The Lost Kingdom (Matt Drake Book 10)

by David Leadbeater

  Hayden stared at him, suddenly lost in the past.

  Kinimaka frowned and dug the unwieldy object out. “My fault,” he said. “Should have switched it off. Ah, shit.”

  Komodo glanced over. “Who is it?”

  “Kono. Sister who’s probably madder at me than all these Irishmen put together. Oh, well.” He turned it off. “Hayden? You okay?”

  The ex-CIA agent struggled to speak. Her mind had been transported back many months, to a time when she fought alongside young Ben Blake. Ben often received and took phone calls in the midst of a battle, usually from his mom or dad.

  All gone now.

  Hayden swallowed drily, hearing the click in her throat. It wouldn’t do to lose focus at this point. She ignored the guys and rolled to the other side of the crate, still struggling. But then Dudley’s manic voice cut through her melancholy.

  “Yer really think yer can stop us? The 27-Club are back, bitch, and yer country is our amusement park.”

  Hayden peered around just in time to see a rocket launcher settle over the madman’s shoulder. From across the huge vault his brother broke down into fits of laughter, literally falling to his knees. Dudley’s men darted around him, unable to conceal their glee, their lust for blood and lunacy.

  “Goodbye,” Dudley intoned.

  Hayden called a warning, and shot out from behind the crate, firing blindly to stop the Irishmen taking potshots. She needn’t have worried. They were too busy tracking the missile to watch the damage it caused. When the RPG struck the huge crate the four SPEAR members were sprinting away; when it hit they were suddenly flying away—airborne, meters off the ground, lit by an expanding fireball and twisting amidst debris and planks of timber and metal fastenings. Hayden felt the whoosh of air and the unstoppable force, helpless, crawling through thin air and then coming down hard, slapping into the ground with her shoulder and then her skull; her hip and then her shins. Sliding across the floor for a moment and then she lay still, ears throbbing, ringing, body screaming to be left alone.

  But what was Dudley going to do next? A sane man would use the opportunity to escape. This guy . . .

  Hayden fought every nerve ending, every warning signal, every impulse from her brain, and forced her body to turn over.

  There he was, sniggering, still talking, standing right over her. And over his shoulder, now pointed down, he still held the rocket launcher.

  “Always wanted to do this to a feckin’ cop.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Horror made Hayden’s eyes widen, her face turn white. Staring up at the rocket launcher she momentarily froze.

  Surely he realizes he would die too?

  Maybe, maybe not. Truth was he didn’t care. To this man it was all a deadly game, a boy’s day out, and each successive high intoxicated him to try the next. Her vision, her world, was filled with metallic death and a wide drooling grin.

  “C’est la vie, bitch,” he drawled.

  His finger tightened on the trigger. Hayden couldn’t look away. The missile shook slightly. And then the rocket struck.

  But it was a rocket of hard flesh and bone, an enormous man-made rocket called Mano Kinimaka, and he smashed into Dudley hard enough to snap him in two. The rocket launcher tumbled away and then hit the ground and fired—its unstoppable missile speeding toward the rear of the vault. Kinimaka tripped over his own blurry feet, falling and rolling. Dudley coasted helplessly into the air at least six feet, then came down on his back, stunned. Komodo was on his knees, lifting a rifle.

  Dudley’s boys laughed hard as they closed in behind him.

  One leapt at Komodo, taking advantage of the soldier’s befuddlement, and added to it, striking him in the face. Another started kicking at Kinimaka, dancing out of the Hawaiian’s reach and then darting back in. Two more lifted Dudley, unable to stop from cracking unintelligible jokes. That left two surplus and Dudley’s brother, who now sat near the shelving, finishing off with the camera.

  “Best get goin’, lads,” he said. “Backup’ll be here soon.”

  Most of the men complained, enjoying their fun.

  “Ach, I don’t mean this minute,” the brother drawled. “Kill the feckers first.”

