“That’s one loyal bird you’ve got there,” Lachlan said.
“Best bird in the world,” Jack said, grinning at the falcon. “Best bird in the world.”
THEY HEADED inside the farmhouse.
“We’ve got a lot to tell you—” Lachlan said as they walked, but Jack just held up his finger and went into his old study.
There he prised open a floorboard and extracted from under the floor a shoebox filled with wads of US dollars and an Australian SAS firstaid field kit.
Jack grabbed a syringe from the kit and loaded it with a drug called Andarin—
“Superjuice” as the men of the SAS liked to call it. Andarin was a potent mix of adrenaline and highgrade cortisol. It was a battle drug, designed to mask pain and provide an adrenal kick, and thus get a badly wounded soldier—as Jack was now—through a hostile engagement.
Jack injected it into his arm and instantly blinked. “Ow, that’s powerful stuff.” He apologized to the twins: “Sorry, gentlemen. Just needed something to keep me standing till this is over. Now, tell me everything.”
They settled in the lounge room of the empty farmhouse, and there the twins blurted out everything they’d learned over the last week.
They informed Jack of the location of the Second Vertex: to the south of Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa.
They told him about Tank Tanaka and his Japanese brotherhood’s avowed mission to avenge their national disgrace in World War II—through mass global suicide. They also mentioned their golden piece of knowledge: that this Japanese brotherhood had infiltrated Wolf’s CIEF force with one of their own, a man named Akira Isaki.
While they’d waited at the farmhouse for someone to arrive, the twins had hacked an American military database and discovered that there was indeed a US serviceman named A. J. Isaki—Akira Juniro Isaki—a Marine who had been seconded to the CIEF.
Lachlan said, “Isaki was born in America in 1979 to a JapaneseAmerican couple who—”
“—by all accounts were very lovely people,” Julius added.
“Thing is,” Lachlan said, “hisgrandparents —his paternal grandparents—were purebred Japanese and during the Second World War, they were imprisoned in a Californian internment camp—”
“Very nasty, those camps. Black spot in American history…”
“But when baby A. J.’s parents were killed in a car crash in 1980, A. J. Isaki was brought up by his grandparents—”
“His now bitterly resentful pureblood Japanese grandparents, members of the Blood Brotherhood. A. J. joined the Marines, was steadily promoted to Force Recon, and was ultimately seconded—upon his own application—to the CIEF in 2003.”
“His call sign,” Lachlan said, “is Switchblade.”
“Switchblade,” Jack said, vaguely recalling the AsianAmerican Marine whom Wolf had introduced to him back in the Ethiopian mine, when Jack had been nailed down at the base of the pit. He asked, “You guys still online?”
Julius cocked his head. “Is the starshipEnterprise powered by dilithium crystals? Of course we’re online.”
He handed his laptop to Jack.
Jack tapped some keys. “We’ve got to find out if Wizard and Zoe got the Second Pillar from the Neetha. Hopefully, they’ve left a message for me on the Net.”
He brought up theLord of the Rings chat room, punched in his user name—STRIDER101—and password.
A new screen came up, and Jack scowled. “Nothing.”
No message awaited him.
Wizard’s message would not arrive on the noticeboard for another three days.
Lachlan said, “Jack, there’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Since we got here we’ve been scanning the military frequencies, searching for news of you or the others. Over the last twentyfour hours, a whole bunch of African nations have scrambled their air forces. There’s also been a spate of air traffic lockdowns in the south of the continent: first Zimbabwe and then Mozambique, then Angola, Namibia, and Botswana. No commercial air traffic allowed. Someone’s cutting off all the air corridors to South Africa.”
Jack thought about that. “The next vertex is underneath Table Mountain in Cape Town, you say?”
“A little to the south of it, yes,” Lachlan said.
“We have to get there,” Jack said, suddenly standing. “We have to get there before the deadline.”
“What do you mean?” Julius asked.
