The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Fletcher put the snifter down on his desk, quietly opened a drawer and filled his hand with a compact SIG Sauer P228 semi-automatic pistol. He eased the safety off and pointed the muzzle at the back of the chair.

“Turn around so I can see you,” he said in a calm voice. “I have a gun.”

Slowly, the chair swiveled around. There was a red glow as the silhouetted intruder exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Who are you?” Fletcher said. “Be quick with your answer!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my face so soon.”

Fletcher lowered the pistol.

“Damnit, you could get yourself shot, Hawkins.” He turned a desk lamp on.

Hawkins got up and came over to settle into a chair facing the desk. Moisture matted his thick hair and beaded his black windbreaker. He swirled the liquid in the snifter and took a sip.

“Damned fine brandy. Good smoke, too. Helped myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Glad you appreciate my hospitality,” Fletcher said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for my discharge papers according to our agreement.”

Fletcher opened the drawer that had held the gun. He pulled out a thick brown envelope and placed it on the desk blotter. “You are now officially sane as far as the navy is concerned. How did you get in?” he said.

“Standard SEAL insertion. Fast-roped in by helicopter.”

“I never heard—”

“Just joking, Dr. Fletcher. I climbed the porte-cochere to a second-floor window.”

“It would have been far easier if you rang the doorbell.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your fireside chat and movie show.”

Fletcher’s eyes narrowed. “How much did you hear, Hawkins?”

“Enough so that I know what it was all about. Professor Saleem said there was a bigger prize here than the Prester John treasure. I’d say a trillion dollars in minerals qualifies for that designation.”

“That’s not all it was about, Hawkins. This was about national security.”

Hawkins’ cutting laugh brought a frown to Fletcher’s jowly face.

“So those tuxedoed fat cats are just patriots taking up arms to defend their bank accounts?” Hawkins said.

“They are wealthy mining officials, but in their own way they are foot-soldiers in a worldwide struggle in which our country is engaged.”

“Do tell.”

“I understand your skepticism. What do you think would happen if the Chinese gained monopolistic control of the rare minerals like lithium? We and China both devour natural resources to fuel our economies, which support our military. Being denied access to those resources would fatally weaken us as an economic and military power.”

“So by plundering Afghanistan, you and your rich pals defend the U.S.”

“You seem troubled because someone will make money off this arrangement.”

“From the look of this mansion and the quality of your liquor cabinet, you, apparently, are not troubled in the least.”

“People have always gained wealth by conflict or the threat of conflict. We need symbiotic relationships with those who provide us with the means to be secure.”

“Relationships like you have with Arrowhead?’

“Quite correct.” He eyed Hawkins like a poker player. “How did you know?”

“You left latent fingerprints all over the place. It was only a question of lifting the partials and assembling them into a full set. Real CSI stuff.”

“Impressive. What else do you know?”

“Bits and pieces. Maybe you’d like to fill me in on the whole story.”

“You’ve played cozy with me, lieutenant. Why should I tell you anything?’

Hawkins shrugged. “It’s the only way you’ll learn how a psychotic ex-SEAL has been able to give you nightmares.”

The two men locked stares. Hawkins was not surprised that Fletcher was the first to back off. The man was consumed by his self-importance and would want to tell Hawkins how smart he was.

“We had three main goals. Eliminate the Shadows as a threat. Torpedo Pakistan’s effort to ease Chinese exploitation of the lithium fields and beyond. Gain control of the mineral wealth for the U.S. We would accomplish the first goal by luring the Doctor, the Shadows’ head, and his friends out into the open. The treasure was a bonus because the Shadows would eliminate Amir, clearing the way for us to move into the vacuum thus created.”

“What was Arrowhead’s role in all this?”

“You have to go back to 9/11 to understand the whole picture. The nation was frightened and confused. No one knew if another attack was coming. The CIA was empowered to use unusual methods to find and interrogate suspects.”

“Torture.”

Fletcher dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “They couldn’t let their methods be known, so they hired contractors who were willing to dirty their hands.”

