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Turcotte turned to Kincaid. “Did Che Lu have any coordinates on Everest?” “Not that I can see,” he said. “Nothing close.”

Mualama spoke up. “Excalibur was put on Everest by a rogue group of Watchers under the command of Myrrdin — Merlin. It is doubtful that Nabinger would have picked the coordinates up from High Rune markings.”

“How do you know that?” Turcotte asked.

Mualama held up Burton’s missing manuscript. “It’s in here.”

“Nice to let us know that now,” Turcotte said.

“I translated the manuscript in the order you wanted me to,” Mualama said. “Remember? Information on the Grail and the Mission was the priority.”

Turcotte didn’t buy that explanation. They’d been totally dependent on Mualama to translate Burton’s text, written in ancient Akkadian. His information about the location of the Mission’s base under Mount Sinai had been accurate but Turcotte had to wonder if there was anything else the archaeologist was holding back. In fact, they had to trust that Mualama had brought forth the entire manuscript, given that the African had traveled all over the world tracking it down.

“What does Burton say about Excalibur?” Turcotte asked.

“According to what Burton learned at Avalon,” Mualama said, “Merlin came there after Arthur died and took Excalibur from the Watcher of Avalon, Brynn. The Watchers didn’t know where he took it, but in the course of tracking down the scepter for the Hall of Records, Burton came across stories about a special sword and indications it had been taken by Merlin toward southern Asia — beyond the edge of the known world at that time.

“When Burton was stationed in India, he was part of a group that mapped the northern districts, in the foothills of the Himalayas. As was his wont, he disguised himself and went among the locals, listening to their legends and stories. And he heard tales that a magical sword had been brought from the West many years ago by a sorcerer and taken high into the mountains, to the roof of the world.”

“That doesn’t give me an exact location,” Turcotte noted. “Everest is a big mountain.”

“The entire point of putting it up there was that no one could get to it,” Mualama said. “Or get up there, recover the sword, and make it down alive.” “People have climbed Everest,” Turcotte noted.

“Only in the past fifty years,” Mualama said. “And from what Burton wrote about what he heard, it’s not on the very top, but close to it, on a portion of the mountain that is very difficult to get to. In a place where climbers heading for the top wouldn’t go.”

Something didn’t sit right with Turcotte about all of this. “If Burton knew where it was hidden, what about Artad? And Aspasia’s Shadow? Do they know?” Mualama shrugged. “I would imagine so. After all Kelly Reynolds got the information out of the Easter Island guardian, right? Aspasia’s Shadow certainly has access to the same resource.”

“Why hasn’t anyone recovered it, then?” Turcotte asked. “It would have broken the truce,” Mualama said.

Turcotte shook his head. “Hell, both sides have broken the truce numerous times over the years.”

“I don’t know,” Mualama said, shrugging.

“Perhaps”—Yakov drew the word out—“activating the Master Guardian would have had much the same effect as activating the interstellar drive of the mothership. Perhaps it would draw in this enemy of the Airlia — the Swarm?”

“How do you know that?” Turcotte asked. That was the thing that had started all this, when Majestic had planned on test-flying the mothership and Turcotte had stopped them at the last minute.

“I don’t know it,” Yakov said. “But while both sides broke the truce, neither side attempted to fly a mothership until recently and that seems more an automated response by Majestic’s guardian than a plan. Perhaps there are aspects of the truce both sides tried to respect.”

“Too much conjecture,” Turcotte muttered. “And remember, Excalibur was used during Arthur and Merlin’s time. I don’t like the idea of wandering around on Everest looking for a sword that could be hidden anywhere. Hopefully we’ll get another message from Kelly with the exact location.”

“Ah—” Colonel Mickell held up a hand. Turcotte paused. “Yes, sir?”

“Mike, you have any idea what it’s like to be on Everest?” “It’s a mountain,” Turcotte said, looking down at his boots.

“No,” Mickell shook his head. “It’s the mountain. Two of my men were on an expedition there last year. They didn’t make it to the top. And they were the best climbers we have. You can’t just go up there,” Mickell added. “You have to acclimatize over a long period of time or you will die.”

“I don’t have time to acclimatize,” Turcotte said. “I’ll be on the bouncer. It won’t take but a couple of minutes.”

“Mike.” Mickell said the one word like a slap in the face.

Turcotte’s eyes couldn’t meet the colonel’s. Finally, he nodded. “I know, sir. Nothing ever goes as planned, but I don’t see what I can do other than just go.” “You can be prepared for the worst,” Mickell said. “We did some research after our men came back. We don’t expect to have to operate on Everest but we do have to plan that we might have to conduct a short-notice operation at extreme high altitude someday. That’s the major reason we sent our two men up there.”

“And?” Turcotte was anxious to be going. He could hear an aircraft landing on the runway and from the sound of the propellers, he knew it was a C-130—Yakov’s ride to Turkey.

Mickell glanced at his watch. “As soon as I heard where you were going I alerted my people. A chopper should be here any minute with our high-altitude packet and one of my men who was part of the expedition.

“The problem is oxygen, Mike. The minute you get above twenty-five thousand feet you’re in the death zone. Your body starts dying. You only have about one-third the oxygen you’re used to at sea level.”

“People have climbed it without oxygen, though,” Turcotte noted.

“Yeah,” Mickell allowed. “Sixty. And an equal number who tried it without have died. Like those odds?”

“I assume your man will have oxygen for me to use,” Turcotte said.

“Even among those who use oxygen one-sixth die. And all of them take weeks to months to acclimatize at high altitude before making a summit attempt.”

“So you’ve got oxygen in this packet, right, sir?” Turcotte repeated.

“Mike, it isn’t just lack of oxygen that’s a danger. There’s pulmonary edema, cerebral edema, hypothermia—”

“Sir—” Turcotte looked his superior officer in the eyes. “I’ve got to go. Whatever you’ve got in this packet beyond the oxygen that can help—”

Mickell suddenly seemed to notice all the others gathered around. “Mike. We never really planned on doing this. Unless—”

Turcotte nodded and completed the statement. “Unless there was absolutely no other option.”

“Right.”

“So what do you have besides oxygen?” Turcotte asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“Blood packing. Drugs. Experimental stuff that has never been used.” “OK.”

Mickell didn’t argue, accepting Turcotte’s decision. “The man I’m sending with you not only made the climb, but he’s also a medic. He can prep you on the way there.” “All right.” Turcotte looked around. “Anyone have anything else before we split up?”

Ouinn spoke up. “I’ll continue to go through the archive information you got from Moscow and I’ll reread what has been translated of Burton’s diary.” “Whatever you get, forward to Yakov and me,” Turcotte said.

“Yes, sir.”

A Delta Force soldier popped his head in the hangar. “Anyone want a ride to Turkey?”