“The Big Island,” Butcher said. “Which makes good sense and confirms my theory.” He threw a smug look at Pang. “It’s where one of the earth energy vortices is located.”
“You mean they’re not just planning on stealing a lei from a hula girl?” Pang said through gritted teeth. “That’s comforting.”
“They’re not those people anymore,” Heidi told him for the thousandth time. “They’re playing on the good side now. They have been since I recruited them.”
Pang snorted. “Give me a break.”
“Oh, I’d love to. Just name the bone and I’ll do my best.”
Pang raised his brows. “Go for whatever you like. See what happens.”
“Oh, please,” Butcher said. “Quit with the measuring contest. You hate each other. That’s okay. Deal with it. Once this mission is over you never have to work together again.”
Heidi gritted her teeth and turned away. Butcher was right, but Pang brought out the worst in her. Pang had betrayed them, put Bodie and the others into an interrogation unit for days. Her too. Pang would be a company man until the day he died. Gray wasn’t a color he recognized and, unfortunately, that was the world in which Guy Bodie had lived the best part of his life.
Butcher tapped away at his keyboard. “There,” he said. “I’ve booked us on a direct flight to Hawaii. We’ll land shortly before them at the same Big Island airport. Do you wanna be there to greet them?”
Heidi watched Pang’s mouth turn into a nasty grin. “Oh, yes,” he growled. “Oh, yes I do. And when they run...” He patted the holster at his side.
“You’ll arrest them,” Heidi said. “Or you will go to jail.”
Pang looked genuinely surprised and then amused. “Jail? Jail? I’m CIA. They don’t put us jail, they give us a medal.”
“American soil,” Butcher reminded them. “Maybe we should enlist FBI assistance.”
“This is a wide international conspiracy,” Pang said. “Of which Hawaii is just the latest stop. We’ll get away with it.”
Heidi watched him justify it, wondering where it would end. A showdown with the relic hunters? Murder? Failure? They had hunted Bodie from America to Mexico and back again. They had crossed Europe. And now, with the quest drawing to an end, they finally knew what he was pursuing.
“The Illuminati threat,” she said. “You can’t ignore it.”
“Not my problem.” Pang waved her away.
“Don’t flick at me, asshole. The Illuminati are a serious threat. This prophecy—”
“Prophecy,” Pang snorted. “Listen to yourself. Didn’t Game of Thrones finish a while back?”
“Yes,” Butcher said. “And with quite a few loose ends I might add.”
“Not my word,” Heidi said. “It’s the Illuminati’s description. Clearly, Pang, they’re searching for some ancient weapon. Now, you know from our operation with Bodie when we discovered King Arthur, Excalibur and the Holy Grail, that these so-called prophecies can sometimes turn out to be genuine. That they lead to real discoveries. That’s pretty much archaeology right there, mixed with a large chunk of faith. But listen, what if this one’s founded in truth too?”
“It’s vague,” Pang said after a moment’s reflection. “I admit, finding King Arthur’s tomb threw me. Knocked me and my views off kilter. I haven’t had time to process any of that though because, the next day, Guy fucking Bodie escaped.”
“Escaped? I don’t think—”
“I don’t care. We’ll go now, pick up Bodie, and talk about the Illuminati later.” Pang clipped her retort with the turn of his back and a smart step toward the bathroom. At the door he hesitated and looked back. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe Butcher could use the flight time to research those Illuminati bastards.”
Heidi took that as the closest thing to a victory she was likely to get. She tapped Butcher on the arm. “What time do we land in Hawaii?”
CHAPTER NINE
Bodie yawned and checked his watch, thinking this had to be one of the dullest flights he’d ever taken. By his reckoning they were still an hour out from the Big Island, the largest of the Hawaiian Islands and officially named Hawai‘i but mostly referred to as the Big Island to distinguish it from the state. Bodie knew it was rugged, composed of five separate volcanoes, the most famous of which were Kilauea and Mauna Loa, both active for more than thirty years.
