by Nick Thacker
But they would not be kept here. As they rounded a final corner and the trees gave way to a small clearing, Reggie saw a helicopter, its rotors already beginning to spin up. The driver of the jeep pulled in tight to the chopper’s line, parallel to the aircraft’s fuselage, and Garza immediately jump out.
“Get out,” he barked.
15
Ben
“Okay,” Ben said, grimacing, “let me have it.”
He rolled his shoulder backwards and forwards a bit to ease out some pain. It did nothing but excite the injury and cause more strain than it was worth. He tried the same with his face, hip, ribs, and arms, and found that nothing he could do would alleviate the pain of the car crash.
He and Julie had managed to walk halfway back to the cabin, but Mrs. E had picked them up before they’d journeyed far. She told them she had contacted her husband, who was reviewing the security feeds from the solar-powered cameras that were mounted along the road to the cabin. He would fill her in, then she could tell Ben and Julie what he’d found.
That was an hour ago, and Ben and Julie had showered and changed clothes, and Julie had dressed Ben’s rib and hip wounds with a pad of gauze and given him an icepack for his shoulder. None of their injuries were serious, though Julie had sprained her elbow and bruised a few ribs in the wreck.
And Garza had gotten away. She’d killed two of his men, but they both knew all too well how easy it would be for the mercenary to replace them.
Now, Mrs. E was sitting calmly on the edge of his couch, and Ben wished he could borrow her stoicism. While she was preparing to explain how Garza had gotten into his home unseen, while his team had brought down Sarah and Reggie without issue, all he could think about was how he would get them back. He wanted the man dead, and he knew Julie felt the same.
“First,” Mrs. E began, “he could get into your home because, well, it’s not protected.”
Ben frowned. “I thought your husband said we could lock the entire facility down, even automatically?”
She nodded. “He did. And that is true. But the facility is not finished yet. We have not yet installed the CCTV systems or the automatic triggers — there would be no point with all the workers running around.” She took a breath, then looked at Ben. “And you specifically asked that we excluded your cabin from much of the renovations. To keep it ‘quaint,’ as you put it.”
Ben shot her a glance, then realized she wasn’t trying to rile him up. I did say that, he realized. He now wished he’d been a little less adamant about keeping his cabin ‘rustic.’
“Second,” she continued, “Garza did not go into the facility, or the attached wing. None of his men did. He came right to the house, to the cabin, where they looked around and destroyed everything. He would have certainly set off alarms if he had ventured into the headquarters building, but he did not.”
Julie frowned, and Ben watched her expression change as she realized something. “He knew not to go in there,” she said. “He knew he’d have a hard time getting away without being caught.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. E said. “But he came here looking for something, correct?”
Both Ben and Julie nodded. “The Book of Bones,” Ben said.
“But if he did not find it in the cabin, why would he not then assume to check the other building?”
Ben thought about it for a moment, but Julie answered. “Because he knew it wasn’t there?”
“Exactly.”
“He knew we didn’t have it,” Ben said. “So why did he come?”
“He told us that,” Mrs. E said. “He wanted Reggie and Sarah. To use as leverage. That’s why he came.”
Ben thought again, then shook his head. Julie and Mrs. E watched him, waiting for his response, but he was already deep in thought. He stood, walked over to the small kitchen, stepping over broken furniture and picture frames and stopping in front of a small table he used as a liquor cabinet.
He examined the bottles — none of which had been smashed in the break-in — and chose a scotch. He had always been a rum and coke guy, the ‘easy drinker’ that made bartenders happy, and he hadn’t ever drank much, anyway. He and Julie shared a bottle of wine every now and then, and he and Reggie enjoyed tasting new whiskeys when Reggie found them in Anchorage, but left to his own devices and desires, Harvey Bennett would just as soon enjoy a simple glass of water as he would a Cuba Libre.
However, he felt he needed a little extra help finding a way out of their dilemma. He poured a couple fingers of the amber liquid, then sprinkled a drop of water from the kitchen sink over the top of it, and finally turned back around walked into the living room once again.
“He’s afraid,” he said.
Julie and Mrs. E looked confused.
“He fears something. His employer — whoever’s paying him? I’m not sure. But he’s scared to fail.”
“How so?”
“Well, he needs us. He said that. He told us he expects us to find this book for him. He didn’t say why, but there’s one thing that’s more important to him than anything: money.”
“Right,” Julie said. “He’ll do anything for money, and he’ll do even more to not lose it.”
Mrs. E jumped in. “So he will not get paid if he does not find the book. And we know he will kill for what he wants…”
She trailed off, and Ben watched Julie’s face. To him, her expression spoke volumes. He thought he could see her considering what Mrs. E had said, thinking about what it truly meant. We know he will kill for what he wants… Ben knew that was true, but he was afraid of another truth.
We know he will kill out of convenience.
He and Julie had nearly been killed on the highway, both from the rifle fire and grenade, as well as the near-death interaction with the massive semi truck later. He’d seen Garza and his men kill others just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he’d seen Garza himself order Julie, drugged and under his influence, kill their friend and leader in cold blood at point-blank range.
