The Book of Bones (Harvey Bennett Thrillers 7)

by Nick Thacker

  Besides the driver, Garza had brought along one of his best soldiers, who was napping in the jeep's backseat. If all went to plan, Garza and his team would be heading the opposite direction on this road before afternoon the next day.

  If all goes to plan, he said silently to himself. He thought once more of his daughter and then looked out the window to his right, watching the trees blur into a never-ending line of green.

  6

  Julie

  Julie reached up and took the weapon. She felt it in her hand. Glock, 9mm. They’d all trained on it at a range when…

  She couldn’t remember.

  But she knew she’d held this weapon before. It felt warm in her hand, yet cool at the same time.

  It feels right.

  She knew she was dreaming, but she couldn’t wake up. She’d gone to sleep next to Ben in the tent, unaware that her mind had prepared the same dream for her. She wasn’t sure why — she’d only had the dream a few times in the past, and each time it had been an out-of-body experience. She was looking down at herself, at the top of her head. She couldn’t see much else in the “scene” that her mind had created. Just herself, and the gun.

  “Ms. Richardson, you know how to handle this weapon, correct?”

  She did. The standard-issue 9mm was found all over the world. Easy to use and clean, and easy to break down for storage and transport. Reggie had trained her on it himself.

  Reggie was suddenly in the dream, a concerned look on his face. She couldn’t quite see him, but she could feel him. Ben was there, too. As if she had just conjured his ghost. He stood — no, leaned — by her side. Was he hurt?

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Good.”

  She couldn’t see the man talking, but she could hear the voice. She could remember the voice. Deep, menacing. Or was that just her imagination? Was her imagination allowed into this dream?

  Footsteps, moving toward the wall.

  “Ms. Richardson, please follow me.”

  Julie stood up and trailed behind the voice. When the man had reached the side of the gym — she was in a gym? — he stopped. He moved sideways over to the soldier standing in front of Joshua, then stopped again. Julie followed, now standing next to the man.

  She could see him now, but not clearly. She tried to move her head around in the dream, but it was as though her subconscious brain was in control. Dark features, dark complexion. Nothing helpful. Nothing she recognized.

  There was another form — a man? — sitting next to her.

  “Ms. Richardson, who is this man?”

  “Joshua Jefferson.” She heard the words in the dream as though she’d spoken them aloud.

  “And do you know him well?”

  She mumbled, something, felt Ben stir next to her. “Reasonably well. We’re friends.”

  “I see. And how long have you known Mr. Jefferson?”

  “Probably six, seven months.”

  “And do you like this man?”

  She nodded. “I like him. He’s a good friend, and a good leader.”

  The man tapped her shoulder. She frowned.

  “Julie?”

  She tried looking around, but again her brain had her riveted, forcing her to look at the man sitting down. Joshua? She pulled at a memory, something hidden deep inside.

  It couldn’t be Joshua. He died. Back in Philadelphia. When —

  “Ms. Richardson, please shoot Joshua Jefferson in the head.”

  She screamed in the dream. In her own head. No. But no sound came out, not in the dream, and not in real life. Whatever real life was.

  The man tapped her shoulder again. She pulled away. No.

  Again, a tap.

  “Julie?”

  “Julie!” The voice rang into her mind with the ferocity of a gunshot. She saw one more image in her mind, in the dream. Of a man, sitting down, then falling sideways. His head…

  “No!” she screamed. She was awake now, breathing rapidly. She blinked a few times, but the darkness was total.

  Where am I?

  “Julie,” a man’s voice said, calmly. “Hey, Jules. You okay?”

  Ben.

  She shook, breathing slower now. Calm down.

  “You must’ve been having a horrible dream. You all right?”

  She looked over to Ben, seeing his silhouette masked out by the lighter moonlight that had found its way down to their tent. She reached a hand out and felt his shoulder. She nodded, but knew he couldn’t see her.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

  He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arm around her back and pushing her head down and under his chin. He didn’t talk, didn’t ask questions.

  She felt him breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his massive chest, and she finally felt relief.

  She closed her eyes, but she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping again that night.

  7

  Ben

  They broke camp and snuffed out the morning fire in record time, as if they’d all been camping together for years. They divvied up their gear and split it between them, tied their packs and strapped in the sleeping bags and tents, then headed the half-mile back to the cabin.

  Reggie and Sarah had taken a longer loop around the northwest side of a small pond, so they could have some time together. Ben made sure to give them a decent ribbing, and even Mrs. E joined in.

  When the pair left, Ben, Julie, and Mrs. E hiked in line with Mrs. E at the lead. After a few minutes of walking, Ben sidled up to Julie and waited until Mrs. E had curved around a bend up ahead.

  “You okay?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night. The dream you had. Or nightmare — I’m not sure what it was.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, that was rough. It was crazy, almost like a memory.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of… I don’t know. Something deep down, like something that either didn’t happen or didn’t stick.”

  “Or something that you’re repressing,” Ben said. He wasn’t sure how far he should push it. The team had decided early on that they would let Julie heal on her own terms, on her own time. They wouldn’t urge her to do anything other than reach out to them for help, when and if she was ready.

