The Illuminati Endgame (The Relic Hunters 7)

by David Leadbeater

  Crap, Bodie thought.

  He sat up, counting. The first person he saw was Jemma, followed by Yasmine and Butcher, the women holding their already bruised ribs in pain. It seemed only one person had been claimed by the greater void. There was no sign of the lost person, no sound or vestige. Adelaide was busy dusting herself off and looking around in awe.

  Pang crawled to the edge of the stone border. “He’s gone. Nobody could survive that drop.”

  Bodie studied the rest of the pit. The area that rested against the foundation of the huge wall now offered a large square hole and the top of a steep staircase. Butcher was already approaching it.

  “Kid,” Bodie said. “Slow down. You have to be more careful.”

  Butcher stopped at the hole and knelt down.

  Cassidy and Yasmine were already standing at Bodie’s side. Cassidy reached down and helped pull him to his feet. Bodie brushed himself off and checked his knee. It throbbed but he could put weight on it. It would do.

  “Are you okay?” he made a point of asking, knowing bruises and knocks from earlier battles had to be making themselves known in countless painful ways.

  “Onward,” Cassidy said determinedly.

  “Well at least we didn’t leave an obvious clue as to which way we went,” Bodie said, and started forward.

  The CIA wetworkers pushed him aside to go first. Butcher was eager to follow and, naturally, Pang was happy to let him. When the younger man disappeared, Bodie hurried to support him along with Jemma.

  The wide stone staircase dropped away to unknown depths. Bodie smelled dead things, mold and something sharp. The air drifted past like a somnolent sleepwalker, carrying particles of dust with it. Bodie, by now, was used to venturing into the unknown in search of old relics. It was a sharp contrast to how they used to work but, conversely, employed many of the same skills and tools.

  Bodie sensed nothing below and saw no end to the stone stairs. They shone their flashlights, but the thin beams didn’t penetrate far. Behind them, the others congregated at the top of the stairs.

  “You waiting for a bus?” Cassidy asked them. “This isn’t Leicester Square. Get going.”

  Butcher moved first, following the CIA agents ahead, one step at a time. Bodie shivered in the growing chill, his body covered in goosebumps. The walls to both sides were of sheer rock that was relatively smooth and evenly jointed. Butcher pointed out that this was a manmade tunnel and then voiced the obvious. “Made by the Ishtari perhaps?”

  Conversation rattled through the comms.

  “Over four thousand years ago,” Jemma said. “And we found the way in.”

  “I’d say the way in found us,” Bodie said. “Which makes me wonder if the Illuminati have ever actually been inside.” He glanced back at Adelaide. “Have your people ever been here before? Have you confirmed that this crucible even exists?”

  Adelaide shook her head, keeping communication to a minimum. To be fair, Bodie didn’t blame her.

  “Probably not,” Yasmine said. “If you recall, when they were torturing us back at their castle, Bacchus let slip that the Illuminati ignored the prophecy for centuries. It only came to light again when you destroyed their Olympia stronghold and took back all those treasures, severely weakening their organization.”

  “When we all but destroyed the Illuminati.” Bodie sighed. “If only we’d finished that bloody job.”

  Butcher continued ahead, remaining silent and concentrating hard. Bodie was glad. The last thing they needed now was another cave in, or similar.

  “Heads up,” Butcher said.

  Bodie aimed his flashlight, which helped to illuminate the bottom of the staircase where the advance CIA wetworkers were gathered. They came to a wide room, arched and rectangular in shape. The walls were made of solid rock, the floor of grit and sand.

  “One direction,” Butcher said, and pointed.

  Bodie stepped off the staircase onto the solid floor. Cassidy’s voice crackled in his ear. “What does he mean? That there’s only one door?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Thank God. I thought we’d discovered the whereabouts of that old boy band.”

  Bodie headed for the new tunnel. It too was arched with a high ceiling, the passage hewn out of solid bedrock and fairly ragged. It ran at a level angle, quite straight, in a direction that would take them under—or through—the foundations of the Great Wall of China.

  Through, Bodie assumed. The wall had been constructed over many years and would have made a relatively easy and clever target under which to secrete the crucible. The Ishtari and the Illuminati after them had always had vast influence.