“The Arrowhead corporation provided those contractors.”

Fletcher nodded. “I had been an intel consultant for Arrowhead. I set up an enhanced interrogation team.”

“Archer?”

“Archer. When news of the CIA interrogation methods went public, we were officially disbanded, although in reality our talents were used in Afghanistan in the intimidation program against the Taliban.”

“Intimidation? Another euphemism.”

“Assassination and torture, if you will. We were trying to persuade the Taliban to come to the bargaining table.” Even Fletcher had to smile at the irony of his statement.

“Tell me about Trask and McCormick.”

“Trask was head of our psychological unit. He oversaw how far a suspect could be pushed before breaking or dying. McCormick was in charge of delivering counter-punches.”

“What about Murphy?”

“He was a strong-arm man. An enforcer, if you will. He relayed your message about a trade for Trask and McCormick, by the way. Murphy is prone to error and loose talk, which is why he is no longer with us.”

“Dead?”

“I prefer to say he is longer in our employ. He told you the truth about Honest Abe. He warned the warlord that you were coming. The ambush was entirely out of our control.”

“But the cover-up and the slime job against me were not.”

“Your investigation could have led to our unit. Trask suggested the psychiatric discharge. People had already started asking questions as a result of your probe, so we left Afghanistan. We came back together when rumors of a very nasty group, the Shadows, surfaced, but we were revamped a bit.”

“Murphy called it a think tank with muscle.”

“That’s right. We had almost carte blanche at a high level of authority. The government was making progress against Al Queda, but was worried about unaffiliated splinter groups less easily identified. The Shadows were particularly dangerous. Their fanaticism went beyond the whole caliphate nonsense. They had lost family in drone attacks and wanted pure revenge against the U.S. They were run by a leader who had ties to the Pakistani intelligence service. We wanted to wipe out the Shadows leadership. The challenge demanded new strategy. You know how difficult it was to hunt down and kill Bin Laden, but he was an outlaw. The people we wanted were part of the fabric of society.

“We had to draw the Doctor and his friends out. Our only leads were the contacts they had made trying to radicalize U.S. citizens. They had grown tired of seeing the FBI roll up amateur young radicals over stupid mistakes, so we decided to give them people who had military skills to organize attacks in the U.S.”

“That’s where the Marzak twins came in,” Hawkins said.

“That’s right. The Marzaks had been on the fringes of Arrowhead, taking jobs no one else had the stomach for. They made it known to the Shadows that their skills were for hire. The Shadows wanted proof, so the twins performed an assassination on one of their enemies as a demonstration.”

“A marketing demo?”

“A good description. It worked, and the Shadows formed a connection with the Marzaks as we planned. But they were skittish. We were going round and round. The Marzaks attempted to lure them with a ruse called the Prophet’s Necklace, but they were still suspicious. It seemed the whole thing would fall apart. We needed to think outside the box.”

“Dr. Everson provided you with a path when her research uncovered the location of the Prester John treasure.”

“Correct. We knew they would be intrigued by the symbolic value of the treasure and the emerald scepter in particular.”

“Where did Saleem figure in this?”

“A useful fool. The ISI had sent him to the U.S. as a spy. Professor Saleem related the odd little story he had heard from his colleague to his cousin at ISI, who in turn told his contacts in the Shadows. The emerald scepter was like a piece of the True Cross, something mystical and powerful they could use to recruit new followers. The treasure would buy weapons and foot-soldiers.”

“But Dr. Everson messed up their plans when she told the State Department as well.”

“State was aware of the significance of the treasure’s location near a huge lithium deposit originally surveyed by the Soviets. The State Department passed the treasure information to the CIA. Eventually it made its way to Archer.”

“Saleem said he regretted telling his cousin about the treasure.”

“He became irrelevant after that point. The Shadows told the Marzaks to kidnap Dr. Everson so she could help find the treasure and then kill her to prevent her from talking to others. That was fine by us. We had visions of using her to lure their leaders someplace to view the treasure, and—”

He snapped his fingers.

