Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2)

by Robert Storey

  I must have missed something when Chen arrived, Sarah thought, wondering what that something might have been.

  Sarah pressed herself flatter against the ground and watched with wide eyes as Cardinal Avery walked away, with Ruben by his side.

  The two men disappeared into the night and Sarah thought the show was over, but just as she was about to move away, Zinetti spoke again. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think she suspects us,’ said a man.

  Chen tugged Sarah’s arm and mouthed, ‘Lanter?’

  Sarah nodded. It was the Swiss Guard’s leader all right.

  ‘She believed what we told her,’ Zinetti said, ‘that we’re here to find a new underground world.’

  ‘Agartha might still be real.’

  ‘It might,’ Zinetti said, ‘but it’s the Holy Father that wants it found, not us.’

  ‘Cardinal Cantrell will not be pleased if you go against his wishes,’ Lanter said.

  ‘What Avery doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’

  We’re not here to find Agartha? Sarah thought, her mind racing. Then why are we here? What are they searching for? It made no sense. Nothing made any sense. Confused, Sarah continued to listen.

  ‘Are you certain the prophecy is correct?’ Lanter said.

  ‘The blood of the sacrificed will open the gates,’ Zinetti said, ‘it has been written.’

  ‘Does Ruben know?’

  Zinetti chuckled. ‘The monk brought the blood to us, but he is too blind to see its purpose. By the time he finds out, it will be too late.’

  Sarah recalled the blood harvested by Ruben from the giant, before it was killed on the train. Zinetti was planning to open some kind of gate. The question was, was it the Heaven’s Gate she had seen on the frieze? Is that what they’re after? she wondered. Is that why we’re here? And if so, where did that gate lead? From what she’d just heard, Zinetti sounded convinced it wasn’t Agartha. Perhaps it leads to Sanctuary, she thought. Why not? Either way, it was clear Zinetti was working against Avery and Ruben, and by the sound of it, the entire Vatican conclave and the Bishop of Rome himself. If that was the case, then Avery’s previous assertions were true; Zinetti was not a Catholic at all, but a Satanist posing as one, and worse, a high-ranking Swiss Guard was in on it!

  I must warn Avery, Sarah thought. She turned round to tell Chen they should leave, but the Australian was nowhere to be seen. Sarah had been so involved in the conversation she hadn’t even heard her go.

  As she crept back the way she’d come, a noise made Sarah whirl round.

  A tall, hooded figure loomed over her.

  Shocked, she scrambled back, but someone grasped her from behind. A gloved hand covered her mouth, stifling her scream.

  The hooded man moved closer. ‘We meet again,’ he said, removing his hood to reveal a shaven head that glistened in the dark.

  Sarah’s eyes widened as she stared into the tattooed face of the Russian, Alexander Konstantin.

  The leader of the Knights of the Apocalypse searched her face with manic eyes and then reached out to caress her cheek.

  She struggled in the grip of the man behind her.

  ‘You’re mine now, woman.’ Konstantin grinned a psychotic grin. ‘Welcome to my world.’

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six

  Washington D.C., USA.

  GMRC Intelligence Director Malcolm Joiner sat motionless at his desk, his mind empty of thought and emotion. The people before him continued to speak, but Joiner didn’t hear them; their inane chatter was as pointless as their insipid lives.

  ‘Director,’ someone said, ‘did you hear what I just said?’

  Joiner turned his gaze on the agent who’d spoken.

  The man opened his mouth to speak again, but words failed him as Joiner continued to stare at him with his gimlet-like eye.

  ‘I think Director Joiner is ready for a break,’ said Agent Myers, who stood nearby. ‘It’s his first day back after his ... accident. We’ll continue the meeting with the heads of department.’

  The assembled intelligence agents stood up and filed out of the room, leaving Joiner alone, except for his ever-present right-hand man.

  Agent Myers returned to his side and bent down to whisper into his ear. ‘We need to get rid of them; people are beginning to talk.’