  The tunnel ended abruptly at a wide, black gorge.

  Bodie felt light-headed to find himself facing a two-meter-wide crevasse of impenetrable blackness. Jemma passed the information back down the line.

  First, Pang led the way across the gap, landing safely on the other side. Bodie arrested his momentum quickly, conscious that this underground sanctum might hide many more surprises before it was done with them.

  Butcher and Jemma combined their flashlight beams to light up the way ahead. They struggled until several other beams crossed theirs.

  And there, in the distance...

  “Whoa,” Butcher said.

  “The crucible,” Jemma said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Two lines of stone pillars marched away from Bodie, vanishing into the depths of a vast cavern. The pillars were light, almost yellow in color, and covered with detailed carvings. The floor was pure rock but had pathways delineated by raised blocks. Bodie couldn’t see any walls, nor the ceiling that lay way above the reach of their flashlights, but he could see—in the distance—the object of their quest. A quick glance at Adelaide confirmed the wonder he expected to see on her face.

  It sat on a stone dais at the summit of six wide stone steps: a wide, white, ceramic vessel. Bodie would have started toward it, but Pang held up a hand.

  “Wait.”

  “What is it?” Bodie asked.

  “It’s just... too easy.”

  Bodie blinked and sent the CIA man an inquisitive look. “Is that supposed to be a joke because, if it is—”

  “No, no, I mean right here and now. Are we really gonna just walk right up to the crucible?”

  Jemma stepped around him. “You’re thinking that once a visitor gets inside there’s... something else? A test maybe?”

  “Pang’s right. The simplicity of getting from here to there,” Butcher said, “doesn’t fit in with the quest as a whole so far.”

  Bodie took a breath. Butcher had a point. The crucible was visible and not exactly huge. The rock face behind it was plain, bearing no markings whatsoever. The vessel had stood in darkness these many years and yet, somehow, didn’t look dulled or blemished in any way. “I see what you mean,” he said. “Pang, I think it’s your turn to lead the way, pal.”

  The CIA agent gave Bodie a long-suffering grimace and then turned to one of his subordinates. “Anderson. Take point.”

  “No.” Bodie stood in the man’s way. “Pang, you have to be the biggest arsehole I’ve ever had the displeasure to work with.” He turned to Jemma and Butcher. “What do you think?”

  “The floor,” Butcher said. “The pillars just draw you in. I would imagine there’s a route around them.”

  “What the hell is this, Pang?” one of the, until now, reasonably dutiful CIA wetworkers spoke up. “A new Tomb Raider movie? Alicia Vikander gonna pop out, is she?”

  “He has a point,” another man said. “What the hell are we doing down here?”

  Bodie looked back at them. If he were being honest, dressed as they were, he couldn’t tell which of them had spoken. The remaining six men and two women wore thick Kevlar vests, headscarves and lightweight helmets. They looked bulky, dirty and unimpressed. “What did he tell you we were doing here?”

  “Nothing. It’s a need to know, which I can accept, but this... this is getting fucking we
ird.”

  “You think this is weird?” Cassidy said. “You should have been with us in King Arthur’s tomb.”

  The wetworkers threw her suspicious looks, probably wondering if she was taking the piss, Bodie thought. The British government had kept that discovery under wraps.

  “Stay focused,” Pang said. “And watch our backs. We may yet get some unwanted company down here.”

  “I’ll gladly stay behind,” one of the women said and turned her back, heading for the outer passage.

  Bodie returned to the more important issue. “Grab some rubble,” he said. “And let’s put it in a backpack.”

  Minutes later, they were ready. Butcher insisted they walk to the left or right of the stone pillars rather than in between them. Jemma agreed and so, with extreme caution, the relic hunters started forward. Bodie threw the heavy backpack step by step, ready to race back or dive to the floor. He wasn’t sure what to expect—if anything—but hadn’t survived this long by treating ancient places with disrespect.

  Proceeding to the left of the pillars, he noticed a long line of giant stone coffins running from the front of the cavern and disappearing into the distance. The idea as to whether or not these belonged to the long-dead Ishtari masters prickled his brain and tested his focus. In this moment, it didn’t matter. Bodie concentrated hard and made sure that Adelaide stayed with them.