“Sounds like a police sting. The cops tell the fugitive to come collect his lottery prize.”

“Not far off the mark. They wanted the treasure in the worst way. When Dr. Everson disappeared, they hired the Marzaks to put together the mercenary expedition to wipe out Amir and dive on the treasure.”

Hawkins leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

“You’re making me feel like a real Mickey the Dunce. I risked my ass on your crazy treasure hunt for nothing.”

“Don’t run yourself down, Hawkins. Your mission served a purpose. Word that a U.S. expedition was going in to find the treasure was a charade that would persuade the Shadows to send in their own people.”

“How did you pick me?”

“From our acquaintance with your previous Afghan service.”

“A certifiably insane guy with a messed up record?”

“You fit the job description. And you were expendable. Nothing personal about it.”

“It became personal when the Marzaks tried to kill me. Your call, too?”

“Regretfully. We assumed that your mission would fail, and were prepared to give you back up that would make sure that was the case. But you immediately took control of the operation, forming your own team and looked prepared to succeed. We forgot that even a crippled hawk has a sharp beak, so we had to clip your wings.”

“When that didn’t work you brought in Murphy who happened to bump into me at the airport and gave us Rashid.”

“Murphy was just a hastily devised back up plan.”

“Was Marzak’s ambush in Maryland part of that back up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Didn’t Marzak tell you? He kidnapped Dr. Everson and held her hostage. We were able to free her.”

“I had nothing to do with that. It would have been a distraction. It troubles me that he went off the reservation.”

“Here’s something else to trouble you. We found the emerald scepter and the Prester John treasure in a Colorado mine.”

“Well, congratulations, but it means nothing to me compared to the country’s mineral wealth. If the Chinese gained control of Sheik Amir’s holdings, more takeovers would follow.”

“A new domino theory.”

“Correct. But revelation of the treasure’s existence would be an undesirable loose end that must be tied up. You see where I’m going?”

“You want me to tell you where to find it. But there’s another loose end that needs tying. The Prophet’s Necklace.” He turned in his chair and spoke into the shadows. “Isn’t that right, Marzak?”

A figure holding a gun stepped into the light. Hawkins stood and held his arms in the air while Marzak frisked him, then sat down again.

“You evidently have eyes in the back of your head, Hawkins.”

“The ones in the front work quite well. I saw Fletcher glance over my shoulder the same time he dropped his arm down to the alarm button on his desk. Welcome back from the dead,” Hawkins said.

“Death was not in the cards. I was well protected with my Kevlar vest. How did your friend set off the booby trap without getting killed?”

“Not very difficult. He sent in a robot that triggered the bomb.”

“Ingenious. Your friend ruined a good shirt, however.”

Hawkins touched his ribs where Marzak’s dagger had taken a slice out of his flesh. “That makes us even.” He turned back to Fletcher. “At what point did the Prophet’s necklace go from being a ruse to the real thing?”

“What makes you think that’s the case?”

“You confirmed it when you bragged to your friends that something was in the works that would surpass 9/11. Marzak told me he set it up, but he wasn’t the trigger man.”

Fletcher snarled. “You talk too damned much, Marzak.”

“He never identified you. He said he and I were arrows in the same quiver. In other words, we were both fashioned by the same arrowsmith. From what I know, the necklace also qualifies for that dubious honor. How many victims will you kill in the sarin attack?”

“Enough to provoke the anger and the determination to mount a major strike.”

“Pakistan might object to a carpet bombing campaign and occupation of its borders, and they have nukes,” Hawkins said.

“They will be told that their nuclear storehouses have been targeted and will be destroyed if they try to stop us.”

“So we’re in the region forever?”

“If need be. Decades are nothing in the history of occupations.”

“I was in Iraq,” Hawkins said. “We learned that occupations are a lot harder to maintain than they used to be.”

“We also learned a lesson from Iraq when we had to compete for the oil after sacrificing so much blood and money. This time we will secure the lithium fields first and use this as a bargaining chip to control the rest of the mineral riches for the U.S.”

