The Holy Grail (Sam Reilly Book 13)

by Christopher Cartwright

  “The battery went on my phone. What’s up?”

  “I’ve reviewed the footage from the labyrinth at Bolshoi Zayatsky that Tom and Genevieve obtained.”

  “And?”

  “Inside it was riddled with ancient texts by the Master Builders. Some of these were translated into Russian, which Genevieve could translate. But parts were missing. I’ve deciphered some of the Master Builder text myself. They keep referring to the Phoenix Plague. Something that will inevitably wipe out the human race, allowing a new race to rise from the ashes.”

  “Sounds like a theme eternal, doesn’t it?”

  Elise wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Sam!”

  “Yes?”

  “There was something else, too…” Elise’s voice hardened. “We got it all wrong. We’re in a lot more danger than we first thought.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Sam looked at Ben across the room. Their eyes met and Sam held the contact just that little bit longer than what was considered normal.

  Ben asked, “What is it?”

  He held up the landline phone. “This is Elise, my computer hacker. She needs to talk to you.”

  “Me? What does your hacker want with me?”

  “She’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet. I suggest you listen to what she has to say carefully.”

  Sam turned to Aliana. “Is there another way out of this building? Preferably one that people don’t know about?”

  “Yeah. There’s a tunnel that runs to the building across the road. It was originally used as an escape route for the nuclear silo and was supposed to be demolished after we bought the property, but my friend inherited the company and we decided to keep the tunnel in case we ever eventually merge. It’s a pharmaceutical company and we’ve used the tunnel on occasion to share resources when the snow blankets us in.” Aliana’s voice softened. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “That was Elise on the phone. She says there are about three hundred law enforcement officers and a SWAT team about to breach your building.”

  “Oh shit! All right. I’ll take you downstairs, and then come back up here to try and slow them down.”

  “You’re the best.” Sam kissed her on the lips. “Ben, finish up. We’ve got to go!”

  Ben hung up the landline. “On my way.”

  Sam and Ben followed Aliana to the entrance to a deep set of stairs.

  “Follow this all the way to the bottom. There’s a horizontal tunnel. Take it and then go up the other side. I’ll call my friend. She’ll help you escape.”

  “She doesn’t even know us. Why would she help us escape?”

  “I’ve been friends with her since college. I’d trust her with my life.”

  Sam took a deep breath. “And now we’re trusting her with ours.”

  “All right,” confirmed Ben.

  Sam and Ben ran down the series of steep spiral stairs, taking two to three steps at a time. The bottom opened to a horizontal tunnel. They raced across it and then climbed the stairs at the opposite end that mirrored the ones they had descended.

  At the top of the stairs they were greeted by Aliana’s friend.

  She was a petite blonde woman who looked very young, with pretty blue eyes, dimples, and a soft, sweet voice. “Quick, this way.”

  Sam nodded a curt, “Thank you.”

  He and Ben followed her at a brisk walk.

  In her office, she swiped her ID card and waited for the elevator. Sam swept her office with his eyes, surprised to see the layout was almost identical to Aliana’s. His gaze landed on a collection of picture frames on a desk.

  One of them took his breath away. It was a picture of an older man, standing beside a red Chevrolet Camaro. Sam knew at a glance, that it was a second generation, RS/SS. He knew this, of course, because he’d been in that very car earlier that morning.

  She noticed his interest in the car and smiled. She had a cute, almost impish smile that teased of fun that any man would want to explore.

  “You like the car?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Sam replied. “It’s a thing of beauty.”

  “And a blast to drive. That’s my father. He used to love that car. I keep it these days, stored for safe keeping, out of respect and nostalgia.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

  “Don’t be,” she replied. “It was a long time ago. He was unwell. There was nothing anyone could do. I took over his business and have been managing his family enterprise ever since.”

  Ben stared at her. “Have we met before?”

  Sam eyes flashed a warning.

  But Ben ignored it. “No. I do remember you. It’s your smile, you see. I would never forget your smile. Even if you injected me with a sedative and an amnesic the last time we met. What was your name? Emma! That’s right!”

  The elevator door opened with a beep.

  Emma levelled a Berretta M9 handgun at them both. “Yes. That would be me. I’ve seen how fast you move. Now stand over there.”

  Ben shuffled backward.

  Sam looked at her. “What do you want?”

  “The same thing everyone wants – to live forever – and, so long as we’re asking, I’d like to become filthy rich.”

  “Is that why you turned to producing methamphetamines?” Sam asked.

  She took an audible gasp, her face suddenly pale. “What do you know about that?” She shrugged. “If you must know, that one I didn’t do for riches. That one I did out of desperation. My father died, and I inherited his legitimate business, which was about to go bankrupt. I mean, how does someone screw up pharmaceuticals in America?”

  Sam said, “Indeed?”

  “And I needed his business to stay afloat, long enough for me to change the world.”

  Sam stared at her with piercing blue eyes. “You want to cure cancer?”

  “I do.”

  “Is that why you sent a team of mercenaries to Bolshoi Zayatsky to stop my friends finding out the truth?”

