Cash Cassidy Adventures: The Complete 5-Book Series (Plus Bonus Novels)

by K. T. Tomb

  ***

  Agent Perez was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Silently, he stood in the middle of the living room in the brown house on ‘Embassy Row’ and tightened the straps of a black tactical vest with the letters ‘C.I.A.’ printed on the back. Being assigned overseas to a small consulate, he had never imagined ever getting the chance to be part of a covert operation like the one they were embarking on that night. It was clear just by looking around him that the F.B.I. took the recovery of their agents and their colleagues extremely seriously and the C.I.A. was only too happy to get involved, there wasn’t much action to be had this far from home.

  F.B.I. agent Watson seemed to be taking it the hardest of all. He must have considered it a slap in the face that the two-bit criminal they knew as Ethan Doyle had somehow gotten the better of his commanding officer, his fellow agents and his companions. Even the knowledge that he had only managed to do so because he had the help of a mole was no consolation, in fact it made him angrier. She had been in the house with them all along and there had been no detection of her treachery by any of them; maybe they were losing their touch.

  He shook his head savagely; there was no way they were getting soft. The girl had infiltrated them from the grassroots up. She had been a part of Professor Cartwright’s team for years, clearly she hadn’t been a plant; Doyle must have gotten to her while he was working with the professor at the Knossos dig. He planned to take twenty-one F.B.I. agents with him out to the platform vessel that night as well as eleven C.I.A. There were three UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters waiting at the Adnan Menderes airport to move them out. The choppers would get them to the ship faster than anything else could but his concern was stealth so to counteract that he had engaged the help of the U.S. Navy. He had found out from the Pentagon that the U.S.S. Odessa was in the region and had more than enough of the resources they would need, all of which would be at his disposal.

  The plan was to take the choppers to the Navy aircraft carrier and enlist the assistance of the Seals to raft in on the Renaissance. Once they had boarded, the rest of the team would fly in on the helicopters and assist to take control of the vessel. It was a sound plan; clean, quiet, effective, just the way he liked it. With everyone suited up and ready to go, Watson put his arm around Perez’s shoulder and pulled him to one side.

  “Hey kid,” he started. “I know this is probably the first piece of real action you’re going to see and, in all honesty, as an embassy jock, it may be your last.”

  Perez nodded solemnly; he knew it was the truth.

  “I want you to see everything, hear everything and say nothing. Learn everything you can, both from your guys and mine, because you never know what the next step might be in your career, or where the next big opportunity is going to crop up. Take everything you can from this so you can learn and then use that knowledge to your own benefit one day.”

  Perez smiled at Watson and shook his hand, “Yes, Sir!”

  “You’re a good kid and you know good people when you come across them. I bet you never knew that by being a gentleman and befriending Miss Stone and her team, you would have the chance to be a part of something like this. She trusts you, and let me tell you, with the men and women of this command, that means a whole lot. Come on, let’s roll out.”

  It took the agents twenty minutes to rendezvous with the aircraft carrier off the peninsula west of Alacati. When they got there the Navy Seals were all ready to go.

  “This mission launches at oh-one-hundred hours. Dismissed!” said the Odessa’s commanding officer. Out of courtesy and respect for his rank aboard the vessel, Watson had given precedence over the meeting to him.

  They had three hours to kill so after their detailed debriefing, the operatives set to checking their gear and cleaning and loading their guns. The choppers were refueled and rafts were inflated and checked for leaks. The gas canisters for each of the twelve three-man rafts were lowered and secured off the side of the vessel where the rafts would be launched; lowering lines were tied to the rings of each of the rafts. With everything ready to go, all the men had to do was eat and wait.

  The men cheerfully chattered over the hearty meal of Brunswick stew, mashed sweet potatoes and collard greens. For most it was the best meal they had eaten in weeks. Perez got to learn that the Navy Seals who would be heading up the mission had just arrived onboard the U.S.S. Odessa that morning from a tour in Afghanistan and were finishing up the last week of their tour before heading back home to the United States. They were happy to be going on such a simple, straightforward mission for the first time in a year. They introduced themselves to him and told him a little bit about what they each did. There was even a technical support guy among them who kept their radio and gadgets working and also doubled as the liaison for the Navy Information Service. He took pictures and wrote news reports which he sent in to their commanding officer twice a day.

  “This time we get to swim,” one of the soldiers said. “A Seal is always the most comfortable in water. I can’t wait to get out there tonight, all I’ve seen is bone-dry sand and stone desert for the past eleven months. I felt like I almost lost my goddamned mind out there. Everything’s just one color; white, and it’s always just one temperature; hot.”

  Several of the men laughed at the Seal’s comment but every one of them was nodding in agreement.

  Out of curiosity, Perez asked him, “Where are you from, Sailor?”

  The Seal looked at him and proudly said, “Forks! Forks, Washington.”

  “Hot damn!” Perez exclaimed. “No wonder you’re so bent out of shape. Forks to Kabul; that would be like comparing a Burmese python to a feather boa.”

