The Tomb of the Gods (Matt Drake 4) (11 page)

Squawks of static conveyed understanding. Cayman, the DIA ghost, the wetwork specialist, the business end of the Shadow Elite, shouted in a voice that dripped with disdain.

“I was a child of the system,” he said. “A child in time, nothing more. Now I rank above presidents. You should feel honored, being allowed to die by my word.” He spread his arms. “I am the voice of the Shadow Elite. No common man could achieve more.”

Drake stared hard at this individual. There was a chance he might soon hold the fate of the world in his hands. Cayman looked like an ordinary man, slightly built, average height, not outstanding in any way. But an aura of menace surrounded him. A sense that this man had never known compassion, love, nor forgiveness. That all his days were filled with ice-cold fantasies.

Cayman laughed once more, the sound strained and foreign. Drake knew then that Russell Cayman had never had a good hour in his life.

“You would be too late anyway. I have sent for the eight pieces of Odin. They are already on their way here, and once they arrive—the doomsday device will be ours.”

“The eight pieces
are
important?” Alicia grumbled. “What a twat. Dahl, you should really have hung on to those bad boys.”

“The advice is duly noted. I’ll file it where I think it belongs.”

“Don’t get testy, Torsten. They’re in Stuttgart, right?”

“They were.”

“Well, he can’t have gotten ‘em that far. Maybe we can intercept them.”

Drake shushed them. “We have bigger problems.” He pointed out the eight altars arrayed about the floor below. “Ben just Bluetoothed me. His guess is the pieces fit in there.”

“And that activates the device?” Dahl shook his head in disbelief. “So the nastiest tomb holds the nastiest weapon. And it all seems to revolve somehow around Odin and Norse mythology. We really need to learn more, you know, and talk to my language guy back in Iceland’s tomb.”

“We will,” Drake said. “As soon as we get out of here.”

And then he stepped forward. “Hey! Cayman!” He stared up at the emotionless man. “Do you know me?”

Silenced stretched as taut as a tripwire, then Cayman shrugged. “I know all of your names. But the names of dead men mean nothing to me.”

“Ah, but I’m not dead yet,” Drake said. “You’ll find that I’m pretty hard to kill. Maybe one of the hardest you’ve ever known. Do you know why?”

Cayman said nothing.

“Because I’m looking for the man who ordered my wife’s murder. And for the man who murdered her. And I think you know something about that, Cayman. You and Wells. What is it that you know?”

Cayman licked his lips. “You’re about to die, Drake. Do it with honor and stop whining.”

“Did it involve the Shadow Elite?” Drake asked. “Are they connected to her death? Who is the Norseman?”

With that one word, Drake got a reaction he’d never imagined. Cayman’s body literally
lurched
in shock. His face and his clenched fists turned bone white and he opened his mouth to scream an order.

Dahl was quicker. “Move!”

All hell broke loose. Dahl burst from cover and sprinted for the stairs, Drake and Alicia right behind him. Drake and even the daredevil Alicia were gritting their teeth in anticipation of Dahl’s next move. . .

. . .at the same time Mai and the SAS force leapt
toward
the tomb walls and the weapons of the soldiers who stood above them, reaching for the abseil ropes that Cayman’s men had been attaching earlier to help move heavy equipment. They were
attacking
the enemy. . .

. . .as Hayden and her team stood their ground and focused all their firepower on the superior force!

Dahl rushed to the top of the stone staircase and then jumped into space. Anyone watching would have stopped in shock, wondering what on earth the Swede was up to. Was he committing suicide? But then he landed, gun aimed and firing, on the stone railing that ran down the side of the stairs and slid, gathering speed, loosing bullets, screaming and with hair flying all around him, at high speed toward the ground floor.

Drake came next and then Alicia, also screaming to help dull their anxiety. The trio slid down the stone railing, their weapons firing on full auto.

Mai and a single SAS soldier grabbed ropes and scurried up the walls as fast they could whilst Sam and the remaining men unleashed a devastating salvo of covering fire. Up they flew, just twenty feet, and then threw timed grenades into the air. It seemed a random, hopeful move, but in fact was carefully calculated to disorganize and disorient the enemy.