  She smiled, shook her head, denying it, but without any real enthusiasm. “I’m afraid I never liked spy movies and I don’t have time for soliloquies... Ben, you’re coming with me, Sam… Goodbye.”

  Sam looked at her, fear and disbelief written on his hardened face.

  She shifted her hand, aimed the Berretta at his chest and squeezed the trigger.

  Bang!

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Ben dived at Emma.

  The forced knocked her over. Still gripping the handgun, she tried to turn it on him, but she was no match for his speed.

  He disarmed her in one movement.

  She put her palms skyward. “I’m sorry. You don’t understand what’s at stake here. You don’t understand what THEY will do to me if I don’t get you back.”

  “Who are THEY?

  “No. I can’t say, they will kill me.”

  Ben pointed the handgun at her. “If you don’t say, I will kill you!”

  She shrugged. “Some things are bigger than you, bigger than me. Some things are worth sacrificing everything for.”

  “Emma! Who’s behind this!”

  She pulled a flick knife out and lunged at him.

  Ben squeezed the trigger, and released three rounds before she got anywhere near him. He shook his head, looking at her once beautiful body, now horribly distorted in death. She never even stood a chance.

  Ben turned to Sam. “You okay?”

  He clutched his chest. Blood dribbled out a single gunshot wound to the right side of his chest. He coughed. There was a fine mist of blood in his mouth. “I’m not going to lie to you, this hurts like hell!”

  Ben said, “Sweet Jesus, you’ve been shot! We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “No. We need to get you out. It’s your life that counts now.”

  Ben rolled Emma over, taking her ID swipe card and her keys to her car – a Porsche Cayenne. “Time to go. Can you walk?”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

&nb
sp; He stood up, but couldn’t stay up.

  Ben put his arm under Sam’s left shoulder and helped him into the elevator. He hit the button for the carpark.

  Outside, Ben found her car parked closest to the elevator.

  He clicked the remote button and opened the door to slide Sam in. Next to him, Sam’s breathing was getting faster.

  “You okay? Can you breathe?”

  “I’ll live,” Sam said. “Go!”

  Ben turned the ignition key and the V8 Turbo roared. He released the electronic handbrake and drove down the series of downward spiralling ramps.

  At the bottom, he pulled onto Cortland Drive, and then turned right onto 8th Street. The Porsche SUV hugged the snow-covered road like a tractor on steroids. He flicked the paddles behind the steering wheel and changed down gears again, turning left onto 4th. He gunned the accelerator and raced forward. When he reached 6th Street he shoved his foot on the brake.

  The Porsche fishtailed on the ice, until its ABS anti-skid system managed to determine the most successful means of bringing the heavy SUV to a stop.

  Ben stared at the array of police cars, blocking his escape route by every means. His heart pounded in the back of his head and he felt fear stir in his throat like bile. At the end of the bridge, a single snow plow blocked his only means across the Souris River and out of the trap.

  Sam looked at him. “What?”

  Ben said, “We’ve had a good run, Sam. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. But we both know it’s time for you to get out.”

  Sam laughed. “You don’t want me to come?”

  “You know what has to happen from here. This isn’t Thelma and Louise – hell, I still don’t know if I like you. Either way, there’s no reason for you to follow me to the end.”

  Sam gave him his hand. “You’re okay, Ben.”

  Ben took it with a firm shake. “Yeah, you too. Thanks for everything.”

  Sam swallowed hard. “Good luck.”

  Sam stepped out of the car, collapsing on the icy road. Behind him, an ambulance raced to greet him.

  Ben revved the powerful V8 Turbo.

  He released the brake and the Porsche leapt into an eager gallop.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Special Agent Ryan Devereaux stood at the bridge on 6th Street. His eyes squinted as he fixed his gaze on the black SUV.

  “What the hell’s he trying to do?” He levelled his eyes directly at him. “Doesn’t Ben know he’s surrounded? There’s no way out of this alive.”

  The Secretary of Defense stood next to Devereaux. “There’s no way out of this for him even if he comes willingly.”

  He met her gaze through narrowed eyes. “Everyone should be given a chance.”

  “Not Ben. You know what’s at stake.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The Porsche picked up speed, racing straight for the bridge.

  Devereaux and the Secretary of Defense stepped back.

  The Porsche shot toward the bridge.

  It was an exercise in futility. With the snow plow parked in the middle of the bridge, there was no way he could get across it. And everywhere else was thick snow. There was only one way in and one way out of the area.

  It was Ben’s own personal labyrinth.

  The SUV swerved at the last moment, breaking through the railing and driving off the side of the bridge.

  It launched into the air, and crashed through the thin layer of ice into the flowing water beneath.

  Devereaux and the Secretary of Defense ran to the edge of the bridge.

  The water was flowing fast beneath the ice. They watched as the car drifted down the river, far below the ice. It might take weeks to locate the car. One thing was certain: no one could survive that.

  Ben Gellie was dead.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  The Secretary of Defense came up to greet Sam in the back of the ambulance.

  Aliana Wolfgang was sitting with him, too. She stood up, immediately and greeted her, “Madam Secretary. I’ll leave you two to talk in private.” Aliana turned to Sam. “When you get better, you still owe me a vacation somewhere.”