Between them they had managed to bag five seats close together. Cassidy was beside him, Lucie across the aisle. Jemma and Yasmine were two seats behind. The long journey gave Lucie ample time for research. Bodie and the others spent the hours snoozing, reading in-flight magazines, and eating surprisingly passable plane food.
The voice of the captain rang out across the cabin. “Hey folks, we’ll be beginning our descent in just a few minutes...”
Bodie tuned him out after that. It was enough to know their long journey was almost at an end. He shuffled over to look out the window, seeing nothing below but blue skies and a thick shelf of clouds. The conversations around him swelled, people getting excited for either the start or the end of a trip. Or both. Bodie felt the plane start its long series of stepped descents.
“You rested?” Cassidy asked with a wide yawning.
“About the same as you by the look of it. But I’m too wired to go straight to a hotel room. We need to get this finished.”
“You know me,” Cassidy agreed. “Always good for it. Grew up hard and fast and never stopped running. I’ll never take root, Guy.”
Bodie knew it. “How about a vacation?”
“I can’t see myself lying on a beach drinking cocktails. Can you? Did you really enjoy our few weeks in Mexico?”
Bodie shuffled uncomfortably. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked this question. “Not so much,” he said honestly. “But it’s either that or go on the run and spend the rest of our lives looking around every corner for the CIA.”
“Tough choice,” Cassidy admitted. “What’s that?”
Bodie blinked at her, wondering what she meant. Then he followed the direction of her gaze. “That’s a helicopter. And it’s close.”
“No,” Cassidy said. “It’s two helicopters.”
The plane was lower than Bodie had noticed, the airport and town of Hilo below already in sight. They descended and decelerated as the pilot prepared to land. Bodie kept his eyes on the helicopters.
“You think they’re for us?” Cassidy whispered.
“CIA?” Bodie had been living with the fear that Pang or some CIA proxy might discover their fake IDs and track them down. The more they traveled the likelier that chance became.
“It’s possible,” he said. “If it is, some of us have get clear. The Illuminati will win if we all get caught.”
Cassidy nodded. Bodie turned back to the window again and then his jaw dropped. “Fucking hell! They have guns.”
The plane coasted down lower and lower, the choppers running alongside. Black-clad men wearing masks and holding guns sat in the open doors, at least four of them that Bodie could see. The guns were pointed at the airplane.
“They won’t...” he began.
But he remembered how ruthless the Illuminati were. He remembered how little they cared for collateral damage, for anyone other than a member of their precious flock.
“It’s not the CIA,” he said.
He yelled out a warning and ducked as the terrifying beats of bullets peppering the outside of the aircraft stung the air. The plane shuddered. Heads whirled in disbelief and confusion. Then the screaming began.
Bodie had never felt so helpless in all his life. They were the proverbial sitting ducks, unable to sway their fate. The pilot, to his credit, acted quickly, putting the plane into a steeper dive. Bodie held on as the screaming intensified.
Another volley smashed into the aircraft. Bullets perforated the hull, slamming into seats, bulkheads and people. Bodie saw a man fall sideways amid a splash of blood. He saw a woman across the aisle take a bullet to the arm that missed al
l the other rows of people seated in its way. It was mayhem, pure hell.
Cassidy slipped to the floor. Bodie followed suit, yelling for others to do the same. The shooters were concentrated on one body position, those sitting in their rows with seatbelts fastened. A bullet smashed through Bodie’s window, showering him with particles. A high, keening wind flooded the interior.
The plane dived, its side a ragged mess. The helicopters kept pace and then drifted away.
For a moment, the shooting stopped. Bodie looked up.
“That’s not good,” Cassidy said.
Unable to see anything, Bodie nevertheless knew the plane had to be nearing the runway. The pilot was leveling off; the landing gear was down. Loose items flew around the cabin like weapons: a cellphone slammed between seats, a loose trolley smashed between aisles. The noise was tremendous: a non-stop, ear-splitting roar.
The shooting started up again but this time no bullets came through the bulkhead. Bodie closed his eyes in fear.