  “What do you mean?” Julie asked, turning to Ben. She stopped on the trail.

  “I… don’t mean anything, Jules,” Ben said. “I was just saying that sometimes we repress certain memories. Sometimes they’re traumatic, but sometimes they’re just funny, stupid things that don’t mean anything.”

  “I’m not sure this is one of those funny, stupid things, Ben.”

  “Yeah, I doubt it.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked.

  Ben sighed. The air was calm, but it had dropped about ten degrees since yesterday, and he felt it catch in the back of his throat. Definitely winter, he thought. He was glad to get back to the cabin where he’d have a fire lit and whiskey poured before he even had his boots off.

  “Jules, can you tell me more about the dream? Who was in it?”

  She thought for a second. “Me, obviously. Like I was floating over my own head though, like I wasn’t really experiencing it in first-person. And you, I think. I’m not sure I really saw you, but I think your voice was in it.”

  “What was I saying?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Ben nodded. He knew all too well how easy it was to wake up in the middle of a dream with the vivid recollection of every detail, every word spoken, and every emotion felt present in his mind, then feeling totally unable to recall it minutes later.

  “And Joshua.”

  Ben turned his head. “Joshua… Jefferson?”

  She nodded, then continued walking. “Yeah, he was sitting… or something. I don’t really know. And there was someone else.”

  Ben felt his blood run cold. “Who else?”

  “A man, judging by his voice. I remember a man. Dark skin, or at least his
hair or face or something. Maybe it was just my mind’s version of what I remember.”

  “What did he do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “He said things to me, but I can’t remember what. Or who he was, or why he was there.”

  Ben nodded along as if he was hearing this all for the first time, but the truth was that he knew exactly who the man was, and he knew exactly what he had wanted.

  And he knew the man had gotten it.

  “We’re almost there,” Julie said. Ben noticed a little excitement in her voice and decided to drop the subject for the time being.

  “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey I’ve been wanting to break open,” he said. “Just been waiting for a special occasion.”

  “And losing a training exercise is a special occasion to you?” Julie asked.

  He laughed. “Ouch. Et tu, Brutus?”

  “Wow,” Julie said. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “You think I’ve just been hanging out in the woods for two decades, but I’ve read a book or two since I graduated high school.”

  “Maybe two,” Julie. “But that’s a stretch. Usually you don’t want anything to do with them unless they’re full of pictures.”

  He shrugged. “You’re not wrong. Comic books are just a different type of literature, you know?”

  “I really don’t. Anyway, if you think you’re going to disappear into the new wing and relax with Reggie, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  Ben’s mouth dropped open in mock surprised. “What? You’ve got a bunch of chores for me now? And it’s called the ‘man cave,’ by the way.”

  The ‘man cave’ was just an extra bedroom that sat off a new section that had been added to the cabin. The CSO had invested heavily in Ben’s property, and construction was still underway on a completely new, modernized meeting space and additional bedrooms for team members to stay in when they visited. The goal Mr. E shared with Ben was to have a self-sufficient, remote meeting and living space for all the team, year-round.

  Ben enjoyed the company, but he also enjoyed the times in-between training and meetings when he and Julie shared the cabin alone. But since those opportunities were becoming more and more rare, he and Reggie had set up his bedroom with a super-sized curved television, a gaming console, and a high-end stereo system. They called it the man cave, even though Julie, Sarah, and Mrs. E often would hang out in there as well.

  “I don’t have ‘chores’ for you, Ben. I’m not your mom. But you did say you were making chili for everyone, right? And I know it takes the better part of a day for everything to cook.”

  “Aw, man. I forgot.” He groaned. Even though he had a killer chili recipe and enjoyed cooking, sleeping on the ground and running through the woods while fighting off an ex-Army guy had caused him to reconsider his promise to the team. “Maybe we can just order pizza or something.”

  She knew it was a joke. The nearest pizza restaurant was fifty miles away, and they wouldn’t even know how to find the cabin, much less deliver all the way to them.

  Julie held up her hands. “Sorry. Rules are rules. You committed to chili, and now I want chili. I will settle for nothing less.”

  He was about to respond with some asinine-sounding teenager voice when he rounded the final bend and his cabin came into view. He saw the additional wing first, the construction equipment strewn about and disorderly, yet noticed nothing amiss.

  But when his eye fell to the cabin itself, his jaw dropped again. Where there once had been a solid oak door, there was now nothing but a few splinters of wood hanging off the hinges.

  8

  Ben

  He saw a few pots and pans on the snow in front of the doorway, and a suitcase — Julie’s “ready pack” — laying on its side nearby. Its contents, mostly clothes, had been tossed haphazardly around.

  “A bear?” Julie asked.

  “No,” Ben said. “It wouldn’t mess with clothes and pots and pans. A bear would go straight for the kitchen and stay there, not bothering with the rest of the place.”

  He walked up to the front door and peered inside. There were no sounds, no telltale rustlings or bumping of a large mammal.

