by Anna Hackett
“What were the symbols, Elin?” Hale asked.
“They were a pentagram inside a circle, and the symbol of two closed, interlinked loops.”
Darcy gasped. “The Star of David and Solomon’s Knot. Symbols of King Solomon.”
Murmurs filled the cabin.
“Wait.” Dec held up a hand. “The King Solomon from the Bible?”
“That’s the one,” Elin said.
“So,” Hale said. “You’re saying that Silk Road believes that the Lost City of the Kalahari is linked to King Solomon?”
“Ever heard of Ophir?” Elin asked.
The name tweaked something in Hale’s head, but he couldn’t remember what.
“Ophir?” Morgan said, straightening. “I’ve heard Zach mention it recently.”
Morgan’s boyfriend was a history professor, who worked at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science.
“Ophir was mentioned in the Bible,” Morgan said. “Every three years, the Kingdom of Ophir sent a shipment of gold, diamonds, ivory and other treasures to King Solomon.”
Cal let out a whistle. “Sounds like quite a haul for those times.”
“Wait a second.” Dec turned to stare at Elin. “Are you talking about King Solomon’s Mines?”
Morgan grinned. “I love that movie.”
Elin’s nose screwed up. “We aren’t talking about low-budget adventure movies. King Solomon received gold and other valuables from somewhere.”
“There are all kinds of speculations on where Ophir might have been located,” Darcy said, the sound of tapping keyboard keys punctuating her words. “In Arabia, in North Africa, in southern Africa. Hell, the Solomon Islands in the Pacific are named for Solomon, and the belief that Ophir was an island nation.”
Hale shifted. “But Silk Road believes that Ophir is the Lost City of the Kalahari?”
“Yes,” Elin said. “We all know that southern Africa is riddled with gold and diamond mines. It makes sense.”
“So they’re after old gold and diamond mines?” Dec shook his head. “Even if they discover it, whatever country the mines are located in, the government will notice and boot Silk Road out. It’s got to be more than that.”
Hale watched the minute expressions on Elin’s face. “There’s treasure.”
Elin shot him a look. “Yes. There’s treasure.”
“Fuck,” Dec cursed.
Hale knew how Dec felt. Treasure tended to make things a lot more volatile and dangerous. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” Dec said. “I’m not taking my team in blind.”
Elin shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’m not lying. Claude hasn’t trusted me with the information. The man is paranoid. From the snooping I’ve managed to do, it is some sort of treasure linked to King Solomon.”
“I’ll start running some searches,” Darcy said.
“I wish I had more for you,” Elin said. “And as soon as I do, I’ll pass it on.”
Dec ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Hale will be with you on the expedition. The plan is for me, Coop, Cal, and Morgan to fly into Windhoek in Namibia. We’ll wait for you there with a chopper on standby. If you need backup, you call us.” Dec’s gaze landed on Hale. “Don’t take any risks, Hale.”
“How will we be able to contact you?” Elin asked. “We can’t risk a sat phone or something that Silk Road can trace. And conventional phones aren’t going to work out in the desert.”
Hale smiled. “Leave that to me.”
“Oh?”
Dec smiled. “Hale’s our resident gadget man.”
Elin eyed Hale. “You’re full of surprises.”
He grinned at her, his lips twitching. He wanted to say something suggestive, but with all his friends around him, he bit his tongue. Besides, he didn’t want to end up on the floor with his hands zip-tied.
As Dec and Elin ironed out some more logistics, Hale looked at the maps and photos on the table. Red-orange sand dominated the images, and for a second, he flashed back to another unforgiving desert, one that had chewed him up and spat him out. One that had taken his fellow SEALs.
Hale shifted so fast, he knocked over a chair. He grabbed it and righted it.
Elin turned his way. “I have to go. So, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it.”
After nodding at the others, she spun and walked out. She had a stride that warned she was a woman on a mission, and not to get in her way.