“Oh, no,” he said.
“The engines,” Cassidy said.
There came a colossal explosion as if a volcano had erupted from Bodie’s side of the plane. Gigantic clouts of metallic thunder chilled him to the bone, and the sound of one of their engines slowing, its roar fading, was a knife to the heart.
The plane lurched like a wounded animal. Its very structure shuddered and creaked. It was an enormous beast looking death in the face. The pilot held on, fighting the fluctuations, and finding a way to prepare for landing.
Bodie’s heart hammered. Tension struck him in waves. They didn’t know what to expect as each terrifying second passed: the feel of wheels touching down, or the front end smashing into concrete.
They didn’t know if the plane was even lined up, if they’d hit a building or come down in the ocean. Each passing second dripped by in horrific anticipation.
The nightmare continued. Another burst of gunfire rattled through the plane. Terrifying thuds echoed back and forth as lead found targets.
Bodie grabbed the seat above him and pulled, lifting his head to look out the jagged window.
Even here, in this position, he could see the tops of buildings. The choppers were veering away.
Bodie’s stomach lurched as the plane bounced, striking the ground at speed. He lost his grip, struck his head on metal and plastic.
The aircraft came down again, crunching hard, throwing everyone forward. By now, the screams of people, the roar of the engines and the air, were indistinguishable, just one hellish montage of fear that even the Devil would have been proud of.
Bodie held on, curled in the footwell. It was impossible to grasp. Three hundred people all crammed together—three hundred people about to die alone.
The wheels collapsed. Bodie felt it in the sudden pitch of the plane. The nose struck solid ground first. The body hit next. The whole jet swerved to the right, the back end coming around. Sparks and unknown chunks of deadly material sliced past the open windows.
Bodie’s heart was in his mouth, his stomach turning, his arms and legs drawn into his body for protection.
Their forward momentum slowed rapidly, pinning their bodies against the seats before them. Bodie’s eyes were closed, his senses shot through by the trauma. There was no strength left in his arms, just acceptance.
It was with indescribable relief then, that the plane ground to a screeching halt.
Bodie couldn’t move. The silence was overwhelming—the roar of the wind... gone, the screams of the people... gone, the gunfire... gone. Was he dead?
In a far corner of his mind, he knew his mind was lying in some kind of protective mental bubble. Bodie forced his eyes open. Cassidy’s face and eyes were inches from his own.
Her mouth moved. Bodie fixed on it. He couldn’t hear anything for the roaring silence in his brain but then, in a split-second, it all came rushing through.
“Move, Guy, move!” Groans and yells of hundreds of people. The shrieks of those hurt. Approaching sirens splitting the air. The smell of fire and the sound of titanium and carbon fiber composites dropping off the plane.
Bodie reached out.
Cassidy grabbed his hand and pulled. “Come on. I don’t wanna survive a plane crash and then die in the fire afterward.”
Her words sent a bolt of adrenalin through him. All of a sudden he could move, his senses sharpened, and he rose to his feet.
The cabin was a mess, lined with wreckage and people crawling over seats and up the aisles. Someone was screaming for the doors to be opened, for the pilot to save them, the cabin crew to act.
Bodie put his head to the window, trying to allay the terrible fear that the helicopters might still be close by. But they were gone. To escape, they’d had to leave the area as the authorities and security forces were alerted to whatever this was.
“Did the Illuminati just try to kill us?” he murmured.
Cassidy shook his shoulder. “If we don’t get the hell out of here, we’ll never know, but it could have been anything from that to a terrorist attack. Now, move!”
Bodie followed her out of their seating area. They reached across the aisle to Lucie. The blond sat looking dazed, a smear of blood across her temple. Her laptop had fallen to the floor, and it was the first thing she reached for as Cassidy patted her cheeks.
“I’m okay,” she said.
Bodie had to climb over two sets of seats to reach Yasmine and Jemma. “Hey, are you hurt?”
Jemma breathed deeply and clutched her chest. Yasmine’s head hung low.
