by Dave Lacey
The End
(The Ausländer Series)
By Dave Lacey
Copyright © 2011 By Dave Lacey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Printing, 2012
Lazey Ink Publishing
Please see my Website at www.LazeyinK.com for more information on Books, News and Additional content.
For my Family and Partner.
Some are smaller than others, yet punch above their weight.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Prologue
Abandoned airstrip, 10 miles east of Nuevo Tortuguero, Mexico, May 1965.
Carlos Otilio Munoz waited patiently in the dissipating heat, thankful at least for the late afternoon meeting. On a typical day, he could be found many feet beneath the cool earth, digging with his team. Today, however, he had been forced to drive to the airfield in the middle of the afternoon. During spring in Southeast México, where the mountains are wedged between the North Pacific and the Gulf of México, the average temperature was in the high eighties. By now, the sun had lost its ferocity, and Carlos was grateful for the hiatus and the shade the old airstrip information hoarding afforded him. The writing on the sign was all but illegible after years of bleaching by the sun’s rays; it had been a long time since anybody had used this facility.
The Doctor and Carlos were not doing anything illegal, the Doctor was not that kind of man, but it was important that the announcement of this find, his find, did not go public before they were ready. The Doctor had advised him that secrecy was paramount. Knowing he might be there some time, Carlos had stowed some cold beers in a chiller box filled with water. While he waited, he strolled over to his pickup, leaned through the open passenger side window, and helped himself to a bottle. It was already warming up, but it was better than nothing. He took his place under the sign again, opened his beer and waited. Five minutes later, he heard the distant drone of a light aeroplane, so far off that he could not yet see it. A minute later, a speck in the blue sky grew steadily until it took on the shape of an aircraft.
Carlos didn’t know anything about planes, so he could not have said what model it was. But he did know that he was never going to get into one. It was unnatural; man was not meant to fly, and so he never would. When he had arrived at the dusty airfield, he had marked out the perimeter of the strip as best he could with some white painted wood. He must have done it right, because, as he watched, the pilot touched the wheels down near the front marker and stopped well before the end of the runway. The plane then turned to taxi nearer to Carlos’s position.
They had searched for years, many years, yet he, Carlos, had been the one to find it. He and his men. The deafening roar of the engine grew closer as the aircraft manoeuvred to where Carlos now stood. He had ditched his beer and left the relatively cool sanctuary of the sign. Finally, the ear splitting noise died away as the pilot cut the engines, startling Carlos with the silence that followed. The door in the fuselage popped open, slid aside, and a small set of steps unfolded from the belly of the machine. Two men climbed out: Doctor Jose Saenz, and a man that Carlos had never met before.
Carlos managed to mask his surprise at the arrival of this unexpected guest, his features barely registering the additional attendee. He was not a big man, he was below average height, but he seemed to emanate authority. His blonde wavy hair swept back from his brow, he was clean shaven and trim figured. He wore a short sleeved shirt, fashionable trousers and dark sunglasses. In contrast, Doctor Saenz was around six feet tall, his dark hair had almost completely receded, he had a moustache and a pair of wire rimmed round glasses. Immediately, Carlos was wary. The Doctor walked forward, smiling, hand outstretched.
“Carlos, my friend, it is very good to see you. This is fantastic news no?” The Doctor looked happy enough, but there appeared an air of discomfort about him too.
“Hello Doctor, I’m glad to see you too. Yes, it’s very good news.” Carlos paused briefly, before continuing. “Who is your friend?” Carlos, indicating the man with his chin, got straight to the point as ever. They spoke in their native tongue.
“Please just tell your friend- that I’m an associate. Nothing more,” the stranger said. And though he did not follow the words themselves, Carlos saw everything he needed to see in the stranger’s body language. If anything, Carlos thought, he looked more dangerous now than authoritarian. The stranger gave Carlos a smile lacking in either humour or sincerity. Despite the heat, Carlos felt an icy finger trace his spine as he looked into the man’s dark glasses.
“He’s an associate, Carlos, a man I respect very much, and one that I hope we can work with in the future.” The Doctor forced a smile, clearly hoping the rough hewn Mexican would not make any trouble.
“Very well. But I don’t like surprises, Doctor, they make me nervous. There are a great many people who would be very interested in our find. You know this I think?”
The Doctor was already nodding before Carlos had finished speaking. “Yes I do, but there’s no need to be nervous. This man will make you rich. He is very interested in our find. He’s an important man in the United States–”
The man in the glasses interrupted sharply. “That is enough, Saenz, more than enough. I do not want every Mexican hick and his numerous kin knowing my business, thank you very much. I told you what to say to this ‘friend’ of yours, now let us get on with what we came here to do. I am yet to be convinced as to the validity of your friend’s discovery.”
