Drake remembered his immediate awe. “Sure.”
“Believe me when I say we are discovering treasures equal to or surpassing even that almost every day. But something more mundane caught my eye this morning, mainly because it reminded me of you.”
Drake stepped into a narrow alleyway to better hear the Swede. “Reminds you of me? Did you find Hercules?”
“No. But we did find markings on the walls of every niche of the tomb. They were hidden behind the treasures so weren’t apparent at first.”
Drake coughed. “Markings?”
“They matched the picture you sent me.”
It took Drake a moment and then a bolt of lightning struck his heart. “Wait. You mean exactly like the picture I sent? The picture of the whorls we found on the time-displacement devices?”
“Thought that would get you biting, my friend. Yes, those markings- or whorls, as you say.”
Drake was momentarily at a loss for words. If the markings in the Tomb of the Gods matched the markings they had found on the ancient displacement devices, then that meant they were from the same era.
Drake spoke through a bone-dry mouth. “That means—”
But Torsten Dahl had already thought it through. “That the gods made the devices for the purpose of travelling through time. If you think it through, it makes perfect sense. We know from what we found in Odin’s tomb that they existed. Now we know how they manipulated the course of time.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Blood King stood at the edge of his small preserve, watching a few of his Bengal tigers stalk a small deer that had been loosed for them. His emotions were torn. On the one hand, it felt good to own and observe at leisure one of the greatest killing machines the planet had ever produced. On the other — it was a crying shame they should be held captive. They deserved more.
Not like his human captives. They deserved what they were about to get.
Boudreau.
The Blood King turned as he heard a number of people trudging through the grass. “Mr. Boudreau,” he grated. “How was CIA detention?”
The man came to a stop several yards away, affording him the respect he demanded but facing him without fear. “Tougher than I had imagined,” he admitted. “Thank you for the quiet extraction.”
The Blood King paused. He sensed the tigers at his back, stalking the terrified deer. The deer would squeal and run, overwhelmed by terror, unable to stare its own death in the eye. Boudreau wasn’t like that. The Blood King gave him a measure of respect.
“Did Matt Drake best you?”
“The CIA was more resourceful than I gave them credit for. That’s all.”
“You do know that if it were me holding the gun, your sister’s death would not have been faked.”
Boudreau’s silence showed he understood.
“The time has come for action,” the Blood King said. “I need someone to destroy the other ranches. The ones on Kauai and the Big Island. Can you do that for me?”
The man he had ordered to be saved from lifelong detention suddenly looked hopeful. “That I can do.”
“You must kill every hostage. Every man, woman and child. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Blood King leaned forward. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”
The Blood King betrayed no outward emotion, but was pleased. Boudreau was his most competent fighter and commander. It was good he remained so loyal.
“Go prepare yourself then. Await your instructions.”
His men led the American away and the Blood King motioned for one man to wait behind. It was Claude, the overseer of his Oahu ranch.
“As I said, Claude, the time has come. You are ready, yes?”
“All is prepared. How long should we hold out?”
“You will hold out until you are dead,” the Blood King rasped. “Then your debt to me will be paid. You are part of the distraction. Only a small part, granted, but your sacrifice will be worth it.”
His Oahu overseer stayed silent.
“Does this bother you?”
“No. No, sir.”
“That’s good. And once we have their focus on the ranches, you will unleash the local island cells. It is I who will be going through the Gates of Hell, but Hawaii will burn.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The private CIA jet cruised along at thirty-nine thousand feet. Matt Drake rattled the ice in his empty glass and cracked the seal to another miniature whisky. He had positioned himself alone at the back of the plane in the hope they might respect his solitude. But the constant sideways glances and furious whispers told him the ‘welcome back’ wagon would stop alongside him soon.
And the whisky hadn’t even started to take the edge off yet.
Hayden sat across the aisle from him, Kinimaka at her side. Despite the nature of his mission, the Hawaiian seemed quite cheerful about the return to his homeland. His family was being carefully guarded, but the ever-optimistic giant seemed quite certain he would still get chance to see them.
Hayden was talking to Jonathan Gates by sat-phone. “Three more? That makes twenty-one captives, sir. Well, yes, I’m sure there are more than that. And no location yet. Thank you.”
Hayden broke the connection and hung her head. “I can’t talk to him anymore. How do you talk to a man whose wife was just murdered? What do you say?”
Drake watched her. It took a moment but then she turned a haunted look toward him. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t think. So much going on.”
Drake nodded and drained the glass. “Shouldn’t Gates be taking a leave of absence?”
“The situation’s too volatile.” Hayden clicked the phone against her knee. “In a war no one gets to take a back seat.”
Drake smiled at the irony. “I didn’t think Hawaii was that big.”
“You mean why haven’t they found at least one of his ranches yet? Well, it isn’t big. But there’s an awful lot of tough forest, hillsides and valleys out there. The ranches are probably camouflaged too. And the Blood King’s prepared for us. Washington seems to think the locals will help us more than outright manpower.”
Drake raised an eyebrow. “Surprisingly, they’re probably right. Which is where our friendly giant comes in.”
Mano gave him a big unselfconscious grin. “I do know a large portion of the population of Honolulu.”
There was a blur and Ben Blake was suddenly at his side. Drake stared at the young man. It was the first time they’d seen each other properly since Kennedy had died. A wealth of emotion rose inside him, which he quickly squashed and covered up by taking another drink.
“It all happened so quick, mate. There was nothing I could do. She saved me but… but I couldn’t save her.”
“I don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault.”
“But you left.”
Drake was looking at Karin, Ben’s sister, who was staring at her brother with angry eyes. They’d obviously discussed Ben’s rash move and he’d gone against the grain. Drake cracked another whisky and sat back, his gaze fixed. “About a thousand years ago I joined the SAS. The world’s best fighting force. There’s a reason they’re the best, Ben. Among other things, it’s because they’re hard men. Ruthless. Killers. They are not like the Matt Drake you know. Or even like the Matt Drake who looked for the bones of Odin. That Matt Drake wasn’t SAS. He was a civilian.”
“And now?”
“Whilst the Blood King is alive and the Vendetta still exists, I can’t be the civilian. No matter how much I want to be.”
Ben looked away. “I get that.”
Drake was surprised. He half-turned as Ben stood up and walked back to his seat. Maybe the young lad was starting to grow up.
If the last three months hadn’t accelerated that process, nothing ever would.