Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  “Who were those people chasing us?” Sean asked, panting for breath from the back passenger seat. He looked at Emily, who was also breathing gasping in the front.

  Adriana whipped the car out of the parking garage and past the valet area outside of the Venetian. “I’m guessing the Order of the Golden Dawn.”

  James continued firing on the Escalade until his Glock clicked empty. Angela and the few men left from her team stopped firing as well. No more shots came from the bullet-riddled SUV. Just to be safe, James ducked low as he approached the vehicle and reloaded a fresh magazine into his gun.

  He stepped close to the rear door first, weapon trained on the open window. Inside the back were two dead African-American men. In the front, a larger black man sat in the driver’s seat. Bullet holes dotted the windshield. Some of the rounds that pierced the glass had also found the driver. He was alive, but barely. James could hear his labored breathing turning into a gurgle. The man’s lungs were filling with blood, a particularly strenuous way to die from his previous observations. He’d killed many adversaries that suffered the same way. Every time, it appeared like the person was going through hell just before they got there.

  At least that’s where James assumed they’d gone.

  Weaver moved closer to the SUV, gun trained on the lone survivor. James opened the driver’s door. The huge beast of a man held one hand to a chest wound as blood seeped through his fingers. “Who are you?” James asked raising his gun to the man’s head.

  A look of disdain crossed the dark-skinned face. The hand holding his chest clenched, extending only one finger in defiance. With the other, he tried to raise his gun one last time. James squeezed the trigger. The suppressed barrel popped, sending a new splash of blood and wider, messier red spray all over the passenger’s side. The body slumped over sideways.

  Angela and the rest of her men stood close by. “Who were those guys?”

  “Nobody.” He eyed the excessive jewelry on the man’s fingers and neck. “Too much bling for these guys to be pros.”

  She eased her weapon into a holster concealed by her jacket. “Who were the other two with Wyatt?”

  He looked in the direction the black Audi had gone. “I’m fairly certain the woman in the gray dress was Emily Starks.”

  “Axis? What was she doing here?” Weaver looked concerned.

  “Maybe they were having a secret rendezvous. They did work together for a few years at the agency.” Even he didn’t agree with his assessment, though.

  “What about the other woman?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. But whoever she is, she just complicated things.” He touched the small gash in his shoulder. “That means there’s another player involved.”

  “You don’t think she’s Axis, too?”

  James looked down at his left shoulder. Blood still oozed slowly from the bullet’s damage. “No. I think she’s something else entirely.”

  Chapter 13

  Washington, DC

  A black iPhone vibrated angrily on top of the dark wooden nightstand. After ten seconds of pulsing, a tanned masculine hand reached out and grabbed the device, lifting it so its owner’s eyes could make out the caller ID. He wondered who had the gall to interrupt his sleep at this hour of the morning.

  In his dreams, Eric Jennings had been somewhere between a sandy beach and the eighteenth hole. The call had blown that little fantasy apart.

  In the soft glow of the phone’s face he noticed the slender feminine body lying next to him. Money may not be able to buy happiness, but it can sure buy a lot of other stuff.

  He answered the call gruffly, “This better be good.”

  The voice on the other end paused. “It’s not, sir.”

  “What do you mean?” he sat up in the bed and looked back over at the sleeping escort. The phone call hadn’t awakened her.

  “Wyatt had help.” There was another moment of silence. “He got away.”

  Jennings was not a man to be taken lightly. He’d ascended in the Justice Department by being ruthless and direct. He’d always been careful not to piss off the wrong people but cunning enough to know when to cut throats. Surely, his agent on the other line knew this.

  His eyes were tired. For someone in his midfifties he seemed to carry the burdens of man thirty years older. “Then go get him,” he answered, annoyed.

  “We aren’t certain where they went, sir.”

  Jennings rubbed his eyes. “Who was with him?”

  “Agent Starks was one of them. We didn’t recognize the other woman. We’ll have to run a check once we get connected to the system. Shouldn’t take too long.”