“You never told me you spoke Spanish.” The Doctor, clearly outraged, drew himself up to his full height and affected a look of indignation.
“Be warned, Doctor, I have very little patience at the best of times. Let us get on. Now.” There was no anger, nor outward sign of aggression from the stranger, but the threat was unmistakable.
“Carlos, our friend wishes to see the find. Is it in your pickup truck?” The Doctor nodded toward the truck and smiled nervously.
“Yes, it's in the truck.” Now it was Carlos’s turn to feel edgy. He had sensed what the two men had been talking about, and, without being able to say why, he knew that the next few minutes were of utmost import
ance to his wellbeing. All three men walked toward the pickup. Carlos would have preferred to go alone, but it seemed that this was not an option.
Carlos reached for a strongbox welded to the floor of the rear section of his pickup. The box was locked with a heavy gauge padlock, for which there was only one key, which Carlos kept around his neck. He pulled it out over the collar of his shirt, and then lifted the chain over his head. Climbing into the back of the truck, Carlos inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it twice. The lock swung open and Carlos removed it from the eyelet and dropped it onto the floor of the truck. He lifted the lid and reached into the interior. For a moment he paused. Lying next to the artefact was a Magnum .44 calibre handgun. Carlos’s instincts told him to take out the gun, say his goodbyes and leave the airstrip behind. The man in the dark glasses frightened him. Unbelievably, interrupting Carlos’s thoughts as if reading them, the man spoke from behind him, in Spanish.
“Don’t be foolish, Carlos. There is a man near the plane. He has a gun trained on you as I speak. It’s your decision, of course, but I would rather not kill you if I have a choice.” Carlos turned. The small, dangerous man was smiling at him. And, sure enough, there was another man standing near the plane with something raised to his shoulder pointing directly at him. Carlos looked back at the man with the glasses and smiled thinly. He then turned and lifted out the wooden box containing the artefact. He climbed down from the back of the truck and began to unwrap the oilcloth bound loosely around his prize.
***
Jose Saenz could feel the current situation was getting away from him. It had all seemed so easy on the way here, and yet guns had suddenly been produced. He hoped they could resolve everything before anybody’s trigger finger twitched. Gradually he heard Carlos’s voice and understood they were nearing the crux of the matter.
“We found it under the old church in the town over there.” Carlos lifted his chin in a southerly direction before continuing. “It’s another codex, I’m sure of that. There are forty-six pages. About eleven have pictures on them, the rest have words with smaller pictures. It’s genuine I think?” Doctor Saenz looked at the man in the glasses, eyebrows raised.
“Go ahead, Doctor, this is your find.” The man gestured toward the box in Carlos’s hands. Jose Saenz came alive; at last the time had come. His fingers itched with a desire to examine, extending and rolling as if playing an imaginary piano. His eyes had taken on a glittery quality as they flicked up to Carlos. His smile showed a greedy relish.
“May I?” he asked Carlos.
“Please.” Carlos held the box out to the Doctor, who took it and placed it on the dropped tailgate of the pickup. Reverently, he prized open the lid and lifted out the straw packing that hid the contents from the three men. There it was: the fourth codex. The one the other codices spoke of. The one that held the secret. After a cursory inspection, the Doctor was convinced of its authenticity. Offhand, he could not think of anybody skilled enough to create such a beautiful forgery. He touched the first page; it was an illustration of a figure wearing an outrageous headdress. It was damaged slightly, but there was nothing major wrong with it.
This was a truly amazing find. A wave of varying emotions washed over the Doctor in a short space of time. The one that outlasted the others was sadness. He knew now, without doubt, that, although he would be uncovering the secrets of this codex for the world to feast on, none of the credit would ever be his. The stranger had his own team of experts, but the Doctor knew that none of them could match his own knowledge of the subject matter. He had no idea how long he been looking at the pages, lost in his own thoughts, but the stranger’s voice startled him.
“Doctor, what do you see?” the man asked, his sharp tone evidence of his impatience.
“I'm sorry, I was just… Ah... it looks genuine enough certainly,” the Doctor offered eventually.
“But is it what we’re looking for, what we’ve been looking for?” After a brief pause, the Doctor replied.
“I believe it is, yes. I would say it’s at least a thousand years old, perhaps more.” What had he done, bringing this man and his country into the equation?
“Doctor, does it contain the information we anticipated? Does it contain the prediction?” The man was insistent, petulant almost.
