Gorgon: An Alex Hunter Novel (16 page)

‘One of the most valuable military weapons a soldier can possess is information,’ Hammerson told the team gathered in his office. ‘Entering a lethal theater of operation with poor quality, too little or wrong data is usually fatal in our game.’

His eyes moved to Alex, who nodded once.

‘Turkey has closed its borders – nationwide quarantine, and media blackout,’ the HAWC commander continued. ‘The death toll is now in the thousands, and they still have no real understanding of what they’re up against. At 0800 hours, Special Forces Commander Kemel Baykal led a team in a frontal engagement with … whatever it is.’

‘Magera,’ Matt Kearns said softly.

‘Magera.’ It seemed to Alex that Hammerson was testing the name.

‘You said they
led
a team in?’ Sam stood at the back of the group, his huge arms folded.

‘Yes.’ Hammerson’s gaze was flat. ‘They were wiped out.’

‘Commandos?’ Sam asked.

Hammerson nodded. ‘Eighty high-performance Turkish Special Forces.’

‘Fuck me, this thing is a killing machine,’ Casey Franks muttered.

Hammerson looked around at everyone in the room. ‘We need to learn from their losses. We believe Magera is now making its way to Izmir, and that makes it our problem. And we damn well better come up with a plan, because we’re not ready yet.’

‘High-altitude drop of a large-scale incendiary device,’ Franks said, and shrugged. ‘A single non-nuclear MOAB will raise the ground temperature to over 4000 degrees – anything within 500 feet of the detonation point will be vaporized. We know Turkey has that weaponry in their arsenal. We gave it to ’em.’

Hammerson nodded. ‘It’s on the list. However, much as I like things done in a conclusive way, I can’t see the Turkish parliament approving the dropping of the mother of all bombs on their own country.’ He folded his arms. ‘You need to brainstorm this – we’ve only got a few hours until go time and there’s still too many pieces of the puzzle missing. We need to do better or we’ll end up as just more piles of rock in the Turkish landscape.’

Hammerson dismissed the HAWCs and Kearns, but motioned to Alex to stay behind. He closed the door, and waited till the others were visible walking across the training ground to the HAWCs’ Nest. Alex could see Franks nudge Matt Kearns hard in the ribs as she spoke. Matt winced and held his side, but nodded and smiled as he listened.

‘We’re going in, and you’ll be leading the team. End of story,’ Hammerson said, his eyes boring into Alex’s.

Alex looked away. ‘I don’t know, Jack. You’ve seen the VELA footage of what happened in Italy. What if I …’ He stopped and shrugged.

‘What if you explode? Put the mission at risk? Then maybe I’ll have Sam shoot you.’ Hammerson’s expression turned serious. ‘Look, Alex, we don’t have time for more training wheels. We know Borshov is on the ground making mischief, and we have a couple of SAS coming in who need to be folded into a single team – ours. And there’s something running wild over in Turkey, laying waste to entire villages and heading for our base. I believe you and you alone are the man to get us in front of all three obstacles quickly and effectively. Reid and I agree on this. My question is … do
you
agree?’

Alex knew that if he said no, he’d be back walking the streets. No more sessions with Marshal, no more chance to get a normal life back, or ever see Aimee or Joshua again. Trepidation added weight to his shoulders, but it was fear for those around him, not himself. He paced over to the window and looked out. He wanted back in, but he needed to prove himself. That was what the HAWCs were for – with them, he would succeed or die. Right now, either outcome suited him.

He turned to Hammerson. ‘I’m in.’

Hammerson reached out and shook his hand. ‘Good man. We’ll break it to the professor gently that he’ll be doing a little fieldwork. Franks can set him up.’

*

Casey Franks had given Matt the smallest of the HAWC allover suits she could find. Her own suit was turned down, the sleeves tied around her waist, displaying an upper torso covered in tattoos and scars, and ripped with sinewy muscles.

‘Stand up straight, pretty boy,’ she said as she walked behind him, then pulled his long hair. ‘You look more like a surfer than a soldier.’

Matt snorted; he liked Casey. They’d worked together before, on Black Mountain in the Appalachians, and had formed an easy-going relationship based on a shared sharp and sarcastic sense of humor. He knew the powerful woman was as ferocious as they came – he’d seen her in action. But within that muscled chest, he bet there was a kind heart. He’d just never tell her that.

‘You might make a good HAWC one day, Professor.’ She slapped his back hard, making him stumble forward.

