by Rob Jones
“I appreciate that, but the idol isn’t ours if the Mexicans are claiming it, which they are.”
Hawke spoke next. “If Ryan is right, and the idol is connected in some way, we only need a look at it, right?”
Ryan shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. For all we know this Wolff character is searching for Atlantis too.”
Eden shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. From what I can tell about this guy, he’s big on world cultures, but there’s nothing to indicate he’s into treasure hunting, and certainly nothing to show he’s ever expressed an interest in mythologies and legends.”
“So he doesn’t know what he’s buying, in other words,” Scarlet said.
“Maybe,” Eden replied. “Either way, we’ve been hired to retrieve the idol for him and he wants to give you the payment in cash so we’re taking the job. If we can use the idol along the way to assist in our other quests then so much the better, but whatever happens, I’m ordering you to retrieve the idol first and then find Atlantis.”
A deep silence fell over the room. Hawke knew Eden had never ordered a mission as big and important as this, and he knew the ECHO team had almost nothing to go on – except the golden idol.
They’d seen the enigmatic idol for the first time back in the altar room of the Temple of Mictlantecuhtli, but not for long. The heat of the battle afforded them only the briefest of glimpses before Silvio Mendoza snatched it and fled the chaos.
Ryan had longer with it, while he was waiting to be sacrificed to the god of the dead, and his eidetic memory had burned a permanent image of the idol in his mind. Also, they now had the Valhalla idol and the Mictlan pictographs, but it was scraps around the edges and no clear signs pointing to the most elusive and notorious lost civilization in history. He didn’t even know where to start.
Sudden talk of ‘parent cultures’ had rattled him as much as the others. They just didn’t know what they were up against, and he knew from his past military experience that knowing your enemy was a serious rule of warfare that only fools ignored.
“Are we connecting the Athanatoi with Atlantis?” he said at last.
More silence.
“It’s too early to say,” Eden said, looking at Ryan. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would,” added Ryan confidently. “We know next to nothing about the Athanatoi, apart from the fact they refer to themselves as the Immortals and they’re probably implicated in the murder of Lea’s dad.”
Hawke saw the exchange between Ryan and Lea. Once married, they shared so many memories, and their pasts intertwined like braided hair. He coughed to clear his throat. “There’s more I haven’t told you.”
Everyone turned to look at him, including the frowning face of Sir Richard Eden. This too had agonized him in the same way as the mysterious idol, and now it was time to unload the burden.
“Which is?” said Lea, narrowing her eyes.
“You all know I ended the Matheson affair.”
“That’s the euphemism of the century,” Scarlet said.
He glanced at her but made no reply to her point. “When I took Matheson out, he told me something about himself.”
Scarlet snapped her fingers. “That he’s the Man from Del Monte?”
“No,” Hawke said, too apprehensive to respond. “He told me that he was under the control of a man named the Oracle.” He scanned the faces of his friends for a reaction, but all he saw was attentive expectation.
Lea touched his hand. “Go on, Joe.”
“He told me this Oracle character had ordered Operation Swallowtail against my wife, and that chasing after him would be a fool’s errand.”
“Sounds like your kind of job,” Scarlet said.
“In his own words,” Hawke continued, lowering his voice and not even looking at Scarlet, “he also said that hunting this man would be a one-way journey, and implied heavily that he was extremely powerful – above governments.”
Eden fixed his eyes on Hawke and shifted in his seat. “You’re thinking this Oracle is connected to the Athanatoi?”
Hawke nodded. “Almost without a doubt. It would all just be too much of a coincidence if not, and I don’t believe in coincidences, as you all know.”
“I think we should see this as progress,” Alex said. “We know about the Athanatoi, and maybe now we know who their leader is. We can work with this.”
Eden nodded. “Yes, we can.”
