The Illuminati Endgame (The Relic Hunters 7)

by David Leadbeater

  “We don’t have time for this,” Cassidy muttered.

  “Is that what you said the night you sneaked away like gutter rats?” Heidi turned on her. “Thieves in the night, that’s all you people are.”

  Bodie thought that a bit unfair considering all they’d done in the last few years, but maintained his silence. Pang was picking his way up the hill.

  “Need a hand?” he asked.

  Pang held his gun in one hand as he climbed the steep bank. Bodie waited as he read the situation and decided what to do.

  “Put your guns down and come with me,” Pang said.

  Butcher grimaced as Yasmine jabbed him in the back with her barrel.

  Cassidy drew her pistol and aimed it at Heidi. “This isn’t your day, Pang,” the redhead said.

  “Stand down,” Bodie whispered.

  Pang looked from Bodie to Heidi and then at Butcher. The problem was, Pang was always going to be predictable.

  “You won’t shoot them,” he said. “And, honestly, their loss is acceptable. I can pop Yas and Cassidy in less time than it would take them to kill those two.”

  Bodie didn’t doubt it, but dug deeper, trying to find the man’s heart. “It doesn’t have to happen,” he said. “Once the shooting starts it’s all over. Nobody wins. You’ve shared mud, blood and death with us, Pang. Please, stand down.”

  The CIA agent didn’t acknowledge him.

  Bodie saw his finger squeeze the gun and a shot went off. His heart stopped. Red-hot emotion drilled through his body like a fiery arrow. It all happened in a split second.

  The dirt between Cassidy’s legs kicked up a cloud of dust. That was it. Pang had fired a warning shot. Cassidy’s hands remained steady.

  Pang grinned at Cassidy and Yasmine. “Steady hands,” he said. “I do like that.”

  Bodie took a deep breath. Of course, Jemma and Lucie were also vulnerable, standing behind him and unarmed. It was more than a Mexican standoff; it was one of the worst moments of his life.

  “You will die, Pang,” Bodie said, hardly able to believe the words were coming out of his own mouth. “If you hurt them, we will kill you.”

  Pang appeared taken aback, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. The guy was insufferable and arrogant, but he was also pragmatic. “What do you suggest?” he asked.

  “We walk away, you walk away. Call it a draw.”

  “Do you have the ore?” Butcher asked.

  Bodie blinked, having forgotten about their mission in the tense heat of the moment.

  Lucie was the first to answer. “Yes. But what do you know?”

  “I’ve researched your quest and discovered the prophecy.”

  “Really?” Lucie moved forward, her face earnest and fascinated. “I’d love to compare notes and—”

  Bodie snagged her jacket as she walked past, holding her back. Lucie, already in educator mode, froze as she remembered her danger.

  “We have the ore,” Jemma said. “In fact, we now have eight samples.”

  “Eight of ten,” Butcher said. “That’s quite some feat.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Pang snarled. “Just shoot him. It’d make my life easier.”

  “Oh, really?” Cassidy asked. “So it was you that tracked us down, was it? A coldblooded fuck in love with murder. If you weren’t a government agent, Pang, you’d be a serial killer.”

  “I am what they made me,” Pang shot back.

  “But you don’t have to be,” Bodie said. “Change yourself.”

  Pang shook his head as if shedding the impact of their words. Sweat flew from his forehead.

  Bodie knew he’d never openly give them an inch. “Walk away.” He motioned to Lucie and Jemma. “Take that trail up to the ridge there.” He pointed it out. “We’ll meet you.”

  Both women looked reluctant, but Bodie urged them on, thinking this was their only chance. Next, he nodded at Cassidy. “You too.”

  The redhead glared but everyone knew she’d never shoot Heidi. She walked away from the woman and handed Bodie her gun. “If I hear any shooting,” she looked at Pang, “I’m gonna come down here and revisit my cage-fighting days. Then you’ll discover what ‘no mercy’ really means.”

  Pang stared after her. It was now down to five of them. Heidi backed away several steps, taking herself out of the picture. Bodie nodded at Yasmine.

