Bones of Angels (11 page)

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

“Something’s wrong,” said Touchdown, “or else my telemetry is malfunctioning.”

“Explain,” said Caine.

“I second that suggestion,” Hawkeye said into his COM.

“Dozens of targets in the catacombs are disappearing,” Touchdown said.

“Do you mean that they’re moving to different locations in the underground chambers?” asked Caine.

“No. They’re simply . . . disappearing from my screen.”

Caine studied the holographic display. The red targets were indeed winking off the grid.

“Damn strange,” she said. “Any theories, Touchdown?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll need some time to check our feed, my equipment, and — ”

“We don’t have the luxury of time,” Caine said sharply. “Work the problem.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hold your position, Mr. Hawke,” Caine said.

“Too late,” Hawkeye said. “We’re already on our way down.”

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

The wide, deep elevator came to an abrupt halt, shaking as its pulley cables stretched taut.

“I think I know what the problem is,” Angela said as the team exited the freight elevator. She ran her delicate fingers across the stone walls of the catacomb. “Although I’m an anthropology student, I paid my dues in a few geology classes. The rock down here has several veins of various metallic ores. Iron, aluminum, gold, silver, and a few others. The liberal combination of such ores could interfere with almost any kind of radar.”

She’s so sexy. I love a woman with brains.

* DJ is quite intelligent, too. *

True, but not in the same way.

* Brains and beauty — that’s a powerful combination. *

I’m in love.

* With whom? *

With both.

* That, my dear friend, is more dangerous than being on Mont St. Michel with a madman. *

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

“Angela’s absolutely right,” declared Touchdown. “No wonder she works for a genius like Charles Whittington.”

“How are you able to read Titan Six?” Caine asked.

“Their signals are stronger because of the tactical suits, as well as the COM sets for Marshall, Donovan, and Quiz. The acolytes don’t afford me that advantage.”

“What about Reynard?  Any crimson target?”

“I’m not reading him at the moment.”

“Look sharp,” Caine said. “Let me know the instant anything appears.”

“Always,” said Touchdown.”

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

Charles was only one foot above the vat.

Click.

The wooden gears advanced. Now he was six inches above the surface of the water. Two more clicks, and his head would be totally submerged.

Be brave.

It was only two words, but Charles had heard the voice before. It was the same voice that had spoken to him in the empty hall at Whittington Manor.

Charles was not sure what kind of encouragement the words were intended to convey. Was he to be brave because he was going to be rescued?  Or was he to be brave in the final hour of his life?  Was he going to die?

He didn’t know. But he had always obeyed the voice, and he would try to do so now.

He lapsed into unconsciousness again.

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

Touchdown shook his head in frustration.

“I don’t know what to make of this,” he said. “Targets are now appearing and disappearing, including the crimson target.”

The holographic display was blinking like a Christmas tree with timed lights.

“Theories?” said Caine.

“Either Reynard and the acolytes are moving rapidly from chamber to chamber, or else the veins of metallic ore are only partially blocking my telemetry. It’s probably a combination of the two. The veins vary in strength and are not uniform throughout the catacombs. I can only give Titan Six guesstimates.”

Caine put a reassuring hand on Touchdown’s shoulder. “I’d trust your guesstimates over other people’s certainties.”

Touchdown smiled.

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

“We’re approximately one hundred and seventy-five meters below the monastery,” Hawkeye said.

“Targets are spread around you uniformly,” Touchdown said. “They seem to have fanned out. Reynard is another fifty meters below you and to the east if I can trust my on-again off-again sensor readings.”

“Thanks,” said Hawkeye.

Titan Six advanced into the catacombs, dimly lit by torches sitting in iron braces on the walls. Hawkeye led the way, followed by Shooter, Tank, Donovan, Angela, Quiz, and DJ.

“Target right behind you DJ!” said Touchdown.

DJ whirled around, bringing her submachine gun waist-high.

A single shot pierced the bottom of her neck, just above her Kevlar vest. Her eyes fluttered as she turned and fell against the wall. Quiz wheeled around and fired his Glock. The acolyte slumped to the white stone floor.

DJ went down as well.

Hawkeye and Tank knelt beside their fallen comrade.

“She’s bleeding badly, Ops,” said Tank. “Missed her carotid and windpipe, but the bullet has obviously nicked something important.”

“Releasing thrombin into her bloodstream to start a coagulation cascade,” Touchdown said. “Also attempting to stabilize blood pressure and heart rate through her BioMEMS.”

Hawkeye summoned Angela. “I’m applying pressure to the wound,” he said. “Reach into my med kit and get some gauze and tape. Roll the gauze tightly so I can pack it into the wound and secure it.”

Angela complied, and Hawkeye succeeded in slowing the trickle of blood flowing over DJ’s combat uniform.

“Good job, Angela,” said Hawkeye, who lifted DJ to her feet with Tank’s aid.

The German operative was unsteady and barely conscious. Hawkeye and Tank draped DJ’s right arm over Quiz’s shoulder, her left arm over Angela’s.

“You’re going to have to carry her,” Hawkeye said. “Are you up to it?”

Quiz and Angela nodded.