“The way I see it, there are two ways this thing can pan out—one, Wizard, Lily, and Zoe get the Pillar and get to Cape Town; which means they’re going to be arriving in Cape Town with enemies hot on their heels. They’ll need us there.”
“And second?”
Jack bit his lip.
“The second option is worse. It’s that Wolf gets the Pillar and heads for Cape Town with it. If he sets it in place, that’s fine by me—it saves the world for a little longer. But as you’ve just said, Wolf’s CIEF team has been compromised by the Japanese Blood Brotherhood. At least one member of his team, this Switchblade, is a traitor—and he doesnot want to see the Pillar set in place at all. He wants to destroy the world, to erase Japan’s shame. And if Switchblade is part of Wolf’s Cape Town team, then he’s going to make sure theydon’t successfully lay the Pillar.”
“Which would be very bad,” Lachlan said.
“Endoftheworld bad,” Julius said.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “So, either way, we have to get to Cape Town, to help Wizard or—and I can’t believe I’m going to say this—to help Wolf.”
Julius asked, “But how do we get to South Africa within four days andnot do it by air?”
Jack gazed out the window.
“There’s one man I know who might be able to help us, but we haven’t a moment to lose.” He stood up. “Come on, gentlemen. We’re going to Zanzibar.”
NAIROBI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
DECEMBER 13, 2007, 1800 HOURS
4 DAYS TO SECOND DEADLINE
THAT EVENING, Jack stood on the tarmac at Nairobi International Airport, about to board a chartered private plane, a little Cessna that he’d paid for wholly in cash, adding a grand to ensure that no questions were asked.
The Kenyan pilot took the money without so much as a blink. Such payments weren’t uncommon for people traveling to Zanzibar.
As the twins boarded the plane, Jack remained on the tarmac with Pooh Bear.
“I guess this is it,” he said.
“It’s been an honor and a privilege to serve with you, Jack West Jr.,” Pooh Bear said.
“The honor has been mine, my friend.”
“When you see Lily again, please give her my love.”
“I will.”
“I am sorry I cannot go with you from here. But I just can’t leave Stretch to—”
“I understand,” Jack said. “If I could, I’d go with you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then, as if he were struck by a thought, Jack reached down and unstrapped his bulky wristwatch. He handed it to Pooh. “Here. Take this. It has an SOS distress beacon, a GPS locater. If you get in rouble, press the button and I’ll know where you are.”
Pooh Bear took the watch and put it on. “Thank you.”
Jack regarded Pooh for a moment, then he stepped forward and embraced the Arab tightly.
“Good luck, Zahir.”
“Good luck to you, too, Huntsman.”
And then they separated and Jack watched as Pooh Bear walked purposefully off the runway, and as he stood there by the steps of his plane, Jack wondered if he would ever see his friend again.
ZANZIBAR
OFF THE COAST OF TANZANIA
DECEMBER 13, 2007, 2345 HOURS
4 DAYS TO SECOND DEADLINE
IT WAS ALMOST midnight when Jack and the twins arrived in Zanzibar in the Cessna.
Zanzibar.
A small island off the east coast of Africa, in the 19th century it had been the haunt of pirates, slave traders, and smuggler
s—a decadent and lawless hideaway for those with little respect for the law.
In the 21st century, little had changed.
Except for the glitzy waterfront hotels that serviced tourists on their way home from Kilimanjaro, Zanzibar largely retained its centuriesold seaminess: modernday pirates lurked in backalley drinking holes while South African fishermen frequented the many gambling dens and brothels, engaging the services of cutprice African native girls in between blackjack hands. Old pirate caves on the island’s ferocious eastern coast were still used.
It was to this ferocious eastern coast that Jack and the twins headed in a crappy old Peugeot rental car, heading for a longabandoned lighthouse on a remote headland.
They passed through a barbedwire gate and drove up a long overgrown driveway to the front door of the lighthouse.
Not a soul could be seen anywhere nearby.