Then they let go, jumping to the ground. . .

. . .and Hayden’s team made a break for the exit, using the mayhem as cover. A Delta soldier took a round that killed him instantly, but for a second his legs kept going under their own momentum and he took another round meant for Komodo, the man saving his commander’s life even after he was dead. Hayden bounded to the floor and then Gates and his last remaining agent and Belmonte slipped from cover and added their own firepower to the lead-filled fray.

Mai and the SAS soldier landed together, rolled, and came up just as the grenades they’d thrown detonated in the air at the center of the cavern. Fragments exploded outward in every direction, striking enemy bodies on all sides of the tomb.

Dahl, Drake and Alicia descended speedily down the stone rail, but even at that speed, their aims proved accurate. Enemy soldiers twisted and fell from the third level, plummeting over the edge and down to the ground. More danced like puppets as shots riddled them, falling back amongst their brethren and pulling them down. Dahl flew off the end of the railing and, with nothing to stop him, crashed into the ground at speed, his graceful flight turning into a wipeout landing. Drake and Alicia couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Fuck me.” Alicia mumbled into the ground. “That’s one way of showing a girl a good time.”

Drake pulled his aching body up. Most of their enemy, in shock at being assailed by a weaker force from three angles, stood in temporary disarray. Those that weren’t readied their weapons. Drake spied the exit.

It was now or never. No choice

“Hurry.”

He led the way toward the exit. A few bullets slammed into the stone around their feet, but not nearly as many as it might have been. Even the superior soldiers among their enemy were thrown off by their screaming accomplices. Drake knew that no soldier, no matter who he worked for or what agenda he followed, could stay fully focused whilst his comrades screamed and died around him. Then Drake saw that Hayden and her team were already there and laying down some first-rate covering fire. As he passed one of the eight altars, he slowed to take a better look.

A rectangle of stone sat, fused into the rock floor of the cavern, with the oval altar set on top. Within the body of the altar, a precise shape had been carved. Cayman, it appeared, was right. The eight pieces of Odin were meant to be fixed into the eight altars to, presumably, activate the doomsday device.

And the eight pieces were already en route.

Game and set to Cayman, it seemed. But not yet
match.
Not by a long way. And if Cayman’s reaction was anything to go by, then the Shadow Elite and its leader, the Norseman, were not only fully invested in the terrible events unfolding around the tombs of the gods, but also responsible for the horrors of Drake’s past.

As was Cayman himself.

Drake needed to get to that SAS facility and find Wells’s research. The way this thing was panning out—everything was connected.

Hayden met him with a pained grin. “Survived again, huh?”

“At least until she’s avenged,” he said with a grimace. “How many didn’t?”

“Too many,” Hayden said, and Drake saw Ben standing behind her. The young lad’s face was drip white, his hands bloody. Just then, bullets began to pepper the sides of the archway behind Drake.

He pointed the way back up the long passage they had followed down here. “We should get moving.”

*****

The team retraced its steps. At first, they proceeded quickly, but without haste. Then Hayden voiced her concerns about the eight pieces of Odin.

“They can’t be that far away. It all depends how Cayman transports them. My guess is he’ll have to do it covertly and quietly, since that’s how his masters work. So it will take a bit longer. But even then—” She left the obvious unspoken.

“They must be intercepted,” Dahl said. “It’s imperative that we get to them before Cayman takes delivery. And, as soon as we get out of here. . .” He glanced ahead through the deep gloom. “I need to talk to my man in Iceland. He’s had time to decipher at least
something
by now.”

“What
is
the doomsday device?” Belmonte spoke up now. “And how does it work? Does anyone know?”

“Not yet.” Dahl breathed as he started to pick up the pace. “That’s part of what my language expert in Iceland is looking into.”

“I bet it relates to Odin in some way,” Karin said. “The Norse gods are all over this. It all seems preordained, as if we’re following a path set down in ancient history. . .” She paused. “But to what end?”

“If, like you say, it has anything to do with Norse mythology—Odin and Ragnarok—it’ll be pretty earth-shattering,” Dahl told her. “Ragnarok was the last stand of the gods. If they all laid down to die before it happened, then—”

“It hasn’t happened yet.” Belmonte finished for him.

