by Rob Jones
He ordered that his tomb was to be made secret from the world, and that the only place its location was to be recorded was on his lyre. The lyre would then be sailed to the mainland and given to Eurydice, except fate stepped in and sank the ship, sending his secret to the seabed forever.
Or until now, she thought. According to the epic poem, Orpheus had the location of the secret entrance to Hades buried with him in his Cretan tomb in the Cave of Zeus, and while part of her couldn’t wait to find it, another part wished that they failed. She had seen a lot of things in her adventures with the ECHO team, but going into hell itself seemed a bridge too far.
Closing her eyes, she decided to get some sleep before the plane touched down at Heraklion. If she was going to be face to face with the devil himself, she guessed she should be on her very best form.
*
Kamala Banks gave up trying to sleep on the short flight. Looking around, she saw others in the team had been more successful. The stubbly face of Vincent Reno was rolled over on his shoulder as he snoozed beside her, and beside him the Russian monk Nikolai was also fast asleep with his hands crossed on his lap.
After the insane events of President Brooke’s arrest and the murder of Kim Taylor back in Washington DC, life with the ECHO team had been a relentless roller-coaster ride. None of it felt real, even now. And in a way, she wished it wasn’t. Her career with the US Secret Service was over and she had been officially put on the FBI’s Most Wanted list for her association with these wild and unknown strangers.
And that was the problem. Her safety was now in the hands of a group of people she really didn’t know. It made her feel vulnerable, and she felt overwhelmed by their lifestyle. Always on the road. Chasing down ancient relics and destroying international terror groups. Until a few days ago all of this was something she thought only happened in the movies, and yet here she was right in the middle of it.
Would she ever get her old life back? She was starting to doubt it. These people talked about rescuing Jack Brooke and his daughter from Tartarus like they were planning a Sunday School picnic. Didn’t they realize how hard it would be just to find the place? Never mind break into it and locate the former president.
Finding the way to Hades would probably be easier, she thought, only half-joking. The very idea of it gave her goosebumps, and not for the first time she asked herself just what the hell she was doing with these people.
And just what the hell did thugs like Dimitrov and Kashala want with Hades, anyway? She struggled to find an answer, and the chances of her liking it when she did were slim to nothing. Seeing Lea trying to catch a few zees, she decided to have one last try and closed her eyes, but as soon as she did, she was plagued with devilish visions of what lay ahead of her.
*
Nikolai’s eyes were closed but he was not sleeping. The Russian monk and former Athanatoi acolyte’s mind had been going wild with worry ever since taking off from Budapest. The Oracle was dead and the cult was scattered to the four corners of the earth, but what he had seen in the Citadel had made his blood run cold. Who were those fierce fighters hidden among the folds of their white robes?
None of it made any sense. In all his years serving as an acolyte in the Athanatoi, no one had ever referred to these strange people. Was that because they didn’t know, or didn’t want him to know? He sighed and shifted in his seat, struggling to find a comfortable position in the cramped space.
At least, he considered, he had found a new purpose in life, even if it was only for a few days. The ECHO team seemed like good people, and he was still fighting to understand how they could trust him after what he had been a part of for so long. He respected that, and the diversity this new life had to offer was unrivalled but he still harbored strong doubts about their sanity… After all, who else would want to race through the gates of hell and come face to face with whatever was hiding down there?
“Everything all right, Kolya?”
He opened his eyes and saw Zeke was offering him some peanuts. He waved them away and smiled. “Everything is good, but going from the Oracle’s iron grip on my mind to a journey into Hades feels like…” he paused as he searched for the right English. “It feels like I have run from a wolf but stumbled onto a bear.”
“I hear you, buddy. In English we say leaping from the frying pan into the fire, and I feel exactly the same way. One minute I’m fighting a bunch of insane monks in an ancient city and the next I’ve got a date with the devil himself. Shit, this is one crazy life.”
Nikolai nodded in agreement. “I must sleep, friend. What about you?”
“Me? No sir, I never sleep on planes. If this sucker pitches down I’m going to be bright eyed and bushy tailed and get me to the door while you’re still waking up.” He stuffed a load of peanuts in his mouth, gave the Russian a wink and closed his eyes. “I’m just messing with you, man. I need my beauty sleep as much as you do.”
Nikolai said nothing, and closed his eyes.
*
An hour later, the airliner banked to the right and the sound of the landing gear hydraulics filled the cabin as the pilot lined up to land. The sun was gone now, but the island of Crete glittered below in the sea like an electric jewel. They descended further, low enough now to make out individual properties, swimming pools, white stucco villas and dry, desiccated dust-blown hills.
The airport’s outer field raced into view and the aircraft touched down with a light squeal of the tires. Ryan, who had been sleeping for the last stretch, awoke startled, looking around the cabin like a frightened rabbit and knocking his beer over his lap. He cursed as he unbuckled himself and stood up with the others to grab his carry-on luggage.