“There’s more,” Hawke said his voice almost a whisper. He turned to face Lea. “Just then when Ryan said the Athanatoi were probably implicated in your father’s death – it’s more than a probability. Matheson implied this Oracle bloke was connected in some way to your father. He said your father was the cat whose curiosity got him killed.” He reached out and held Lea’s arms. “I’m sorry.”
Lea nodded, and tightened her lips, determined not to cry. “Like Alex said,” she said at last. “This is progress.”
“And if there’s anyone brilliant enough to decipher it all then that person is me,” Ryan said without the hint of a smile.
“Crazy enough, you mean,” Scarlet threw in. “But yeah… okay.”
Eden sighed. “So get moving.”
“Not more running around,” Ryan said with a sigh.
“What’s the matter, mate?” Hawke said, pushing away from the table. “Can’t keep up?”
“I can keep up with you any day of the week,” Ryan said, but not very convincingly.
“Keep up with you, darling?” Scarlet scoffed, rubbing Hawke’s stomach. “Any more down there and we’ll have to start calling you Joe Pork.”
They all laughed, and even Eden cracked half a smile as he switched off the TV.
“Yes… thanks for that, Cairo,” Hawke said, giving his stomach a reassuring tap.
CHAPTER FIVE
The small group of men and women sat around the large conference table in tense silence while they waited for their leader to arrive. When he did, they stumbled to their feet out of respect for him until he waved a hand and indicated they may sit again.
The Oracle looked upon them with something approaching disdain. Here, in this room where he had on so many occasions been attended by various kings, queens, presidents, prime ministers, secretaries of state and leading men of the world’s militaries and churches, he was now faced with the ashen faces of his closest advisors. They all swore their loyalty to him, but to the Oracle they were only as worthy as their last act of devotion to the sacred cause.
“Update,” he said.
“No sign of the Mexicans.”
“Did I hear that right?” he asked quietly. “Did you just tell me that all of our resources have failed to find the thief of Mictlan and his accomplice?”
The synchronized nodding heads gave him the answer he desired, but he had grown weary of their terrified, sycophantic faces so he swivelled in his seat to face out the window instead. Out there, across the raging sea that he knew so well, were so many of the answers that his enemies sought, and even a few they had no idea even existed.
But…
Not even he knew all the answers. He too was searching for something – something more ancient and profound than any ECHO team member could begin to comprehend, and his greatest fear was that those fools would stumble upon it like a drunk tripping over a kerb… like a child discovering a loaded shotgun…
And what then?
What then, if little people like that were to learn the truth? They would be shaken and scared, but that meant nothing to him. His concerns trampled over his mind like wild horses, especially at night. There was a power there, he knew it… they had concealed a great power from him and his kind but now it was his to find. It couldn’t ever fall into the hands of someone like Richard Eden, even less so Joe Hawke or Lea Donovan. The very idea was absurd. ECHO…
“And ECHO?” he asked, the words barely a whisper.
“Most of them are on the island as far as we can tell – all except the Frenchman.”
He clenched his
fists and cursed under his breath. He had too many wars to fight with powers that made ECHO look like a basket of kittens, and yet their persistence was driving him insane. He took a slow, deep breath to reduce the tension in his shoulders and then stretched his head to the side to get a crick out of his neck.
He rose from the chair and strolled across the carpet to the tinted window, never once taking his eyes off the waves as they formed into white horses and then smashed down into the dark gray of the sea. Without the document he had found in the secret society’s vault, he would never have been able to bring himself to believe any of this, but there it was in black and white. Undeniable, exhilarating and yet… terrifying.
It was time to move his fight with them to the next level, and that meant eradicating their precious island. He relished the prospect, and considered the job no more than pouring boiling water into an ants’ nest. Yes, he nodded in agreement with his own thoughts – it was time to destroy Elysium and he knew just the man for the job.