  ‘Let them talk,’ Joiner said, his voice barely audible.

  ‘They want an explanation. Your injuries, they coincide with the appearance of your new protection detail.’ Myers glanced to the corner of the low-lit room where one of Ophion’s S.I.L.V.E.R. assassins remained hidden in shadow. They were never totally alone anymore.

  Joiner touched the patch that covered his left eye socket, which continued to itch, the sensation driving him to the edge of sanity.

  ‘If you don’t act,’ Myers said, ‘you’ll be removed from office.’

  Joiner didn’t respond; his remaining eye stared into space.

  ‘Sir,’ Myers said, lowering his voice further still, ‘we need you, the GMRC needs you. This Committee must be stopped, they’re taking over control and we’re powerless to stop them. Tell me what to do.’

  When Joiner didn’t reply, Myers spoke again. ‘They intend to kill you, anyway. I overheard them speaking. Why let them keep control? What have you got to lose?’

  ‘What is the point?’ Joiner said, knowing any move he made might be his last. The Committee could end his life any time they liked. A flick of the switch and he was dead. All he had left was his pain and anger, but even that was meaningless.

  Nothing mattered anymore.

  ‘If you won’t do anything,’ Myers said, his voice still a whisper, ‘I’ll take matters into my own hands.’

  Again, Joiner said nothing. Agent Myers gave a shake of his head and then, with a final look at the assassin, left his director’s side.

  Joiner watched Myers leave; it seemed his agent had work to do. Most people would have wondered what that work would entail, but as Joiner’s single eye resumed staring into space, one thing was certain: he couldn’t have cared less.

  ♦

  Agent Myers strode through the corridors of the GMRC’s Intelligence Division, his mind focused and course clear. If Joiner wasn’t about to do anything to save the GMRC from those who’d infiltrated its ranks, it was up to him, and he knew just the way to do it. It was risky, very risky, for both himself and Joiner. But what else can I do? he thought. Better Joiner die than fade away. He wasn’t sure what had happened to his director, but after Joiner’s torture at the hands of Ophion Nexus, he seemed to have lost the iron resolve that had set him apart from those around him. It was almost like he’d lost the will to live, to fight, and it was up to Myers to help him get that back before it was too late – he glanced out of the window looking for signs of the asteroid in the skies above – before it was too late for everyone.

  ♦

  Malcolm Joiner sat at the desk in his office. He hadn’t moved since Myers had left him, hours before. He just stared out of the window at the night sky, his mind blank, his power gone, his autonomy crushed, his world as empty as the vacuum of space in which the stars twinkled like diamonds.

  The door to his office opened and Agent Myers entered. At least Joiner assumed it was Myers, as he turned his single eye upon an agent who wore a combat suit that encased him from head-to-toe in grey GMRC armour plate.

  Myers raised the visor on his tactical helmet, ‘You may want to take cover.’

  Joiner looked at him with disinterest and then turned away to look back out of the window.

  ♦

  ‘Have it your way, then.’ Myers lowered his visor and turned to face Ophion’s assassin, Nexus himself having left the previous day in search of his first target, Professor Steiner. Supposedly Ophion had a lead on the elusive ex-Director General. If that was the case, Steiner would be one less problem that Myers and Joiner had to worry about, which was just as well as they had their hands full already.

  Myers approached the man, wh
ose name hadn’t been disclosed.

  ‘That’s far enough,’ said the S.I.L.V.E.R. operative, the eye-like sculpting on his helmet glowing white from the head-up display within.

  Myers observed the exotic-looking weapon that was now trained at his head. ‘The Committee has requested your presence.’

  ‘I speak directly to my employers,’ the assassin said. ‘Do not think to deceive me.’

  ‘Your employers are unable to reach you,’ Myers said. ‘We’ve been jamming their signal.’

  The assassin didn’t say anything for a moment, then, ‘You have five seconds to leave this office.’

  ‘And you have five seconds left to live,’ Myers told him.

