“Okay,” their boss said. “It’s better than what Lauren initially thought. Who’s up for a trip to the Hellespont?”
Alicia sighed. “Sounds perfect for this bloody team. Sign me up.”
First in helicopters and then speedboats, the SPEAR team approached the Dardanelles. The sun was already sinking toward the horizon, the light transforming from a bright orb to a panoramic backcloth to a horizontal slash. Drake found the bumpy ride barely changed between modes of transport and found time to wonder how the pilots made it safely through the day. Alicia, at his side aboard the chopper, made her feelings a little clearer.
“Hey, people, do ya think this dude’s trying to kill us?”
Kinimaka, buckled in tight and grasping as many spare straps as he could hold, spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m pretty sure he thinks they bounce.”
Comms were fully operational and open. Silence filled the air as they team checked their CIA-supplied weapons. The usual suspects, Drake found, which included Glocks, HKs, combat knives, and a various assortment of grenades. Night vision tools had also been provided. In just a few minutes Hayden began to speak over the comms.
“Okay people, time to face another, more personal aspect of this mission. The competing teams. CIA still says it’s six, so let’s be thankful it ain’t a lot more. The Alexandria cell are being fed information constantly, a drip-feed from CIA cells all around the world, from the NSA and undercovers. They’re passing on any pertinent facts to me—”
“If it suits their interests,” Kenzie put in.
Hayden coughed. “I realize you’ve had bad experiences with government agencies and the CIA do get a bad press, but I did use to work for them. And I, at least, did my job right. They have an entire nation to protect. Rest assured I’ll pass the facts on to you.”
“I wonder what’s blowing her skirt up,” Alicia whispered over the comms. “Sure as hell ain’t anything good.”
Kenzie stared over at her. “What could be good that blows your skirt up?”
“I dunno.” Alicia blinked quickly. “Johnny Depp’s mouth?”
Hayden cleared her throat and continued. “Six Special Forces teams. Hard to say who’s sympathetic and who’s downright hostile. Do not assume. We must treat everyone as an enemy. Not one of the countries we know to be involved are acknowledging it. I realize you may know some of these guys, but the song remains the same.”
As Hayden paused, Drake wondered about the British contingent. The SAS had quite a few regiments and he’d been gone many years but still, the world of ultra-elite soldiery was not exactly a large one. Hayden was right to bring up potential confrontations and reservations now rather than be surprised by them in the field. Dahl might wonder about the Swedish contingent and Kenzie the Israeli one. Good job there wasn’t a conventional American presence.
“I can’t see China being friendly,” he said. “Nor Russia.”
“At this rate,” Mai said, staring out of the window. “They’ll be shapes in the dark.”
“Do we have an idea of each country’s current position?” Dahl asked.
“Yeah, I was coming to that. As far as we can tell the Swedes are hours away. The French are still at home. Mossad are the closest, very close.”
“Of course,” Dahl said. “Nobody really knows where they’re going.”
Drake coughed lightly. “Trying to make excuses for Sweden’s shoddy attempt?”
“Now you sound like Eurovision. And nobody mentioned Britain. Where are they? Still brewing a pot of tea?” Dahl lifted a pretend cup, little finger sticking out at an angle.
It was a fair point. “Well, Sweden probably started back to front.”
“At least they started.”
“Guys,” Hayden cut in. “Don’t forget we’re a part of this too. And Washington expect us to win.”
Drake grunted. Dahl grinned. Smyth looked up when Lauren started speaking.
“An interesting aside to all this, is that some of these countries are vehemently protesting any involvement. Of course, there’s always a high bullshit level, but we could be dealing with some rogue elements too.”
“Off the books? Splinter groups?” Kinimaka asked.
“That’s a possibility.”
“Just brings us back to the main brief,” Hayden said. “Everyone’s a hostile.”
Drake wondered what Smyth might be thinking about her statement. Back in Cusco, Joshua had been a hostile, but because his death hadn’t been sanctioned by the government and their stay had been in flux, contested, nobody knew what would happen. The man’s death had been an accident, but fueled by inattention and over-eagerness. Yes, he was a parasite and a murderer, but the circumstances were different.
After the chopper they filled the boats. Wearing black and with faces camouflaged, bouncing smoothly across the waters of the Hellespont, darkness finally filled the night. The route they chose was empty, the lights twinkling beyond the far shore. The Hellespont was an important channel that forms part of the boundary between Europe and Asia. A narrow strait, its northern shores harbored Gallipoli whilst most of its other boundaries were relatively sparsely settled. As they skimmed across the waters, Hayden and Lauren used the comms.
“Hannibal never had a tomb, not even a grave marker. After an illustrious career this legendary general died almost alone, poisoned in old age. So, how do you find an unmarked grave?”
Drake looked up as Lauren paused. Was she asking them?
Smyth went gamely for a solution. “Sonar?”
“It’s possible, but you would have to have a pretty good idea of where to look,” Dahl answered.
“They found an obscure document, a matter of record yes, but lost in time,” Hayden said. “The fate of Hannibal has always galled those that loved the hero who stood against Roman imperialism. One such man was the President of Tunisia, who visited Istanbul in the sixties. During this visit the only thing he wanted was to be able to take the remains of Hannibal back to Tunisia with him. Nothing else mattered. The Turks eventually relented somewhat and took him on a little trip.”
“The sixties?” Dahl said. “Wasn’t this when the war criminals started devising their nasty little plan?”
“Most likely.” Hayden said. “After they settled in Cuba and established new lives. Their new Order then continued for almost twenty years.”
“Plenty of time to get devious,” Alicia said.
“And to choose their Four Horsemen,” Mai added. “Hannibal — the Horseman of War? Makes sense. But who the hell are Conquest, Famine and Death? And why is the Dardanelles in Africa one of the four corners of the earth?”
“Good point,” Alicia backed Mai, causing Drake to double-take. “You need to get that little thinking cap back on, Foxy.”
Lauren smiled. Drake could tell by the tone of her voice. “So the Turks, particularly embarrassed by their own lack of respect for Hannibal, took the Tunisian president to a spot on the Hellespont. It reads ‘on a hill where there is a dilapidated building.’ This is the reputed resting place of Hannibal Barca.”
Drake waited, but no more information was forthcoming. “Still,” he said, “that was thirty years ago.”
“It stood that long,” Lauren said, “and the Turks no doubt post some kind of honor guard.”
Drake looked dubious. “Could just be an honor grave, truth be told.”
“They took the President of Tunisia there, Matt. He even took away vials of sand, attested by his bodyguards, vouchsafing them as ‘sand from Hannibal’s gravesite’ on his return home. In that situation, in that year, would the Turks really have hoodwinked the Tunisian President?”
Drake nodded ahead to the approaching dark curve of the coastline. “We’re about to find out.”