“I was once called ‘the worst bitch that ever lived,’” Alicia recalled wistfully. “Can’t remember who by.”
“Only once?” Kenzie asked. “That’s odd.”
“It was most likely me.” Mai gave her a small smile.
“Or me,” Drake said.
Dahl looked like he was wracking his brains. “Well, I think I remember…”
“Fort Sill,” the pilot said. “Ten minutes out. We have clearance to land and the area is hot.”
Drake frowned as he made ready. “Hot? Is he reading from a redacted script, or what?”
“Must be eighty down there.” Kinimaka stared out a very small window.
“I think he means — troubled,” Yorgi spoke up. “Or under attack.”
“Nah, he’s referring to its status,” Smyth told them. “Highly prepared.”
The plane touched down and came to a swift stop. Almost immediately, the rear cargo doors began to open. The team, already stretching and on their feet, hurried out into the sunshine which glared hard off the asphalt. A chopper was waiting, which whisked them away toward the grounds of Fort Sill. As they flew in, a Fort Sill colonel apprised them of the situation.
“We’re on full alert here. Got every gun prepped, armed and aimed. Geronimo’s gravesite too, and we’re ready to roll.”
“We’re five out.” Hayden said. “Coming in hard on the gravesite. I’m sure you’re aware of all potential hostiles.”
“I’ve been fully prepped, ma’am. This is a United States Army site, a Marine Corps site, as well as a home to Air Defense and the Fires Brigade. Believe me when I tell you we have all our angles covered.”
Hayden signed off and watched Fort Sill appear below. Drake studied the area and made a final check of his weapons.
I bloody well hope so.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The atmosphere was electric, every soldier tense and expecting some kind of war. The team passed between wide brick pillars and moved among many gravestones, each one the resting place of a fallen hero. Geronimo’s grave lay off the beaten track, and took them long added minutes to reach. Hayden led the way and Kinimaka brought up the rear.
Drake listened as he adjusted to his surroundings. The site of so many artillery battalions was never likely to be quiet, but today a man could almost hear a leaf blowing in a breath of wind. All around the base, men waited. They were prepared. The order had come down from on high to stand strong in the face of whatever was about to happen. The Americans would not lose face.
They walked a narrow, shale-strewn path, their boots crunching. It seemed peculiar to remain on high alert inside such a base, but the countries and teams they were up against were no doubt capable of anything.
Drake walked beside Lauren, who kept the team apprised of any new information.
“The French are still operational. Two of them for now, more on the way.”
“Reports of a gunfight in Oklahoma City. Could be the Brits. No way to tell at this point.”
And a reply: “Yes, we do have the Conquest weapon. It’s right here. If you designate somebody on the base I’m sure we can hand it off.”
Drake guessed they were probably safe from SEAL Team 7 inside here, at least. The simple fact that they’d been allowed into the United States and then the army site told him something was seriously amiss.
Who sent the SEALs?
Why?
Hayden pulled up then as their guide led them along another even narrower path. Presently he stopped before half a dozen markers.
“That one,” he said, “is Geronimo’s.”
Of course, it was pretty much unmistakable. The marker was no ordinary gravestone, it was a cairn; a large, man-made pile of stones in the shape of a rough pyramid with a plaque mounted at the center, the name ‘Geronimo’ deliberately unambiguous. Incredibly old it was, and must have been spectacular in its time. It was flanked by the grave of his wife, Zi-yeh and his daughter, Eva Geronimo Godeley.
Drake felt a kind of spiritual reverence upon seeing the great warrior’s grave, and knew the others felt the same. The man had been a soldier, at war mostly with the Mexicans and fighting for his family, his lands and his way of life. Yes, he had lost, just as Cochise and Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse had lost, but their names lived on through the years.
A small digger stood poised.
Hayden nodded at the base commander, who nodded to the digger driver. Soon, the large digger was at work, turning up huge chunks of soil and depositing them on the ground nearby. Drake was also aware of the desecration, and accusations that might be leveled at the military but the presence of so many soldiers nearby meant it was unlikely anyone would know. They would probably shut Fort Sill down from the public for a while.
How did the Order do this?
Interesting… all those years ago? Perhaps access was easier back then. Hayden told the digger driver to take it easy as he delved, no doubt remembering Hannibal’s shallow grave where no coffin had been buried. The team watched as the hole grew deeper and the mound of earth grew higher.
At last, the digger stopped and two men jumped into the hole to remove the last scraps of earth.
Drake inched toward the rim of the hole. Alicia stole along with him. Predictably, Kinimaka hung back, not wanting to end up at the bottom. The two men cleared earth from the top of the coffin and shouted up for lifting ropes to be attached to the digger’s bucket. Soon, the coffin was rising slowly, and Drake took another look around.
Stoic, hard-faced individuals stood all around, and encircled the camp, he knew. It began to occur to him now that there would be no battle. Geronimo’s coffin was deposited gently on the ground, small portions of rocks and soil falling away. Hayden looked over at the base commander who shrugged.
“Your party, Agent Jaye. My orders are to give you everything you need.”
Hayden moved forward as one of the diggers prized open the lid of the coffin. The team came forward. The lid lifted surprisingly easily. Drake peered over top of the frame and into the box’s depths.
To see one of the greatest surprises of his life.
Hayden pulled away, frozen for an instant; the mission forgotten, her life forgotten, her friends suddenly gone as her brain petrified.
No way…
It was an impossibility. Surely it was. But she dared not tear her eyes away.
Within the coffin, mounted on a titanium bracket, hung a state-of-the-art digital screen and, as they stared, it burst into life.
Canned laughter burst from the speakers. Hayden and the others jerked backward, dumbstruck. The laughter echoed artificially from the advanced screen as a plethora of colors filled it — starburst after starburst mushrooming outward. The team started to recover and Drake turned to her.
“Is this the right… I mean… what the—”
Dahl stepped closer for a better look. “Is poor old Geronimo still here?”
Hayden pulled him away. “Careful! Don’t you understand all the connotations of this?”
Dahl blinked. “It means somebody left us a screen instead of a box. You think it’s the weapon?”