  Jennings thought for a moment. So Emily was there. Why? What is Axis up to? Perhaps I’ve got a leak. That was something he’d have to attend to later. Although it could have been a coincidence, Eric Jennings wasn’t the kind of man who believed in them.

  “What should we do, sir?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.

  “I already said, go get him. Wyatt can become a thorn very quickly. We cannot risk letting him find out what we’re up to.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Jennings thought for a moment. His conversation had finally aroused the young woman next to him, but she had only stretched for a few seconds and then gone back to sleep. “Don’t make me regret putting you on this assignment, James. You and Angela are my best agents. I have made you privy to things that only a precious few know about. If you fail me, you know what the consequences are.”

  There was silence. Then, “Of course, sir. We won’t fail you or the Prophet.”

  With that, Eric hit the end button and set the phone back down on the little table. He looked back over at the silhouette of the naked woman underneath a thin sheet, accented by the streetlights of Washington, DC coming through his second-story window. She’d been vigorous early, a real pleasure to bring home. He wondered if she would be at this hour of the evening as he reached over and slipped his arm around her waist. Besides, he needed something to take his mind of the problem that had arisen in the desert.

  Chapter 14

  Las Vegas

  Adriana whipped the Audi SUV out onto Las Vegas Boulevard and pressed hard on the gas. They sped down the strip, passing the Palazzo, the Wynn, and Encore as well as the last few major casinos in the area. The car’s unique strip of LED headlights did little to change the brightly lit streets of the Strip. “OK, girls, someone needs to tell me exactly what is going on, and right now would probably be the best time to do it,” Sean said as he leaned forward from the back seat.

  What had been a fun vacation with some gambling and maybe a few shows had turned into a bloodbath inside his favorite hotel.

  Some of the less famous spots in the city blurred by as their driver tried to make sure she hit every green light possible.

  Finally, their luck ran out, and she slammed on the brakes at a red light.

  She looked around in all the mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed before speaking. “Your friend is right. They are with the group that calls itself the Order of the Golden Dawn.”

  Emily cast him a quick glance as if to say, I told you so.

  The light turned green, and Adriana continued talking, satisfied that they were safe for the moment. “Ms. Starks, what you think you know about this organization is irrelevant to what they are capable of and the extent of their reach.” She gave a look out of the corner of her eye as a warning.

  “How do you know what I know about them?”

  “I don’t,” Adriana responded. “But I know how your government works, and your agencies usually never know the whole story.”

  She ignored the slighted glance from Starks. “I have been following their movements and actions for some time. They have been extremely active over the last year, as Ms. Starks made you aware of earlier, Señor Wyatt. However, no one in the intelligence community seems to know why they have all of the sudden started moving pieces on the chessboard of the world again. I d
o.”

  “And just why is that?” Emily interrupted.

  “They have been looking for the Golden Chambers of Akhanan.” Adriana gave Sean a quick look.

  “Yeah, that much we know. But we beat them to the first one, and I don’t think they are going to come anywhere close to the next one. We took care of that little problem.” Sean spoke with a little swagger in his voice.

  “Did you?” she asked. “I would say from the events of the evening so far that you are incorrect in that assessment.” She made another quick turn and merged on to a highway leading out of town.

  “Where are we going?” Emily looked suspicious.

  Adriana looked straight ahead into the darkness outside the city. “Somewhere safe.”

  Inside, the vehicle became silent as she drove. For fifteen minutes no one said anything. The lights of the city began fading farther and farther away until the town was just a bright spot in the middle of the desert. The black Q7 cruised through the rising twists and turns of the mountains easily, living up to its sports car lineage. As the jagged mountain crested, the asphalt vanished into dirt and gravel. Villa made a quick right turn onto another dusty road and slowed down slightly. Up ahead, sitting next to a large rock formation, was a sandstone building. Its wood appointments and craftsman design were uncommon for the area, more suited for somewhere like the Northwest or maybe in the Southern United States. Dim lights emanated from within, and a large, metallic garage door began opening on the underside of the house as they wheeled around a slight downgrade turn that led into the port.

