Dudley stretched his clearly aching body. “We’ll be counting on it, bitch. Counting down the days. And next time, yer’d best bring some real men.”
“Then go.” Hayden, with her body starting to relax and the adrenalin seeping away, was trying hard not to see double. “Before I change my mind.”
Dudley’s brother was walking away from the pile of tablets, machine gun trained upon them. “Whadya say, brother?”
“Make a bleedin’ mess, Malachi. Yer know yer want to.”
Dudley’s brother grinned, but Hayden suddenly rose to her feet. “No! Stop. You destroy one of those tablets and the deal’s off!”
Her three colleagues rose to stand at her side, weapons reacquired. Dudley blinked as he regarded them.
“Mexican standoff, eh? Well, we did get the rubbings too, and it’ll sure help yer’s find us again, right?”
Hayden squinted. “Yeah, whatever you said. If it helps you run away then just go.”
The Irishmen backed off, covering the Americans the entire time. No more words were passed and by the time they were alone, Hayden was crouched down in front of the tablets.
“Go make sure they leave without killing anyone else,” she told Smyth and Komodo. “And send the backup down here when it finally arrives. We need to secure these tablets and find out what they say.”
Kinimaka laid a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Barely, Mano. Barely. I guess that’s another life gone. One of these days I’m gonna find I ran out.”
“Don’t say that. And besides, we run out together. You got me?”
Hayden found herself smiling. “I got you.”
Kinimaka crouched down at her side, an arm now draped over her shoulder. His left knee struck a precarious tablet, sending it crashing to the floor. Luckily, though cracking from side to side, the object stayed in place.
“Shit.”
“I guess some things just never change.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Since the SPEAR team found and brought the tombs of the gods to the attention of the world, unearthing a language expert had never been a problem for them. Several were still employed on translating the writings found and photographed in the tombs, chief among them Torsten Dahl’s good friend, Olle Akerman. The Swedish language expert had proven to be fluent in old Akkadian, Sumerian, Babylonian and even the Nu Shu of ancient China, so Hayden wondered how he might fare with the lost language of the lost kingdom of Mu.
With the nightmare logistical problem of guarding two thousand six hundred tablets, organizing an approaching force of two hundred men, the SPEAR team’s widespread distribution, and Olle Akerman being in Sweden at that time, Hayden parked her butt in a tiny office and thought about what to do.
Tylenol was the first order of the day, followed by an entire bottle of water. Hayden sat in the dark, trying to steady her head. The facility’s employees had been found, three locked in a room with bruises to most parts of their bodies, two security guards murdered with shocking brute force, and six other workers in the far-flung reaches of the vault who had no idea what was going on. The most promising development was that Steel Mountain’s boss had been located and told them that the Niven Tablets had actually been photographed years ago, the prints archived. He was currently searching them out.
Hayden checked her watch. Forty five minutes had passed since Dudley escaped. That meant that the Pythians — she assumed — now owned the Peking Man and also a potential map to the lost kingdom of Mu. Their endgame and purpose, however, still remained a mystery. Was Mu a link to Atlantis? Was it, by itself, worth as much to China alone? Did it even exist? The Americans had been searching for Mu fifty years ago. Why did they stop — simply because a ship had been sunk? At the time, Hayden imagined, tensions must have been so very high between the countries involved that prudence would have come into immediate effect. Thousands of people died aboard the Awa Maru, and it wasn’t until twenty years later that even the Chinese decided to try salvaging the vessel.
Her first decision was made. Olle Akerman had come through before and would undoubtedly be delighted to hear about an undecipherable language. Hayden placed the call.
“Hello? Ja? Who is this?” Olle answered immediately, his voice loud as if he stood right next to her.
“Olle, it’s Hayden Jaye. I hope you remember me.”
“Ja, ja. Of course, how could I forget? I follow the world for your exploits. I wish I was following you right now. Ha ha.”
Same old Akerman. Hayden remembered how he used to tease Dahl about his wife. She launched into a full explanation for her call, missing nothing out. Akerman listened intently, not interrupting.
“What do you think, Olle?”
“Of course I have heard of the Niven Tablets. They are famous, considered a hoax. But a very good hoax. So many tablets, so elaborately constructed. Why go to so much trouble? Why not stop at a thousand tablets or even five hundred? Recent years and events have taught us that old artefacts once considered anomalies, inexplicable, or clever pranks, may actually be genuine. Indeed, as science advances so do the unexplainable mysteries it gives rise to. I thought everyone had forgotten the tablets.”
Hayden shrugged in the dark. “I believe they had.”
“But not these — what do you say — Pythians? They remembered, eh? Even knew where to find them. Ja? So where are the tablets now?”
Hayden didn’t answer for a moment, thinking that Akerman had uncovered a rather sore point there. How had the Pythians known where both the Peking Man and the Niven Tablets were stored?
“They’re with me. Here. At Steel Mountain. The warden is digging out a set of old prints.”
Akerman fell silent before coming to a decision. “Ja. Well, this is what I think you should do. This Mu, it is no different to Atlantis. A myth or an ancient, dead civilization. All gone. But clearly, if you are hunting Atlantis — or Mu — you need an expert’s view. I have a friend in Washington — one David Daccus — who will be able to help. I believe he wrote a paper on both Mu and the tablets and is also a language expert, though not in my class of course. In any discipline.”
Hayden caught his drift. “Olle, you’re sixty three.”
“Give me the chance, my dear, and I’ll show you how a lifetime’s experience improves one’s… virility.”
Hayden couldn’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling a little horrified. “Give me his number, Olle. And go take a cold shower.”
The Swede found Daccus’ contact details and signed off. Hayden placed her next call and put Daccus on alert as she awaited the arrival of the prints. Kinimaka reported that they’d located an industrial scanner in the vault’s main office along with several other modern accoutrements. Hayden paused a moment longer, savoring the peace and the dark and the quiet. But the world always moved on. It moved millisecond by millisecond, minute by minute, hour by hour. But it always moved on.
And danger befalls those who didn’t move with it.
Once the many prints had been fed through the scanner, compressed into a file, and sent to David Daccus; once the vault had been secured; Hayden thought about returning to Washington. It was late — or more accurately very early; and her team was worn out. Back at base Karin was manning the communications, giving Hayden’s team the entire flight home to relax. Once they arrived, Hayden had no trouble directing everyone straight to the Pentagon. There would be no returning to their apartments or houses just yet.
Hayden guessed about three hours had passed. She wondered how Daccus was faring with the tablets, how Drake was proceeding in Japan. She wondered why she viewed her little attached office differently, as if searching for small things amiss. Of course, they were inside the damn Pentagon. What could be amiss?