  A shout of pleasure went up. Hayden rolled away from her attackers, seeing the world spin at least three times. Nausea rose within as a sharp kick connected with her spine. Damn, they were at such a disadvantage here. It was then that she thought of Ben again, and her father’s sacrifices, and so many others—all that they had lost—and a feeling of pure anger rose within her.

  What the hell am I doing here? Curling up into a fucking ball?

  At least she was still alive to live out her hopes and dreams. Ignoring the discomfort, the vertigo and the heavy pounding, she kicked back, using the momentum to jump to her knees. The world turned violently, but she thrust it away, focusing on the men before her. One came at her with a knee, which she deftly palmed aside. Now she spied her Glock to the left. A second attacked with a rush and she fell under him, risking a roll and paying dearly for it. Again the world turned, her head screamed and she threw up. But her attacker sprawled in her wake, smashing his head to the floor.

  Hayden reached out for the Glock.

  To her left Komodo wrestled with another Irishman, looking stronger with each passing second. The initial concussion was wearing off, the soldiers were trained to fight through it. Smyth, flat out and groaning until now, suddenly sat up and there was a machine pistol in his hands.

  An Irishman kicked it away, then collapsed as Smyth punched his thigh. Hayden grabbed the Glock and aimed it at her nearest attacker.

  “Hey now, lassie, hey now. It’s all just a bit of fun.”

  He backed away. His compatriot jumped up, grinning. “Time we got the feck outta here.”

  They rushed her. Hayden squeezed a shot off, winging one, but got a knee to the face for her trouble. Blood flowed. She fell backwards again, groaning, but used the fall to twist her body around so that she now faced their fleeing backs.

  “Stop!”

  She could stop them, wound them, but her team needed her more than her mission. Without pause she whirled once more. Smyth had thrown off his attacker; the man was already in flight. Komodo threw his to the floor. Kinimaka had caught a boot intent on breaking his ribs and was now twisting an ankle.

  “Let ‘em go,” a voice rang out, Dudley’s brother. “And we’ll let yer live. Can’t do fairer than that.”

  Hayden evaluated their position. Three machine pistols were pointed at them—one by a dazed Dudley. Kinimaka, Smyth and Komodo were starting to get the best of the other four attackers, though there were no guarantees in this fight. Quickly she raised her Glock, nodding at the same time.

  “Go,” she said. “Get the hell outta here. We’ll see you soon.”

  Her team was bruised and battered, like her. This deal was as good as it was going to get.

  Dudley stretched his clearly aching body. “We’ll be counting on it, bitch. Counting down the days. And next time, yer’d best bring some real men.”

  “Then go.” Hayden, with her body starting to relax and the adrenalin seeping away, was trying hard not to see double. “Before I change my mind.”

  Dudley’s brother was walking away from the pile of tablets, machine gun trained upon them. “Whadya say, brother?”

  “Make a bleedin’ mess, Malachi. Yer know yer want to.”

  Dudley’s brother grinned, but Hayden suddenly rose to her feet. “No! Stop. You destroy one of those tablets and the deal’s off!”

  Her three colleagues rose to stand at her side, weapons reacquired. Dudley blinked as he regarded them.

  “Mexican standoff, eh? Well, we did get the rubbings too, and it’ll sure help yer’s find us again, right?”

  Hayden squinted. “Yeah, whatever you said. If it helps you run away then just go.”

  The Irishmen backed off, covering the Americans the entire time. No more words were passed and by the time they were alone, H
ayden was crouched down in front of the tablets.

  “Go make sure they leave without killing anyone else,” she told Smyth and Komodo. “And send the backup down here when it finally arrives. We need to secure these tablets and find out what they say.”

  Kinimaka laid a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Barely, Mano. Barely. I guess that’s another life gone. One of these days I’m gonna find I ran out.”

  “Don’t say that. And besides, we run out together. You got me?”

  Hayden found herself smiling. “I got you.”

  Kinimaka crouched down at her side, an arm now draped over her shoulder. His left knee struck a precarious tablet, sending it crashing to the floor. Luckily, though cracking from side to side, the object stayed in place.

  “Shit.”