“I would say it probably does,” Doctor Saenz said heavily. “It contains around thirty-five pages of English text. Modern English.” That was the conundrum, the part of the legend that the man had not explained to him, although he had told him it would be there should they ever find it. Still he could not believe what he was looking at.
“That is truly remarkable, Doctor. I had seriously begun to doubt that we would ever find it. I never thought for a moment that it might actually be real. I never told you this before, but this is potentially the most important find in the history of humankind.” The man pronounced the latter with considerable gravitas.
“Then I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this now?” Finally Doctor Saenz turned away from the box and its contents, and glared at his own reflection in the dark glasses of his travelling companion.
“Because, Doctor, there seems little point in keeping secrets at this stage.” The man smiled. Again, with little charisma. Saenz was relieved; he had feared an answer with far greater consequences than this one. “The cat, as they say, is out of the bag. But unfortunately, and I do say this with genuine regret, I am afraid our little find cannot be revealed to the world. Not for a while anyway.”
“But why not? This is an important historical find, one that should not be kept from the world. This is not your decision to make Mr–”. Once again, he was cut off.
“No names, Doctor, please. We’ve discussed this before. Now, this is your find, and you’ve been searching for it for a long time. You’re also an important man, important enough that I cannot really afford for anything to happen to you. But, trust me, it would not be the end of my world if something were to happen to you.” Jose Saenz looked at the man in surprise. He realised that the underlying sense of danger he had felt all afternoon was well founded. As they stood looking at each other, silently acknowledged understanding passed between them. The man held up his arm, then dropped it in an unmistakably pre-arranged signal.
Before the Doctor could react, there was a spitting sound, from the direction of the plane, and he felt something rush past him with incredible force and velocity. In the same instant that this registered, he heard a sound like a ripe melon hitting the ground from a great height. Followed by a grunt. Doctor Saenz turned to see Carlos hit the floor beside him. His concern turned instantly to dismay as he saw the condition of the man’s head, or at least what remained of it. Carlos’s sudden, violent death shocked the Doctor to such an extent that he immediately vomited onto the dusty ground behind the truck, one hand shooting out in desperation and grabbing onto the tailgate of the truck, preventing his collapse.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you mad?” He shouted the last three words into the face of the man, catching sight of his reflection again. His teeth bared, eyes glaring and mouth contorted, he barely recognised himself. Some of his own spittle landed on the glasses, blurring the reflection of his furious features.
“Doctor, please calm down. There is no time for this. We must be on the move. I’m sorry about your friend, I really am, but I could not afford for him to survive I'm afraid. You see, this find of ours is more important than I could possibly convey right now, but I will tell you more once we are airborne.” He had taken hold of the Doctor’s arm now, and was ushering him along in a conspiratorial manner.
“Why did you kill him? He was a good man, a family man. He will be missed. You cannot simply kill a man and fly away. I know what you think of my country. You think it is a third world country, and that all of its peoples are peasants who don’t know any better.” He was pointing at the stranger now, incensed by his cavalier attitude to the casual murder. His outstretched hand fell back to his side, and his fists clenc
hed and unclenched as he fought the urge to strike the motionless man. “But I assure you, this will not go unpunished!”
“Doctor, I’ll give you a simple choice. Continue to harangue me here for a couple of minutes more and die on this dusty airstrip next to your friend, your name appearing in tomorrow’s papers connecting you to a botched drug deal. Or, stop postulating, get onto that plane with me right now and find out what my secret is. A secret which holds terrifying consequences for the population of the world. It’s your choice.” The man removed his glasses for the first time and looked at the Doctor.
“You haven’t told me the truth at any point have you? Your name isn’t William Yates is it?” the Doctor asked him finally.
“No, Doctor, it’s not. My name is Hubert Voss, and I work for the President of the United States. Because of your knowledge of our subject, and because there is much work still to be done, work I believe you could provide expert insight on, I am giving you this singular opportunity to come with me. What I have to tell you will bind you to me for the rest of our days, I assure you. And all of this,” he gestured to Carlos and their wider surroundings, “will cease to be of any importance.” The Doctor vacillated for a moment, then nodded once, looked back at his dead friend, and walked toward the twin engine light aircraft.
Chapter 1
Salford, Manchester, England.
Rain fell in great blustery swells, cascading from the roof directly above Jack Sumner as he watched his target cross the street. It had rained for the past two days, and showed no sign of abating. He stood on the corner of Chapel Street, just outside Central Manchester, as his mark made his way along St Philips Place. Jack leaned back against the wall, feeling the water drumming against his baseball cap. There had to be more to life than this, he thought, but such are the realities of police work. He couldn’t afford to dwell; he didn’t want to lose sight of his target. In any case, if he stood here much longer, tonight would be a total waste of his time.
