CHAPTER FOUR
Tyler Webb studied the walls of his new HQ. Granted, they were further apart than those of the previous one but no way did they hold the same appeal. The view for a start — all he could see out of the eighth-story window was another well-lit office block, and then another, bland and nondescript, but entirely necessary since the Pythians had relinquished their Niagara Falls nerve center.
Washington DC, though?
Webb headed over to the window, angling his neck. To be fair the view did have its charms the lower you looked. The scurrying worker ants were out on the streets and scuttling around their offices, wasting their lives away. How many of them knew his name? How many knew of the Pythians? His guess — a hell of a lot. The smile stretched across his face unbidden, uninhibited.
Yes they had lost the first round, but could life really be any better? This HQ was the second of twelve he’d prepared in this country alone. He stood and watched and ate and slept among his enemies, at their very heart.
Just where he wanted to be.
And even more interestingly… three Pythians were dead. Webb couldn’t help but giggle. Who would have bet on that? General Stone, Robert Norris and Miranda Le Brun had all met their makers during the Pandora project. And if it wasn’t for Beauregard Alain, Webb himself might be in some very sticky substance.
But that wasn’t strictly true, he had engineered the Beauregard moment, craved it with all his black heart and decayed soul. That face to face with his enemies? It had been worth all the risk and the deaths that preceded it. Touché, Drake. And Alicia Myles, Torsten Dahl and Hayden Jaye. I bet I’m already worming my way into your deepest thoughts, aren’t I?
Delicious. Like warm sunshine on a cold day. It heated his entire body to a quiet frenzy.
So how did they find the last HQ? The returning chopper that he had intentionally recalled? Or General Stone? Not wanting to take any risks, and still dubious about the General’s shady decisions during the Pandora campaign, Webb had used Beauregard to take him out. Nicholas Bell had agreed wholeheartedly to the plan, but then he’d had his fill of the General’s vanity. Their other surviving member was Clifford Bay-Dale, the privileged son-of-a-bitch, but also rather fortuitously the only other Pythian with a plan already in motion.
And what a plan! Webb mused. Better even than the Pandora project. If they pulled this one off they would have, without exclusion, access to American military codes and access cards, power utilities and aviation networks, even financial companies. Cyber hacking was the way to shut down the entire US infrastructure.
Excited, he tried to quell the feeling. A long way to go yet. And mysteries to be unearthed. He was particularly happy to be hunting for this one — a lost kingdom. It evoked ideas of Atlantis, Hyperborea, even Thule though he held no love for the Nazis and their crusades. It made him wonder what else might be out there if they only knew where to look.
A soft chime interrupted his musings. He turned around. Two monitors sprang to life at the appointed hour; two faces stared back at him.
“We are the Pythians,” he said.
“We are the Pythians,” Nicholas Bell and Clifford Bay-Dale repeated earnestly.
“Good to be back,” Webb said, allowing a small laugh to escape. “I trust you are both secure?”
“It was fuckin’ hairy there for a while,” the wealthy builder said in typical crass style.
Bay-Dale only nodded and winced a little.
Webb continued, “We’ll come to you in a moment, Clifford, and your lost kingdom offering. I must say already, though, that I am intrigued by the potential outcome. Our power struggle with the best of the world’s governments has only just begun. How nice it would be to end it with but a single stroke.”
Bay-Dale again nodded, saying nothing, the supercilious oaf.
Webb ignored the potential affront. “New primary members. Clearly, we are three Pythians short. The balance should be redressed immediately and taken from the First Degree pool. My primary member, Lucas Monroe, should be drafted in along with Zoe Sheers, an offering from Nicholas who has been fully vetted and approved. We need one more candidate.”
He stopped, giving Bay-Dale a moment to catch up.
“Oh, you are asking me? Well, I haven’t given it much thought. Been busy with all the lost kingdom arrangements, you know?”
“Do you need a pass on this one?”
“A pass? Really? Is it that important?”
Webb took an extremely deep breath, turning away for a brief moment. “We can manage with five for now.”
“Oh, excellent. That wasn’t so difficult. I’ll have to take your word on Sheers and Monroe though I’d ideally have preferred to vet them myself,” Bay-Dale paused for a breath as if sensing Webb’s outrage and rejoicing in it. “And so to the Lost Kingdom. To recap, we know Mu to be an Atlantis-level find, at least to the Chinese, and that is what matters here. Efforts are being redoubled, though very little has come to light as yet.”
“Not surprising since it’s been lost for eight thousand years,” Bell put in.
“Beyond what we already know,” Bay-Dale added pointedly. “Now, once the Niven Tablets are found we will have an easier time of it. And that… other thing?” He looked steadily toward the screen.
Webb nodded. “Dudley has made contact. He is not only alive, but free and offering what he calls the aid of ‘the craziest, nastiest gang of motherfuckers ever to die young’. Seven of them, the 27-Club. They freed him, apparently.”
“Can we trust them?” Bay-Dale asked.
Webb almost fell off his chair. The naivety of this man! He almost said, “About as much as I’d trust you with my energy bill,” but thought better of it. Energy firms and bosses were, quite rightly, taking the brunt of people’s anger these days now that the investment bankers had again crawled back into the shadows. Hitting a sore nerve would do nothing to further their cause now.
“No. Not for a second. But, incredibly I’ve actually heard of this crazy gang. Not a single man among them can be called a full shilling and together, they’re as potent as Southern Cross Red vodka, 100 percent proof. They’re perfect fodder to hit both vaults don’t you think?”
“Ah, yes. Killing may be required. And then we can send them to Taiwan for the most dangerous job of all. Assuming Mu ends up being where we think it is.”
“Everything points that way,” Bell said. “And it’s where the US sub was spotted in 1941.”
Bay-Dale smiled ruthlessly. “Spotted? Ha! But don’t forget, Webb, Taiwan will be the trickiest, most delicate operation of all. And I don’t necessarily mean the bombs. I mean our careful manufacturing of an outbreak of war between that country and China.”
“Yes, you can be sure Dudley won’t be involved in that process,” Webb said with a smile. “Finding Mu will mean everything to China, it will change its history, and will cement our future even beyond what it is now.”
“So we’re going straight for the vaults,” Bell said. “Will it be known as a Pythian operation? I’m assuming there will be casualties if Dudley’s involved.”
“Is that a problem for you, Nicholas?” Webb still harbored misgivings as to the builder’s total commitment.
“No, no,” Bell said hastily. “Just wondering if our name would be gaining even more notoriety.”
“The answer is in your own words.”
“Of course it is. And the first vault we’re robbing — it is the Peking Man, yes?”