This was what Ben was searching Julie’s face to find. He couldn’t find it — either Julie was still struggling to resurface the memory, or she wasn’t entirely sure it was real. He knew that her dream from the night before had actually happened, but he wasn’t sure she was ready to fully process it.
If it were him, he might even choose not to process it. He’d always been good at hiding his emotions, keeping them hidden deep down inside. He’d been a park ranger for years before meeting Juliette and getting involved with the CSO, and his natural inclination was to stuff things down inside and not deal with them. Eventually, he knew, those things would simply not matter as much anymore.
This belief had consistently been the biggest thing he and Julie fought about. It was their first fight, sitting across from one another in a hotel restaurant back when they were trying to save the United States from a catastrophic volcanic eruption and subsequent bacterial infection, and it had been the thing they talked about most. Because of his past, Ben wanted to ignore what he’d gone through until it no longer bothered him, but Julie wanted to talk about those same things for the same reasons.
Now, the tables had turned. He looked at the woman he loved, knowing something about her past that she herself didn’t fully understand. She knew it, but she didn’t know she knew it. And when that memory finally crystallized in her mind, Ben wasn’t sure how she would react.
“So it’s life or death for Reggie and Sarah,” Julie said.
“Probably. What we know for sure is that we are the people most likely to find the Book of Bones. We got closest to it, and if it weren’t for Sharpe and Interpol, we’d still have that journal.”
“But the journal is not the book,” Mrs. E reminded him. “It was Rachel Rascher’s great-grandfather’s, and it only references the book.”
Ben started pacing as he sipped his drink. “What we know is that the Book of Bones is a lost dialogue of Plato. Somewhere around the time he wrote his Timaeus and Critias, he w
rote the Book of Bones, which chronicles Atlantis and its rise to power over Athens and the Greek mainland.”
Julie picked up the thread. “And when Rascher’s great-grandfather got his hands on it, he used whatever Plato wrote of the Atlantean race to justify Nazi experiments. Eugenics, genetic alteration, that stuff.”
“You think this is about that?” Ben asked.
Julie shrugged. “No way to know until we find the book. But it’s clear to me now that we need to find this book. To get Reggie and Sarah back, but also to see what the big deal is. So I’m thinking we pick up where we left off.”
Ben nodded. He knew what she meant. Where they’d “left off” was trying to discover who Rachel Rascher had been working with. The CSO team knew that she must have had outside investment, but they weren’t sure if it was governmental or private. All they had was what they could piece together from her subterranean research facility, and what they could remember from her great-grandfather’s journal before Agent Etienne Sharpe with Interpol had confiscated it.
They knew it would be impossible to convince Sharpe to hand over the journal, but they’d decided it wasn’t necessary. Rachel Rascher had, according to a comment she’d made, been working both from her great-grandfather’s journal that referenced Plato’s lost work… as well as from a copy of the original text, in full, of Plato’s lost work itself.
They had seen no evidence to support this, but Ben’s theory had been that Rascher had been working with an organization much larger, and much more powerful than any of them had imagined. If she truly had access to the Book of Bones, without actually having it in her possession, it meant they trusted her, but she was only on a short leash.
And it meant that the organization pulling the strings, whoever they were, were in a position of power over her. It meant she had been working for them.
Ben’s theory, and his idea, was to track down this organization and somehow gain access to the Book of Bones itself. The original, full text.
The problem was that his theory of the organization who controlled the Book of Bones wasn’t an organization any of them wanted to mess with. It was an organization known for its ability to control situations from afar, using a massive, wide network of operators working completely off the radar, able to move unilaterally to achieve its greater purpose.
It was not an organization Ben and the rest of the CSO wanted to upset, and their discussions on the matter after the events in Egypt confirmed that. But now, after Reggie and Sarah’s abduction and Garza’s rude awakening, their hand had been forced.
They were about to head into a literal hell.
“He said it couldn’t be done,” Ben said.
“Of course he did,” Julie said. “He knows them better than any of us. But he’s also never tried.”
Ben sighed, then took a deep sip of his drink. Time to decide, he thought. They’d come close to making plans to track down Rascher’s benefactors before, but they had reached the conclusion that it would take more than what they alone were capable of — and that was when Reggie and Sarah were involved. Now, with the two of them out of commission, it would be an impossible task.
But the answer was as clear to him as it was to Julie and Mrs. E, who was nodding along and watching Ben for his decision.
“Okay,” he said. “Fine. You’re right. We don’t have a choice. We break in to the Vatican Archives. We go up against the Catholic Church, on their turf.”
16
Reggie
Reggie watched him for a second, waiting to see what else the man wanted. But Garza didn’t hesitate. He turned on a heel and jogged over to the opening door of the chopper.
The driver stayed back, exiting the jeep slowly after turning off the engine, then stepping out and away from the vehicle. He pulled up a pistol from his side holster, aimed it at Sarah, and looked at Reggie. “Get out,” he repeated. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the rotor wash.