  The sailors all laughed at Perez’s joke. He was happy, they made him feel at home. It was so different from the strict environment and often solitary existence at the consulate. Here he had a taste of what he knew was real, honest camaraderie. He liked it. Soon it was time to clear out of the mess hall, so the men took Perez with them to the deck. One of the pilots let him climb up and sit in his F-22 Raptor jet, he even showed Perez through all the controls and flight checks. Then one of the sailors showed him how they would lower and launch the inflatable rafts they were going to use to get over to the Renaissance that night. Everything they had to show him, he soaked in eagerly and thanked them profusely for; he intended to follow Agent Watsons advice, he saw the value and truth in it.

  At exactly 1 a.m., Perez stood at the side of the U.S.S. Odessa along with his new friends and lowered the rafts and the Navy Seals down into the water. He noticed that they took the technician with them and that he had his camera buckled securely to his vest. When the sailors had fueled up their little outboard engines, they pulled in the empty canisters and then untied lowering lines. Everything was neatly stowed away.

  He was ready and just then he heard Watson call for his men to group.

  “We’re sailing toward the Renaissance right now, the aim is to arrive onboard just as soon as the Seals have secured the vessel. We don’t have a visual on them but we do have audio so as soon as they’ve boarded we’ll be lifting off. I need you all onboard the Hawks in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes Sir!” was the consensus and everyone went their own way to retrieve their gear and get back to the flight deck.

  The taking of the Renaissance was the easiest mission that cluster of Seals had ever undertaken. When they boarded the vessel and gave the okay for the Black Hawks to fly, all they encountered on the deck of the ship were drunken sleeping guards. With a little chloroform to the face, they stayed that way on the deck while the soldiers moved deeper into the ship and up to the bridge simultaneously. It took ten minutes to subdue Ethan and his entire vigilante crew, including the treacherous Fariha Katsakis.

  When the helicopters landed, the Seals already had most of Agents Stewart’s and Chyna’s teams freed and had used the same cuffs they took off of them to handcuff the hijackers. Perez ran from under the chopper blades towards them. He shook A
gent Stewart’s hand vigorously before offering his hand to Chyna as well. Chyna looked carefully at it and then at him before swinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Just as everyone started to calm down from the excitement of finally being free, Professor Cartwright emerged from Ethan Doyle’s cabin with the mask in his hands.

  “Everyone, everyone your attention briefly, please,” he called out to the crowd. “I’d just like to bring your attention back to the crux of the matter for a moment. This all started with a crazy idea and even crazier theories that Miss Stone and I shared and it’s incredible that this is where we have ended up. I just want to refocus you on the whole purpose of why we’ve just been through all this.”

  He held the mask up over his head so everyone could see it.

  “Behold, Ladies and Gentlemen, the lost but only just now recovered, Minoan Mask of Knossos.”

  Just then the technician came around and gathered their little team together. He fired off several brightly flashed shots and the moment that the mask was recovered into the hands of Chyna Stone was captured for all to see.

  Epilogue

  They had been out of Turkey for a week now and still Chyna was hard pressed to get the smell of Anthony off her clothes or the feel of his hands on her body out of her mind. She would miss him dearly but she was also sure she would be seeing him again soon. She hadn’t been that sure of it as she and her team had started preparing to head back to Found History but then last week she had received a diplomatic envelope at the brown house on ‘Embassy Row’, inside was a Found History envelope. Puzzled, she had ripped it open and pulled out the docket it contained. It was the details of their next assignment. Sirita had told them she would be sending over some paperwork she had received from Dr. Aman Nassir at the Supreme Council of Antiquities in Cairo but she wouldn’t have known what the full contents were. Dr. Nassir had made a new discovery in the Luxor Valley in southern Egypt and upon hearing that Chyna’s team was in the region, he had requested her expertise on his site.

  As Chyna read the letter from Dr. Nassir, she looked up at her team and said, “Who wants to go to Egypt?”

  They delayed their arrival in Luxor for two weeks. Chyna felt they all deserved a bit of a vacation and no one on her team had ever been to Egypt before. She booked them rooms at the unforgettable Nile Hotel and encouraged them to see the city and do all the tourist things there were to do. There was no way of predicting how long they would be in the desert this time, so she was keen on them getting as much rest and relaxation as they could.

  For her, the only relaxation she had required was what she got in the arms of Agent Anthony Stewart. He had arrived at the hotel discreetly late at night and they had stocked the kitchenette and locked themselves in for three straight days. The concierge had been told to let her team know that she had made a quick trip to Alexandria to visit some family friends. They hadn’t had a chance to say a proper goodbye in Izmir, but even after three days neither of them was ready to let go.

  “We always find each other again, Anthony,” she said to him as he was about to board the flight back to Turkey. “You always say it too; this is the best we can hope for with the way our lives are. It’s the price we have to pay for getting to have it all.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “It’s just that having it all sometimes means that instead of having a whole lot of one thing, you have to make do with the pieces of everything.”