  “I guess some things just never change.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Since the SPEAR team found and brought the tombs of the gods to the attention of the world, unearthing a language expert had never been a problem for them. Several were still employed on translating the writings found and photographed in the tombs, chief among them Torsten Dahl’s good friend, Olle Akerman. The Swedish language expert had proven to be fluent in old Akkadian, Sumerian, Babylonian and even the Nu Shu of ancient China, so Hayden wondered how he might fare with the lost language of the lost kingdom of Mu.

  With the nightmare logistical problem of guarding two thousand six hundred tablets, organizing an approaching force of two hundred men, the SPEAR team’s widespread distribution, and Olle Akerman being in Sweden at that time, Hayden parked her butt in a tiny office and thought about what to do.

  Tylenol was the first order of the day, followed by an entire bottle of water. Hayden sat in the dark, trying to steady her head. The facility’s employees had been found, three locked in a room with bruises to most parts of their bodies, two security guards murdered with shocking brute force, and six other workers in the far-flung reaches of the vault who had no idea what was going on. The most promising development was that Steel Mountain’s boss had been located and told them that the Niven Tablets had actually been photographed years ago, the prints archived. He was currently searching them out.

  Hayden checked her watch. Forty five minutes had passed since Dudley escaped. That meant that the Pythians—she assumed—now owned the Peking Man and also a potential map to the lost kingdom of Mu. Their endgame and purpose, however, still remained a mystery. Was Mu a link to Atlantis? Was it, by itself, worth as much to China alone? Did it even exist? The Americans had been searching for Mu fifty years ago. Why did they stop—simply because a ship had been sunk? At the time, Hayden imagined, tensions must have been so very high between the countries involved that prudence would have come into immediate effect. Thousands of people died aboard the Awa Maru, and it wasn’t until twenty years later that even the Chinese decided to try salvaging the vessel.

  Her first decision was made. Olle Akerman had come through before and would undoubtedly be delighted to hear about an undecipherable language. Hayden placed the call.

  “Hello? Ja? Who is this?” Olle answered immediately, his voice loud as if he stood right next to her.

  “Olle, it’s Hayden Jaye. I hope you remember me.”

  “Ja, ja. Of course, how could I forget? I follow the world for your exploits. I wish I was following you right now. Ha ha.”

  Same old Akerman. Hayden remembered how he used to tease Dahl about his wife. She launched into a full explanation for her call, missing nothing out. Akerman listened intently, not interrupting.

  “What do you think, Olle?”

  “Of course I have heard of the Niven Tablets. They are famous, considered a hoax. But a very good hoax. So many tablets, so elaborately constructed. Why go to so much trouble? Why not stop at a thousand tablets or even five hundred? Recent years and events have taught us that old artefacts once considered anomalies, inexplicable, or clever pranks, may actually be genuine. Indeed, as science advances so do the unexplainable mysteries it gives rise to. I thought everyone had forgotten the tablets.”

  Hayden shrugged in the dark. “I believe they had.”

  “But not these—what do you say—Pythians? They remembered, eh? Even knew where to find them. Ja? So where are the tablets now?”

  Hayden didn’t answer for a moment, thinking that Akerman had uncovered a rather sore point there. How had the Pythians known where both the Peking Man and the Niven Tablets were stored?

  “They’re with me. Here. At Steel Mountain. The warden is digging out a set of old prints.”

  Akerman fell silent before coming to a decision. “Ja. Well, this is what I think you should do. This Mu, it is no different to Atlantis. A myth or an ancient, dead civilization. All gone. But clearly, if you are hunting Atlantis—or Mu—you need an expert’s view. I have a friend in Washington—one David Daccus—who will be able to help. I believe he wrote a paper on both Mu and the tablets and is also a language expert, though not in my class of course. In any discipline.”

  Hayden caught his drift. “Olle, you’re sixty three.”

  “Give me the chance, my dear, and I’ll show you how a lifetime’s experience improves one’s . . . virility.”

  Hayden couldn’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling a little horrified. “Give me his number, Olle. And go take a cold shower.”