*
With Zurich only a few minutes away, Lea pushed her seat back to the upright position and walked to the galley to get a glass of water. Toward the front of the plane, Lexi and Scarlet were playing poker. Hawke had fallen asleep just after the flight and was only just beginning to stir. Ryan too had fallen asleep, and was now sprawled out in his chair with his laptop by his side. Maria was beside him, and also asleep with her head on his shoulder. She had to admit that despite her doubts about their relationship, they had proved everyone wrong and stayed together longer than anyone expected.
She finished the water and after dropping the paper cup in the trash she made her way back to her seat, stopping on the way to wake Ryan and Maria. Glancing out the window she guessed they were no more than five thousand feet and touchdown was imminent so she strapped herself in and watched Zurich rush up to greet her.
As their jet descended through the cold sky above Switzerland, she thought once again about what Eden had said in his briefing. They all wanted the Mictlan idol – they had the Valhalla one after all, and they had presumed it was theirs for the taking, but that was wrong. They weren’t thieves – they were the good guys, and if the Mexican authorities had already promised the sale of the idol to Wolff there was nothing they could do about it. The only play they had left was to retrieve the idol for him but ensure they had enough time to study it before handing it over.
Outside the tires screeched on the tarmac and the roar of the reverse thrusters brought her back to life. Moments later they were disembarking and once they had cleared customs they found Jack Camacho waiting for them in the arrivals area. He had flown in on an American Government plane from DC and arrived an hour before them. He gave everyone a solemn handshake except Scarlet, who Lea noticed got a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
In the car park they followed the American to a battered Land Rover Discovery with French licence plates. Lea leaned inside to see Vincent Reno at the wheel. “Bonsoir,” he said with a wide grin and a friendly nod of his head.
“Monsieur Reaper here drove across from his place in Provence,” Camacho said.
“Only six hours for ordinary people,” the Frenchman said. “Or five hours if you drive like me.” He patted the steering wheel affectionately. “I drive her hard.”
“I’m not saying a thing,” Scarlet said.
“Makes a change.”
“At least I don’t look like Hulk Hogan!” she said.
“Who the hell is Ulk Ogan?” Reaper said.
“This is almost as much fun as when we went to the Arctic!” Lea said.
“The Arctic Circle?” Reaper said.
“She means Valhalla,” Scarlet said with a grin. “You wouldn’t know about that Vincent because you were lazing around in a Swedish hospital bed.”
Reaper gave a Gallic shrug. “And I cannot deny it.”
“Just drive!”
And with that they were gone, racing out of the car park and making their way from the airport to Liechtenstein.
CHAPTER SIX
“Who knew Liechtenstein was so damn pretty?” Lea said.
“Or so damn small,” said Scarlet. “Rich has got a bathroom bigger than this whole country back in his Oxford mansion.”
“It’s not that small,” Ryan said.
“Are you kidding?” Scarlet said dismissively. “You can drive across it in about ten minutes. They probably share the electricity bill.”
The corner of Hawke’s mouth turned up in amusement as Reaper drove them south along the Bergstrasse to the tiny village of Bärg. Like everyone else in the team he had never been to Liechtenstein before and was impressed by how so many awesome mountains could be packed into such a small country.
“It’s amazing how so much Alpine beauty fits into such a diminutive principality,” Ryan said.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Hawke said, glancing in the mirror. “Sort of.”
They turned a sharp hairpin bend in the road and headed north, at once revealing a generous view of the country’s capital, Vaduz. With only a little over five thousand residents in the town, it was one of the smallest capitals in the world, but it was a startlingly alluring town with its narrow roads and cathedral spire. As they pushed higher into the mountains, Ryan pointed out Vaduz Castle, the Sovereign Prince’s official residence, far below at the start of the Bergstrasse.
“There it is again,” he said, impressed by its 11th Century keep which peered imperiously over the entire valley below.
“And that’s where the king lives, right?” Lea said.
“He’s a prince, actually,” Ryan replied. “His official title is His Serene Highness,”
“Ooh I like that,” Scarlet said. “Is he married?”
“Yes, to a Czech countess,” he said wryly, “but I’m sure he’d be much happier with you.”
