Land of the Gods

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“This is a zero-sum game, gentlemen,” Vice President Davis Faulkner told the faces staring back at him over his opulent mahogany desk. “Either we get what’s inside this ancient city or our enemies do.” He leaned back in his leather captain’s chair and deftly sliced the tip off a cigar. “Get that son of a bitch Packard on video conference right now.”

Josh Muston leaped from his seat and hurried across the room to one of the plasma screens situated on the far wall. When he turned it on, George Packard, the head of the NSA was chewing his lower lip and waiting nervously to speak with the Vice President.

When silence filled the room, Faulkner began. “As you all know, we’ve been working alongside a non-governmental force for some time now in a bid to secure a number of relics from the ancient world.” He settled back into his chair once again and puffed on the thick musky cigar. “In fact, many of these treasures and weapons originate from a time a good deal older than the ancient world.”

Muston and Mayhew, the Deputy COS exchanged a fraught glance. Was the old man finally bringing them inside the inner circle? They’d heard rumors about a man named Wolff who wasn’t what he appeared to be, a man who had harnessed the power of immortality. Some were saying he was dead now, finally, after thousands of years. It all seemed too insane to be true.

Mayhew was first to speak. “The problems we had in Greece and Miami were brought on us by the ECHO team. They got hold of the Sword of Fire which led them to the King’s Tomb well ahead of us, and they stopped the chaos we had planned for the Five Eyes conference, delaying our plans Stateside.”

“And now our intel guys are telling us they’re closer than ever to reaching the Citadel.”

“What’s our response?” Packard said.

“It comes in two stages,” Faulkner said. He looked like he was starting to perk up. “First, we go all out to capture this pre-Sumerian city known as the Citadel. We need their knowledge, technology and weapons. The second phase involves us eradicating the ECHO team, and I mean the full package.”

“The full package?” Mayhew said, turning slightly pale. “Are we certain that’s really necessary?”

Faulkner leaned forward in his chair and jammed his cigar stub down hard in the glass ashtray. “You’re not going weak at the knees are you, Brian?”

“Well, no, but…”

“There are no buts when it comes to ECHO, Mr Mayhew. The full package will not only eliminate them physically from this world, but also remove any trace of their ever having existed from all paper and digital records… and the same for all their friends and relatives. It will be as if they had never existed.”

“Seems like we’re using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut, Sir.”

“You want me to use that sledgehammer to crack your walnuts instead, Mayhew?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good, then get on board, man. I can’t use someone who pees their pants every time a tough decision has to be taken.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“But what about President Brooke?”

Faulkner looked at him with cold, steady eyes. “Never mind about President Brooke. You just leave him to me.”

The assassin known throughout the world’s grimy underbelly as Cougar opened her apartment door and stepped into the lonely half-light of the hallway. Her recent journey to Greece to kill Magnus Lund had gone without a hitch, as her missions always did, but she was glad to be home and see her boy.

“Matty?”

No reply. She checked the answerphone and saw one message. She lowered her bag to the floor and hit the play button.

Hey Jess, it’s Justin. I guess you’re out at work or something. I tried your cell but no answer there either. I called to say that I found a great place here in Los Cabos. It’s perfect for us, but only if we can find the money because it’s mucho dinero. Anyway, take it easy babe and call me when you’re in. Hope Matty’s doing better these days. Call me.

He signed off with a kiss and then the machine bleeped as it reached the end of the message. The tinny electronic note echoed around the silent apartment for a second or two.

“Matty?”

She stepped into his bedroom but no sign of him. The bedsheets were all over the floor alongside the pillows and his alarm clock. She felt her heart quicken. Had something happened to him? Why wasn’t he answering her? Turning, she slipped her Glock from her holster in a lightning-fast fluid motion and raised it into the aim. Pushing the bathroom door open with the toe of her boot she checked the room was clear and moved back into the hall.

If there was anyone here, then they knew she was back — calling out to her son had given that game away — but she still had the advantage of knowing the apartment better.

And of being her.

She spun around the doorway of her bedroom with the gun raised and found her son.

He was sleeping in her bed, sheets twisted and tangled around his ankles and head resting on a sweat-soaked pillow. A number of inhalers were strewn on the carpet and the ceiling fan whirred gently above the whole sorry scene. He had come into her bed to sleep, maybe in the middle of the night.

She sighed a breath of relief and slipped the gun back into the holster. Taking care not to wake him, she rested her palm on his forehead and checked his temperature. A little high but nothing to worry about. The sound of his intermittent, rattling wheeze as he struggled to breathe made her feel a mix of anger and pity.

She walked back through to the kitchen and prepared some coffee. Sipping the strong, black brew she perched on the edge of her sofa and flicked through her cell phone messages. Nothing from Garcetti, which was good. She finished the drink and stretched out on the soft leather couch. Yawned and closed her eyes.

Two down and nine to go. As she slipped into sleep, her mind leapt from visions of the new house in Los Cabos to the pack of marked bullets she had in her bag. The next hit would require another chartered government flight and more time away from Matty. She felt her shoulders tense and worked hard to stretch the muscles in her neck and try and relax.

She saw the name of the next hit on the bullet. A neat engraving for sure, but another grim task ahead of her. Another family told of a loved one’s death and another funeral full of bitter tears. Daniel Devlin and Magnus Lund both gone now, and a third to follow very soon. None of them deserved to die, but she had no choice. She shook the thought from her mind and imagined diving into the pool in Mexico. Justin sipping a beer and Matty fixed up and laughing.

And then she was asleep.