  “Bring him.”

  “Hey,” Heidi said. “No. He stays, you go.”

  “I don’t trust him.” Bodie nodded at Pang. “But you should trust me. We’ll leave Butcher at the top of the hill.”

  “It’s okay,” Butcher said. “I trust them.”

  Pang gave him the kind of look a mother would give an unruly toddler, but then waved his gun at Yasmine. “Go, go,” he said. “We’ll catch you later.”

  Bodie ignored the comment. He too backed up and sent a last look toward Heidi. “I’m truly sorry. But what we did was necessary. It was the right thing to do. I hope that someday, you understand.”

  He followed Yasmine up the steep, foliage-choked slope.

  When they reached the top, Lucie was waiting to talk to Butcher. “Hey, you must have skills if you’ve figured out the Illuminati prophecy. We were told about it while being tortured. What’s your speciality?”

  Bodie knew they didn’t have time and urged them on. Lucie hung back, fighting Bodie’s forward momentum.

  “I’m just a tech,” Butcher said. “I eat candy and analyze things. I examined the facts, the journey you were on, the reports of trouble in those areas, and followed the evidence.”

  Lucie would have hung back but Bodie pushed her away. Together, the five of them hurried as fast as they could around the rim of Kilauea’s wide crater, making their way back toward the overlook. Bodie, suspicious of Pang but not of Heidi wasn’t sure what would happen next so kept a close eye on their backs along with Yasmine and Cassidy.

  When they reached the car, Lucie jumped into the passenger seat. “Fuck,” she said. “That was intense. I thought we were all gonna die.”

  Bodie’s eyebrows raced to the top of his head. it was the first time he could remember hearing her curse. “Gotta agree,” he said. “But we’re not out of the woods yet.”

  He started the car and set off down the twisting road away from the volcano. For a long time no cars appeared in their rearview.

  But Bodie knew Pang was behind them.

  “That bastard will never let us go,” he said, an almost fatal declaration. “We got lucky today. I don’t know what will happen next time.”

  “Not lucky,” Cassidy said. “We used what we always use. Our heads and our skills.”

  Bodie nodded, accepting that. The truth was that the encounter with the two helicopters and then the standoff with Pang and Heidi, and all so soon after the attack on their plane, had worn him out. A wave of weariness washed over him.

  “I’m guessing the next sanctum isn’t around here?” he asked.

  Lucie was keeping careful track. “Another plane journey, but not too far. We’re closest to Easter Island next.”

  Bodie bit his bottom lip. “That’s a relatively small place. We’re not gonna be able to hide too well.”

  Cassidy leaned forward. “Then we do what we do best. We keep it low profile, and out of sight. How long till we reach Easter Island?”

  “We’ll arrive in full darkness,” Lucie said.

  “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Easter Island sits in the southeastern Pacific Ocean, in the Polynesian Triangle in Oceania, and is famous around the world for almost a thousand distinctive monumental statues known as moai, established by the early Rapa Nui people. One of the remotest inhabited islands in the world, it is today a territory of Chile.

  Bodie and his team flew in late, spent thirty tense minutes easing through border patrol, and then hired a car. They hoped for a fast mission, in and out like knives cutting through water.

  They pulled out of the parking lot and headed north along the Cami
no Vaite Amakena for a while before pulling into Kotaro, a Japanese restaurant with a fearsome reputation.

  But they weren’t there to eat.

  They waited to identify any tails. After fifteen minutes, they continued their journey and pulled off again after twenty.

  “So far, so good,” Bodie said.

  “Nobody on our asses,” Cassidy said. “Luce, you got a direction?”

  Lucie had been working on a good location from which to visit the ley line intersecting the island. She opened an app and dropped a pin. A thick blue line appeared along their route, plotting the course.

  “Rano Raraku,” she said.

  Bodie didn’t question it, just kept going, confident in Lucie’s directions. Strong winds buffeted the car, gusting across the small island from the Pacific. The road was ill-lit, which slowed them down, but Bodie still made good progress to the northeast.