  Sam grinned. “Agreed.”

  The Secretary of Defense turned to him, “How do you feel?”

  “Well, I got shot, and then my lung collapsed so these fine paramedics,” his eyes drifted toward the two paramedics, “Shona and Danny stuck a needle in my chest to reinflate my lung. Apart from that, I’m pretty good.”

  “Good man.”

  Sam closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked like he’d just remembered what he was doing there, his mind flashing back to Ben Gellie. He turned his head to face her. “Is he dead?”

  She nodded. “Yes. It’s over.”

  “Thank goodness.” He took a deep breath – it looked painful as all hell – and then sighed. “You know we killed the wrong man, don’t you?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you saying?”

  “Genevieve and Tom went to the labyrinth at Bolshoi Zayatsky.”

  “And? What did they find?” Her voice, now a whisper.

  “Someone has redacted the important parts of the ancient Master Builder text within the labyrinth – the Russian parts that is – no one at the time knew how to decipher the ancient script of the Master Builders.”

  “John and Jenny Gellie weren’t developing the Phoenix Plague?”

  He shook his head. “No. They were trying to develop a genetic solution. Ben Gellie was meant to be the genetic antidote to the Phoenix Plague.”

  “And we got him killed!”

  Sam raised his voice, “Someone set this up. This wasn’t an accident. It was a targeted attack, spanning back to the seventies, when the Department of Defense first got involved in the investigation of the Bolshoi Zayatsky labyrinth.”

  “Everything about the original team has been redacted. There’s no record of the original investigators,” the Secretary concluded grimly.

  Sam said, “The Phoenix Plague is still out there, and someone just succeeded in destroying the only antidote ever developed.”

  “I know.”

  “You know what that means?”

  “Yes. We have a traitor among us.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Sam must have blanked out for a minute or two.

  When he woke up, Special Agent Ryan Devereaux was waiting for him.

  He blinked. “You must be Devereaux.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you mind if I go to the hospital before you take my statement? I’m a little tired.”

  “I’m not here to take your statement, Mr. Reilly.”

  Sam blinked again, trying to stay awake. “You’re not?”

  “No. I just wanted to apologize for ever doubting you, sir. I thought…” Devereaux’s eyes dipped downward. “I thought you might have been working with Ben Gellie. I see I was wrong.”

  Sam gave him a curt nod. “It’s okay. You could only work with what you had.”

  “I did wonder, though…”

  “What?”

  “How a man without military training could keep you captive all this time… what with us finding my original service issued Glock at the helicopter wreck site, and all.”

  “Good question. As you know, things don’t always add up.” Sam grinned. “On that subject, there’s a woman named Emma Thompson. I believe she was one of your doctors. She inherited a pharmaceuticals company. If you look into her land holdings around the place, I think you might find quite a syndicate of meth labs.”

  “Really?”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah. We came across one about ten miles south of Devil’s Lake.”

  “All right. We’ll take a look. Thank you.”

  Devereaux stood up to leave.

  Sam said, “Best of luck.”

  The Secretary of Defense stepped back into the ambulance. “Sorry about that. He was feeling guilty.”

  Sam shrugged, as best he could with his injuries. “W
hat the hell do you care about his feelings?”

  “I don’t.” She made a wry smile. “Hell, I don’t even care about your feelings – just so long as you get better, and get back to work.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “I forgot to show you something.”

  Sam shuffled back in the ambulance stretcher, uncomfortably. “What?”

  “Three months ago you discovered what you thought might have been the wreckage of Amelia Earhart’s Electra… there was no sign of her or her navigator Fred Noonan’s remains, but you did find an antique camera.”

  Sam nodded. “Go on.”

  “Our Historical Photographs Department developed the photos. I thought you might want to see one in particular.”

  Sam felt his heart race. “For goodness sake, go on!”

  “I should warn you, we couldn’t establish whether or not the photos were indeed taken by Ms. Earhart.” The Secretary smiled and handed him a duplicate of the photo. “But I thought you might find this one just as interesting.”

  Sam stared at the photograph.

  It depicted a cave. It had a unique purple hue to it. A crepuscular beam shined down on the polished rockface making it stand out like a prized painting at a museum exhibition.

  He focused on the pictograms etched into the rockface. The photo’s resolution wasn’t good enough to make out the intricate details, but there was no doubt about the basic design. Each one depicted a human face.

  There were seven in total.

  The faces, clearly the same prehistoric hominids from Ben’s photo, adorned the same cave wall.

  Sam handed it back to the Secretary of Defense.

  He had seen a similar photo before. Obviously, it wasn’t the same photo, but it was the same location. It was the same place in which the Ben Gellie’s only family photo had been taken.

  Chapter Sixty

  Ben Gellie huddled by a fire in an abandoned, half-collapsed old red barn nearly a mile east of where he’d crashed into the Souris River.

  His hair had finished drying.

  Next to him lay his face mask and SCUBA tanks. If Genevieve and Tom had not acted when they did, he would have died of hypothermia well before he drowned.