The God Extinction

by Kevin Tumlinson

  He bent to pull the iron rod out of the ground and felt suddenly light-headed.

  He went to his knees, and braced himself against the boulder, trying to let the feeling pass. All he had to do was keep it together, to keep going. He could find help soon. He was free.

  He’d worked so hard, and he was free.

  It was the last thought he had before collapsing into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  FBI Headquarters, Manhattan

  Agent Brown stood and was leaning against the frame of the office window, watching Ludlum as the details were laid out. Ludlum told her about Denzel’s arrest, and about Ammon. She left out the details about Denzel’s plan and Maalyck’s part in it. She wasn’t sure how much Brown knew about the exchange, and had the feeling that Denzel was keeping it on the down low.

  Ludlum was also standing, hands on the back of the chair in front of Denzel’s desk and her back to the closed door of the office. When she was done giving her report, Brown shook her head and cursed.

  “This just got a lot worse,” she said.

  Ludlum nodded. “What do we do?”

  Brown shook her head. “Officially, the US has no presence on that site. Agent Denzel is there as a civilian. Unofficially … well, he’s one of ours. I’ll make some calls. Someone in the State Department will want to know this is happening.”

  Ludlum huffed. “At least we have a lead on Dr. Kotler’s abduction,” she said.

  Brown regarded her for a moment and gave a slight shake of her head. Then said, “At least there’s that.”

  Ludlum picked up on the tone and had a sudden flash of irritation. “Agent Brown, do you have some sort of problem with Dr. Kotler?”

  Brown chuckled. “A bit, yeah. But only that he always seems to be at the center of everything, when trouble goes down. His professor tries to steal state secrets. His brother is kidnapped. His girlfriend, also kidnapped, during that Viking thing. Not to mention his other girlfriend being the head of one of the biggest international smuggling operations in history. And Kotler himself … he’s been abducted so many times, his milk cartons could fill the dairy aisle of a Costco.”

  Ludlum regarded her for a moment, feeling the frustration and anger welling up. And then she sighed, nodded, and said, “You’re right.”

  Brown’s eyes widened. “I am? I thought for sure this was the part where we started yelling at each other. I know you and Kotler are an item.”

  “Sort of,” Ludlum said. “We’re … taking it slow.”

  Brown laughed. “Taking it slow. I’ve heard that one before.”

  “He’s had some … unique problems with relationships,” Ludlum said.

  They both paused for a moment, and then both broke out laughing. It was loud and long and hard, and Ludlum ended up leaning over the chair in front of her, putting her hands over her face. She straightened up and saw that Agent Brown was also rubbing tears from her eyes, still laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” Ludlum said. “I know you’re doing what you’re trained to do. Be suspicious. Look for the out of place details.”

  “That’s right,” Brown nodded. “That’s what I’m trained to do. But Liz, it’s not personal, ok? It’s just that something bugs me about Kotler, and I’m not sure what it is. And because of that, I have to be cautious. I have to look closer.”

  Ludlum considered this and nodded. “You’re not wrong, you know.”

  “About which part?” Brown asked.

  “It’s suspicious. All of it. Dan is a magnet for this kind of thing. And something that NSA agent told us—”

  “Agent Coben,” Brown said.

  Ludlum nodded again. “Right. Coben. He asked the same questions. Why Kotler?”

  “More than that,” Brown replied. “Why Historic Crimes? How did this division even get a foothold in the Bureau? As far as I know, someone just tapped Agent Denzel on the shoulder and handed him the keys.”

  Ludlum shrugged. “Is it really that unusual? I’m new to the Bureau, but isn’t this kind of like a task force? Someone from up top saw a need, and figured Agent Denzel could fill it?”

  “It was more like someone thought Dr. Kotler could fill it, and that he could use a resource like the FBI to get things done,” Brown said. “And honestly, that bothers the hell out of me.”

  “Bothers you? Why?”