  “I like this,” Cassidy said. “Slip in, slip out. No hotels. No footprint. It’s what we used to do.”

  “Then we should be pretty good at it,” Bodie said.

  Jemma stared out across the dark landscape. “Honestly, I’m more comfortable with buildings.”

  “They’re harder to break into,” Yasmine pointed out.

  “I know. But with buildings you can plan. Leave nothing to chance. Out here...” She knocked on the glass. “There’s a ton of random.”

  “We’re getting close,” Lucie said. “There should be a turn ahead which possibly leads to a parking area, I can’t tell. Obviously, that’ll be closed so start looking for somewhere to hide the car.”

  Bodie nodded. “Where are we headed exactly?”

  “Rano Raraku. An ancient volcano and quarry, and home to the famous moai statues. Home because almost all were made here before being transported across the island. Four hundred remain and they include the largest and most refined statues ever carved.”

  “A land of giants,” Jemma said.

  “Indeed,” Lucie agreed. “This place evokes an air of mystery like no other place in the world. The heart of the Rapa Nui civilization.”

  Bodie, half listening, noticed a side road ahead but was traveling too fast and missed it. After executing a three-point turn in the middle of the road, he nudged the car into the road and then close into an overhanging tree. “It’s not perfect,” he said. “But without proper recon it’ll have to do.”

  Cassidy was already opening her door. “Can’t wait. Follow me.”

  “Slow down,” Lucie said. “I’m still getting a feel for the area.”

  Unsure what she meant, Bodie followed Cassidy out of the car. Once they ducked out from under their tree cover, they both stopped and stared at the magnificent view ahead.

  Lit by starlight and a full moon, rolling hills and smooth dirt paths skirted countless, randomly placed Moai statues: monolithic human figures with overlarge heads.

  “You feel that?” Cassidy whispered.

  “Yeah, like old mystery, peace and awe,” Bodie said. “Something that never fails to take your breath away.”

  “One of the bigger misconceptions is that the statues are seen as just heads,” Lucie said. “Sometimes they’re referred to as the Easter Island Heads. In truth, they all have bodies buried in the ground.”

  Together, they made their way across the dark road. A stiff wind pounded them from the east, laced with a smell of the ocean. Bodie saw the taller grasses shaking, the volcano and the statues standing firm. They took a moment to study the vista.

  “It looks clear,” Cassidy said.

  Bodie knew there could be any number of enemies hiding out there. It was entirely too dark to be sure. But they were here for one reason only.

  “Let’s not dawdle,” he said and started walking.

  They followed a winding path used daily by tourists. Lucie directed them quietly, trying to stick to the beaten track. Bodie got his first close-up look of the world-famous moai, their dour faces returning his gaze, their bodies carved from volcanic ash. With heavy brows and elongated noses, the jawlines were prominent and stood out against long necks. Bodie’s spine itched every time he passed through one of the statues’ field of vision and he was glad when Lucie pulled them up.

  “There,” she said.

  They followed her lead, climbing the grassy slopes to the rocky edge of the volcano. Lucie plotted her line and started to dig along with Yasmine. Bodie stayed upright and kept watch.

  “Too easy,” Cassidy said, gazing toward the ocean.

  “All sorts of reasons for that,” Bodie said. “The Illuminati could have been and gone days ago. Maybe they haven’t gotten here yet. We won’t always encounter them at sanctums.”

  Cassidy nodded in agreement but the worried light in her eyes stayed on. Bodie was glad when, three minutes later, Lucie announced she was ready.

  “Back to the car,” she said. “That was easy.”

  Bodie cringed inside. Thinking that way was one thing... but stating it out loud? Not that he was superstitious in any way, but there were some things you just never said.

  “Check when the next flight leaves,” he said. “I wanna be on that bird the moment it opens its doors.”

  Settled back in the car, Lucie stowed her sample and clicked at her phone.

  Bodie took a last glance around the area. “I think your nerves are rubbing off on me,” he said to Cassidy.

  “Not nerves. Sixth sense. Intuition.”

  “I wasn’t feeling anything until you said something.”

  “You’re not me.”

