“There are higher entities than the Secretary of Defense,” Kinimaka said.
“President Coburn wouldn’t hang us out to dry,” Drake protested. “I have to believe he knows nothing about the SEALs.”
“Agreed,” Hayden said. “And whilst I agree with Mano, that there are higher entities than Crowe, there are many more insidious ones. The kind that come sideways at you, out of the blue, and give you little choice. I have to believe there’s more going on than we know.”
“Doesn’t help our problem.” Smyth grunted, and lifted a glass of milk with difficulty.
“True.” Hayden grabbed a handful of fruit and settled herself. “So, let’s concentrate on ending this bad mother and get home. We’re still the biggest team, and the best. Even now the Brits only got about a day’s head start. The Chinese too. Now, it seems out of all the rest only the French are revitalized. They have sent another team, three strong, to hook up with the only remaining original.”
“So in the battle of the Special Ops forces,” Dahl said. “We’re on top.”
“Yeah, but it’s hardly relevant. And false. It’s not like we’re hand to hand, or in the wilderness together.”
“It’s raw, unpredictable battle,” Dahl said. “It’s as real as it gets.”
Hayden nodded and then quickly went on. “Let’s recap the Order’s text. ‘At the Four Corners of the Earth we found the Four Horsemen and laid with them the blueprint of the Order of the Last Judgment. Those who survive the Judgment quest and its aftermath will rightly reign supreme. If you are reading this, we are lost, so read and follow with cautious eyes. Our last years were spent assembling the four final weapons, the world revolutions: War, Conquest, Famine and Death. Unleashed together, they will destroy all governments and unveil a new future. Be prepared. Find them. Go to the Four Corners of the Earth. Find the resting places of the Father of Strategy and then the Khagan; the Worst Indian Who Ever Lived and then the Scourge of God. But all is not as it seems. We visited the Khagan in 1960, five years after completion, placing Conquest in his coffin. We found the Scourge who guards the true last judgment. And the only kill code is when the Horsemen arose. The Father’s bones are unmarked. The Indian is surrounded by guns. The Order of the Last Judgment now live through you, and will forever reign supreme.’”
She finished and took a drink.
“All right? It makes more sense now, I guess. The Order are dead, long gone, but there’s still some small element of them in on this. Maybe a mole. A loner. Maybe something else. But he’s good enough to hack that Dallas lab, and good enough to take a whole lot of Special Forces down, so we can’t underestimate that.”
She paused as Drake waved. “Yeah?”
“You know the best place for him to be?” he said. “Inside the think tank in DC. Or working for the NSA.”
Hayden’s eyes widened. “Crap, that’s a real good point. Let me think on it.” She poured black coffee from a glass jug.
“Time flies, my friends,” Mai said.
“Yeah, I’m with you.” Hayden gulped down a mouthful. “Breaking the text down then: the last corner of the earth is Europe. We have to find the tomb of the Scourge of God, who is the Horseman of Death and guards the true last judgment. The worst of all. And the kill code being when the Horsemen arose? I don’t understand that as yet, sorry.”
“I guess the think tank has been on this a while?” Yorgi said.
Lauren now spoke up from her position leaning against the enormous fridge. “Sure have. An ancient leader was once labeled with the questionable title ‘Flagellum dei’, by the Romans that he fought and murdered. He was probably the most successful of the barbarian rulers, and attacked the east and west Roman empires when he lived circa 406–453. He was the most feared enemy of Rome and once quoted: ‘There, where I have passed, the grass will never grow again.’”
“Another aggrandized, ancient mass murderer,” Dahl said.
“Attila the Hun,” Lauren said, “murdered his brother in 434 to become sole ruler of the Huns. Notorious for his fierce gaze, Attila was known to roll his eyes often ‘as if to enjoy the terror he inspired’ according to Edward Gibbon, a historian. He also reputedly claimed to own the actual sword of Mars, the Roman god of war. You can imagine the fear and horror this might inspire on the Roman battlefield.”
“We get it,” Drake said. “Attila was a bad, or good, boy depending on which side you were on. And who wrote the history books. How and where did he die?”
“Several conflicting accounts describe how he died. From a nosebleed to a knife, at the hand of his new wife. When they found his body the men, as was the custom of the Huns, plucked the hair from their heads and cut deep, hideous wounds in their faces. It was said that Attila, being so terrible an enemy, had his death announced by the gods as a fantastic windfall. A blessing. His body was put in place at the center of a vast plain, inside a silken tent, for all to see and admire. The best horsemen of the tribes rode around and around in circles and spoke over campfires of his great exploits. His was a great death. It goes on to say a celebration was enjoyed over his tomb.” Lauren continued to repeat the pertinent points DC whispered into her ears. There was no point setting up a speaker.
“They sealed his coffins with gold, silver and iron, for he had three. And they believed these three materials befitted the greatest of all kings. Of course, arms, riches and rare gems were added. And, also as custom it seems, they slew everyone that labored on his grave to keep its site a secret.”
Alicia glared around the table. “One of you dies,” she said. “Don’t be asking me to bury you. Not a friggin’ chance.”
“You’ll be both unhappy and glad to hear Attila’s tomb is one of the greatest lost burial sites in history. Of course, from some of the others — King Richard III’s long-missing body turning up under a parking lot in Leicester a few years ago — we have faith that they can still be found. Cleopatra, maybe? Sir Francis Drake? Mozart? Anyway, as for Attila’s it is believed that the Hun engineers diverted the Tisza River long enough to dry up the main river bed. Attila was buried there in his magnificent, priceless triple coffin. The Tisza was then freed, concealing Attila for all time.”
At that moment they heard the sound of an approaching helicopter. Hayden swept her eyes around the room.
“I hope you’re ready for another fight, boys and girls, because this ain’t nowhere near finished yet.”
Drake stretched aching muscles. Dahl steadied his head on his shoulders. Kenzie winced when she touched the scrape down her back.
“To be fair,” Drake said. “I was getting bored here anyway.”
Hayden smiled. Dahl nodded as best he could. Mai was already on her feet. Lauren headed for the door.
“C’mon,” she said. “They’re gonna brief us more on the way.”
“Europe?” Yorgi asked.
“Yeah. And to the final Horseman of Death.”
Alicia jumped off the barstool. “Great pep-talk,” she said sarcastically. “You make it sound so thrilling, even my toes are starting to tingle.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Another flight, another struggle on the horizon. Drake settled into the comfortable seat and listened as Lauren voiced DC’s judgments and findings on the case of Attila the Hun. The team sat around in varying poses, taking in what they could and trying to shrug off the hurt after the newly named ‘Olga incident.’
“Attila’s grave lost to history,” Lauren recapped. “Never found, although there have been a few bogus discoveries. Now—” she paused, listening “—have you heard of a gravitational anomaly?”
Dahl looked over. “There is more than one meaning to that term.”