  Halfway past the pillars, the backpack came down and the floor shattered. A loud cracking noise blasted through the cavern. The rock surface ahead gave way, breaking off. Bodie stared in shock and stepped back, but the new hole was only about four feet wide.

  Butcher looked over his shoulder at Pang and winked. “Saved your life, again.”

  Bodie realized the backpack was lost and asked for another to be filled. While he waited, he, Jemma and Cassidy cautiously approached the hole. Its edges were ragged. Dust billowed from the inside. Bodie shone his flashlight down and saw a narrow, sheer-walled death pit perhaps twelve feet deep. The bottom was lined with short, pointed stakes, just enough to pierce flesh or break bone but not to kill. The makers of the pit wanted those that trespassed here to enjoy an exceptionally long and painful death.

  “Onward,” Jemma said, taking the new rock-filled backpack from a suitably deflated-looking CIA wetworker.

  They crossed the gap and continued on past the stone pillars. The air was cold, the dust muted due to the size of the cavern. Bodie counted twelve pillars before they reached the far end. Now the crucible was evident.

  It was a deep, ceramic bowl about the width of an old trashcan lid. It stood atop a stone altar, maybe three-feet high. Bodie saw no markings on the crucible, nor on the big rectangular rock-face behind it or on the dusty stone steps that led to it. No designs or motifs meant the Ishtari had been serious about keeping this particular relic an eternal mystery.

  Bodie eyed the area of flat ground between them and the first step. Yasmine swept her flashlight left and right, but still couldn’t pick out the cavern’s side walls.

  “It feels dangerous,” Bodie said. “Exposed.”

  “Are you ready?” Butcher asked with the hint of an audacious smile on his face.

  “Always.” Cassidy hefted the backpack.

  There was a sound from behind, an intense scuffling commotion. Bodie looked back to see the CIA wetworkers rushing out of the tunnel.

  “We got company!” one shouted. “We got lots of fucking company.”

  Bodie cursed. “They’re gonna know we’re here.”

  “No way out,” Butcher said.

  Bodie watched as the CIA contingent rushed toward him, leaping over the hole and then drawing weapons.

  “Next move?” Pang asked.

  “We’re trapped,” Bodie said. “With no ore, no plans and with two of our number kidnapped. All we have is her.” He nodded at Adelaide.

  The redhead smiled. “They will sacrifice each and every one of you.”

  Bodie winced at the thought but then looked up as noise flooded in from the far passage. “They’re already here,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Heidi had remained prone on the floor of the helicopter for less than an hour before they dragged her and Lucie out, blindfolded them, and marched them at pace along a smooth strip of tarmac. Debilitated by the covering, fearful of what may happen, they had been pushed, pinched and prodded up an airstair and into some kind of jet. They had been thrown into seats, their wrists bound to leather armrests and then, minutes later, felt themselves lifting off into the air.

  Noise-cancelling headphones were placed over their ears, effectively deafening them. They were then searched, roughly, and Lucie’s backpack was taken away.

  Heidi steeled herself again the intrusive rifling of her pockets and clothing, worried mostly for Lucie. At least, Heidi assumed Lucie was receiving the same treatment as her. Lucie’s hand kept touching her own throughout the flight as if seeking reassurance. Heidi was grateful for it.

  Hours passed. The plane came down and bounced softly along a runway. Heidi asked for water and had some thrown in her face. The headphones and restraints were removed, but the blindfold stayed on.

  Heidi heard Nimrod’s voice as they were manhandled off the plane. “Keep them together in the second car. We need to prepare for the journey to the crucible.”

  “Where are we going?” Heidi asked.

  Someone slapped her across the back of the head. Heidi stumbled but kept her feet. They were shoved into the back of a large vehicle and then hemmed in by figures to both sides. The engine started and the car began its journey.

  Heidi had training, but the circumstances right now were highly dangerous. She could quiz them, annoy them, make them slip up in time but...