  Bodie liked to think his own skills, honed through decades of artistic appropriation, were on a par with the redhead’s, but consoled himself by starting the car, turning it around, and heading back for the airport.

  All the way, Cassidy watched.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Bacchus donned his finest black robe, picked out two ceremonial daggers, and strode to the dungeon. Along the way he passed several guards, all Hoods of extraordinary capabilities, and received silent nods of respect. Bacchus returned the nods in line with tradition.

  “Are we ready?” he asked a man wrapped in red who was stationed outside the dungeon door.

  “Yes, Grand Master. All is prepared.”

  Bacchus opened the wooden double doors. Beyond, the dungeon opened out in all its splendor—the instruments of torture, the stone altars with their dried blood, the items of restraint. This was his element. This was where he felt most alive.

  But there was work to do. Bacchus spotted Adelaide, Discord and Cronos lined up amid a crowd on the far side of the room. He counted the figures, forty, which came to the correct amount.

  Bacchus then turned to his right where three television screens had been erected, each displaying what, to others, might have been disturbing scenes. Not to Bacchus. “Very soon, we will begin.”

  Three voices returned an affirmative. The voices belonged to three Masters in three different locations around the world, all standing in similar rooms with their lessers and ready to perform the Illuminati’s first ever global black mass.

  Despite the significance of it, Bacchus wanted it to be over. They were so close. So close. Nine ore samples collected and one to go. The crucible would be waiting. Of course, the purpose of the mass was to harness immense energy from the Great Dragon to aid their endeavors. It couldn’t be forsaken.

  “The final ore?” he asked, unable to help himself.

  “I sent an army,” Adelaide said. “They cannot fail.”

  Bacchus nodded and then raised his hands into the air. “Ave, Satanas!”

  The chant was taken up in this dungeon and in the others, an occult mantra that rose to a crescendo. For the first time, Bacchus turned his gaze upon their sacrifice.

  It was a middle-aged male, bound so tightly it could not move. It struggled, though; its eyes bulging. Bacchus saw that the male had kept itself fit and that there were no visible signs of scarring across its entire body.

  A good offering.

 
Bacchus pulled on the goat’s head. It was wide and heavy, its features gnarled. It bore two horns and a goat’s face and sat top-heavy on his shoulders, so weighty he could only turn an inch at a time. Bacchus withdrew the long dagger from his robe.

  The sacrifice began to weep.

  Bacchus stood at the edge of the stone altar. “Lay waste,” he said. “Lay waste to all the fruits of the earth so that His glory may feed the masses.” The rite had begun, a rite Bacchus had presided over a thousand times before.

  “Great Dragon, give us the power to claim your victory, to rid this earth of the non-believers, to enslave the rest. We are the Illuminati. Empower us.”

  With over forty voices chanting here, and hundreds through the video feed, Bacchus felt a deep moment of rapture. The rhythm swelled, the Great Dragon filled him and imbued him with His black energy. Bacchus suddenly felt superhuman, a king among billions of subordinates. He would rise above them and dominate them.

  “Ave, Satanas, Ave Satanas,” the recital continued as Bacchus rested the point of his dagger over the sacrifice’s heart.

  “You are incredibly lucky,” he told the man about to die. “Rejoice in that. You have fed the Illuminati.”

  Bacchus lifted the blade before plunging it straight down and through the man’s heart.

  The body went rigid, the lips spread, and a scream echoed around the room. The last thing the victim would ever see was Bacchus’s goat-head visage grinning down at him.

  “Good,” Bacchus whispered. “Die for us now.”

  Leaving the dagger stuck to the hilt in the sacrifice’s chest, Bacchus drank in the immense feeling of power. This was the moment when he felt closest to the Great Dragon. Behind him, Adelaide and the other Minervals moaned. The entire congregation whipped their heads left and right. The TV screens showed similar scenes around the world as everyone from the lowliest follower to the Grand Master invoked the power of the beast they worshipped.

  Bacchus stood over the dead man. Blood had welled from the wound and poured off his chest into the runnels around the edge of the altar.