The Seven Seals of Egypt

CHAPTER FOUR

Kimberley Crowe, the United States Secretary of Defense, found herself once again seated in the dark, private, walnut-paneled room with two men she had begun to despise. General George Gleeson sat opposite and the CIA high-flyer, Mark Digby, sat to one side, right foot crossed over the left and wagging comfortably.

“Tempest,” Digby said, smiling “That is the code name.”

“You’re official now?” Crowe asked quickly.

Digby winced. “I didn’t say that. And don’t you mean we’re official?”

“So, what are we?” She so badly wanted to say you not we, but resisted. “And what is Tempest?”

The general diverted the questioning. “We are evaluating the recent efforts of SEAL Team 7. I was always doubtful about sending military men after military men. We need something different. If Tempest is to succeed we need an edge.”

“How many…” Crowe hesitated, “know about Tempest?”

“Not many.” Digby was deliberately vague. “A presidential aide is one of our better placed colleagues. But there are many working for us quite blindly. It’s always the best way.” He kicked his feet some more. “Better deniability for us.”

Crowe didn’t like where this was going. The two men seated in front of her had never been so open before about their secret operation and the circumstances behind SPEAR’s disavowing. She wondered what the true nature of Tempest really was.

“In the end,” she said. “SEAL Team 7 were unsanctioned. That should never have happened. I’m not entirely sure I’m on board with this, gentlemen,”

Digby sat forward sharply. “Then get on board, Madam Secretary. You’re with us now, all the way. Just as culpable. Just as involved. Do not start acting the fucking angel now.”

Crowe winced inside, but gave Digby a hard look. So there it was. Low down, dirty and mean. She was a part of this, as liable as they. Throughout her life she’d faced immeasurable odds; she’d overcome most and failed at a few. Now though, it appeared she would have to concede to get ahead.

She looked away from Digby, allowing him to win the staring battle. “And what of this seven seals problem? How do you see it benefiting Tempest?”

Gleeson fiddled with the buttons on his jacket as if impatient. “The tomb unveiling must be monitored. It may reveal some ancient weapon and we all know, after what happened a few years ago in Iceland and then the discovery of the tombs of the gods, that it may now directly link to Tempest and our ultimate goal. Everything we have worked for.”

“And it may lead to nothing,” Digby admitted. “But we have to be sure.”

Crowe acquiesced. “Of course.”

“Covert ops working indirectly for Tempest will be on hand,” Gleeson told them. “If anything shows up they’ll find it.”

“And SPEAR?” Crowe steered the conversation to a place where she felt more comfortable. “What plans are you making for them?”

“What can we do?” Gleeson blustered, suddenly looking like he might throw a fit. “We helped create them. We helped them. Now… how do we stop them?”

“I think that’s taking it a little too far, General,” Crowe said. “They’ve saved this country countless times.”

“Listen—” Digby waved that away with a flap of his hand “—right here, right now; this is what counts. History is for poets and has-beens. SPEAR are connected. They have a mix of first-rate skills. What we need is something totally different. Something they won’t be expecting.”

Crowe made sure she looked impressed. “Interesting. And that is?”

“A new section of Tempest,” Digby said. “A very special team.”

Crowe looked between the men. “Like SPEAR?” She tried to hide all traces of irony from her tone.

“To succeed Tempest will need to…” Digby picked his words carefully, “skirt the line, not stick to it. Walk through the shadows. It has to dwell between the dark and the light.”

“Why?” Crowe had to challenge that.

“Because our long-term plan, to gather together all the weapons of the gods, will attract attention from every single part of the world — the good, the bad and, particularly, the ugly. We should be able to deal with that attention without… revealing ourselves. Our methods have to remain covert.”

“The Central Intelligence Agency should be all over that,” Crowe said.

“Well, that depends where we all want to end up.”

Crowe was fully aware of everything Digby might mean, including a hole in the ground. She was aware that the cards were now well and truly laid out on the table. “I’m assuming you have already engaged this different solution?”

“Oh yeah.” Gleeson showed positive animation for the first time. Even a little glee. “An old-fashioned, balls-out blood-warrior called Luther. Old style, no rules, no book. Luther has never used a computer in his life, nor anything bigger than a cellphone. You set this guy on someone’s track and he’s a fucking bloodhound. He’ll track SPEAR down using just his nose and bury ’em all where they lie. Never to be found.”

Crowe suppressed shock. She’d heard of Luther. Just the legend — but that was more than enough to give her nightmares.

“Luther and his team?” she breathed. “They’re Judgment Day, for God’s sake. You want real noise and destruction? You want catastrophe? Are you kidding me?”

“As far as I can tell,” Gleeson gave her a heartfelt sigh, “they’re the only kind of team that stands a chance of taking SPEAR out.”

“Plus,” Digby said, “every local authority around the world, when they hear Luther’s involved, will get the hell out of the way.”

Crowe breathed a tense breath. Not everyone, but most. Digby had it about right. Her own knowledge of Luther and his band of old-world misfits was purposely vague, but what she’d been able to pick up during her short term in office was enough to make her heart pound.

“You know,” she said, “something doesn’t smell exactly right. Luther is potentially worse for American relations than SPEAR. Yet, we’ve condemned them for the events in Peru that nobody except us knows much about.” She held up her hands, seeing protest coming. “Now I know… I know it’s all about Tempest. I’m not sure what your endgame involves for these weapons of the gods, but I do understand.”

“America, leader of the free world, forever,” Gleeson said with satisfaction.

“Based on what knowledge exactly?” Crowe asked, realizing they were getting side tracked but unable to stop fishing for a little more information.

“The Swords of Babylon,” Gleeson said. “Remember that? Let me refresh your memory. All the power unleased from the tombs on that day came from the weapons of the gods. It destroyed the tombs. But we still have a list of weapons. Weapons that are still out there. The Sword of Mars, for instance. This Doomsday Machine in Egypt. This capstone, we believe, is endowed with the same power as the weapons of the gods. Perhaps it even was one…” he shrugged. “It makes sense, with all these other weapons appearing.”

“Disappearing…” Crowe said drily.

“Well, yes, but we must find them. Find them all and use them for our own purposes. The Sword of Mars has now gone, but the great capstone is close at hand. Several others that were lost, stolen or traded. What can they do?” He gave her a grin of excitement. “I mean—what can they do?”

Crowe was momentarily shocked at his excitement. She also knew all about the old Tesla devices and how the brilliant engineer and inventor had created immense weapons out of seemingly nothing. Remembering more of the other mysteries from the ancient world she began to wonder just how many might be out there.

“We’ve proven that the old gods were once real,” Digby said.

“No,” Crowe said. “SPEAR did that.”

“As you wish. But, if these gods were once men that inspired courage and leadership and did great deeds, elevating them to deities in the eyes of their fellow men, then maybe their weapons were powerful too. That’s Tempest, Madam Secretary, and Luther is its cutting edge.”

Crowe managed a nod. “You mean bludgeon, I assume?”

Digby smiled. “So long as he crushes whomever we tell him to crush, that’s fine with me.”