The Gates of Hell

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ben Blake recited from the logs of Captain Cook and his man, Hawksworth, describing the most treacherous journey a man had ever taken.

“They walked through the Gates of Pele,” Ben said with wonder, “into total darkness. At this time, Cook still refers to the arched entrance as the Gates of Pele. It is only after he experiences what lies beyond — it says here — that he later changes the reference to the Gates of Hell.”

Karin turned to Ben with wide eyes. “What could possibly make a man like Captain Cook express such raw fear?”

“Almost nothing,” Ben said. “Cook discovered cannibalism. Human sacrifice. He voyaged into utterly unknown waters.”

Karin motioned toward the screen. “Read the damn thing.”

“Beyond the black Gates lie the most damnable paths known to Man—”

“Don’t narrate,” Karin snapped. “Summarize.”

“I can’t”

“What? Why?”

“Because it says here—the following text has been deleted from this conversion due to doubts as to its authenticity.”

“What?”

Ben frowned thoughtfully at the computer. “I guess if it were out there for all to see then someone would have tried exploring by now.”

“Or maybe they did and died. Maybe the authorities decided the knowledge was too dangerous to be aired to the public.”

“But, how do we view the deleted document?” Ben stabbed randomly at a few keys. There were no hidden links on the page. Nothing untoward. He Googled the author’s name and found several pages that referenced Cook’s chronicler, but no more mentions of the Gates of Hell, Pele, or even Diamond Head.

Karin turned to stare out at the heart of Waikiki. “So Cook’s journey through the Gates of Hell was expunged from history. We could keep trying.” She waved at the computers.

“But futile it will be, ” Ben said in his best Yoda impression. “Waste our time we should not.”

“What Hayden sees in you I’ll never know.” Karin shook her head before turning slowly round. “The problem is, we have no way of knowing what we’re going to find down there. We’d be walking into hell, blind.”

Hayden and Kinimaka managed to squeeze a few more sentences out of Danny before deciding it was wise to leave the two of them to their drug-infused party. With luck, they would both think the CIA’s visit was a bad dream.

Kinimaka climbed back into the car, placing his hand on the soft, leather steering wheel. “A terrorist attack?” he repeated. “On Waikiki? I don’t believe it.”

Hayden was already dialing her boss. Gates answered immediately. She recited in a few short sentences the information they had gleaned from Danny.

Mano listened to Gates’s reply by speakerphone. “Hayden, I’m inbound. A few hours and I’ll be there. The Police are leaning very heavily on all known criminals to get a location for the ranches. We’ll have it soon. I’ll alert the relevant bodies about this alleged attack, but keep digging.”

The line went dead. Hayden exhaled in quiet surprise. “He’s coming here? He can hardly cope as it is. What good will he do?”

“Maybe the work will help him cope.”

“Let’s hope. They think they’ll get the ranches location soon. We’re on terrorist watch. It’s positive, direct people we need now. Hey, Mano, you think this terrorist thing is a part of the Blood King conspiracy?”

Mano nodded. “It crossed my mind.” His eyes were taking in the breathtaking view as if storing it to help fight against the coming dark.

“Speaking of direct people, Drake and his two cronies still haven’t returned my messages. And neither has the HPD.”

Her cellphone sang out, startling her. It was Gates. “Sir?”

“This thing just went apeshit,” he shouted, clearly alarmed. “The Honolulu cops just got three more legitimate terrorist threats. All on Waikiki. All happening soon. There are links established to Kovalenko.”

“Three!”

Gates suddenly went offline for a second. Hayden swallowed as she felt the pit of her stomach churn. The fear in Mano’s eyes made her start to sweat.

Gates came back on the line. “Make that four. Another piece of intel just got authenticated. Contact Drake. You’re about to be in the fight of your life, Hayden. Get mobilized.”

The Blood King stood on an elevated deck, the briefest glimpse of a wintry smile on his face, a few of his trusted lieutenants stood before and below him. “It is time,” he said simply. “This is what we have been waiting for, what we have worked for. This is the result of all my endeavors and all your sacrifices. This”—he paused for effect—“is where it all ends.”

He surveyed faces for any signs of fear. There were none. Indeed, Boudreau looked practically ecstatic at being allowed back into the bloody fray.

“Claude, destroy the ranch. Kill all the captives. And…” He grinned. “Let loose the tigers. They should keep the authorities busy for a while. Boudreau, just do what you do, but more brutally. I invite you to fulfill your every desire. I invite you to impress me. No, shock me. Do that, Boudreau. Go to Kauai and shut down the ranch over there.”

The Blood King gave one last glance at his few remaining men. “As for you… go unleash hell in Hawaii.”

He turned away, dismissing them, and cast a final, critical eye over his transport and the hand-picked men who were to accompany him into the death-defying depths below Diamond Head.

“No man has done this since Cook and lived to tell the tale. No man has seen beyond the fifth level of hell. No man has ever discovered what the trap system was built to conceal. We will.”

Death and devastation were both behind and before him. The onset of chaos was imminent. The Blood King was happy.