  “Because it hints at something I don’t like,” Brown replied. “It hints that someone above our pay grade has an agenda involving Kotler and has enough power to put an entire division of the FBI at his disposal.”

  Ludlum thought about this for a moment.

  “But why?”

  Brown shook her head. “If I knew that, it wouldn’t bug me so much. But right now, we need to get the gears moving on Agent Denzel’s arrest. I’ll make some calls. And I’m approving your request to put a trace on that satellite phone.”

  Ludlum nodded and excused herself, leaving Denzel’s office and making her way downstairs. She was headed to her lab, more out of habit than out of purpose. But she stopped at the door. She couldn’t think of what she’d do, once she was back at her desk.

  She’d handed off her caseload to the specialists working under her, and though she knew this was making their workloads heavy, she didn’t think it would be productive to go reclaim any of that work. It would just cause confusion and problems, to hand it off so frequently. She’d interrupt a process in motion, and potentially introduce errors. Plus, she knew she’d inevitably be pulled back into the events tied to Kotler’s abduction. It wasn’t fair that her team had to carry the brunt of the work, but it would be even more unfair for her to interfere just to dump it on them a second time.

  Still, she couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

  She glanced back at Agent Denzel’s office, where Agent Brown was already on the phone to the State Department or whoever else might help them with this mess.

  Why Historic Crimes?

  It was a fair question. And one Ludlum hadn’t really thought much about. But Kotler …

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about Kotler. She liked him. She found him attractive, as much for his intelligence as for his looks. She knew he had a reputation for being something of a playboy, but in the past year or so she hadn’t seen much evidence of that. If anything, she got the impression that Kotler was still reeling from his past couple of relationships.

  It was his idea to take things slow.

  Ludlum had no real issue with it. Years of dodging men who just wanted to get into her pants had given her an appreciation for genuine gentlemen. But she also wanted someone to want her. Kotler seemed to, but he hesitated.

  She knew it was mostly because of Gail McCarthy.

  For nearly two years, Gail had manipulated not only Kotler but the FBI and a number of other law enforcement agencies worldwide. She’d been a master at it, playing everyone in a long game that ultimately resulted in her and Kotler facing off head-to-head. What would that do to someone, to have the person they loved endanger everyone in their life, everyone and everything they cared about? And then to be the one to pull the trigger and end it …

  Ludlum realized she’d been standing with her hand on the door to the forensics lab. She glanced around and saw that one of the agents was watching from his cubicle. He looked as if he were about to stand and move toward her, maybe to ask if she were alright. She smiled at him, shook her head and sighed as if she were just crazy busy, lost in her own head. She waved to him as she opened the door and went into her lab.

  Whatever it was between her and Kotler, it was going to take time to see it out. It was going to take him more than a minute to get over Gail McCarthy, of course. And maybe … well, maybe he would never be ready. Ludlum had to be prepared for that.

  But he wouldn’t have a chance—they wouldn’t have a chance—unless he could be found and rescued.

  Right now, people were dealing with that, as best they could. People were dealing with getting help for Agent Denzel. People were even de
aling with the standard, day-to-day workload of the forensics lab.

  But no one was dealing with the question that Agent Brown had asked.

  Why Historic Crimes?

  It was something Ludlum could do. Something to focus on, to keep her mind off of the lack of progress, and off of worrying over Kotler and Denzel. It was at least loosely related to the case at hand. And it wasn’t pressing, so if she had to step away from it and attend to something else, she could.

  Call it a side hobby, Ludlum thought.

  She sat down at her desk and opened her laptop.

  She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys, just on the verge of typing her password to log into the FBI’s intranet.

  What if someone doesn’t want anyone looking closer?

  The question made her uneasy for a moment. And then it made her set her jaw and log in, her fingers striking the keys with purpose.

  Looking closer, finding the story in the details, even when those details were scarce, and especially when someone didn’t want anyone to notice—that was just about the best way to sum up Ludlum’s job description as she could imagine.