One armed man. Single pistol. Vehicle between me and him. Reggie counted off the situational variables like it were a bulleted list. He flicked his eyes left and right as he struggled to get out of the jeep, Sarah doing the same on his left.
Sarah’s also between me and gunman. Can’t use her as collateral. Garza will be at the chopper in three. Could be more bogies inside.
He stared down at the ground, but he allowed his peripheral vision to fill in the details. The treeline shimmered and moved, nothing out of the ordinary. The ground, hard-packed ice and snow, dark and gritty with the addition of pine needles and dirt that had blown over the coating of white, seemed just like any other ground he’d seen here.
Still, something felt off. Something told him he’d be making a mistake by trying to get away, by trying to fight back. Garza doesn’t make mistakes, he reminded himself. Garza doesn’t leave things to chance.
But out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah. Head held high, she was out of the vehicle and staring at the man pointing a gun at her. She was slightly taller than the man, her curly brown hair poking up even higher.
And there was a tear in her eye.
He hadn’t noticed it before, or it was new. Or it was nothing, just a remnant of her eyes trying to adjust to the sudden drop in temperature as they exited the vehicle.
But it was there, and he decided to act. He whirled around to his left, keeping the gunman — the only known threat to him at that moment — in his frontal vision, ensuring he could see and counteract the man’s motions before he could fire a shot.
He ducked beneath the top of the jeep, knowing that a straight shot would easily travel through both sides of the vinyl and fiberglass frame. He pulled his tied hands up to his mouth and ripped off his duct tape, then called Sarah’s name. “Get to the back of the jeep!” he yelled.
Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. She ducked and backpedaled, just as the man swiveled to shoot at Reggie. Reggie heard the crack of the pistol ring out through the air, twice. Both shots hit the jeep, but only one made it through.
Reggie saw that shot hit the dirt and ice, mere inches in front of him. But he knew Garza’s man wouldn’t shoot again. It was a blind shot now, and he could easily regain the high ground by moving toward the back of the jeep.
And that’s where Reggie would meet him. He pulled his wrists up and slammed them down again, hitting his waist hard and fast and immediately feeling the ties yank apart.
His hands were free.
He pulled Sarah toward him and down, skipping in front of her as he threw her toward the earth. It was a hard toss, and she let out a yelp in surprise as she fell. He jumped over her legs and crouched near the bumper of the jeep, waiting.
It only took a half-second for the man to appear. Reggie wasn’t surprised by the man’s distance from the jeep — Garza had trained him and he wasn’t about to let himself get too close. But that meant Reggie’s next action would have to be perfectly in sync with the man’s reaction time, if not slightly faster. Any missteps and he’d have a large-diameter hole in the center of his chest.
The man came fully into view, and Reggie was already in motion. He had calculated the man’s distance intuitively, allowing his training to take over, and he launched his body headfirst into the man’s legs.
He wanted to stay low, to prevent an accidental discharge — or a purposeful one — from catching him. The man would react in kind, lowering his aim and eventually getting a shot off, but Reggie hoped he’d make an impact and take out the guy’s shins before that happened.
He did. Reggie’s head landed on the man’s right shin, but he had his fists wrapped around both his legs before he’d even finished falling. The man went down, crumpling on top of Reggie’s long, lanky body, and by the time he realized he’d been felled, Reggie was rolling sideways and preparing his second blow.
This hit he aimed toward the back of the man’s neck — the closest thing to Reggie’s fist. It wasn’t a great spot to aim a punch, but Reggie also knew the man wasn’t going to give him a second chance. C
ome on, asshole, make this easy.
He threw his fist down on the man’s neck, feeling a small pop, but knowing it wasn’t nearly enough. The man grunted, but then rolled sideways quickly, trying to surprise Reggie and get away from his reach. Reggie was prepared, however. He caught the man’s shirt and pulled him toward him, then landed a quick two-hit punch to his face and jaw.
The man’s face slackened, and Reggie finished with two more shots to the man’s eyes. The driver looked up at him and snickered, then threw a leg around Reggie’s waist. They were both already on the ground, the awkward fight taking place in a near-sitting position, so Reggie wasn’t tripped.
He was, however, caught off guard. The man’s trip felt like a Mack truck had slammed into his back, and he lurched forward a few inches. It was enough for the man to get an arm free and he wound up, then threw it forward, catching Reggie in the teeth.
Reggie groaned and tried ducking sideways, but his head felt heavy. He was seeing double, and the two jeep drivers were now squatting above him, preparing a barrage of blows. Reggie watched the man’s four eyes, trying to calculate just when the attack would come so he could try to dart away, when two Sarahs entered his vision.
They were standing — no, running — and he blinked. At that moment Sarah hit the driver, launching him forward and down, back on top of Reggie. Sarah kept moving, now running toward the line of trees just behind him. He silently said her name, excited for the support, then realized he still had the driver — a massively built man, he now realized — to contend with.
And then, as if his subconscious had a realization it hadn’t told him about, he stopped. His fist was ready, the man’s face was directly in front of his, and he had the upper hand. But he stopped.
Pushed his head up and around to get a better view of Sarah’s escape attempt.
She, too, had stopped.