Karin nodded. “I bet it was Odin who first saw the future and realized that the gods died in a different manner. At first, he would’ve laughed and ridiculed it, but maybe. . .
seeing that it had happened made it happen.
”

“Whoa.” Ben was struggling to keep up. Drake half-grinned as Komodo half-dragged the lad along. “That’s some very deep shit, sis.”

“Very, very deep,” Karin replied. “But probably true.”

“And the shield started it all?” Hayden wondered. “Your brother and Parnevik were always rambling on about it being the principal piece.”

“The finding of the shield started a chain of events—” Karin told her. “That led to the finding of tomb three. That, I’m sure of.”

“And as for the Shadow Elite.” Jonathan Gates was being helped along by his last agent and Komodo’s last remaining Delta soldier. “We still don’t know who to trust.”

“Speaking of the pieces,” Hayden said, grimacing as she held her wounded side. “Let’s move.”

They began to really pick up the pace, lights bobbing as they ran. The going was strenuous and, at times, painful, but they all knew now what was at stake.

Every minute counted.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Daylight greeted their eyes as they emerged from the eerie tunnel. The dead and the dying still lay all around. One enemy soldier had managed to crawl all the way to the edge of the tunnel shaft, gun in hand. He looked startled when the entire team emerged in front of him.

Hayden pointed. “Grab that guy. His reward for perseverance will be telling us all he knows about Cayman’s plan for the eight pieces.” She nodded toward the other rooms. “Gather any other survivors too. Check outside.”

Kinimaka, Komodo and the other Delta soldier took off. Sam and his SAS colleagues followed after a brief consultation. Drake took a moment to bask in the sunlight, enjoying its soft, mellow beams flickering through the many windows and the disturbed dust motes drifting through the still air. Beyond these old castle walls lay a busy city, jam-packed with men and women who had no idea of the immense conflict going on around them.

Torsten Dahl walked toward one of the windows, taking out his mobile phone and jabbing at several buttons. Drake, Ben and Karin joined him and they were soon joined by Belmonte. Alicia and Mai stayed to cover the tunnel.

Dahl looked dubious as the phone rang and rang. After a minute, he glanced at his own screen and switched it to speakerphone. “Bloody hell. Does he not have voicemail?”

“He might not know how to use it.” Ben smiled. “These crustys don’t have much of a grasp on modern technology, do they, Matt?”

Dahl heard a click. “Hello?”

“Ja?”

“It’s me—Dahl. Are you alright, Olle?”

“Ja.
I am good. Where are you? I thought you were dead.”

“It will take more than a few gorillas with guns to kill me, Olle.”

“I have something for you. Actually, more than something. I have many things.”

Dahl pulled a face at the others. “He’s an odd sort of guy.”

Drake nodded. “You don’t say.”

“Akerman.” Dahl added some weight to his voice. “If you can talk freely, now would be the time.”

“Talk freely? Bah. I’m lucky I can talk at all. No,
you’re
lucky. Because if they killed me, Torsten,
you
would be the one I came for.” He paused. “To haunt. As a ghost.”

Dahl frowned in concern. “Do they know you’re working for me?”

“They might do. They never trusted me since they caught me with all the pictures.”

“What pictures?”

“The ones of your wife. Ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha.”

“Akerman. . .”

“Ja, ja.
Okay, I get the hint. The tomb language is very tricky. You know that. I had to take pictures and work on it back in my room. It was the only way.”

Dahl shook his head. “Go on.”

“It’s a mix of old Akkadian and Sumerian. Maybe some old Babylonian, just for fun. My findings are very preliminary right now, but I can say that much at least. It’s possible that ancient languages actually first began when some enterprising soul discovered this so-called god language. As you know old Akkadian was written on clay tablets using a
Cuneiform
script—adopted from early Sumerian. Once I translated the frequent
logograms
, I was away.”

“Logogram?” Drake wondered.

Karin whispered. “Pictures that represent words.”

“Fill in the gaps?” Dahl said with a fond smile.

“It’s a little bit more complex than that, Torsten. I know most of what you soldiers do is point and click, but translating an unknown language—well, that takes a little skill.”