  She still prayed Kotler and Denzel would be ok. She worried for both of them. Especially Kotler. But she saved a bit of worry for herself.

  There was no way to know what sort of hornet’s nest she might be kicking.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Egypt

  Denzel was handcuffed and in the back of a military issue transport truck. It looked for all the world like every other military transport he’d ever been in. His years in the service had involved a lot of hot, bone-jarring rides in trucks like these. At least this time he wasn’t loaded down in fatigues and a helmet. Though he wouldn’t have objected to having body armor and a weapon in his hands.

  The Ra’id still hadn’t told him why he was under arrest. He’d had his men load Denzel into the truck and chain him to the floor. The truck’s rear door had been shut and locked tight, and soon the engine started, and they were rumbling along. There were no windows and no light. The Egyptian night was clear, and the moon and stars were out, but there was barely a sliver of that light penetrating the truck.

  Denzel had to content himself with listening as the truck’s gears ground and the engine revved.

  Sometime later—Denzel estimated about a little over an hour—the truck stopped. The engine was shut off, and the vehicle rocked slightly as a door opened and then slammed closed. Denzel heard the sound of feet on gravel.

  A moment later, the back door swung open, and Denzel saw a lone figure standing there, faintly illuminated by moonlight, holding a gun.

  “Ra’id Sarraf?” Denzel asked, confused.

  “Hold your hands out in front of you,” the Sarraf ordered.

  Denzel did as he was told, and Sarraf climbed into the truck. He stood in front of Denzel and unlocked the chain. “Climb down,” he commanded.

  Denzel, confused, did as he was told.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Where were Sarraf’s men? Why was he the only one here, and where was here, anyway?

  “Stand there,” Sarraf commanded as Denzel reached the ground. He was pointing to a spot several feet from the truck. Denzel moved toward it, taking in the location as he walked.

  The area where they were parked was wide and open—no buildings or other structures. The spot was in a small valley, a bowl formed by the mountains around them. Denzel could see a road stretching into the night, presumably the direction from which they’d arrived, given the orientation of the truck. He turned to face the opposite direction, his hands cuffed in front of him, and the scene was nearly identical.

  They were in the middle of nowhere, for reasons Denzel hadn’t been told, with a single, armed man glaring down at him from the back of the military transport.

  Denzel might not know what was happening exactly, but he didn’t have to. He knew he was in trouble.

  Sarraf climbed down from the truck, holding to the door frame with one hand, gripping the rifle with the other. It was an awkward and vulnerable move, but Denzel was far enough away that he could never close the gap and seize Sarraf’s weapon. Likewise, the area was so open that there was nowhere to take cover if he decided to run.

  This was strategic. And it was bad news.

  “Sarraf, what am I doing here? You said I was under arrest. Where are we?”

  Sarraf stepped toward him. “We wait,” he said.

  “Wait?” Denzel asked. “What for …” he paused, his eyes wide. “You? You’re the one who abducted Kotler?”

  Sarraf ignored him.

  “Is he here?”

  Sarraf turned on him, raising his weapon and pointing it directly at Denzel’s head.

  “The Alihat Iadida have asked me to bring you here, but they did not specify that you must be alive. You will be silent.”

  Denzel said nothing, and after a moment Sarraf lowered his weapon and took a position beside Denzel.

  They waited.

  Denzel kept himself busy by calculating his odds of survival, and the numbers didn’t look good.

  He had no idea where he was, though he did have some general sense of the direction they'd come from. He was unarmed. Sarraf was very armed and was also a trained military officer who likely knew his weapon better then he knew most human beings. And Denzel was handcuffed—not entirely unworkable, but it did provide some limitations.

  The chances were pretty good that he’d end this evening by being shot.

  They were also pretty good that this had something to do with Kotler’s abduction. Which meant it had something to do with that Irish god’s tomb.

  After several minutes, Denzel spotted the flicker of headlights in the distance. A few minutes later a jeep pulled in beside the truck, the lights and engine shutting off simultaneously. A man stepped out and walked toward them.