“Shooter, take point,” Hawkeye ordered. “Tank, bring up the rear.”

“Vital signs are slightly improved,” said Touchdown, “but DJ’s heart has gone into arrhythmia. She’s got atrial flutter.”

“Get Dr. Nguyen up her,” Caine said from the Ops Center.

Titan Six moved deeper into the catacombs.

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

“I hear a weak voice up ahead to my right,” Shooter said.

“It could be a trap,” warned Tank.

“Or it could be a hostage,” said Quiz.

Touchdown broke in. “Hawkeye, if you descend a spiral stairway straight ahead, I think you’ll find our nemesis. The Fox is directly below you.”

“Roger that,” said Hawkeye. “I’m going to have a look below. Everyone else, I want you to check out the rooms ahead and see where that voice is coming from.”

“You’re not going alone,” protested Tank. “I’m going, too.”

“No, little brother. You’re second-in-command, and Titan Six needs your firepower.”

“I’ll go,” said Archbishop Donovan, advancing to Hawkeye’s side.

Hawkeye nodded. “Alright. Let’s move.”

The two team members disappeared into the bowels of the catacombs as the rest of Titan Six moved towards the voice.

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

Click.

The scalp of Charles Whittington now touched the top of the water. He began saying the Lord’s Prayer again and again.

Moments passed as he waited for the next — and final — click. Ironically, he would drown hundreds of feet below solid ground.

“Grandfather!” cried Quiz, rushing into the room.

DJ was laid in the corner of the chamber, Shooter kneeling next to the now unconscious form. Quiz pulled his grandfather’s rigid body to the side, away from the vat, as Tank braced a wooden ladder against the rafter above and cut the rope suspending Charles. Gently, they placed his body on the floor and untied his hands and feet.

Holding her Glock in her right hand, Angela stepped back into the stone passageway to make sure the area was safe.

From behind, a hand reached around her shoulder and covered her mouth tightly. Another hand twisted her wrist sharply and seized the Glock.

Soundlessly, she was dragged down the passageway by two acolytes.

Level Two, The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

Hawkeye and Donovan, guns ready, emerged from the spiral stairway.

“He’s down here somewhere,” Hawkeye said.

“He certainly is,” stated Donovan.

Hawkeye looked over his shoulder to see the Archbishop aiming the M16 straight at his head.

“I think I’d like to have a chance to take this man down,” declared Reynard.

Hawkeye faced forward again to see Father Emile Deschamps Reynard. His distorted features had curled into a sneer that was twisted even farther by shadows cast from a flickering torch on the wall.

“Would you care to explain, Archbishop?” asked Hawkeye.

Donovan laughed. “I am the abbot — not usually in residence — of Northampton Abbey. I’m also the leader of the Council of Nine. Father Reynard is prior of both the abbey and the Council.”  Donovan lowered his rifle. “I’m going to grant Father Reynard his wish. Hawkeye’s all yours, Emile.”

Tearing off his clerical robes, Reynard charged forward. He was wearing a tight black body suit.

Hawkeye was punched in the gut but stood his ground. He countered with several blows to Reynard’s head and chest. Most were deflected.

Hawkeye could hear the eerie sound of chanting, the same odd tonalities that the acolytes had been singing in the cathedral.

Disoriented by the sounds, Hawkeye hesitated for a split second, giving Reynard the opening he needed.

The Fox drove forward, spun Hawkeye around, and smashed his palm against Hawkeye’s throat. He then seized the Titan leader by the shoulders and threw him at the wall. Reynard ripped Hawkeye’s helmet off and, grabbing him by the ears, rammed his head against the stones half a dozen times. He ended his assault by smashing the palms of his hands against Hawkeye’s eyes.

“Do you wish to hear the chanting more clearly?” Reynard asked, panting from the exertion.

Dazed, Hawkeye stared at the priest through swollen, bruised eyes. He was too weak to make a sound.

Reynard spun Hawkeye around and pushed him forward to an opening in the rock. “I will guide you to that which you sought, the true treasure of Mont St. Michel.”  Reynard pushed Hawkeye’s limp body into a dark, vertical shaft.

Hawkeye plummeted fifty feet, his body crashing against another stone floor with a force he had never before experienced.

He felt his mind rushing into a vast, black emptiness. He was unconscious within seconds.

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

Dr. Nguyen stared at the monitor displaying DJ’s vital signs.

“We losing her,” Nguyen said. “Tank, you’re going to have to operate.”

“It’s not in my skill set, Grace. I don’t even know basic anatomy. I wouldn’t know what I’m looking at when I opened up the wound.”

“I’ll guide you through it,” said Nguyen. “We don’t have any time to lose. Find some sutures, already attached to needles, in your medical kit. Now!”

“Okay,” said Tank. He removed the sutures from his med kit.

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

* I’ll perform the surgery. Tank will only succeed in

killing DJ. *

Tears ran down Quiz’s cheeks as he looked at the woman with whom he had shared his most intimate moments.

Are you sure you can do it?

* Yes. You’ve read more than enough medical journals and understand the appropriate terms. Just do everything I tell you. *

“Okay,” Quiz proclaimed to the others. “I’ll do the surgery. I know more anatomy than Tank.”