“I still can’t recall her face. It’s maddening, Jack. She was the love of my life, and I’ve spent centuries looking for a way to save her. Now that I nearly have it, I’m frustrated by the fact that I can’t remember her face clearly enough to recreate the corpse accurately.”
King had examined several of the faces Alexander had created over the years. Each was slightly different. Eyes spaced a bit farther apart than the last or a bit narrower. Brows higher or lower, mouth pursed slightly more or less. He understood the depth of Alexander’s love for Acca, and he didn’t fault the man. When he had first heard that Alexander was having trouble recalling Acca’s visage, he tried to recall the image of his dead sister Julie, and found it hard to picture just how her nose looked. Even worse, he was starting to have trouble picturing Sara and Fiona, who he hadn’t seen in years. He couldn’t imagine how tarnished his memory might have been after centuries.
King placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ll get it. And even if you don’t, we can always get a good look at her before you need to.”
Alexander smiled, accepting the advice. “You’re right.” He turned his eyes to the field ahead of him. Five thousand soldiers with long spears ran across the marshy ground, screaming incoherently. “We’re outnumbered four to one. Still like our chances?”
King grinned. “Of winning? No. Of making them work for it? You bet your ass.”
As a pair, they leapt past the defensive wall and rushed out to meet the enemy.
THIRTY-THREE
Jared, the more naturally militant personality of the three men, led his Creator and his duplicate-brother out of the stairwell and into the hallway of Sub Level 1. He moved slowly into the hall, glancing down its empty length, and peering cautiously at the doorways leading into the opposing Cold Lab and the Microbiology Lab. Darius’s forces hadn’t entered this level yet.
“He’s probably hoping to flush them from the loading dock upward. We’ll spring the trap behind the janitor’s closet before they’re expecting it,” he told Ridley and Seth.
He approached the door to the Microbiology Lab and opened it slowly, expecting a hail of gunfire. When none came, he moved in and the other two men followed. The lab looked untouched.
“They’ll be on the other side of the closet, or down the tunnel at the Amphitheater stairs. Either way, they have a defensible position. They’ll—”
“It makes no difference,” Seth interrupted.
Richard Ridley walked over to a security panel on the wall. It had a 6-inch LCD screen and a few buttons next to a numerical keypad. Ridley typed in a security code and the LCD came to life showing two soldiers stationed in the hall outside the janitorial closet’s secret door. They looked bored as they lounged against the tunnel walls, completely unaware they were being monitored by the camera in the security plate next to the door.
“Only two men,” Ridley said. “Hardly an obstacle.” He typed in another sequence on the keypad, and a locked metal cabinet on the wall sprang open. Inside it, he retrieved a satellite phone and a Browning 9 mm pistol. He handed the phone to Seth and the gun to Jared.
Seth stepped away from the other two men and began dialing a number. Jared cocked the weapon and moved to the janitorial closet. He carefully moved a mop aside, allowing Ridley to follow him into the cluttered space. Jared looked back to Ridley for confirmation. The man nodded, the overhead bulb shining off his bald head.
Jared turned back to the door, opened it and fired two shots. Both of the soldiers were caught completely off guard, crumpling to the tunnel floor without even raising their weapons.
Jared stepped into the tunnel, reached down and pulled a Glock 19 from the dead mercenary’s holster. He kept it and handed the Browning back to Ridley. Seth, finished with his phone call, stopped at the control panel and punched in a third sequence, then he joined the other two. “We’re ready,” he said. “Communications are jammed.”
Jared stepped over the two corpses bleeding on the tunnel floor and led the way into the dark tunnel. Ridley paused at the security panel on the far side of the door. He typed in a code and the tunnel filled with light from several caged lights lining the walls.
Jared turned back to Ridley. “Sir, they’ll know we’re coming…”
Ridley simply nodded and they moved on down the length of the tight tunnel. The pitted stone walls were just wide enough for the broad men to pass, but would make an excellent place for an ambush.
As they came to the end of the tunnel, they could see the stairs that led up to the amphitheater, but no mercenaries guarding it. Jared stepped to the foot of the stairwell.
He immediately jumped backward, his Glock raised, as a body tumbled down the stairs, rolling to a stop at his feet. The dead man’s throat had been sliced. There was no sign of anyone on the stairs above them.
“Trigger?” Seth called out.
Jared looked around at his brother in surprise. Whatever this was, his brother had kept him in the dark.
“That you, Seth? Sorry about that. He was a struggler, that one.” Daryl Trajan, callsign: Trigger, descended the steps, his sniper rifle strung across his back, and a bloodied Gerber folding knife in his hand. The slim man wore black BDUs. He bent to wipe the blade of his knife on the dead man’s clothes, then stepped over the body.
Jared lowered his pistol and looked to Ridley and Seth. They were smiling.
“Are we good?” Seth asked.
“All clear at this end. Carpenter will have the stairwell to the garage in a minute,” Trigger replied, folding up his knife and slipping it into a sheath on his belt.
“You have no qualms about switching sides?” Ridley asked.
“No, sir. Some mercs follow a code of honor. I follow a code of greenbacks. With as much money as Seth offered me for this job, I’ll be retiring to a villa in Honduras.” Trigger smiled a huge grin, clearly pleased with having chosen the correct side of the struggle between the Ridley brothers. “Darius and his forces are all inside the loading dock by now. Any men loyal to him on the surface have been eliminated.”
Trigger glanced down to a wrist-mounted two-way pager, which was gently vibrating against his skin. He depressed a button three times, then looked back up at the others.
“Gentlemen, this is Carpenter,” Trigger introduced the stocky man coming down the dark side tunnel from the second stairwell that led to the garage. As the man stepped into the light, Jared could see he wore black BDUs like Trigger, but he had thick pink scars on his brawny exposed forearms.
“Garage is secured. Everyone up top is loyal to us,” Carpenter said in a surprisingly soft voice.
Jared looked at the man and wondered about loyalty. He was irritated that Ridley and Seth had not confided in him about this part of the plan, co-opting some of Darius’s forces to work for Ridley.
“So,” he said, a little of his irritation creeping into his voice, “what’s next?”
Richard Ridley stepped forward, patting Jared on the shoulder as if to say Don’t worry about the small stuff, we didn’t tell you because there wasn’t time. He grinned at everyone. “Let’s go up top and get my Chest. Darius’s force should engage the Chess Team in the next five minutes. When they do, send in the second wave of soldiers to kill everyone.”