The Lost Kingdom

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Dudley grinned from ear to ear, a smile so wide it threatened to split open the corners of his mouth, turning him into an evil clown.

“Aye, aye,” he cackled. “The gang is all here. Time to die, I tink.”

His brother, Malachi, stood staunch as ever by his side. “You’d better ring yer Pythian mates first, Callan. Them boys gonna make us richer than the Queen of England.”

Dudley nodded knowingly. “Aye they are,” he said, taking out a slimline smartphone and pressing a speed dial preset. All seven members of the 27-Club stood around a window on the fourth floor of an apartment building half a mile away from Hsinchu Harbor, powerful binoculars either set to their eyes or resting at their chests. The Pythians’ plan had always seemed masterful; now it was also proving inspired.

Dudley waited for the call to connect, imagining what he could do to the SPEAR team right at that very moment, then wishing he could watch the devastating real-time effects. His eyes flicked momentarily to the wireless device that sat on the otherwise bare, rickety table behind them.

An explosive daisy chain? Fuuuuuuuck! The thought made him want to dance for joy. Even more, it made him want to act on impulse.

Luckily, the call was answered on the next ring. “Yes?”

“I have me finger on the trigger. Are we a go?”

Tyler Webb’s sharp intake of breath said not. “Wait, just wait. The Chinese agreed to the Peking Man ransom only an hour ago. I have men en route now to acquire the Z-boxes from them.”

“Men?” Dudley repeated, looking around. “But we’re all here.”

“I do have other men,” Webb said caustically. “I’m sure you understand that your methods, whilst they do bring me great joy, have their time and place. A twitchy, strained meeting between the Chinese Politburo’s closest guard and the Pythians’ armed representatives is not that place.”

Dudley cackled. “We’d just blow ‘em to hell and take the feckin’ boxes.”

“Quite. The good news though is very good news. The Peking Man has effectively purchased our Z-boxes. The Chinese have a healthy interest in Mu, but it’s an interest trumped by their higher aspirations. I have to say it is as we all thought.”

“Taiwan knows too?”

“They do now. But too late,” Webb said with a smile in his voice. “And they won’t be able to deny that they knew about Mu. Wait…” Webb sounded like he was taking another call.

Dudley stared impatiently at the handset, wondering if he should just throw it out the window and get down to using the wireless device. Then Malachi, reading his brother’s mind, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Remember, brother. Our plan. Make sure them boxes are comin’ here.”

Dudley nodded, memory jogged. “The Z-boxes,” he said into the dormant speaker. “When will they be here?”

“Good news,” Webb came back on the line, “my men have successfully exchanged the Z-boxes and are on their way to you now. Please get them here as soon as possible. And Mr. Dudley…?”

“Aye?”

“You can detonate that device now.”