  Now, as they made the long drive through the desert heading south towards Luxor, Chyna had no time to think about his words. There was a task ahead and she was on fire. It had been more than three years since she had been to Egypt and she hadn’t been on a dig site there since before her father had died. The country, and especially its deserts, held a special place in her heart. She felt free here on the Egyptian sand dunes; wild and free like a Berber nomad.

  They would make Luxor by nightfall and she could hardly contain her excitement. What did Dr. Nassir have in store for them down there? She was aware that there was a theory about an area across the river from where King Tutankhamen’s tomb had been found so many years ago which some Egyptologists thought may soon emerge as a royal burial ground that may just come to rival the Valley of the Kings, but the scope of it was a mystery to her. She pulled open the dossier that Dr. Nassir had sent to her at the hotel a few days before and read it again.

  “We think that we may have discovered a long lost series of chambers said to have been built by the pharaoh Ay and his wife, Ankhsenamun, who was Tutankhamen’s widow. According to legend, Ay built the chambers below the ground near Luxor to serve as a hiding place should the country rebel against his extremely weak claim to the succession of the throne. He was also said to have used it as the storage place for an ancient book which was a record of every pharaoh to have ever reigned over Egypt up to that point as well as the locations of their palaces, their family details and their burial places. If what we have discovered are really the Chambers of Ay, then it is possible that we have finally found ‘The Mummy Codex’.”

  The end.

  Chyna Stone returns in:

  The Mummy Codex

  Available now!

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK

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  “A” IS FOR AMETHYST

  An Alpha Adventure

  #1

  by

  K.T. TOMB

  “A” is for Amethyst

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  The author wishes to dedicate this book to the late

  Sidney Sheldon.

  “A” is for Amethyst

  Chapter One

  Somewhere a million miles away a phone was bleating rudely.

  Travis didn’t move to answer it. Angelo didn’t move to answer it either, but then, he was only a Jack Russell. Travis had no excuse, being a grown man of thirty-nine years of age, except that he was very drunk, lying on the floor, and feeling incredibly sorry for himself for at least the fifth time this morning. Angelo looked at him with his usual curious canine face. At least he could be depended on to be exactly the same. Travis shrugged back at him, and rolled over on the floor onto his belly. The third bottle of wine was probably a mistake. But he had found that since getting shot by Russian criminals and spending far too long on Ultram and Valium during his recovery that; in large quantities, whiskey made him maudlin, beer caused him to urinate too frequently and was too weak to produce the desired effect...an alcohol-induced coma. The phone stopped ringing, but Travis was at least semi-conscious now, so he rolled over again and sat up, inadvertently kicking Angelo in the muzzle. The small dog yelped and ran under the desk in one corner of the office.

  “Crap, sorry buddy. You ok?” His voice was old leather and Angelo glowered at him. Travis wanted a cigarette, but he knew it would probably just make him feel sick. He tried to make friends with his dog, but Angelo decided he hadn’t forgiven him yet and slunk further under cover. As to why he was camping out most nights in the office, Travis knew the uncomfortable truth. Despite four months of recovery, of which only the first month and a half were for the physical trauma of the gunshot, Travis had not been able to shake the events in Russia from his mind. He was, after all, an anthropology professor, not a mercenary. Of course he had seen a counselor who had prescribed some anti-depressants (which remained untouched) and he knew about the process of post-traumatic stress. Travis didn’t care. He wanted to be alone, and too many people knew his home number. After taking a sabbatical from the university, he packed a small bag of essentials and moved into the Alpha Adventurers Inc. offices in downtown Atlanta. Naturally, he had felt no need to speak to his colleagues in the project about this decision. T
hyri and Adam, by whose usual outstanding aesthetic taste the office was decorated, had returned to Europe within days of touching down in the States after the Russian escapade; Thyri to continue her clandestine industrialist role, Adam to Britain, to host a series of antiques- related shows. Fiona had, eventually, been dissuaded from skipping bail all together to fight pollution in Antarctica or whaling in wherever, and assented to serve a rather draconian sentence of six months at Her Majesty’s Pleasure in HMP Holloway. Apparently the British judicial system looked unkindly on those who decided to run halfway across Europe while awaiting trial. Travis couldn’t say he was particularly upset about that, Fiona could definitely use a cooling off period from reality...and people. Especially Travis himself.

  Then there was Savannah. Beautiful, well-educated, multilingual, whisky-soaked Savannah. She had tried to help him through the bleakest parts, and she at least helped him see that his days of slamming bourbon with freshmen were long over, drinking him under the table three times in as many days. She had held her patience with him admirably, he felt, until her lecturing duties began again at the start of term. Now they spoke fairly infrequently. It infuriated him that he, as a well-educated, reasonably smart, man could see that he was closing himself off from the few people he knew well. He had never been one for making many friends, although he was quite successful with the fairer sex- or at least he used to be. He hadn’t been on a date since Baikal. In fact, he hadn’t done much of anything since Baikal, apart from substantially increasing the profits of the vineyards of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. He hadn’t answered his emails (mainly from Adam, although some of his students had got in touch too), he certainly hadn’t answered his phone, and he was damned if he was going to be answering the landline in the Alpha Adventures office.