mayans soaked the forest floor with the blood of human sacrifice.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Amesbury, England

  A GRAY HAZE hung over the late-afternoon sky, threatening to descend and cover the landscape in fog. If not for the patchwork of green and yellow fields on either side of the road, the day would have been depressing. Despite the gloom, the drive from Heathrow International Airport in London had gone smoothly, once again thanks to the plush black Mercedes awaiting King and Alexander.

  King found himself riding shotgun as usual. Alexander knew the way and enjoyed driving his cars fast, which didn’t normally bother King, but a driver that can’t be killed may not take as much care as a mere mortal.

  To distract himself from the breakneck driving, King opened his cell phone and placed a call he’d been avoiding. Not because he didn’t want to speak to his parents, but because he didn’t know what to say. There was no time for a conversation and calling just to check in seemed wildly inappropriate given the fact that his mother was supposed to be dead and his father had been recently freed from jail.

  “Hi honey!” his mother answered on the second ring.

  “Hey Mom.”

  “Have you found them yet? The men behind the attack?”

  King grinned. It was business as usual with Lynn. “You know I can’t tell you anything.”

  Alexander took a right turn at a fork in the road. Stonehenge loom
ed to the left. After driving through the city and now the country, the megalithic monument seemed out of place, like it had been transported from someplace far away. Then his phone rang. After looking at the caller ID screen, Alexander answered the call with a hushed voice.

  King strained to hear what he was saying, but Peter’s voice shouted from the background in his own phone. “Is he in Iraq? That’s still a hot spot for these kinds of things.”

  “Are you in Iraq, dear?” his mother asked.

  King sighed. There was no harm in telling them he wasn’t in Iraq and it would stop them from worrying. “No, I’m not in Iraq.”

  “Will you be?”

  “No, Mom, Iraq is not on my radar.”

  “Oh good. Good.”

  With the monotony of the conversation already getting to him, and a desire to eavesdrop on Alexander’s conversation, King spoke quickly. “Listen, Mom. I was just calling to make sure you were both okay, that you’re both safe.”

  “Oh, we have nothing to fear here,” Lynn said. “We’re safe.”

  They entered the parking lot across the street from the monument and pulled into an empty space. A large red, double-decker tour bus pulled up behind them. Eager to get out of the car and not thinking about what might be outside, King exited the Mercedes and was greeted by an amplified voice.

  “Welcome to Stonehenge, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for choosing London Hills Tours.”

  King closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe she hadn’t heard. She certainly hadn’t reacted. “Mom, I have to go now.”

  “Okay, hun. You’ll call back when you can?” she asked. “Don’t make us worry.”

  “I won’t. I will. I have to go. Love you.” King ended the call as Alexander finished his own.

  “Just the two of us,” King heard him say. “A few days, and make sure it’s dry. Good.”

  Alexander hung up the phone, slid it inside his pocket, and exited the car.