  He was Egyptian, as far as Denzel could tell. But not military. He was tall, and a bit thin. He wore everyday street clothes—jeans and an untucked button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled slightly. He wore glasses and had a neatly cropped beard.

  “What is he doing here?” the man asked, his voice cracking slightly. He motioned to Denzel with a thin, shaking hand.

  “He was causing trouble,” Sarraf replied. “The Alihat Iadida requested that I bring him. We can take care of all of them together. Where is the doctor?”

  “At the cave,” the man replied.

  The doctor, Denzel thought. Kotler. And he didn’t like the sound of we can take care of all of them together.

  “What about Maalyck?” the man asked. “Do you know if he will do it?”

  Sarraf made a noise. “He is already on his way. My men reported that he left shortly after I did.”

  The man nodded and fidgeted.

  Denzel knew who he was now. It was his question about Maalyck that was the tell. This was Dr. Ammon ELsayed—the man who had been booted from the camp by Dr. Warren, for stealing equipment and artifacts. He was a member of a cult, Dr. Tennant had said.

  What was it that Sarraf kept saying? Alibaba Iota? Something like that. It had to be the name of the cult.

  Sarraf was a part of it, too.

  This was looking worse by the minute.

  They waited in the dark, and Ammon kept checking his watch. “It is nearly time. I do not see his truck. He should be here.”

  “He will be here,” Sarraf said, though he sounded tense, even a little angry.

  Just then there was a sound from off to the side, and all three men turned to see what it was.

  A figure, obscured by the darkness, suddenly rushed into a gap in the hillside, escaping into the mountains.

  “Halt!” Sarraf shouted, taking aim. He fired a few rounds into the hills, and the noise echoed through the little canyon and into the night.

  “It must be Maalyck!” Ammon shouted.

  Denzel made his move.

  He leapt, raising his hands and looping them over Sarraf’s head. He pulled back, letting the handcu
ffs dig into the man’s neck.

  Sarraf struggled, dropping his rifle and clutching at his throat, at Denzel’s hands, even reaching back to try to gouge Denzel’s eyes.

  Denzel easily avoided the man’s clumsy attempts and kept the pressure on. He was putting pressure on Sarraf’s carotid artery. The man should black out soon.

  Suddenly a series of shots rang out again, and Denzel, startled, looked up to see Ammon, holding Sarraf’s weapon and aiming it into the air. He brought the barrel down and pointed at Denzel’s head. “Let him go!” Ammon shouted. “Now!”

  Denzel eased up on Sarraf, and slowly raised his hands back over the Ra’id’s head.

  Sarraf coughed and rubbed his throat but took a pistol from a holster on his hip and used it to slam into Denzel’s temple.

  Denzel went to his knees, dazed but holding to consciousness. He blinked, seeing flashes of light in his vision.

  “Stay down!” Sarraf shouted, pressing the pistol to Denzel’s head.

  Denzel intended to do exactly that. He had no cards to play here. He’d taken his shot and failed. Now, it was anyone’s game.

  "Watch him!" Sarraf said to Ammon and then ran into the gap in the hillside, chasing Maalyck.

  Ammon had stepped back and was holding the rifle on Denzel, breathing heavily as if he’d just run here from a great distance. The barrel of the gun wobbled slightly as Ammon gripped it, but he was so close there was no chance he'd miss if he pulled the trigger.

  Denzel kept very still. He was on his knees, hands cuffed in front of him, head looking anywhere but at Ammon. No eye contact. The man was nervous, and that might make him trigger happy. Denzel would play it cool for now. He was a kneeling statue.

  Several minutes later Sarraf returned, shoving an injured Maalyck ahead of him. He had the pistol pressed into Maalyck’s back and was carrying a duffel bag in his free hand.

  He shoved Maalyck as they approached. “On your knees,” he said.

  Maalyck did as he was told, kneeling beside Denzel. “Hands on your head,” Sarraf said, and Maalyck obeyed.