Matt Drake walked across the parking lot that fronted Exoticars, arm in arm with his ‘girlfriend,’ Alicia Myles. A basic Dodge rental was the only car parked there, probably belonging to a tourist couple who had rented one of the new Lamborghini’s for an hour. By the time Drake and Alicia had entered the fancy showroom, a thickset man with a crew cut was already in their face.

“Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“Which one of these is the fastest?” Drake put on an eager face. “We have a Nissan back home and the girlfriend here wants to appreciate some real speed.” Drake winked. “Might get me some bonus points, if you know what I mean.”

Alicia smiled sweetly.

Drake hoped Mai was currently skirting around the back of the big showroom, keeping out of sight of the rear garage and making her way toward the fenced-off side compound. She would try to gain entry from that direction. Drake and Alicia had about six minutes.

The man’s smile was big and not surprisingly, false. “Well, most folks choose the new Ferrari 458 or the Lamborghini Aventador, both of which are fine cars.” The smile actually broadened as the salesman pointed toward said vehicles, both positioned in front of the full-length showroom windows. “But, in terms of legendary accomplishments, if that’s what you’re looking for, I might recommend the Ferrari Daytona or the McLaren F1.” He waved a hand toward the rear of the showroom.

Back there and to the right were the offices. To the left were a series of secluded booths where credit card details would be taken and keys handed over. The office was windowless, but Drake heard figures moving around.

He counted down the seconds. Mai was due in four minutes.

“Are you Mr. Scarberry or Mr. Petersen?” he asked with a smile. “I saw their names on the sign outside.”

“I’m James. Mr. Scarberry and Mr. Petersen are the owners. They’re out back.”

“Oh.” Drake made a show of looking the Ferrari and the Lamborghini over. The showroom’s air-conditioning blasted down on his back. No noise came from the far office. Alicia stayed apart, playing the easy-going wife and at the same time creating space.

One minute until Mai was due to come through the side doors.

Drake readied himself.

Time was passing them by at an alarming rate, but Ben was hopeful that Karin’s crazy idea would bear fruit. The first step had been to find out where the original logs of Captain Cook where being stored. This proved an easy task. The documents were kept in the National Archives, near London, a government building, but not exactly as secure as the Bank of England.

So far so good.

The next step was to enlist Hayden. It took a long time to get their point across. At first, Hayden seemed hugely distracted without being rude, but when Karin, backed up by Ben, presented their plan, the CIA agent went deadly quiet.

“You want to what?” she asked suddenly.

“We want you to send a world-class thief into the National Archives at Kew to photograph—not steal — and then email me a copy of the relevant part of Cook’s logs. The part that’s missing.”

“Have you been drinking, Ben? Seriously—”

“The hardest part,” Ben pressed, “will not be the theft. It will be making sure the thief finds and sends me the right part.”

“What if he’s caught?” Hayden fired off a question without thinking.

“That’s why he has to be a world class thief the CIA might own through this deal. And why he ideally would already be in custody. Oh, and Hayden, it all has to be done in the next few hours. This really can’t wait.”

“I’m aware of that,” Hayden snapped, but then her tone softened. “Look, Ben, I know you two have been stuffed away in that little office, but you might want to stick your head out the door and get some up-to-date intel. You need to be prepared in case—”

Ben glanced worriedly at Karin. “In case what? You sound like the world’s about to end.”

Hayden’s silence told him all he needed to know.

After a few moments, his girlfriend spoke up again, “How badly do you need these records, these logs? Is it worth pissing the Brits off?”

“If the Blood King reaches the Gates of Hell and we have to go in after him,” Ben said, “they’re likely to be our only source of navigation. And we all know how good Cook was with his maps. They might save our lives.”

Hayden laid her cell on the hood of the car and tried to calm her turbulent thoughts. Her eyes met Mano Kinimaka’s through the windshield and she clearly sensed the horror churning through his mind. They had just received the most terrible news, again from Jonathan Gates.

Not that terrorists were about to strike multiple points in Oahu.

Now they knew it was much worse than that.

Mano climbed out, clearly shaking. “Who was that?”

“Ben. He says we need to break into the National Archives in England to get him a copy of Captain Cook’s logs.”

Mano frowned. “Do it. Just do it. This fucking Kovalenko is trying to destroy everything we love, Hayden. You do everything you can to protect the things you love.”

“The British—”

“Screw ‘em.” Mano forgot himself in his stress. Hayden didn’t mind. “If the logs will help us kill this bastard, get ‘em.”

Hayden sorted through her thoughts. She tried to clear her mind. It would take several calls to the CIA offices in London and a big shout from her boss, Gates, but she thought she could probably get the job done. Especially in light of what Gates had just told her.

And she knew quite well there was a particularly charming CIA asset based in London who could pull the job off without breaking a sweat.

Mano still stared at her, still in shock. “Can you believe that call? Can you believe what Kovalenko is about to do just to divert people’s attention?”

Hayden couldn’t, but stayed quiet, still preparing her speech for Gates and the London office. After a few minutes, she was ready.

“Well let’s follow one of the worst calls of our lives with one that’s gonna help us turn the tables,” she said and jabbed in a speed-dial number.

Even as she spoke to her boss and arranged help from overseas to break into the British National Archives, the previous words of Jonathan Gates scorched her mind.

It’s not just Oahu. The Blood King’s terrorists are about to hit multiple islands at once.