At the word Atlantis an immediate silence fell over the room and all eyes were fixed on Ryan Bale.
Eden spoke first. “So you’re saying the Aztecs were the original Atlanteans?”
“Jesus,” Camacho said, and let out a low whistle of surprise.
“Partly. I think the Aztecs broke away from the Atlanteans — another sect if you like, or tribe.”
“This just gets more and more insane,’ Lexi said. “To think I gave up the Ministry for this madness…”
Ryan continued. “Through the prism of modern life, all of this looks like madness, yes — but as we now know, these ancient legends were often much more than myths. They’re the lens we look through to see how we really began.”
“Oh, someone get this boy a drink,” Scarlet said. “And quick… before he starts writing poetry, please.”
Ryan ignored her. “At the moment this is just speculation, and we should focus on the Aztec issue, but I’m just saying that there might be some kind of link and we should be ready for it.”
“Maybe Wade is looking for more than an Aztec temple?” Kim said.
“Maybe, but,” Hawke shook his head. “Maybe Mendoza is the one looking for more. I saw something in his eyes in London and again in Rome. He’s like a man possessed. I can’t see Wade indulging in myths.”
Eden nodded his head. “I agree. We know Wade is a lifelong admirer of Aztec culture and archaeology. His creation of the Order of the Sixth Sun backs this up too. I doubt he has any interest in Atlantis, which he probably regards as mythical.”
“All right,” Hawke said, leaping to his feet. “The sooner we get to the plantation the sooner we end this nightmare.”
“Right,” Kim said. “The plantation is too far away by road, so we’re going by air, courtesy of the CIA who have rustled up a couple of Lakotas. We leave in ten minutes so get ready.”
Hawke took the time to prepare a PSK, a personal survival kit. Like the other former Special Forces people on the team he knew you never went into a jungle theater without some basic preparation. Most of the stuff he got from his regular kit that he took on missions — compass, small multitool, magnesium firestarter, Fresnel lens and some duct tape. Then after a quick search of the hotel bathroom he grabbed some dental floss and dropped his iPhone in a plastic zipper bag just for good measure. He knew what jungle humidity could do to electronic equipment. It was all just a precaution, but spending so long as a Commando and former SBS operative had meant it was a habit impossible to break.
He felt a hand brush against his arm. It was Lea.
“You ready, cowboy?” she said.
“I’m always ready,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The fear flooded through Viktor Sobotka as he watched Morton Wade approach the rear of the Mercedes Atego. Unlike everyone else, the Texan was wearing a full NBC suit and in his hand he held a Geiger counter. They were standing in the loading bay of what looked like some kind of grain store on a plantation somewhere west of Mexico City, and for the first time since this nightmare began Viktor was starting to wonder if he was really going to make it through alive. With this on his mind, the flight down in Wade’s private jet had been one of silent, strained terror, especially given the knowledge of the U-235 bullet detonator Aurora had forced him to steal from Los Alamos. Those had only one use: activating fission bombs.
Silvio Mendoza and Aurora Soto shared a long kiss as Delgado and Garza opened the rear of the truck. Another man climbed out of the cab. He was wearing a greasy white shirt with a crumpled packet of cigarettes in the pocket. A few moments later a hard-looking young woman followed in his footsteps and slipped out of the truck. Viktor noticed a snake tattoo on her neck and a terrible black eye on her face. She looked at the man in the white shirt with nothing but hate in her young eyes. The atmosphere was one of tense excitement, which was insane given what he thought was going on.
Mendoza pushed Aurora away and walked over to his brother. “Jorge, all good?”
Jorge nodded and lit a cigarette as they spoke.
“Where is Alena?” Viktor said. “Why wasn’t she on the plane?”
Wade looked at him with contempt. “She’s fine. Keep it down.”
The Texan then ordered Jorge to pull a forklift up to the rear of the Atego while Delgado and Garza rode the forks up to the level of the truck. Inside they guided the forks under the steel pallet and then waved the forklift back. The depot was filled with the shrieking sound of the reversing alarm as Jorge pulled away from the Atego and turned the forklift around. He lowered the forks and set the metal container and steel pallet down on the polished concrete floor of the warehouse’s loading bay.
Wade ran the Geiger counter over the container. Juana Diaz took a step back from the action as Wade began prising off the lid. He cracked a wide grin. “Good work, everyone!”
By the look on Mendoza’s face he didn’t share Wade’s enthusiasm for whatever hellish project was unfolding, but Wade was too focussed to notice as he slowly circled the mystery package, his eyes full of wonder and expectation. He glanced inside and gasped with pleasure. Viktor thought he saw an almost religious reverence on Wade’s crazed face. “She’s here at last. She’s finally here.” He turned to Mendoza and barked a string of orders in Spanish. Everyone left the room except for Wade and Viktor.
“May I introduce you to the Hummingbird, Professor Sobotka.”
Viktor walked a few paces forward and peered inside the container. Like Wade had done, he also gasped, but in horror not pleasure. “Just what the hell is this?”
“This is my new toy. She has the power of a god. I like to call her the Hummingbird, but you probably know her by another name — an RM-152C. In other words, one of the former Soviet Union’s cobalt bombs.”
Viktor shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand… this isn’t possible! Cobalt bombs are purely theoretical. They were never made, not even by the United States.”
Wade laughed. “How wonderful! You of all people — a nuclear weapons specialist — and you actually believe the official governmental doctrine when they tell you these weapons were never made.”
“It’s not possible…”
“And now you’re actually looking at one not a yard from your face and yet still you cannot bring yourself to question authority.”
“This is insanity! Fission devices salted with cobalt were never made, I tell you! I’ve worked in the industry for decades, first for the Soviets and now for the Americans. I can’t… I just can’t believe it.” He stared at the smooth metal casing of the bomb in abject horror. “When Leó Szilárd originally talked about such a concept back in the fifties no one seriously entertained the idea of actually constructing such a monstrous device. I refuse to believe mankind sank to this level!”
Viktor almost felt like crying.
“Well, it’s time to suck it up, Viktor, because they exist and even better than that I now have one of my very own!”
“But these weapons were supposed…” he changed his words now he knew they were real. “If they really exist then they are insanely dangerous. Salting the warhead with cobalt to increase its radiological fallout would…”
Wade cut him off. “Would not only mean the total flattening of whatever city I detonate it in, but a degree of nuclear fallout unparalleled in human history. Even the early Tadje tests conducted by the British in the Maralinga Range of South Australia showed tremendous potential, but the Hummingbird here is far more technically advanced than that. She’s the product of a much later Soviet design…a real beauty.”
“You’re insane. You’re looking at it like it’s alive.”