  “Nice place,” Sean broke the long silence.

  Villa barely gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Gracias.” Her Spanish accent was alluring. She spoke with a confidence that was extremely attractive. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous, too. Her dark chocolate hair was pulled back tight in a ponytail and was an almost perfect match for her eyes. Sean caught himself staring for a moment, taking in her slender, athletic frame.

  She brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine and opened her door. Something in the corner of the garage caught Sean’s eye. It was red, smooth, and tough looking. No fairing, single swing arm, big front and back tires. It called to him from across the room. “Ducati Streetfighter?” he asked, impressed.

  “Sí, Señor Wyatt,” she answered with a smile. “I love to ride. When Ducati came out with this one, I bought it immediately.”

  Sean thought about his small fleet of motorcycles back home. Each one had a unique sound, rhythm, and feel. He’d ridden them all extensively and loved each one like they were his children. She interrupted his thoughts as if reading his mind. “I understand you have quite a collection of bikes yourself, Mr. Wyatt.”

  He grinned slightly. “It’s nothing major. Just some I’ve worked on and restored over the years. I’ve never ridden a Streetfighter, though. What’s it like?”

  Her smile was slightly wicked as she raised an eyebrow. “Like strapping a grenade to your chest.”

  Chapter 15

  Nevada Desert

  Alexander paced slowly around the small, circular wooden table.

  The other two men, Albert Mornay and Jonathan Carrol, sat nervously in their chairs, uncertain why they’d been called at this time of night, but both thought they knew the answer.

  “Gentlemen, I’m sorry to have roused you from your slumber this evening, but it seems we have a problem,” Lindsey began, not expecting the other two to start the conversation. They were both weak men, easily controlled. Well, until this last little outburst.

  Mornay’s family had been involved with Golden Dawn since the 1920s. He’d basically been grandfathered into the Order. The man had never done a day of hard labor in his life. Tall, slender, with a beak for a nose and a high forehead, he was the realized image of Ichabod Crane.

  Carrol was different. He’d been a low-level suckup in some company for a long time until he finally got promoted to the level of partner. Though he’d worked hard for the Order, he had given away his best years. Now in his midfifties, the man looked like he was pushing seventy. A real yes man, Jonathan Carrol took crap from everyone who gave it out so long as it helped move him up the ladder.

  Both men had their usefulness. They had money and some influence in certain circles. More important than that, they could be manipulated however Alexander saw fit. He’d known that Carrol and Mornay resented the fact. They knew their position, and neither was willing to do anything to jeopardize the possibility of becoming top dog at some point in the future.

  Lindsey had taken the reins ten years ago from his predecessor. He’d served the old man well, learning everything he could about the Order. It was his benefactor that had seen the ambition in Alexander’s eyes. That understanding had led him to reveal the secret of the lost golden chambers of Ahkanan. It was a secret that only a few people knew.

  “So why did you call us, Alexander?” Mornay asked. His thin eyes blinked in irritation. He’d always been the more annoying of the two. Unfortunately, he would be the next in line to be Imperator of the Order. The man was rash and foolish. It had probably been his idea to go after the scientist in Atlanta.

  Lindsey eyed both men with fierce scrutiny. Knowing Carrol, he’d probably just nodded and said nothing rather than put up a fight.

  “Why?” Lindsey answered boldly. “Because there is a dead Georgia Tech professor in Atlanta right now because of your foolishness.”

  Carrol perked up slightly; a look of concern washed across his face. He’d become clearly less comfortable.

  Mornay tried to play it a little cooler. “So?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair, feigning a lack of concern.