“Are you sure about this?” Lachlan asked nervously. He fingered the Glock pistol that Jack had given him.
“I’m sure,” Jack said.
Stopping the car, he got out and walked over to the main door of the lighthouse. The twins followed him, eyeing the waisthigh ring of uncut grass that encircled the structure’s base.
Jack rapped on the door three times.
No answer.
The door did not open.
No sound but the crashing of the waves.
“Who are you!” an Africanaccented voice demanded suddenly from behind them.
The twins whirled. Lachlan whipped up his gun.
“Lachlan, no!” Jack leapt forward and pushed the gun down.
The move saved Lachlan’s life.
They were surrounded.
Somehow, as they’d stood at the base of the lighthouse, no less than ten Tanzanians—all with deep black skin and all wearing navy blue military fatigues and armed with brand
new M16 assault rifles—had crept up on them. Absolutely soundlessly.
Jack recognized the leader of the group.
“Inigo, is that you? It’s me, Jack. Jack West. These are my friends, Lachlan and Julius Adamson, a couple of net jockeys from Scotland.”
The Tanzanian did not acknowledge Jack’s introduction at all.
He just glared at the twins.
“Net jockeys?” he said, frowning fiercely. “Computer persons?”
“Yyes,” Lachlan said, gulping.
The Tanzanian was still frowning darkly. He had a line of raised traditional markings on his forehead.
“You play Warcraft on Internet?” he demanded.
“Er, yeah…” Julius said.
The African pointed at their “COW LEVEL”Tshirts. “The cow level. You play computer game, Diablo II?”
“Well…yes…”
Abruptly the leader’s dark frown became a broad smile, showing a mouthful of enormous white teeth. He spun to face Jack:
“Huntsman, I have heard of this cow level, but for the life of me, I just cannot get to it!”
He turned to the twins: “You two will show me how to find it, you…cowboys!”
Jack smiled.
“Nice to see you, too, Inigo. But I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry. We need to see the Sea Ranger immediately.”
THEY WERE taken into the lighthouse, where instead of going up, they went down—first through a dusty old cellar and then through a storage basement. In this storage basement was a hidden staircase that went even farther down, delving deep into the headland before emerging in a giant cave at sea level.
Sometime in the distant past—probably by pirates in the 1800s—the cave had been fitted with two wooden docks and some cabins. More recently, the Sea Ranger had installed generators, lights, and some concrete extensions for the docks.
Taking pride of place in the center of it all, tied up to one of the docks with its conning tower soaring high, was a Kiloclass submarine.
Jack had been here before, so he wasn’t surprised by the rather impressive sight.
The twins, however, were gobsmacked.
“It’s like the Batcave…” Lachlan said.
“No, better…” Julius agreed.
A winding riverlike passage led out to the ocean, and halfway along it, a movable breakwater protected the cave from the rough seas outside. Exit from the cave could only be achieved at high tide—at low tide, jagged rocks would be exposed along the winding passage.
J. J. Wickham stood waiting on the dock at the base of the stairs: former US Navy XO, brotherinlaw of Jack West Jr., the Sea Ranger.
He and Jack embraced. They hadn’t seen each other since that New Year’s Eve party in Dubai.
“Jack,” Wickham said, “what the hell’s going on? These last few days, half the African continent has gone completely nuts. The Saudis put up half a billion dollars for any country that found two people who sounded a lot like my niece and your mentor.”
“The Saudis…?” Jack said aloud.
Up until now, he’d thought the Saudis had been backinghim —by sending Vulture to be a part of his team.
Vulture,he thought.You scheming little…
It explained the blocked air corridors in the south of the continent—only the Saudis could afford to pay off whole African countries.
“The Saudis are in league with my father…” he said aloud.
It made sense. The Caldwell Group and the Saudis had longstanding links based on oil.
