The woods around them exploded in moving forms. McKenzie fired on full automatic into something that bounded forth on four legs toward him, the bullets slamming it back. The only impression he had were rows and rows of gleaming teeth.
One of the men screamed as his body exploded in a gush of blood and viscera. The tip of a green ellipse, black teeth churning, came out of his chest.
McKenzie backed up, slamming a fresh magazine into his weapon. Teague was at his side, firing at an ellipse, the bullets bouncing off.
Another creature came bounding in, body of a lion, snake’s head, scorpion stinger for tail, jumping through the air and landing on the fourth Canadian, claws ripping him open, the stinger darting forward and sinking into his face, right between the eyes. The snake’s head rose up and hissed as the stinger dug through bone and entered the man’s brain. The body jerked spasmodically.
McKenzie moaned, seeing the man’s fate.
Teague shook him out of his shock by firing a magazine on full automatic across his front.
McKenzie pulled the trigger but his finger froze at the last second as a golden beam sliced out of the fog and hit him and Teague, enveloping the both of them, pressing them together.
They were lifted off the ground, above the creatures, and then drawn into the mist.
Dane paused, hearing the distant sound of firing that abruptly cut off. He sensed inside his head, more than heard the screams, which were too far away to carry. He glanced at Freed who made no comment, then at Beasley. The fat professor’s pale face was bathed in sweat.
“We’ll make it,” Dane said. As he turned away from the other man he paused. Dane stood perfectly still, his eyes closed. Slowly his head swiveled back in the direction they had come.
“Chelsea,” Dane whispered, not even aware he had also spoken out loud.
“What’s wrong?” Freed asked.
Dane ignored him. He focused on the mental images. There was still nothing from Sin Fen, but now he knew why. What he saw was distorted and fuzzy, but he could understand it. The view was through a series of lines and splotches that Dane knew were branches and leaves. And the perspective was low, less than a foot or two above the ground. But he could hazily discern two helicopters and black suited men walking about a blasted clearing. For just a second the entire image focused tight and he could see very clearly Sin Fen lying on the ground, trussed up tightly, her eyes closed, her face slack.
“Damn,” Dane muttered.
“What?” Freed repeated.
Dane pulled out his pistol and pointed it straight between Freed’s eyes. “Your boss is screwing everything up. He’s taken down my partner.”
Freed didn’t even blink. “Your partner? The weird woman? You didn’t even know her before she showed up. She had Agency written all over her.”
“So?” Dane stared at Freed. “Don’t you get it? We’ve left your corporate fighting far behind. This is much bigger than all that. I should just kill you right now,” Dane said, but he paused as the mental image changed again. Chelsea was moving, running away from the base camp, heading toward the west. Coming to Dane.
No! Dane projected the command as forcefully as he could.
Chelsea halted, her head swinging about, searching for her master. The jungle surrounded her, full of strange noises and scents. She didn’t like this place.
Chelsea’s tail rocketed back and forth. She whined.
Easy, girl. Easy.
Dane was aware of Freed moving back, out of the aim of his pistol. Dane lowered the gun.
Rescue, Chelsea. Rescue.
Chelsea whined once more. She didn’t know where the voice was coming from. It was her master but it didn’t sound quite right. Her golden eyes peered into the shadows of the jungle, searching.
Then a picture came into her brain. Something she had just seen. The nice woman lying on the ground. Chelsea understood that was who her master wanted her to rescue. But she sensed he was in danger also. Her head swung back the way she had come and then to the west, indecisive.
Go!
There was no defying the command. With a low growl, Chelsea turned back the way she had come.
Dane returned to reality and the muzzle of a gun. His pistol was down at his side, but Freed’s wasn’t.
“What are you trying to do?” Freed demanded.
“I don’t need you,” Dane said. “If you need me, come along. If you don’t, go after the Canadians.”
Freed’s eyes shifted in the direction the automatic fire had come from. He lowered the pistol.
“Don’t get in my way.” Dane added. “And when we get back, Michelet will pay.”
“We’ll deal with that when we get back,” Freed said.
Dane continued moving, then stopped once more, but this time because of the large forms that were now becoming visible ahead in the mist. Beasley stepped up next to him and then a few steps further.
The professor finally stopped in stunned silence. “My God!” he exclaimed in a low voice, taking in the massive stones that marked a line directly across their path. Each stone was over eighty feet in height and shaped in a vaguely human form, with long faces taking up over a third of the height. It was hard to see them clearly because a thick layer of vegetation had grown around them. It was clear, despite the trees and creepers that covered the stone, that each was exactly the same size and that where there wasn’t carving, the stone was cut as smoothly as if by a scalpel, although the surface was pitted with age and weather.
“It makes Stonehenge look like a kid’s block set,” Beasley said as Dane and Freed joined him. “How did they move those things? They’ve got to weigh seventy or eighty tons each. Those are forty feet taller than the biggest statues on Easter Island.” Beasley pulled out a small video camera from his backpack and took a panoramic shot of the rank of megaliths in front of them, standing almost shoulder to shoulder.
Dane pointed at a narrow opening between two of the megaliths bases. “We go through there.”
“What’s on the other side?” Freed asked.
Dane knew the answer to that. “Angkor Kol Ker.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“The navy and air force are detouring ships and planes around the Bermuda Triangle,” Foreman said into the satellite phone mike.
“This thing keeps growing like it is,” Patricia Conner’s voice was tight with an undercurrent of forced control, “they’re going to have a hard time keeping this under wraps. The Bermuda Triangle Gate hits the coast of Florida in six hours.”
Foreman rubbed his head. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he had been living with the nightmare of the Gates for over sixty years all by himself. “The Japanese are getting ready to go public. They’re forcing their fishing fleet away from the expanding Devil’s Sea Gate, but it’s a huge logistical problem. The fishermen want an explanation.” Foreman gave a bitter laugh. “The irony is that even if they go public they still don’t have an explanation.”
“Looking at my map and the propagation charts,” Conners came back with. “Some of these Gates are going to be killing people soon. The radiation levels are high enough.”
Foreman let out a deep breath. “I know, but there’s nothing-” he paused as another light flickered on his console. “I’ll have to get back to you,” he said.
“We’ve got activity in the Angkor Gate!” Conners yelled before he could cut the connection. “A surge of radioactivity on the eastern side!”