  Julie was at his side, and he noticed she had a camp shovel in her hand.

  “Good thinking,” he said, grabbing the best thing he could find at arm’s reach — a rubber mallet. Better than nothing, he told himself, then stepped inside.

  His eyes adjusted from the bright, late-morning snow to the darker, dimmer cabin interior, and then they naturally fell on the thing that was most out of place in his vision: the couch.

  Nearly everything had been overturned or moved, and some things had even been completely broken. His mother’s antique end table, for one, had been turned into a pile of broken boards. While his peripheral vision registered the shambles and disarray around the cabin, it was the couch he focused on.

  Sitting nearest to him was Mrs. E, facing the door. She had a blank expression on her face, her jaw set in stern, hard lines.

  Seated next to her, with a massive 50-caliber Desert Eagle held out and pointed at her temple, was Vicente Garza.

  The man smiled at Ben as he walked in, but the pistol remained on Mrs. E. “Ben,” Garza said. “Welcome. Please come in.”

  “What the hell are you doing here, asshole?” Ben growled.

  “Quite a different climate than the last place we got to hang out in,” he said.

  While Ben and Garza had first crossed paths in Philadelphia, they had last seen each other off the coast of The Bahamas, at a science-based floating amusement park that had been — rightfully — reclaimed by the sea. Garza had escaped that time, but Ben had sworn to kill the man, at all costs.

  Now he had that chance. He started shuffling sideways, toward the rifle he kept in a cabinet just at the end of the kitchen, just as Julie entered.

  “I only have the one weapon, Harvey,” Garza said. “So I will not threaten you by swinging it around and pointing it at you, but I will tell you this: your rifle is in two pieces, lying on the floor in the kitchen. I know there are other guns lying around, so if you so much as breathe in their direction, I remove this fine lady’s head.”

  Ben stopped moving, and he saw Julie catch her breath as she saw Garza. He wasn’t sure if she recognized him or not.

  “What do you want?” Ben asked.

  “I want a book.”

  “I’m not much of a reader,” he said.

  “And I’m not an idiot. I’d appreciate that we get through our business quickly, so we can both get on with our lives.”

  “I’d appreciate that too,” Ben said. “Asshole,” he added under his breath.

  “This is a book I believe you brought home from Egypt.”

  Egypt. Ben swore under his breath as he recalled their escapade in Egypt. They had traveled to Cairo and then Giza to visit the Sphinx and Great Pyramid, and more specifically to visit a woman whom they believed had been working toward a very unusual — and sinister — goal.

  Their time there had been cut short, thanks to a man working for Interpol who was not terribly pleased about the CSO’s interference in his own investigation, and they had narrowly escaped with their lives.

  Ben also knew exactly what book Garza was referring to.

  The problem was they didn’t have it.

  He told Garza as much. “Sorry, Garza. It’s not here.”

  “I believe you,” he said, flashing a glance around the room. “I do like the new addition, too. Had a little look around before you got back.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “It’s… different. But it’ll be nice when it’s done. I’m really looking forward to the hot tub.”

  “Cut the crap, Ben. Where’s the book?”

  “The Book of Bones?”

  Garza nodded.

  “I don’t know. Honestly. I wish I did.”

  “I truly wish you did as well, Harvey. You see, I’ve got a client. They’re a thorn in my side, but they pay the bills. A
nd right now, they’re breathing down my neck to find this little book.”

  “It’s that valuable, huh?”

  Garza didn’t take the bait. Ben had been in situations like this more than a few times before, so he knew that if he could get at whatever it was Garza’s client wanted inside the book — whatever information it held — he could figure out what Garza was truly after.

  “It is,” the man said. “And you’re running out of time.”

  “That so?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “Nope. Murdered my friends, sure. But lied to me? No, you’re a stand-up guy, Garza.”

  Garza half-smiled. “I’ll make this easy. Tell me where to find the book, and your friends don’t die.”

  Ben looked at Mrs. E, who was as stoic as ever, staring straight ahead, then at Julie. Julie’s eyes seemed glazed over, as if she were in a trance. He couldn’t tell if she was shocked by Garza’s presence or just shocked that their home had been broken into.

  Ben cleared his throat. “You’re arrogant.”

  Garza raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe you pop off a shot, get Mrs. E.” He glanced at her with an expression he hoped looked like ‘sorry,’ but she wasn’t looking. “But there’s no way in hell you get that gun flicked around fast enough to get me and Julie as well.

  “And if you don’t get me and Julie, one of us will murder you. I will rip your eyes out of your head and —”

  “Stop with the pleasantries, Harvey,” Garza said. “First, I’m better trained than you and your girlfriend ever will be. I’ve trained men who are better trained than you’ll ever be. Trust me, if I wanted — or want — you dead at any point in this discussion, your life is over.”

  Ben seethed, but didn’t interrupt.

  “But we’re not talking about Juliette or Mrs. E,” Garza said. He flicked the gun up and back down, readjusting his aim at Mrs. E’s head. “I’m talking about your friends Gareth and Sarah.”