“Better not step out of line, Hale,” Morgan murmured with a grin. “Or Agent Alexander will show you who’s boss.”
Hale fought back a smile.
Cal snorted. “Something tells me the man might enjoy that.”
“Enough.” Hale headed down the stairs to the lower level. “I have some prep work to do.” He wanted to check his gear. He needed to test out the small comms patch he’d developed, and finish up with his grappling gun.
“Pizza for dinner,” Morgan yelled. “It was Dec’s turn to cook, so I decided to save us from a bout of food poisoning.”
“I sign your paychecks, remember, Kincaid,” Dec growled.
In his cabin, Hale pulled out one of the small, experimental comms patches. It was no bigger than his thumbnail, and as thick as a few layers of skin. It was satellite-linked, and used bone conduction technology to send and receive audio via vibrations through the skull. He’d designed the little sucker to stealthily piggy-back off any existing satellite tech in range.
He hadn’t had a chance to test it in the field…so this mission was a test run combined with the real thing. Shit, he hoped it worked.
Sitting at his desk, he touched the clear patch. It was designed to go behind his ear and when activated, he’d be able to communicate with the THS team in Windhoek. He pulled out his small travel toolkit, unwrapped his tools, and set to work.
When he finally raised his head, his neck was stiff, and outside, night had fallen. He realized his left hand ached, and he looked down at his little finger. It sat at a twisted angle and was covered in scar tissue.
It was a daily reminder of what he’d survived. What the insurgents had done to him and his fellow SEALs: Sean, Dutch, Clem, Chris, and Shep. Hale blew out a breath. So he’d been tortured? So he saw his buddies in his dreams every night? He’d survived and his friends hadn’t. He flexed his deformed finger and shook his head. He needed to focus on his latest mission.
His cellphone rang. Frowning, he picked it up and saw that Elin was calling.
He smiled, but only for a second. For the ever-efficient Agent Alexander to be calling him, it meant something was wrong.
Chapter Four
“Miss me?”
Elin listened to Hale’s smooth drawl through the line. It was wrong for one man to be so attractive. “There’s been a change of plans. Claude wants to leave first thing in the morning.”
A pause. “Why?”
“My guess? He was waiting for our long-haired friend that we handed over to the NIA to check in.” And now the man was missing, and it had spooked Claude. “He’s hired a private jet. He wants the team on it so we can take off at dawn. We’ll fly to Upington and from there, we take four-wheel-drives into the desert.”
She heard Hale mutter a curse. She could practically hear his thoughts turning over.
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the airport in a few hours,” he said.
“See you there.”
Elin packed up her bags and tried to grab a little sleep. Instead, she tossed and turned in her hotel bed. There was a mix of excitement, anticipation, and edginess in her veins that refused to let her relax. When her alarm went off, she had what she knew might be her last decent shower for a while, dressed, then snatched up her Glock and slipped it into the holster at the small of her back. She grabbed her duffel bag, and headed to check out.
As her taxi drove toward the airport, the sun was just starting to rise. The leafy trees and modern city buildings gave way to open spac
es, and in the distance, the edges of the slums. Buildings cobbled together from whatever the residents could find—bricks, sheets of iron, wood. A reminder that not everyone got to enjoy Cape Town’s cosmopolitan flare.
As the rising sun turned the eastern horizon pink, Elin prayed that the mission would be a success. She wanted to bring down Silk Road, wanted to tell her mother that she’d finally dealt a blow to the group who’d destroyed their family. And she also wanted her promotion. It would be a…validation. Something that would make her broken marriage and failures in her personal life worth it.
They turned into the airport and she tightened her ponytail. She’d bring Silk Road down. She also wanted to protect the history out there, whatever it was they were hunting at Ophir. Silk Road didn’t revere history, they destroyed and captured, and sold it all for profit.
Elin’s mother had taught her the importance of history. Her earliest memories were of sitting at her mother’s feet as Victoria Alexander worked to restore a painting. Her mother was one of the best art restorers in the world, with steady, capable hands and a patience Elin had always been in awe of.