  Alexander stopped pacing and placed both hands down on the table, peering into the man’s soul with cold and calculating eyes. He’d had enough of Mornay’s snide disrespect over the years. Mornay’s family line had brought him into this little world, but Lindsey could take him out. In the moment, there was nothing he could do according to the laws set forth by the founders of the Order. But the day would come. “Your idiotic attempt to steal the translation of the second stone has potentially brought our operation to light. Do you realize that?” He was on the verge of rage. His face burned red, and a vein on the side of his neck bulged slightly.

  Mornay cowered only a little. “What about all the stuff that happened a few weeks ago, Alex? The police, the feds, everyone is watching us now. It’s only a matter of time until they start asking questions.” He raised a finger in Lindsey’s direction. “You have put us in more danger than anything we’ve ever done.”

  “Don’t you ever raise your finger at me, Albert! How dare you question my authority!” His voice boomed through the conference room like thunder in the night. “Unlike with the little play you two made, I conversed with both of you before moving forward. You didn’t even ask me for permission. It is strictly forbidden to use an asset without the agreement of the Imperator.” Frustration and anger poured out of him.

  “Guys, let’s just take it down a notch,” Carrol finally entered the conversation. He looked uncomfortable with the confrontation that was taking place.

  Lindsey wasn’t surprised at Carrol’s reaction. He didn’t have the stomach for what sometimes needed to be done.

  “You were unavailable,” he continued. “We had an asset nearby, and we felt like we could make the move with little risk.”

  That was certainly out of character for Carrol, Lindsey thought. More than likely, it had been Mornay’s idea, and the worm didn’t have the spine to say no. Either way, they were wrong for doing it. “The events from a few weeks ago were unfortunate but were necessary,” Alexander began. “They got us the result we needed, which was finding the first stone.”

  “It does us no good if it stays in the hands of those morons from IAA,” Mornay injected.

  Lindsey stood straight. “Will has control of the situation, Albert,” his tone chastising Mornay as if he were a small child who had broken a window. />
  “We didn’t feel like that is the case,” Albert replied.

  “You acted without consulting me first. That is strictly against our code.” Lindsey was right, and Mornay knew it. They’d taken a huge gamble.

  Carrol looked increasingly less comfortable. “We just wanted to speed things up. That’s all. You weren’t around, so we made a decision and went with it.”

  “And now we have a mess to clean up in Atlanta,” Lindsey looked disgusted.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Alexander looked at Carrol. “Our agent is taking care of it now.” He paused, thinking for a moment.

  “See to it that neither of you do anything like this again. You know what is fully within my rights, if necessary. An act that endangers the Order is an act of treason.”

  The room was smothered by an ominous silence. They knew he was justified. And the laws of the Order were very clear. If the acting Imperator ever believed anyone in the organization had committed treason, he could have the accused put before the council and executed. It was a simple monarchic system when it came to that charge. Even the adepts were vulnerable.

  An adept’s execution had only occurred once in the century since the Golden Dawn had achieved prominence. In 1946, the postwar world was a place of uncertainty. Though World War II had been an enormous atrocity, more than a few shrewd businessmen had made their fortunes off of it. Aramus Dawson was one such character. He’d profited millions of dollars making vital parts for the weapons that the US Air Force took into battle. While many made money on the planes, Dawson made his on the guns that took down other planes. At the age of forty-five he was still one of the youngest adepts to ever ascend to the chair. Unfortunately for Aramus, his greed and ambition were such that they caused him to hoard some of the money he was supposed to contribute to the Order. Every man, down to the most insignificant initiate, had to pay their tithe to the organization. Ten percent of all gains, just like in a church, went to the group. It was how they maintained an operational bankroll and how they were able to function in secrecy and yet extend a powerful arm into places other groups could not. Dawson’s Imperator had warned him not to hold back funds from the Order. If necessary, accounts could be called into question. If the accused could not or would not produce any evidence against their supposed wrongdoing, they could face punishment at the discretion of the Imperator. When Dawson’s bank accounts were requested he refused, boldly challenging the right of the Order to ask for such personal information.