Approaching the aircraft’s exit, Scarlet smiled at the flight attendants. When one of the attendants looked down at his wet trousers, Scarlet gave her a sympathetic look and gave Ryan’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so sorry but as you can see, he’s a very nervous flier.”
Ryan smiled. “It’s true, actually, but… wait, what?”
Scarlet and the attendant shared a good laugh as he tried to explain himself. “No, this is beer. You don’t understand – it’s beer, I tell you!”
“Of course it is,” Scarlet said. “Don’t worry, we can change you at the hotel.”
As the attendant walked away, Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Thanks for that.”
“You didn’t think you had a chance with her?” she asked.
“Well, fortune favors the brave.”
“In that case fortune must really hate you.”
“Thanks, Cairo.”
“You’re welcome, darling.”
Hawke slung his bag over his shoulder, pushed himself between the two of them and rested his arms on their shoulders. “I hope you two lovebirds are ready for the fight of your lives, because something tells me that’s what we’re looking at.”
And with those sombre words hanging in the air, they walked along the skybridge and headed for customs, fake passports in hand.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Oval Office
As Chief of the Staff to the President of the United States, Joshua Muston was feeling like he had reached the pinnacle of a very long and slimy career. He had long forgotten how many people he had stabbed in the back and thrown under the bus to get where he was today, but none of that mattered now. It’s all about the ends and means to get there, as his father always told him.
Until recently, he had been happy enough with that philosophy, but watching Davis Faulkner holding court behind the Resolute Desk was starting to make him question some of the decisions he had made.
“Nervous, Josh?”
Startled, he looked up from his briefing notes to see President Faulkner staring at him. He had asked a question and now a room full of senior political aides and military personnel were waiting for an intelligent reply.
As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, he thought.
“Sorry, sir?”
“You
look nervous.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Good. We don’t know what we’re going to find when we fully excavate the Citadel, but when we do I need people around me who can stay calm in a crisis,” he paused a beat and regarded his counsel, all glittering epaulets, shiny buttons and straight-faced men of war. “And keep their goddam mouths zipped up when the press start asking questions. Goddam internet.”
A chuckle.
“Of course, sir. You can count on me.”
But the truth was, could he? Muston’s heart had started to harbor strong doubts about just what Faulkner was doing with the presidency. There was an economy to pull out of the dirt, the immigration system was in disarray and crime in most cities was at an all-time high. And yet his boss spent most of his time dreaming about the Citadel and what they were going to find inside it or what it might lead to.
The Oracle was dead, and the Special Ops team they had sent out there had wiped out most of his cult. Those who survived had been scattered to the furthest corners of the world like dead leaves, hiding in the shadows with prices on their heads. More worrying were the reports of the strange white-robed guardians who had streamed into the battle out of nowhere and fought hard in defense of the ancient place.
No one seemed to know anything about them. He guessed that was what occupied Faulkner’s mind most of the day. Truth was, it occupied his most of the day too, but he guessed for very different reasons. He didn’t know what Faulkner was chasing, but he was pretty sure it was damned ugly and twice as dangerous.
“General Vance,” Faulkner boomed, “how are our guests on Tartarus?”
“I spoke with General Patterson earlier today, Mr President. Our new guests are settling in just fine.”
As a ripple of grim laughter moved around the Oval Office, Muston gave a fake smile and pretended to be one of the boys. The arrest and incarceration of the former president and his daughter was also weighing hard on his conscience. At first, he had welcomed the decision to take Brooke down and as hard and fast as possible, but now the job was done he was starting to feel differently. He looked down at his hands and saw innocent blood and he didn’t like it.
Vance pushed back on the cream sofa, US Army service cap resting upside down in his lap and thick, sausage fingers tapping on his knees. “In regard to the guests, what are your orders, sir?”
“We need evidence, General Vance. I need evidence from those prisoners the way a drowning man needs a life preserver.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And we need that evidence to make the treason charges stick like glue, you reading me?”
“Yes, sir, Mr President. What are your orders?”
“McGee and the daughter. I want them interrogated. I think the girl will break first and give us what we need.”
“I’ll call Patterson.”
Faulkner nodded, pleased with the progress they were making. “Have Jack Brooke made aware of what’s going on. I know that son of a bitch. You could torture him until the sun becomes a red giant and he’ll never talk.” As he spoke, Muston thought he heard a few ounces of respect creep into the President’s voice. “He was in Delta Force, and never forget that. However, his kryptonite is the daughter. Just like any father, he won’t stand for anything raining down on her. You let him know it can stop anytime he chooses to confess to his crimes.”
Raining down on her. Muston felt his stomach turning over. Was Faulkner really ordering the torture of the President’s disabled daughter?
Vance seemed less concerned and spoke up with a solid, gravelly voice. “I’ll make the call immediately, sir.”
“And this place is impregnable, right?”
Vance gave a short, professional nod. “Without official sanction, there is no way in and no way out of Tartarus Base. Most people don’t even know where it is. It’s not on any maps, paper or digital and any references to it on the internet are cleaned within seconds.”