So Elin wasn’t going to let Silk Road pillage Ophir, and the mines of one of history’s most famous kings. She wouldn’t let them profit from King Solomon’s treasure…or kill for it, either.
She paid her taxi driver and stepped out of the car. After a short walk and a flash of her papers at a sleepy-looking woman at the desk in the tiny terminal for private flights, Elin stepped out onto the tarmac.
A large shape emerged from the shadows near the building. She tensed, then relaxed. Hale.
Somehow, he looked scruffier and more dangerous than when she’d seen him a few hours ago. But no less attractive. Her belly fluttered, and she stomped on the reaction. Now was not the time.
He hid it under the charm and the smiles, but she knew he was dangerous. She’d watched him fight—with power and ease. She knew that there were solid muscles under his faded shirt. There were so many facets to Hale Carter and she wasn’t exactly sure she’d worked him out yet.
“Morning,” she said.
He fell into step beside her, a duffel bag similar to hers over his shoulder, as well as a large, black, battered backpack. She felt the heat radiating off his body.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
“Like a baby,” she answered. “That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Never go on a mission without this.” He patted his backpack.
“What’s in there?”
“Climbing gear, prototype grappling gun, spare ammunition, and a few other little surprises I’ve put together.”
“A regular bag of tricks. Everything legal in there?”
His smile flashed white in the darkness. “I plead the fifth.”
“I don’t want to know, Carter.” As they neared the sleek jet on the tarmac, Elin spotted the small group waiting for them.
A man pushed forward. “Alex. I thought for once you might be late.”
Elin felt Hale looking at her but focused on Claude. “I’m never late. This is Carter.”
When she glanced at Hale, he had a hard look on his face. He looked like the perfect mercenary-for-hire.
Claude gave a little bow. “Bonjour. I’m Claude Renard. This is Sabine.” He motioned at the tall, lean woman lounging on the steps of the jet. She had a cloud of bright-red hair piled messily on top of her head.
The woman took her time running her gaze down Hale’s body. She shot him a lazy smile.
Elin didn’t like Sabine, and the feeling was mutual. They’d had several prickly interactions, and the woman had made it clear that Claude and their work were her territory. Elin hadn’t been able to find out anything about Sabine, not even her full name. But one thing was for certain, the woman wasn’t just Claude’s lover and right-hand woman…she was his bodyguard.
There were four others standing nearby. Three men and one woman who all screamed ex-military. Elin nodded at them. They were all part of Claude’s cell and she’d worked with them over the last few months. “Carter Jordan. Rex, Westcott, Thompson and Van Wyk.”
Hale lifted his chin but no one shook hands.
“We fly to Upington,” Claude said. “It’s the largest town on the Orange River to the north. I have vehicles and supplies organized.” He shifted. He rarely stood still, a nervous energy continuously radiating off him. “From there, we head into the desert.”
There were murmurs.
“And then we find what no one else has discovered.” A light ignited in his dark eyes. “The lost city of Ophir.” He let his gaze sweep over them all. “Let’s go.”
As the others headed up the steps, Claude’s gaze settled on Hale.
“Don’t mess up,” Claude said. “I dislike messes, and Sabine dislikes cleaning them up for me.”
“He’s good, Claude,” Elin said. “He’s good under fire, and he’s also good at fixing things.”
Claude shoved his hands in his pockets, his face turning considering. “Okay. But he screws up, it’s on you, Alex.” A sharp smile. “And neither of you will like the consequences.”
Elin shrugged, unconcerned. She’d seen him kill one man in a rage, and another with a cold, calculated, point-blank shot to the head. Claude was dangerous and unpredictable, and she knew it would pay not to underestimate him.
“No one is screwing up.” She strode up the steps, brushing past a smirking Sabine.
Elin ducked inside and moved toward the back of the jet. Large, plush armchairs in cream leather lined the interior. She sat down on one near the back.