“The American public isn’t going to like more fighting.”

“That will work in our favor. Instead of regular troops we will fill the ranks with contractors sent by Arrowhead and other security companies. This will give us even tighter control.”

“People are going to die, no matter who is involved,” Hawkins said.

“What of it? We’re talking about an international chess game in which pieces are often sacrificed for the greater good.”

“You’re insane, Fletcher. Those are your countrymen you’re sacrificing so you can control mineral wealth that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Then why don’t you ask your countrymen what they’ll think when China controls the lithium that goes into the batteries that will power their smart phones and electric cars. Ask people what they think of an economic catastrophe that will reduce our country to a third-world beggar state.”

“Too bad for you the Prophet’s Necklace is not going to happen.”

“Really?” Fletcher’s eyes narrowed to slits. He picked up his phone and quickly punched out a number. “It has happened.” Hawkins tweaked up the right side of his mouth in a lop-sided grin and reached for the envelope containing his discharge. He plucked a pen from a holder, wrote down a series of numbers, and pushed the envelope across the desk to Fletcher.

Fletcher’s jowls quivered as he read off the numbers. “How did you know?”

“I had Marzak’s phone number from our chat at the boat. He used his own phone to talk to me.”

“That’s right, Hawkins,” Marzak said. “I thought you might try to ping my location if I used Dr. Eversons’ phone.”

“Too bad. A friend who is very good at this kind of thing used it to track the slave numbers that would activate the explosives. The phone network has been neutralized, the FBI alerted and the bomb sites are being cleared.”

Fletcher turned his fury on Marzak. “You fool! Your carelessness has ruined months of planning.”

Marzak tucked his gun into his belt and started toward the study’s exit.

“I will take that as a dismissal. Congratulations, Hawkins. Till we meet again.”

“Hawkins killed your brother,” Fletcher said. “Don’t you want revenge?”

“That was your responsibility as much as Hawkins’, so you might want to temper your call for vengeance. I’m off to buy an island. You and Hawkins work it out. My contract is terminated.”

Fletcher aimed his pistol at Marzak’s back and in a quiet voice said, “So are you.”

Marzak spun around gun in hand, but Fletcher’s first shot caught him in the side when he was halfway into the pivot. The second bullet crashed into his rib cage and penetrated his heart. He crumpled to the floor.

Hawkins let out the breath he’d been holding. “Nice shooting for a history professor, Doc.”

Fletcher glanced at the body and back at Hawkins.

“You set this up,” he said, his voice quivering with rage.

“It’s getting so that you can’t trust anyone these days,” Hawkins said. He rose from his chair. “Thanks for the brandy and the smoke. I’ll be going along now.”

Fletcher brandished the gun. “I’m afraid this isn’t over.”

“It is for you.” Hawkins pulled out the microphone from inside his shirt. “My partner has monitored our entire conversation.”

Fletcher replied with a feral smile. “Recordings can be doctored. You think anyone will believe your crazy ramblings?”

“Maybe not. Which is why my partner is calling 911 to say there’s been a shooting at the Fletcher mansion. Dead man. Your gun. Your fingers on the gun. Even if you stay out of jail, your days as a wheeler-dealer are done.”

He picked up the envelope with his discharge and started for the door.

“Come back, Hawkins. Let’s talk. We can work this out.”

Fletcher’s shouts became fainter, drowned out by thunder as Hawkins descended the wide stairs to the first floor. He stepped out under the porte-cochere. Headlights were approaching through the slanting rain. Calvin was coming to pick him up.

As the storm raged around him, he realized something was missing.

For the past five years, even on bone dry days, he had lived with a gnawing sensation in his bum leg, and with this much moisture in the air the old wound should have been cranking out knife-edged spasms. But as the car stopped in front of him and he opened the passenger side door, his lips spread in a gargoyle grin and he let out a cry of joy.

“Hoo-ha!”

The pain that had plagued him for five years had vanished.