And if the Second Reward—“heat”—was what Wizard suspected it was, an unending energy source, perhaps even perpetual motion, then the Saudis had ahuge interest in acquiring it. All this time, he hadn’t just been battling against his father, he’d been fighting atriple threat: the Caldwell Group, Saudi Arabia, and China, all allied together.
He turned to Wickham. “It’s a complicated situation that just got a whole lot more complicated. Right now, I need to get to Cape Town inside of four days, unseen, and I can’t go by air. I can tell you more along the way.”
“Your father is involved?”
“Yeah.”
“Say no more,” Wickham said, already moving toward his submarine. “Fathersinlaw can be tough, but that man was the biggestasshole of a fatherinlaw a guy ever had.”
Jack walked after Wickham. “Our enemies’ll be on the lookout for subs. You got any kind of cover?”
Wickham kept walking. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
OFF THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE
DECEMBER 16, 2007, 1755 HOURS
THE AFTERNOON BEFORE THE SECOND DEADLINE
THREE DAYS LATER, Jack and the twins found themselves rounding Cape Agulhas, approaching the point where the Indian Ocean met the Atlantic Ocean.
Cape Town lay to the northwest, over a mountainous peninsula of wilderness, facing out over the Atlantic.
They’d made excellent time from Zanzibar, traveling halfway down the east coast of Africa on the surface of the ocean in Wickham’s dieselelectric Kiloclass submarine, rechristened by him theIndian Raider.
The reason they could travel in this way was because of the shell Wickham had recently created to cover his 242footlong Russian submarine.
The upper half of an ageing South African fishing trawler—gutted of its engine and heavy machinery—had been mounted on top of the submarine. With the advent of wakespotting satellites, Wickham had recently decided that he needed an extra level of visual protection, and had hit upon the idea of a “shell” to mount on his sub.
Then a few months back, when a crew of drunken South African fishermen, in port on a break from a sixweek cruise, had beaten one of the sweeter prostitutes in town, the Sea Ranger and his men had decided to teach them some manners.
The South African fishermen were dealt with and while they lay unconscious in a back alley, Wickham stole their boat and brought it back to his cave.
There it was stripped and gutted and hoisted on chains, ready for a mission just like this.
As the sub cruised toward Cape Town, Jack told Wickham about his epic quest so far—of negotiating a boobytrapped caver
n in China; decoding Stonehenge; finding the incredible First Vertex near Abu Simbel; and then engaging in a busvs747 car chase in the desert.
He also told him about the Six Ramesean Stones, the Six Pillars, and the Six Vertices of the Machine, and how all six Pillars had to be set in place before the arrival of the Dark Star.
At the same time, the twins were getting along famously with Wickham’s crew of Tanzanian sailors, showing them some computer tricks, including guiding them to the cow level on Diablo II, an act which made the sailors gasp in wonder and which finally earned the twins their nicknames:the Cowboys.
Individually, Lachlan becameQuickdraw, while Julius wasGunslinger. Theyloved their call signs.
At regular intervals on the journey, Jack checked theLord of the Rings notice board for messages from Wizard, Zoe, or Lily.
For three days, no messages appeared.
But then, at the beginning of the fourth and last day, as Jack forlornly signed on, he found a single message waiting for him, from the user ID: “GANDALF101.”
Jack almost leapt out of his chair.
The message had been posted only an hour previously: a cascade of numbers; a coded message that could only have come from Wizard, Lily, or Zoe.
They were alive!
He turned and quickly grabbed the collection of books he had bought at Nairobi Airport, six paperbacks and one hardback novel.
The entire Harry Potter collection.
Jack’s code with the others was a “book code.”
Most book codes used three digits to find words in a single book: the code “1/23/3”
means “page 1, line 23, word 3.”
For Jack this wasn’t secure enough. He’d added an extra digit at the start, denoting which Harry Potter book the code was coming from.
Therefore “2/1/23/3” meant “Book 2(Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets) , page 1, line 23, word 3.”
Jack set about decoding the message on the chatroom screen.
The Six Sacred Stones Page 34