A second later, Hale sat down beside her, crowding her. He was way too big. Her gaze lingered on where his T-shirt stretched over all those muscles.
She jerked her gaze forward and shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable. “Ready?”
“Yep.” He settled back in the chair and closed his eyes. “I’m always ready.”
Cocky. Soon, everyone was settled and the jet was hurtling down the runway. Elin looked out the window, anticipation in her blood, even as she kept her face composed.
Showtime.
***
Hale stared out the aircraft window and saw the river appear below.
The Orange River was the longest river in South Africa, and looked like a snake of green through the harsh red-brown landscape. A geometric patchwork of irrigated farm fields lined the river.
Elin shifted, her shoulder bumping into him. She huffed out a breath. “Personal space, Carter.”
He sat back in his seat, studying her face. Him being too close bothered her, huh? “Better get used to it, Alex. We’re going to be sharing very close quarters for the next few weeks.”
She looked out the window. They were approaching the town of Upington, nestled up against the northern side of the river.
“Farini came through here on his expedition,” Elin said quietly.
“I bet it’s a little different now.” Hale lifted his gaze to the desert beyond. He guessed that part was still the same. The green surrounding the river ended abruptly, and beyond that, it was shades of brown, beige, and red as far as the eye could see. A few hundred kilometers to the north was the border with Botswana, and not too far to the north west was Namibia. If they did manage to find Ophir and Solomon’s mines, it was anyone’s guess what country it might lie in.
“There was a picture of Farini and his son overlooking a waterfall he called the Hundred Falls,” she said. “It’s called Augrabies Falls, now. If you follow the river west about a hundred kilometers, you’ll reach it. The river drops over sixty meters into a magnificent gorge. Almost unchanged from when Farini sat beside it.”
Her perfume tickled his senses. Even after two hours on the plane, she still smelled fresh. “Let’s hope whatever Farini found out in the desert is still there, too.” He turned his head to take another look at the rest of the group.
He didn’t like the look of Claude. The man was edgy and jumpy, always running a hand through his hair, and jigglin
g a foot. Combine that with a lack of conscience, and it was never a good combination. The woman by his side, in contrast, rarely moved. Something about Sabine made Hale think of a snake lying in wait for prey. She was dangerous, no doubt about it.
The rest of the team members were clearly all ex-military. From the accents, three Americans and one South African.
Soon, the jet’s wheels touched down, and they pulled into Upington’s terminal. Hale grabbed his duffel bag and reached for Elin’s.
She shot him an arch look.
“Just being a gentleman,” he told her.
“Don’t.” She snatched her bag up herself.
Hale shook his head. Prickly, independent women had never really been his thing. He liked women who laughed a lot and enjoyed a good time. No strings, no mess, no fuss.
But for some reason, thorny and challenging was proving far too enticing.
As they shuffled off the plane, the warmth hit him. Summer had passed, but apparently someone had forgotten to tell the desert.
They followed Claude across the tarmac. The man was moving fast, Sabine’s long legs keeping pace beside him. He led them out to where four rugged four-wheel-drives were parked in a row at the curb in front of the terminal. The beige Land Rovers were kitted out for the desert, with gear stored on the roofs, including rooftop tents. Hale glanced in the back of one, and saw camping gear and large plastic bottles of water. He suspected the vehicles would all have long-range fuel tanks, as well.
“Sabine and I will take the lead vehicle,” Claude announced. He patted the side of the Land Rover. “She’s been specially outfitted just for me. Armor-plated, run-flat tires, reinforced suspension.”
Clearly the rest of them didn’t warrant the same protection. Hale hoped to hell they wouldn’t need it.
“Rex and Westcott, you take the next one,” Claude ordered with a wave. “Then Thompson and Van Wyk. Alex, you and your man bring up the rear.”
“What’s the rush?” Elin asked. “First you move up the timetable, and now we’re heading straight out?”
The man’s shoulders moved. Definitely twitchy.