‘Yeah, right.’

Matt knew he was just an advisor, and didn’t really want to be anything more. The HAWCs were a singularly aggressive group, intelligent, hard as iron, and capable of dealing with anything anywhere on the planet. He was just thankful they were on his side.

The other HAWCs milled around, some working out with various martial arts blocks or bags, others stripping down pistols, or modifying some piece of weaponry to their own personal preference. Alex and Sam stood over a map, deciding on the mission kit they would need.

Matt rolled his shoulders in the suit. It was made of a material he couldn’t identify, supposedly able to offer some resistance to knife penetration. On his frame, it felt hot and restrictive. He contemplated doing what Sam had done – removing the arms of his suit. Matt felt one of his biceps beneath the material – it was athletically muscled, but would look like spaghetti next to Sam’s bulging arms … or even next to Casey’s, for that matter. He decided to leave the suit intact.

Casey sauntered to the back of the HAWCs’ Nest calling to a few of the other huge soldiers there either stripping weapons or working out.

Matt looked across to Alex Hunter. The man had saved his life on Black Mountain, and then vanished. Matt owed him for that. There was something different about Alex now, he thought. His appearance hadn’t changed, but there seemed to be a kind of hollowness inside him; as though his exterior was a suit, like the armor plating he was wearing. Every now and then when he looked at you, you got the feeling there was someone other than Alex Hunter looking back.

Matt looked around at the team of lethal men and women in the hangar-like building. It was an exclusive club, and outsiders were rarely tolerated.
Am I ever the odd one out
, he thought.
What am I doing here?
He’d worked with these guys twice before, or rather he’d ended up being thrown in with them. And both times things had ended up bloody and brutal.

He was making his way over to Sam and Alex when the heavy steel door at one end of the large building was pulled back. Three people entered – two men, one woman; and one of the men was huge. Matt saw Alex stare at them for a half-second, then smile before turning back to the map.

‘Our friends from Italy,’ he said to Sam.

Sam didn’t turn to look. ‘The Brits … already?’

‘Yep, and the big one looks like he has an axe to grind.’ Alex grinned at the big HAWC. ‘He must remember us.’

 ‘Who are they?’ Matt asked. He found it hard to look at the men, whose unblinking gaze made him feel like a bug under a lens. However, the woman with them was strangely familiar. Matt tilted his head. ‘I know you, don’t I?’

She looked him up and down for a few seconds. ‘No, you don’t. But you must be Professor Matthew Kearns.’

‘Yeah, yeah, that’s right.’ Matt gave her his best boyish grin and stepped forward with his hand out. ‘How did you know?’

She didn’t reciprocate his action. ‘Because you’re the only one in here who looks as though he couldn
’t 
fight his way out of a paper bag.’

Matt lowered his hand. ‘Nice to meet you too, Ms. Charm School. By the way, at college I could bench-press 200 pounds.’

‘Great; I’ll let you know when I’ve got a sofa to move.’ She moved past him, her hands on her hips. ‘Which one of you is Alex Hunter?’

 ‘I think we already know that, don’t we, sunshine?’ The huge newcomer glared at Alex, his brick-like jaw jutting. There was raw animosity there, Matt thought.

Alex turned to study the trio. Matt could see he was suppressing a grin.

Sam stepped up beside Alex. He was as tall as the giant doing the talking.

The woman glanced at him, then turned to the SAS man. ‘Looks like they make them big here too, Jackson.’

Jackson snorted. ‘You must be Sam Reid … big as life and,’ he looked at Sam’s legs, ‘still on your fucking feet – if they are your own feet down there.’

Sam folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re in our yard. You want to introduce yourself, or would you like me to show you the door?’

Casey Franks came and stood in front of the other two HAWCs. She’d pulled on gloves with plating over the knuckles, and banged one fist into a palm, then placed her fists on her hips. Her glare made it clear she was itching to get in on the action.

Alex put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back a step, then he looked at the three newcomers. ‘Ten seconds.’

The woman folded her arms, her lips compressed defiantly.

After nine seconds, Alex turned away. ‘Sam, show them out.’

The smaller of the two men – smaller in that he only stood about six two, Matt noted – shook his head and stepped forward. ‘That’ll be the pleasantries over with.’ He saluted casually and stuck out his hand. ‘Sergeant Reece Thompson, Special Air Service Regiment.’

Alex turned back. ‘Okay.’ He gripped Thompson’s hand.