  ‘Four seconds.’

  Myers backed away towards the office door.

  The assassin moved his finger to the trigger. ‘Three seconds.’

  A loud buzzing noise grew louder, filling the room with sound. Still sitting at his desk, Joiner covered his ears.

  ‘Two seconds!’ the assassin said, over the noise.

  A shower of sparks cascaded down from the ceiling. A circular section of concrete crashed down from above and the S.I.L.V.E.R. operative dived forward, out of harm’s way.

  Rolling smoothly to his feet, he trained his weapon on Myers just as the CIA agent opened the door to reveal a heavy-duty canon, and a GMRC soldier manning it from behind a protective screen.

  ‘Zero,’ Myers said.

  The assassin’s eyes grew wide and he switched targets, but it was too late; the soldier fired the weapon, which made a sound like thunder.

  The assassin staggered back and looked down at the massive hole that had appeared in his chest. Letting out a sigh, he toppled backwards with a crash.

  ♦

  Shocked from his malaise, Joiner got to his feet and surveyed the disaster area that his office had become.

  Agent Myers lifted the visor on his armoured helmet and strode up to his superior. ‘It’s time to get that device out of your head, Director.’

  Joiner blinked and focused on Myers, as if he was seeing him for the first time. ‘What?’

  ‘It won’t be long until the Committee finds out what I’ve done and when that happens ...’

  ‘They’ll activate the device in my head,’ Joiner said. ‘Well done, agent, you’ve just signed my death warrant.’

  ‘Not yet, I haven’t. You’re scheduled for another operation, but this time it’s to remove what Sorensen put in your head.’

  ‘What are you talking about? It can’t be removed without killing me.’

  ‘Negative,’ Myers said. ‘I had you scanned during your previous visit to the surgeon. It can be removed, but the risk is high, very high.’

  Joiner felt a surge of hope. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘A fifty per cent chance of death and a seventy per cent chance of brain damage or stroke.’

  Joiner didn’t like those odds, but they were still better than certain death, and the decision was his to make.

  He removed his glasses and tucked them into his top pocket. ‘Do it.’

  Myers nodded and pressed a button on his breastplate. ‘Prepare the operating theatre. We’re a go.’ He gestured to the open door. ‘Shall we?’

  The GMRC Director of Intelligence didn’t need asking twice. If he was to reclaim his throne, his very life, he had no alternative but to walk through that door. Malcolm Joiner picked his way through the debris and paused at the threshold to his office, and then, very deliberately, he stepped over it. His future beckoned; the only question that remained now was, how long would that future last?

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven

  A bright light shone down from above and Malcolm Joiner lifted his arm. The anaesthetic that coursed through his veins made his limbs feel heavy and when someone grasped his hand, he gripped it tightly.

  ‘What is it?’ Agent Myers said. ‘Do you want him to stop?’

  Joiner shook his head and focused on his agent with his one good eye. ‘Have you done as I asked?’ he said, his voice weak.

  ‘Yes.’

  Joiner pulled him closer. ‘They can’t be allowed to win. Promise me.’ His eyelid slid closed. ‘Promise me, you’ll find them.’

  ‘I promise,’ Myers said. ‘The professor and the hacker cannot elude us forever.’

  ‘Find them,’ Joiner whispered, his body falling limp. ‘Kill them.’

  The GMRC Intelligence Director grew still and Myers said, ‘Is he under?’

  The neurosurgeon nodded. Myers stood up and looked down at his superior, who lay on the operating table, the top of his skull removed exposing the brain beneath. It was strange to see the organ responsible for so much cruelty and hate; it looked no different from any other brain. The effect of seeing him so frail and vulnerable tarnished the ironclad persona Joiner tried so hard to maintain. But Myers knew, despite his director’s frailty, he was still a man to be respected and, most definitely, still a man to be feared. It was no ordinary person who would risk death or paralysis in order to protect what he believed in.

