by R. D. Brady
“No, it was—” She paused. “Actually, Yann, he was old school. He had a throwaway camera. He always started a new camera with each new excavation. He probably still has it. I can ask him.”
Mustafa glanced at Matt, who shook his head. Yann hadn’t survived either.
“I’ll take care of it,” Matt said, not unkindly.
“But—” Fadil’s face fell. “Oh.”
“Is there anything else about this site that makes it different?”
She shrugged. “Just the skulls.”
Mustafa started. “The skulls?”
Fadil nodded. “Four skulls were found buried at the base of one of the obelisks in a stone box. We had them carbon dated. They’re 11,000 years old. But that wasn’t the strangest part. There were carvings on the skulls themselves, done postmortem.” She stared off into the distance, a shudder running through her.
Mustafa gently touched her shoulder. “Fadil?”
“Sorry, um, and there was one last thing that I found odd, although not everyone agreed with me. The skulls all had holes in them.”
“As in surgery?” Mustafa knew that surgery, even brain surgery, had been conducted in Ancient Egypt, but he not heard of anything like that in Turkey. There was no advanced civilization believed capable of that here. Of course, it had to be a highly advanced civilization that created Göbekli Tepe, so he supposed it was possible.
But Fadil shook her head. “I don’t think so. I had the chance to look at them, and I believe the holes were made postmortem, or at least, were worn down postmortem.”
“Worn down?” Matt asked.
“It’s strange because the edges are smooth, like a drill was used and then a rope placed through them to carry them.”
“Why do you find that strange?” Mustafa asked.
“Because there’s only one other place in the ancient world that we know of that drilled holes in skulls and carried them on ropes.”
“Where?” Matt asked.
“India.”
Chapter 15
Baltimore, Maryland
Attorney General Dick Chenwick leaned forward in his chair. “The case against Delaney McPhearson is very complicated. There are warrants sworn out against her in four separate countries in addition to the United States. There’s also her direct involvement in the death of SIA agents in Australia, and then there’s the incident on the Francis Scott Key Bridge, also currently under investigation.”
Laney did not like the attorney general’s tone.
Apparently neither did Henry. He crossed his arms over his large chest and leaned forward. “I was under the impression that the United States government was going to be dropping the charges.”
Danielle narrowed her eyes, her voice cold. “We are leaning in that direction, but there are still some unanswered questions.”
“Such as?” Brett asked in his unflappable lawyer mode.
“For one, it is not clear how exactly Dr. McPhearson stopped the bus on the bridge—if that’s what she did—from going over the side. From the recording, it seems more likely she just stood back and did nothing.”
Brett shrugged. “Well, even if that were the case, that would not be a crime.”
“But if she tampered with the bus—”
Brett cut in. “That has already been disproven. As has the duplicity of the woman known as the Priestess and Elisabeta Roccorio’s roles in both the Australian incident and the Temple Mount incident.”
Dick scowled. “Yes, but there is still the—”
Brett stood up. “We took this meeting in good faith. If the government is not fulfilling the agreement we reached on the phone, then we will be leaving.”
“And if we decide not to allow a wanted criminal to go?” Dick asked.
Jake stood. “Then we will have a problem.” Henry stood as well.
Laney, however, felt like banging her head on the table. Everyone’s ego was out of sorts. The government wanted to save face for starting a manhunt for the person who’d actually saved thousands. The Homeland agent wanted to save face for their personal psychopath. The attorney general no doubt wanted to save face for pushing so hard behind the scenes to take the Chandler resources in response to Laney going on the run.
Laney put up her hands. “Okay, enough. How about we all take a seat?”
No one did.
Laney sighed. Great. “Okay, we are all missing the bigger picture. I get it. The government has egg on its face for how it handled this by believing Elisabeta’s trail of breadcrumbs. If it makes you feel better, she is really good at what she does. But that is irrelevant. The important task at hand is figuring out what she is up to and where she’s gone. That is where all of our energies need to be focused right now.” She looked up at Jake and Henry. “You know I’m right.”
With a huff, Jake sat, and Henry followed. The feds across the table also resumed their seats. FBI Deputy Director Andre Revken nodded. He’d been silent so far. “I agree with Dr. McPhearson. We need to move forward. If Roccorio is planning something, we need to know what. And due to the extent of the plan in both Australia and the Temple Mount, that is our priority.” He looked to the attorney general. The man had not taken his eyes off Laney.
Time seemed to inch by before he dropped his gaze. Finally, he opened the folder in front of him, pulled out a sheet, and slid it across the table to Brett. “This is the agreement we discussed over the phone.”
No one spoke while Brett read through it. Laney was afraid to even breathe too deeply. She was so close to getting her life back.
Finally, Brett nodded. “It’s good.” He slid it toward Laney along with a pen.
The attorney general’s gaze returned to Laney. “Just to be clear, this is not a get-out-of-jail-free card. If you violate the law, you will be held accountable. I will personally see to it.”
“Asshole,” Jake coughed.