Thompson nodded toward his colleagues. ‘The big lug is Corporal Barclay Jackson, also SAS; and the dangerous one doing all the talking is Rebecca Watchorn.’ He gave her a look that mixed humor with a warning. ‘Advisor … and resident angry ant to boot.’ He turned back to Alex. ‘I was told we’d be expected.’

Matt snorted. ‘Watchorn? Not related to Margaret Watchorn?’

‘Margaret is my great-aunt,’ Rebecca said, keeping her eyes on Alex. ‘She told me to tell you that your Minoan is passable at best.’

Barclay Jackson’s eyes continually moved between Alex and Sam. He was up on his toes.

Sam angled his head toward him. ‘Something on your mind?’

Sam took a step forward, and so did Jackson. They were both cut from the same mold, Matt thought: big, fit men who were trained to be lethal killers.

‘Yeah, there is,’ Jackson said. ‘You both deserve to have your arses kicked after that fucking stunt in Italy. But I reckon if I wipe the floor with you, the freak will jump me again.’ He motioned to Alex with his chin.

‘Kick my
arrr-
se?’ Sam drew out the English pronunciation, then snorted. ‘It’s ass, you asshole. And
you
kick it? Not today, boy, and not ever.’

Alex laughed softly and nudged Sam. ‘Freak? Looks like they do know me, after all. Bonding session over. Let’s get down to it. What you got for us, Ms. Watchorn, gentlemen?’

‘You first,’ Rebecca said.

‘Go home.’ Alex turned to walk back to the map table.

‘Wait.’ Thompson let out an exasperated breath and looked at the woman. ‘You want to lay it out? Or, I swear, you’ll be on the next plane home.’

Rebecca’s lips stayed compressed for a few seconds. Then, ‘Fuck it,’ she said. ‘By now you know we’re dealing with Magera?’

Alex nodded. ‘We’ve heard the name, but as yet we don’t know what it is exactly. Neither do the Turks.’

‘Professor Kearns, we know you read the Minoan carved into the lower chambers. What did you make of it?’ Rebecca tilted her head as she waited for Matt’s reply.

He shrugged. ‘It was strange – didn’t make a lot of sense.
Fear is risen again, children of Zeus, slayers of …
’ He grimaced. ‘Slayers of something, and then,
be forever locked in stone … Magera will consume …
That’s all we could decipher. At least from the angles we had available to us.’

Rebecca nodded, as though only partially satisfied with his analysis. ‘Okay then, let’s lay out the facts … and perhaps make some intuitive, but educated leaps.’ She put her hands on her hips and began to pace.’ I think Emperor Constantine captured something in Sarmatia –’

‘Captured?’ Alex repeated, frowning.

‘Yes. And it cost him over a thousand dead soldiers. And what happened to them directly relates to what’s happening now.’

She raised her eyebrows to Matt, who frowned and folded his arms.

‘What? How do you know what happened? There’s no record of it anywhere.’

Rebecca rolled her eyes. ‘The world does not revolve around us in the West, much as we’d like to think so. Consider the Scythians or Sarmatians, Sauromatians or however you want to pronounce them – they were a warlike race that flourished for around 800 years, an enormous stretch of time in a barbaric and violent world. And their territory was huge, from Iran to southern Russia, and even into the Balkans.’

Matt nodded. ‘I agree. They weren’t particularly advanced, but I think they might have had superior weaponry … or a weapon. Which was what Constantine retrieved.’

Rebecca came and stood in front of him. ‘Or something … alive. And without it, they were nothing. There are historical records of the Sauromatians rising to power in the fifth century BC, and then abruptly crumbling around 300 AD – the time of Constantine’s campaign.’

‘That’s right – 334 AD to be exact,’ Matt said.

She tilted her head. ‘From the codex, right?’

He nodded. ‘And your proof?’

‘The bodies left behind. Russian archeologists first found a reference to the fallen warriors of stone on pottery shards in Iran; which led them to the statues themselves. At first they thought they were the work of some great Roman sculptor, so great was the detail. They made China’s terracotta warriors look like Pottery Barn knockoffs. They performed an MRI on the artefacts – each soldier was perfect down to eyelashes, scars, and even internal organs. All made of stone. No one’s ever been able to explain them. Then the Russians did what they always do when they find something that’s beyond them – they hide it away until an answer presents itself. So now they’re all packed up and stored away in the basement of the State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg.’ She shrugged. ‘And forgotten.’