“But what concerns me, General,” Faulkner said quietly. “Is the human factor.”
“Sir?”
“You said most people don’t know where it is, but clearly some people know. How many?”
“The base has a skeleton crew of Special Ops under the command of General Patterson and then there are half a dozen people in the CIA, half a dozen in the NSA and the people in this room.”
The President gave a reluctant nod. “Less than one hundred?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the pilots who fly there?”
“They’re included in the Special Ops men who work on the base. All ARSOAC men.”
“ARSOAC?” Muston asked.
Vance disguised his sneer. “Army Special Operations Aviation Command, Mr Muston.”
Muston made a note. He couldn’t be expected to know every last detail of the entire US military infrastructure, but he could see Vance had enjoyed showing him up.
“The ARSOAC men number four – two rotating air crews who all live on the base and fly out to complete their missions before returning again.”
Faulkner nodded and turned to Wilson Murphy of the CIA.
“I want an update on the international terror group known as ECHO.”
The CIA man looked down at his briefing notes, flicking a few pages to get to the right section. “They were last seen in the Citadel during the fire fight with the Special Ops team. After that I had US Air Force Space Command re-task satellites and track them west across the Zagros Mountains and into northern Iraq. We lost them on the Iraqi-Turkish border.”
Faulkner leaned forward and fixed his eyes on Murphy. “You lost them?”
Murphy returned the stare, unfazed. “They might officially be a terror group, Mr President, but they also happen to be pretty much the best Special Ops team in the world right now. The range of skills across the team is impressive, and yes, we lost them. But we’ll find them again. You were in the CIA a long time, sir. You know how this works.”
Faulkner wasn’t placated. “I know how it works if they find Tartarus, Wilson. If they find Tartarus then we’re looking at one great big fucking hornet’s nest the likes of which we have never seen before.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please tell me you at least have a vague idea where they are.”
He nodded and one corner of his mouth turned up with a shade of doubt. “We think they’re en route to Crete right now, but they might have already moved on. I have a special task force on this, Mr President. They can run but they can’t hide. Not from us.”
“What assets have we got out there?”
“The USS Abraham Lincoln is in the eastern Med as we speak. The Captain’s running a number of V-22 Ospreys on search patterns all over that part of the world. They’re as good as dead, sir.”
Faulkner gave a distracted nod. “And what about Agent Cougar?”
“She’s on their tail, too. She checked in a few hours ago.”
“Where is she?”
He shrugged. “No one knows.”
“No one knows?”
“That’s how she works. It’s why she’s so good at what she does.”
“But she’s on it?”
A nod.
“Good.” Faulkner now leaned forward and dropped his cigar down in the ashtray. A column of pungent blue smoke twisted up in front of his lined face.
“Listen very carefully to me, all of you. The ECHO team are just as Mr Murphy here describes. The Chinese assassin is as ruthless as they come and probably the greatest practitioner of martial arts on the planet. The French legionnaire is a force of nature of his own making and has mercenary contacts all over the world. The English SAS officer is even more dangerous. She could shoot the diamond off an ace card while doing a backwards somersault. The nerd can hack any system he chooses and to call him a polymath is an understatement.”
In the silence he had created, he lifted his cigar and leaned back in his chair. “The Irish woman, Donovan – there’s something motivating that woman that scares even me
. She is the driving force at the heart of ECHO and she just won’t stay down.” He sucked on the cigar and savored the smoke. “And as for Hawke, that son of a bitch has more grit than a snowplough. Ladies and gentlemen, we underestimate ECHO at our peril.”
Murphy broke the silence. “We’ll get them, sir.”
Faulkner spun around in his leather chair and stared out across the sunny lawn. Raising the cigar to his mouth he spoke only one word.
“Dismissed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Crete
By the time Reaper pulled out of Heraklion Airport and cruised the SUV through the Cretan capital, the sun was sinking in the west and everyone was feeling the cuts and bruises from the fighting in Budapest. Looking out across the dusty hills rolling away to the island’s north, Lea yawned and pushed back into her seat, determined not to fall asleep again.
Later, when she woke, Reaper was pulling into a gravel parking lot at the base of Mount Ida.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Lexi said.
She looked out of the window and took in the expansive view stretching away from the mountain’s slopes. In the east, the moon was starting to rise over the island. “Wow.”
“Double wow,” said Zeke.
Lexi lowered her sunglasses. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
Ryan stretched his arms and yawned. “The times I’ve heard that.”
Now Scarlet lowered her sunglasses and stared right into his eyes. “You mean when girls discover your ego?”
“Now, now,” Ryan said. “Just because you can’t have me doesn’t mean to say I’m off the market.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and cracked open his door. “If you think that’s amazing wait till you see the cave.”
Glancing at the dashboard clock, Hawke wondered where in the world Dimitrov and Kashala were. The smart money was on right here, but there was no sign of anyone except a handful of tourists. They wound down a track in the distance on their way back from the cave’s entrance. Almost dark now, they would probably be the last visitors of the day.