  The Swede found Daccus’ contact details and signed off. Hayden placed her next call and put Daccus on alert as she awaited the arrival of the prints. Kinimaka reported that they’d located an industrial scanner in the vault’s main office along with several other modern accoutrements. Hayden paused a moment longer, savoring the peace and the dark and the quiet. But the world always moved on. It moved millisecond by millisecond, minute by minute, hour by hour. But it always moved on.

  And danger befalls those who didn’t move with it.

  *

  Once the many prints had been fed through the scanner, compressed into a file, and sent to David Daccus; once the vault had been secured; Hayden thought about returning to Washington. It was late—or more accurately very early; and her team was worn out. Back at base Karin was manning the communications, giving Hayden’s team the entire flight home to relax. Once they arrived, Hayden had no trouble directing everyone straight to the Pentagon. There would be no returning to their apartments or houses just yet.

  Hayden guessed about three hours had passed. She wondered how Daccus was faring with the tablets, how Drake was proceeding in Japan. She wondered why she viewed her little attached office differently, as if searching for small things amiss. Of course, they were inside the damn Pentagon. What could be amiss?

  Just a niggling. A voice in my head. The first sign of madness?

  How did the Pythians locate the fossil and the tablets so easily?

  The absence of an answer worried her. She swallowed more pain killers and joined the team for an early morning round of black coffees. Karin sat nursing Komodo’s injured knee. Kinimaka sat alone, cradling his ribs as Smyth rolled the kinks from his own shoulders.

  “Took a few whacks?” Hayden sat opposite the big Hawaiian.

  “More than a few. Think I said aloha to my spleen.”

  “Those Irish boys take no prisoners.”

  “They’ll die the same way.”

  Hayden pretended not to have heard that last remark. Instead, she swung her body around, keeping her head as still as possible, to regard Karin.

  “Any news from Daccus?”

  “No. But I also have the warden from Steel Mountain going through every inch of his records. We have to believe the Americans at one time translated these symbols. Otherwise why would they be in Taiwan?”

  “Ya think the translation might be in the archives?”

  “Why not? It sure makes sense.”

  Kinimaka now turned around. “I never heard of the lost continent of Mu,” he said. “What exactly is it?”

  Karin nodded. “Me too. So, I did a little extra research whilst
you guys were away. Older than the ancient Greeks, the Babylonians, Persians and Egyptians, the civilization of Mu was far more advanced than any of them. It existed fifty thousand years ago and had inhabitants that migrated to the places I mentioned, taking their expertise and legends with them. The tablets themselves confirm the creation of the earth and then humans, who originated in Mu.”

  “So it’s the birthplace of humanity,” Kinimaka said. “If it ever existed. A place quite important then.”

  Karin laughed. “To say the least. It was also said to be the location of the Drug of Immortality. Don’t smile, Mano. As we already know most modern day academics don’t go seeking controversy such as lost continents and inexplicable relics for fear of losing credibility among their peers and ultimately their whole careers. But searching through the histories of both China and Taiwan I have read innumerable accounts of sea voyages to discover this lost kingdom. The Ling Wai Tai Ta text tells of a great bank of sand and rocks in the Great Eastern Ocean and states that ‘a great castle of red walls lies somewhere submerged beneath the sea’. Then, in 1981 a diver found the battlements of what appeared to be castle walls in the Straits. This is right below where the USS Queenfish found its notoriety. Coincidence?”

  “A strong one,” Hayden admitted.

  “Anyway, amazingly this story of castle walls received absolutely no attention in the west, despite a British Channel 4 TV series. The structure he found consists of two colossal walls, running hundreds of meters in length; these ruins lie in a place that would have been above sea level during the last glacial period about ten thousand years ago. Now, both Taiwan and China have ancient flood myths, so which country would claim Mu?”

  Hayden swirled her coffee, staring into the black liquid. “They both would.”

  At that moment her phone rang. She stared at the screen, still lost in thought, and saw the name of the warden at Steel Mountain flashing up. “Hayden Jaye here.”