  ‘And you’re confident you can remove it?’ Myers said.

  ‘Oh, I can remove it,’ the surgeon said. ‘It’s stopping it from activating that’s the tricky part.’

  ‘Tell me as soon as you’ve finished.’

  The surgeon nodded and then handed the CIA agent a brown envelope.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘He wanted you to have it.’

  Myers looked down at the unconscious Joiner and then withdrew a handwritten letter which he read, and then read again to make sure he’d understood what he was seeing.

  ‘And was he in full control of his faculties when he wrote this?’ Myers said.

  The surgeon nodded again. ‘He was.’

  Myers looked at the signature, but he knew it couldn’t have been forged. No one else would have given such an audacious order; no one else would have ever even thought of it. It was beyond madness, but then Joiner hadn’t risen to his lofty position within the GMRC by playing it safe.

  There was a second part to the letter, however, that was also a surprise, and in its way, more unexpected than the insanity that went before it. It wasn’t an order, like the first, but an appointment, and as far as Myers was concerned it was far from unwelcome.

  ‘You should know,’ the surgeon said, ‘he asked to be euthanized if there were any ... complications.’

  It was Myers’ turn to nod, as he read through the letter again. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to ignore that request.’

  The surgeon looked shocked and more than a little scared. ‘You don’t have the authority.’

  Myers moved closer to the doctor and grasped him round the back of the neck. He then held the letter up so he could read it. The man’s eyes grew wider the more he read.

  Myers released him and strode to the door of the operating theatre, then looked back. ‘If he survives ...’

  ‘You’ll be the first to know,’ the surgeon said, as Myers gave him one last look and left. ‘Assistant Director Myers.’

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight

  United States, New York City.

  GMRC Western Hemisphere Headquarters.

  ‘We have gathered here today as members of the Response Council’s Directorate,’ said the director of the GMRC’s population control division, ‘but as we all know, we each have embraced a greater calling from a higher power.’ Director Cilic looked around him at the nine other men and women who’d assembled in the low-lit room. He then gestured to his right and a white light appeared, followed soon after by the holographic image of a woman dressed in a plain white suit.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman of the Directorate,’ Selene Dubois said, her 3D representation surveying the circular desk before her and those who sat around it. ‘You represent the Committee’s greatest achievement, and while we are missing two of our members today, the occasion is no less auspicious. For hundreds of years we have striven to create that which is now within our grasp. And for
thousands more, our forebears have delivered to us a gift, which raises us up above all others. And that gift is the gift of foresight.

  ‘Soon the world will be governed by one power, one force, which will guide humanity into the future from a tortured past. No longer will the many cling to the illusion of democracy. The surface, as we know it, will end, and with it the billions who call it home will wither and die. But, as with any end, there is a new beginning, and when our time underground has served its purpose, we will reclaim a rejuvenated surface, while those that serve us remain out of sight and out of mind. A new dawn has begun, where those who belong to our caste will be exalted, and those who do not will be our servants and slaves, who love and fear us in equal measure. Where they suffer from disease and hardship, we will prosper in health and plenty. While our cups runneth over, theirs shall run dry. Where there is one, there must be the other. As with all things, equilibrium must be observed.’ Selene held out her hand, palm up. ‘From the past,’ she said.

  ‘In the present.’ Director Cilic extended his hand, palm down.

  ‘To the future,’ said the other council members, repeating his action.

  ‘Throughout time,’ everyone said in unison.

  Selene paused and then continued, ‘While we have only just achieved a clean sweep of the Directorate’s twelve positions, it is the final step on a road long travelled. As captains of the ship, it is fitting that you are the last to leave the surface before it slips beneath the waves of chaos—’

  A loud noise from outside the room made everyone turn and Selene Dubois stopped her monologue.

  Double doors to the room burst open with a bang and beams of light streamed in.

  The silhouette of a man dressed in an armoured suit appeared through the glare. He wore the insignia of the GMRC on his grey panelling and he gazed around at those present.