Dick narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
Jake just smiled.
Laney signed the paper quickly before the man could rescind the offer. She slid it across the table. The attorney general inspected it, and with a nod, placed it back in his folder.
Brett stood. “I believe this concludes our business.”
The feds stood as well. “I’ll see you out,” Brett said, heading for the door. Without another word, they filed out of the room.
“Well, they’re lovely,” Laney said as she stood.
Jake grinned. “Who cares? You’re free. It’s over, Laney.”
Henry laughed.
“What?” Laney asked, wondering what she had just missed.
“Jake called the attorney general of the United States an asshole.”
The tension from the last few months drained away as laughter bubbled up inside of her. Soon the three of them were laughing hysterically. And it wasn’t just Jake’s comment. It was the fact that a weight had been lifted. Laney leaned into Henry, who wrapped his arms around her. “Welcome back.”
She hugged him, smiling at Jake. “Thanks, guys.”
Chapter 16
Tokar, Sudan
The Mercedes kicked up dust as it drove through the dirt-packed streets of Tokar. Elisabeta watched the scenery pass by with distaste. Crumbling houses, poverty as far as the eye could see. Women with colorful burkas walked by, their heads ducked against wind that tossed more dirt in the air. The driver slammed on the brakes. Elisabeta threw out a hand to keep from being flung into the seat in front of her. She opened her mouth to yell at Artem but then caught sight of the reason for the braking.
A goat. Slowly crossing the road.
She curled her lip as it passed, and then they were on their way again. Her current location was a far cry from the jet-set life she had lived previously. But it was only temporary. And necessary. The warehouse was near completion. Now she was just awaiting the shipment. She had similar stashes across the globe and similar arrangements with other pseudo-government types. But she had had to come personally to deal with the general.
The “general”—it was a self-proclaimed title. He’d been a pastor at one point before deciding that the job of overlord paid better. He controlled the port at Tokar and access to the Red Sea. He was known for his penchant for kidnapping for ransom, murder, bribery, and even setting up an underage brothel by the docks, not to mention his child soldiers.
This upstart of a general had put a kink in her carefully laid plans. Normally she would have one of her subordinates handle this type of problem. But Elisabeta wanted it to be known what she was capable of and that anyone who crossed her would pay the consequences.
Plus, she was angry. Delaney McPhearson had forced her hand, putting Elisabeta’s plan into place before she had intended. But while Elisabeta had made it work, the rush had only fanned the flames of anger that had been slowly building since Chicago.
Now she was looking for an outlet to release that anger. And General Mansur, who had forced her into this throwback to the Stone Age, was going to be the lucky recipient of her wrath.
Artem pulled to a stop in front of a three-story building with balconies on the second and third floors. Six men in fatigues with large machine guns stood guarding the building, two on each floor facing the street. All glared at the car.
Artem walked around and opened Elisabeta’s door. She got out and strode toward the entrance. One of the men stepped in front of her.
“Halt. State your—”
Elisabeta grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. “Get out of my way.” With a flick of her wrist, she sent the man flying into the dust.
She didn’t even bother looking at the other man as she strode up the steps. Artem quickly opened the door for her.
Loud voices and laughter greeted her as she stepped in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darker lighting. Sheet rock, hastily and poorly patched, dotted the walls. Unvarnished floors with an occasional missing piece further accentuated the rundown nature of the place. The sitting room to her right held two threadbare blue couches facing one another and a few mismatched chairs. Hanging between the couches on the far wall was a single piece of “art”: a portrait of General NaNomi Mansur.
The general was portrayed with a chest full of ribbons and a strong, penetrating glare. The artist had taken some creative license with his height, build, and complexion. The halo of light surrounding him gave him an ethereal impression. She snorted at the sight before continuing toward the voices. Cigar smoke drifted down the hall, making her wrinkle her nose.
Idiot humans. Their lives were short enough.
Without hesitation, she stepped into the kitchen. The general sat at the table in a white T-shirt stained with what she thought might be the remnants of the breakfast on the table before him. The four men sitting with him all had the same fatigues as the men outside, although none had theirs buttoned.
Catching sight of Elisabeta, surprise flashed across the general’s face, and he smiled. “Ah, our benefactor. What a pleasant surprise. Can I offer you some breakfast?”
Elisabeta curled her lip. “No. But you can put out those disgusting cigars.”
The general took a long inhale of his cigar before blowing the smoke out. “If you are not here for breakfast, what can I help you with?”
“We had a deal, and you are not upholding your part of the bargain.”
“The deal has changed. It will now cost double. After all, I am now dealing with an internationally known criminal.”
The men around the table laughed. He smiled in response. “Besides, you are wealthy. You can afford it.”
“My wealth is not relevant. Your mortality is.”
It was the general who laughed this time. “Dear Elisabeta, you are playing at terrorist. I don’t know why these other fools believe you to be dangerous. You do not know the first thing about living in this world. Your fancy schools and fancy parties are hardly preparation for the world you are trying to navigate. Now run along and send me my money and we will consider how many of my weapons it will buy you.”