Bodie scrambled over and dropped into their footwell before turning toward them and reaching out for Jemma. “Hey.”
“I’m okay,” she hissed. “Got a whack in the ribs. Don’t think they’re broken.” She shrugged and winced in pain.
Bodie turned to Yasmine, looking straight up into her face. The Moroccan was unconscious. Bodie found a bottle of water and splashed it across her face. As he did so, Cassidy and Lucie crowded in from the aisle.
Yasmine groaned, waking slowly. Bodie saw a big welt on the side of her head. Just then, the airplane doors opened to admit bright sunlight and even more fresh air. The sound of the inflatable chute opening was greeted with a cheer inside the plane. Bodie waited as Yasmine recovered.
“Wh... what happened?” she asked.
“Tell you later.” Bodie was able to take a good look around him in that moment. He saw the dead, relatively few but incredibly sad. He saw the injured, those holding arms and chests and legs. He looked at Cassidy. “We can help them.”
Without thought of escaping the plane, they moved between the injured people, binding wounds and stemming blood flow as best they could. The cabin crew helped too and, by the time the airport medics arrived, they had patched up a few dozen. It was only then that Bodie started toward the chute.
“I’m still at a loss for words,” Cassidy said.
“Me too.” He grabbed hold of the door frame and looked down. The chute hung at an odd angle, probably due to the damaged wheels, but was still serviceable if a bit underinflated. Bodie jumped onto it and bounced down to solid ground. His instincts kicked in and he surveyed the area for enemies. There were ambulances and paramedics, police and dark-suited agents milling about everywhere.
“We need to get out of here.” Cassidy stood at his side.
The others came down the chute. A medic directed them to an area where uninjured passengers had been herded. Many were sitting on the ground, but Bodie noted chairs were arriving.
“Bad sign,” he said. “It means we could be here for a while.”
Lucie frowned at him. “That’s not possible,” she said. “You know they’re already here, right?”
Bodie looked at the damaged aircraft. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’re right.”
CHAPTER TEN
The relic hunters were forced to sit with the rest of the passengers. A medic checked them over, handing Yasmine an ice pack for her head and advising her to get checked over
properly at the nearest hospital. Lucie’s head wound was superficial.
Bodie searched for a way out. “Does everyone have their passports?” he asked.
There was a general nod. Lucie clutched her laptop and bit her lip. The rest of their carry-on luggage was still inside the plane. “The samples,” she said. “They’re in my backpack.” Being a registered historian and archaeologist—even using the fake identity—she was allowed to transport “soil samples” through customs.
Bodie shrugged. “Then I don’t see a way out. We’re gonna have to wait and hope our IDs hold up.”
“Won’t the plane luggage be part of the crime scene?” Jemma wondered. “I’m not entirely sure.”
Neither was Bodie. “Maybe we can sneak back in after dark,” he said. “Start formulating a plan, Jem.”
As Jemma snapped surreptitious pictures with her phone, recording the layout of buildings, security fences and other things in relation to the plane, Bodie noticed the first passenger interviews begin. He drifted away from the area, gesturing for the others to follow. It was a bright morning in Hawaii, the airport a small structure amid a series of flat concrete runways.
“It’s old school, this place,” Cassidy whispered. “I wonder if they’re gonna use facial rec on everyone?”
“Surely they have to,” Bodie said. “Anyone on board could be a terrorist. They have to take that into consideration. I’m sure we’ll all be thoroughly vetted.”
“Oh, crap, that’s what I was afraid of.”
It was a fair assessment, Bodie thought. Without planning it this way, the Illuminati had removed them from the chase.
Lucie interrupted his thoughts. “You know,” she said, “they won’t leave us out here in the heat all day, not with everything we’ve been through. They should take us to a hotel.”
It sounded plausible to Bodie. In fact, he was warming to the idea when figures swarmed around the corner of a nearby building. It was only when he squinted hard at them that Bodie realized this nightmare was far from over. “Take cover!”
The Illuminati Endgame (The Relic Hunters 7) Page 5