  Lucie was a civilian. An historian. They could hurt Lucie to shut her up. Also, Heidi didn’t know what they were worth to their kidnappers. Perhaps they were worth nothing and being led to a bottomless gorge, a glacial lake, or maybe they were about to attend a black mass in the worst possible way.

  Or... maybe... the Illuminati recognized Lucie’s abilities and Heidi’s influence. Maybe they’d take them to the crucible too.

  It was a mentally rough drive. Heidi tried to keep her fears suppressed but the knot in her stomach grew and grew. Ten minutes after the car started up a steep incline it slowed, turned and then ground to a halt. Heidi heard the crunch of gravel under its tires.

  “Out.”

  They were pulled into a cold breeze, unsure whether it was night or day. A strong hand took hold of Heidi’s belt at the small of her back and propelled her forward. She stumbled, tripped and almost fell but the hand pulled back hard, keeping her on her feet. It pushed her forward once more. There were no warnings as she lurched and staggered across more obstacles on her way.

  Bruised, Heidi was pushed up a steep flight of stairs that seemed to wind around the outside of a tall building. Heidi felt no guardrail as she climbed, and fought a sense of vertigo. The unknown figure at her back growled at her to keep moving.

  Finally, they were thrust through a door and thrown onto a carpet, landing on their knees. Heidi saved her face by putting her hands out. Lucie cried out in pain.

  A man straddled Heidi, grabbed a handful of hair, and pulled her head up until her neck ached and it became hard to draw breath.

  “These are the two?” a deep voice asked.

  “Yes, Grand Master.”

  Heidi wondered if this was the infamous Bacchus, the leader of the Illuminati. Lucie would know for sure.

  “Let me see their faces.”

  Heidi saw light again as her face covering was torn away. She blinked but managed to take in the room. She’d seen something like it before back when they stormed the Illuminati’s HQ in Italy.

  The walls were lined with deplorable paintings: scenes of the Devil and his demons doing unspeakable things to men and women. There were depictions of black masses and vile seances, reverse exorcisms and immoral adoration.

  The speaker stood
in front of her, about ten feet distant. A series of drapes hung at his back, behind a large black throne, its arms and legs carved with more twisted scenes.

  “Heidi Moneymaker,” the man said. “I know of your exploits. We barely missed each other in Italy. And, of course, Lucie Boom. We have met before.”

  Heidi glanced at Lucie, mostly to check she was unharmed. The historian’s face was drawn and white and streaked with tears. Her lower lip trembled.

  Heidi tried to hold it together. “Bacchus,” she said. “Why are we here?”

  “The end is coming. Our great reward is so close I can...” Bacchus unfurled both hands from fists to open palms, “feel it. Ordinarily, I would just kill you both.”

  “We can be useful to you,” Heidi said.

  Bacchus laughed. “I do not need useful. We are the Illuminati. What could you possibly offer that we do not already have, or could take?”

  “Lucie’s better than your best,” Heidi said. “Maybe you’ll come across something in the crucible where you’ll need her help. And me? I’m with the CIA, as you know. I can open dozens more doors for you.”

  Bacchus eyed them both closely. He took a walk around them, staring enough to make Heidi feel uncomfortable. “I feel,” he said finally, “that you are the perfect specimens for the final ceremony.”

  Heidi shivered. “The final ceremony?”

  “We have been collecting fine examples of humanity for weeks now and, once we are in Hades and ready to reap the greatest reward, we plan to hold the single biggest black mass that has ever been or ever will be. The greatest rite of subservience to the Great Dragon that we can perform. And I think you two will make for superb sacrifices.”

  Heidi winced, but didn’t show an ounce of fear. Lucie stared at the ground.

  “Beautiful,” Bacchus said. “Raw, naked fear, the Great Dragon’s lust and a blade to make you suffer. I look forward to enjoying your final death throes.”

  Heidi watched him leave, wondering if the time might be right to make a move. The two men at her back dissuaded her, however. A quick glimpse showed that they were very well armed. Now, as before, they propelled her and Lucie forward, this time without the blindfolds. They were taken deeper into the house and locked in separate rooms. Heidi found that all she had was a cold floor, a toilet, a bottle of water and pre-packed ham sandwich.