The men around the table laughed again. One of the men closest to her leaned back in his chair, blowing cigar smoke directly at her.
Elisabeta narrowed her eyes. “Is that so?”
The general smiled even broader. “I have heard the inflated tales of what you can do. But you are no fighter. You are a spoiled aristocrat. Now you are interrupting my time with my men.”
Elisabeta didn’t bother getting angry. Why be angry at an ant? In a blur, she grabbed the man who had blown smoke at her by the back of the neck while pulling the cigar from his grasp. She plunged the cigar into his cheek. He screamed as the smell of burning flesh mixed with the cigar smoke. Tossing the cigar to the side, she shoved him away from the table.
The general stood. “How dare you come into my home and—”
“How dare I?” Elisabeta asked, quietly stalking around the table toward him.
“No, no,” the general said, backing away. “We ran into some shipping problems, that is all.”
“According to my satellite information, my weapons were received last week, and yet you have not contacted me. You weren’t thinking of trying to sell them to someone else were you, NaNomi?”
The general looked at his men. They jumped to their feet. Two placed themselves in front of Elisabeta. Without breaking her stride, she slammed her shin into the groin of one and broke the neck of the other, flinging him against the back wall.
One of the men across the table pulled his gun and fired. The shot caught Elisabeta in the ribs. With a grunt, she looked down at the wound, then over at the man. His eyes went wide. He aimed the gun again, his hand shaking. She grabbed the table with one hand and flipped it onto him, pinning him to the ground.
The last of the general’s men tripped past her. She grabbed him, plunging her fist through his chest. Letting him drop, she turned back to the general. “Now, where are my weapons?” she asked softly.
“I-I have them. I will have them loaded onto a ship—”
“No. I have a cargo plane waiting for them. Get them in trucks. You have one hour.”
“An hour? But I cannot possibly—”
She reached out and took his face in her hand. “You have tested my patience enough, NaNomi. Do not test it any further.”
He swallowed, bobbing his head. “Yes, yes, Elis—Ms. Roccorio. Of course.”
“Good boy.” She patted his cheek before turning and stepping around the man still curled in the fetal position on the floor. Behind her, the general gasped, falling back against the wall.
Artem stood in the hallway and handed her a wet wipe as she reached him. He glanced at the blood on her side but said nothing.
Elisabeta wiped her hands as she headed down the hall, throwing the wipe on the floor. “Our people are at the warehouse?”
“Yes. They arrived just as we arrived here.”
Elisabeta nodded, saying nothing until they were pulling away in the car. “Once we have all the weapons secured, dispose of the general and all of his people. We’ll consider it a public service.”
Artem said nothing and handed the whole box of wipes over the seat.
Elisabeta took them and wiped the remaining blood from her hands, sighing at the stains on her sleeves and by her ribs. “Ugh, this will never come out.”
She turned to Artem just as his phone rang. He answered it and nodded. “Yes. Send it immediately.”
He met Elisabeta’s gaze. “They’ve completed it. It is being sent to you as we speak.”
Elisabeta turned on her phone. She quickly made her way through the layers of security to her encrypted email account. It took a minute, but finally the message appeared.
She ignored the entreaties from the sender, skipping down to the translation itself. It was broken up into four separate sections, one for each skull. She read carefully, making sure she understood every word. But in many ways it was very simple—it was a recipe. One for everlasting life. One that required a unique ingredient that she had acquired without even r
ealizing how important it would be—Victoria’s blood.
She sat back with a small laugh. After all this time, I will be immortal. She’d have different people create different aspects of the formula so no one person would have the complete formula. And then once they’d made the dose she needed, she would kill them. Speaking of which . . .
“Artem.”
“Yes?”
“Have the translators killed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He typed something quickly into his phone. “Done.”
“Good. What is going on with the deal with Delaney?”
“They’ve agreed to the terms, and both sides have signed. She is a free woman. She is scheduled to leave the estate shortly.”
Elisabeta glanced out the window at a group of children in their bare feet, running down the road. “Perfect. As soon as she is far enough away, tell the teams to move in.”
A little girl with her hair in braids waved at Elisabeta. Elisabeta smiled as she waved a bloodstained sleeve in response picturing the pain Delaney McPhearson was about to experience.
Let it begin.
Chapter 17
Baltimore, Maryland
Laney stayed on the estate for another two hours after her meeting with the feds, but she knew she needed to get back. Now Laney stood with Henry and Jen on the back lawn. Henry hugged Laney tightly. “Are you sure you need to head back?”
Laney nodded into his chest before pulling back with a sigh. “We need to figure out a place for Nyssa. And this place is too public, too well known. And until then, I’d feel better being with her to make sure Samyaza doesn’t come after her.”
“You really think she will?” Jen asked.
“She has not given up her bid for immortality. And Nyssa is still the only way to achieve that. So for now, I stay where she is.”
“I don’t like it, but I understand it,” said Henry. “But we will see you soon?”
“Yes. I promise.”