Onwards up the western slopes of the Alpspitz they drove until they reached Bärg and slowed to meet its fifty kph speed limit. Reaper cruised past the wooden ski chalets and neatly trimmed gardens. A bank of clouds was blowing in from the north and covering much of the country below in cool shade.
Turning into an unsealed side road they drove another few hundred yards to a set of imposing iron gates. They opened as if by magic and allowed them to cruise up Wolff’s drive and park up outside the main entrance to his chalet.
Set over four storeys, the postmodern chalet was constructed out of hardwood timber, steel and glass, but boulders and stones from the mountain itself supported its base.
The door opened to reveal a man in a smart two-piece suit. He acknowledged them politely but without a smile. “My name is Brunhart. I keep the house.”
Hawke and Lea shared a wordless glance as Brunhart showed them into a vast slate-floored hallway.
“Please follow me.”
Brunhart led them out of the hall and they turned to walk down a long, cedar panelled corridor decorated occasionally with peculiar abstract sculptures in white porcelain. Approaching a closed door, Brunhart tapped respectfully and moments later they were standing inside a large, high-ceilinged room with white stucco walls and a vast slate fireplace. All around the room were pieces of ancient art and archaeology, and the entire western wall was an eight-metre high window which projected the most incredible view of the valley into the postmodern space. Lea felt like she was in an IMAX cinema. One of Bach’s orchestral suites played quietly through concealed speakers.
“Please, wait here,” Brunhart said. “I will tell Herr Wolff you have arrived.”
Brunhart clicked the door behind him and a silence fell on the expansive room.
“He actually squeaks when he walks,” Lexi said with amazement.
Lea rolled her eyes. “That’s his shoes.”
“Look at all this stuff,” Ryan said, marvelling at the collection of ancient art and sculptures. “It’s amazing.”
“Looks like a load of crap to me,” Scarlet said dismissively.
“What the hell is this?” Lea asked as she pick
ed up what looked like a small wooden club.
“I can’t be sure,” Ryan said, squinting at it, “but it looks a lot like a wooden phallus from the Kabye tribe of Togo.”
“Urghh,” Lea said, and threw it into the air in horror.
“Ah, but this has potential,” Scarlet said, catching it with one hand and winking at Ryan.
“You are something else, Sloane,” Camacho said, wrenching it out of her hand and putting it back on the shelf with the rest of the collection. He looked at her and shook his head.
The moment ended abruptly when a tall, thin man entered the room not by the door Brunhart had used but by a concealed entrance behind the fireplace. He had silver, neck-length hair swept back from his face in neat perfection and wore a dark Nehru jacket. Holding his arms behind his back he approached them and introduced himself in a clipped, cultured accent. “I’m honoured Sir Richard organized things so quickly,” he said with a businesslike nod of his head. He approached Ryan first and shook his hand fervently. “I am Otmar Wolff and you must be Joe Hawke! I read about your involvement in the discovery of the Temple of Huitzilopochtli and I must say this is a true privilege to meet you.”
“Why, thank you!” Ryan said with a grin and returning the handshake. “I’m very…”
“Very much not Joe Hawke,” Lea said with a disapproving look. “This is Ryan Bale, Herr Wolff, and I’m Lea Donovan. This is Joe Hawke…”
The man looked embarrassed for a moment before apologizing for his mistake, and then greeted everyone in turn. “Please – have a seat.”
The ECHO team welcomed his offer and made use of the eclectic jumble of sofas and chairs scattered around the large fireplace, but Ryan paused to peer into the secret passageway.
“Ryan, arse on couch right now,” Scarlet said.
“Oh, yeah… sorry.”
“You have a beautiful home, Herr Wolff,” Lea said.
Wolff nodded pensively, as if he were considering whether the statement was true or not. “It was very expensive to build,” he explained. “We had to use helicopters to transport the steel up here because the trucks they wanted to use couldn’t handle the roads.”
