And then Bodie heard it.
The shrieking horn of an approaching train.
Bodie felt raw fear, not only for himself but for the passengers on board. They would have no clue as to what was coming and had set about their business in all innocence today. Unable to help them he chose to help himself, sliding again down the rock pile, ignoring the bumps and rasps and scratches, skimming the side until he hit the bottom.
Down here, the house looked a long way up. The train’s brakes were screeching, the horn still blaring. Bodie saw its lights coming along the track, speeding straight for the blockage. He had come down on the wrong side of the pile then, the dangerous side.
The train sped at him. Bodie moved away from the rock pile as several more lumps cascaded down all around him and bounced away. An entire wall must have caved in then, for a tumbling cascade plunged down, the noise nightmarish and deafening. Bodie found himself pushed toward the train even as it rushed at him.
Brakes burned hotly. The screech was a death knell, a keening cry of desperation. The light became blinding. Bodie didn’t want to turn away, just shield his eyes. His new thought was to turn and run back to the pile, try to run up to get away from the train’s impact, maybe even jump onto its roof.
But it was too close.
It was upon him.
And then stopping, brakes holding, drifting closer and closer until he had to take two steps back and its front end rested against his chest, the rock pile pushing up behind.
Desperately, he squeezed out and edged his way down the side, ignoring all the scared faces pressed to the window, found a ledge and used it to clamber atop the roof.
That way, resting dazedly atop the underground train, he waited for rescue.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Hours later the team were nearing Olympia, Greece, with Heidi Moneymaker back in the mix.
“So,” the CIA operative said into an unusual quiet that pervaded the government jet. “Are we all rested?”
Bodie was laid half-reclined, arms and legs supported, staring up at the ceiling. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Cassidy filled the silence for them all. “Hard day at the office, Frizzball.”
“Y’know,” Heidi said. “Assigned by anyone else I would take that moniker as an insult. But spoken by you, I can tell it’s not meant to be derogative. It’s just you.”
“Of course,” Cassidy said a bit surprised. “I don’t need to insult. There’s no agenda.”
“I know.”
Bodie didn’t move, but spoke up at the faux leather-lined roof. “Talk to us about that journal.”
“It’s genuine.” Heidi held it in her hands. “It’s concise. And it’s sad.”
Jeff was seated beside her. “I read it. Gunn too. The Illuminati didn’t keep it for any other reason than they are the dreadful, gloating scum of the earth Agent Moneymaker here has always said they were.” He stopped as his voice rose more octaves than he was comfortable with.
Gunn joined in. “For once, I agree with Jeff. They’re hideous.”
Cassidy was at Bodie’s side, nursing every muscle and with ice-packs strapped to at least three. “Give us the gist of it, boys.”
“We know much of it,” Jeff began. “Roland Hunt, our 1900s archaeologist, got wind of something big. He didn’t know what it was. He pursued it anyway, followed his nose and the rumors flying around a very small world of relic examiners back then, and ended up in Liege, where there stands a large statue of the one and only, Charlemagne.”
“Our French king?” Bodie said, still prone.
“Yep. Hunt states that the closer he got, the more details emerged although every scrap was mere rumor. Hunt was a terrier, a real go-getter. He rode the rumor down until it died kicking. The story coming together was that the Illuminati were much older than anyone gave them credit before, created in time immemorial and the forerunner of every single secret organization that came after. Charlemagne was a member of this group and came into possession of the Statue of Zeus sometime during his reign, which he was able to secrete at one of his many country houses. After his death the statue was removed and stored underneath that very statue in Liege, where it stayed for a thousand years. They built an underground viewing room and a secret tunnel to come and go undetected. They are the epitome of sneaky, these Illuminati.”
Whilst Jeff paused for breath Gunn continued: “All right, people. So Roland Hunt learned the statue was removed from Liege and taken somewhere at the behest of the new Illuminati leader of the time. Hunt chased and tracked it down, following clues and people to Bavaria, York and London. Later, he thought it would be good to leave waypoints at these places to help any who may follow.”
“He saw his own death coming then?” Jemma asked.
“In a manner of speaking. Hunt tracked the statue all the way to Olympia only to be caught by the order, or their Hoods, and imprisoned. It was decided that they couldn’t trust his assurances that he had told no one of his mission, so they found his family, put a herd of men into the village they lived in, and told Hunt if he ever declared the truth his wife and daughters would die very horribly.”
Cassidy bit her lips. “Shit, of course they did.”
“They kept his journal, but they let Hunt live,” Jeff continued. “Live with all he knew and knowing there was nothing he could do about it — as a terrible lesson to him. Because they could. In the end, as he grew old and infirm, they poisoned him — a final message that his life was theirs to play with — so Hunt spent his final hours traveling to Olympia and making the map which, on his deathbed, he buried in the ruins of one of the ancient temples, confident that it would be found at some point in the future. The Illuminati, of course, never knew. His family continued unaware… and here we stand.”
Bodie thought it through slowly as the jet engines rumbled. “A classic case of the underdog never giving up. Captured, he lives on. Cowed, he seeks a way to sneak the waypoints into the Illuminati lodges and makes a map. Dying, he thinks to conceal it where it will be found. It would be inspiring if it weren’t so sad.”
The jet flew on, the team discussing their options as they flew toward an ancient lost prize and a world-shattering confrontation. Bodie questioned their numbers and Heidi announced she had two Special Ops teams on the way.
“Rangers,” she said. “Army Rangers.”
Bodie knew enough about the US military to be impressed. “At least you’re taking it seriously now.”
Heidi smiled grimly. “I requested more. This is what’s available. Fucking suits and their military politicking will have America on its knees before long.”
“Always been the same,” Cross said. “They’re happy to cry for dead troops but cut the purse strings that might save them.”
“Ah yes, I’d forgotten you’re ex-military.”
“Through and through, young lady. Through and through.”
“The journal,” Bodie cut in. “Is there more?”
“Hunt’s final words center on the Statue of Zeus,” Jeff said. “The ancient wonder that changed his life. Destroyed his life, some would say. The day he traced it was both the best and worst day of his archaeological career. To find a stolen ancient wonder of the world and then be captured and subdued by its owners had to be heartbreaking. The last passage is a description of the final path to the hidden lair of the Illuminati king.”