Drake feigned alarm. “Just like that?”
Dahl growled at him. “Don’t start.”
Alicia helped herself to a beer. “Alright, Torsty. Well, I guess your trip wasn’t a total washout. It’s certain now — there’s another way to activate that device, and you can be damn sure Cayman’s on to it, as well as whoever’s controlling that fruit bat. But the nine parts were all destroyed.” She stared at Dahl. “Weren’t they?”
“Absolutely. Blown to hell.”
“Well, we don’t know where Cayman is. We don’t know who or where his boss is. We don’t know the rest of the translation,” Hayden said. “I say we stick to the plan and go after the swords.”
Drake stood up. “Ready an’ willing. Let’s thrash this out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Russell Cayman was flown by private jet to Honolulu, landing on a rough airstrip somewhere north of the city. As the airplane banked over the famous shoreline of Waikiki Beach, he stared down at the wealth of hotels; the rainbow-striped ones, the pink ones, the high-rise ones, and, beyond them across the golden sands, all the way to Diamond Head itself. The old crater jutted out from the landscape as if proclaiming its importance. Deep rooted in Hawaiian legend, none could have guessed as to the shocking significance of the ancient myths buried within.
Cayman was alone on the plane. Alone apart from the pilot and a small rucksack that took pride of place on the seat next to him. The rucksack was well-padded and the item within carefully wrapped. Cayman sat with his left hand resting atop it, his fingers within, touching the outer packaging of the object.
Kali’s smallest right hand finger, whole. The pinkie of her left hand he had already hidden within the Icelandic tomb. He had slipped in and out, posing as a translator and using the dead man’s I.D., coming unstuck only when a chance meeting occurred with someone who knew him. Cayman couldn’t even remember the old man’s face, but saw the recognition and fear in those eyes. He gave chase, but the old man knew the tomb like the back of his hand. No way could Cayman find him and maintain his ultimate cover, so he planted the bone and left. Zak Block would never know.
Now, as the plane skidded to a bumpy halt, Cayman made ready to disembark. He had seen no sign of Block’s mercenary ‘cells’ in Iceland, but the leader of the Shadow Elite had recently assured him that two cells had now entered Honolulu, and were just getting into place. They would help Cayman if they could, but their chief directive was to infiltrate and wait for Block.
Cayman drove toward the city. Diamond Head grew larger ahead, the ocean to his left sparkling and dotted with swimmers and surfers as the sun began to set, swelling across the horizon. He circumvented the extinct volcano, finally parking the car out of sight near one of the fenced off entry points to one of Oahu’s many lava tubes. They all led to Diamond Head, but this one especially had been pinpointed as leading indirectly to the trap system below. Cayman strapped Kali to his back, picked up another bag full of the tools he would need and set off. Neither of the Hawaiian cells had been in touch yet, so he had to believe he was on his own.
Cayman cut through the wire at the back of the compound, the most unobtrusive place, then fixed it back up with wire ties. Not perfect, but good enough for the time he would need. He climbed on to the roof of the small building and carefully swiveled the CCTV camera until its lens pointed away from the door. Again, not perfect, but kids and youths broke into these places all the time, and Cayman only needed a few hours. He jumped to the ground and within seconds was inside.
Not bothering with the light, he switched on his own flashlight and made his way to the lava tube. In this facility it was a smooth black hole in the ground, but one that sloped gently downwards instead of descending into a pit. He slipped inside, careful to adjust Kali’s pack, and began to slither down on his backside, now holding the Maglite between his teeth.
The darkness down here was comforting, not slithering with unknown horrors like the one in Singen, but profound and menacing nevertheless. He wondered what manner of creature might survive down here, what subterranean terror, and felt a sudden longing for Kali’s old tomb. Soon, he would return. Soon, it would become his home.
Cayman traversed the length of the lava tube, dropping gently until he sat with his legs dangling, forty feet up and looking out over the first trap system. Wrath — the first level of Hell.
The carved face of the Devil stared hard at Cayman, the fires that had once given life and meaning to the trap now extinguished. Cayman took a moment to study those hollow eye sockets, the hooked nose and cavernous mouth, and broke out into a smile. This was going to be a much more pleasurable evening than he had ever imagined.
And then on to Singen.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Drake listened impatiently as Hayden set up a conference call with Karin and Gates. Their genius computer-cum-communications operative sounded in high spirits now that the new HQ was shaping up, but the Secretary of Defense seemed very preoccupied, despite the levity of the situation.
“The swords link to the device and the gods,” Gates said. “That much is obvious. I want those inscriptions — they should tell us more. And Cayman is acting because of the translation, but on whose orders?”
“Could the Shadow Elite be back?” Hayden suggested, eyes fixed firmly in the middle-distance, taking in every word her boss said.
“Anything’s possible at this point. Rule nothing out, Hayden. One thing’s for sure, the person who paid for that translation and killed Jakob Hult will follow this through to the end.”
“We’re fully up and running,” Karin broke in. “We can help you from this end.”
“Secure those swords,” Gates said. “Yours is the team to do it. Time is of the essence. And I want someone researching this earth energy vortex subject. If Professor Patterson thinks it’s a genuine phenomenon, then we need to know. I don’t want any last minute surprises.”
“I believe he is the expert on that,” Hayden said. “But I’ll check.”
Professor Patterson walked up to the table. “I can help you. But, sir, what news of my wife?”
“That’s me.” Komodo’s deep voice came over the airwaves. “We’re putting a team together right now, Professor. Our friends, Romero and Smyth, are en route.”
Drake approved. “Good choice.” He watched Mai as she sat by the window, seemingly preoccupied with something outside. Was there a distance growing in her lately? Ever since he’d been taken. He knew she criticized her own abilities on that night, but also knew there was no way to convince her it hadn’t been her fault. It could happen any time, to any one of them. Even Dahl. Drake smiled at the big Swede, who was shepherding Akerman around. Dahl caught the look and checked his flies.
Drake looked away, listening.
“I have my own situation at this end,” Gates was saying in a resigned tone. “Some men — they think they’re too important not to be heard. And they are seriously disturbed if they think—” The Secretary stopped, as if suddenly realizing he had gone too far. “Never mind. It’s my problem. Is there anything else, Jaye?”
“I think that’s everything, sir.” Hayden waited for Gates to sign off, then addressed Karin. “Do you know anything about that?”
“No. It’s news to me.”
Hayden pursed her lips, clearly worried. Drake read her mind. They were all worried about Jonathan Gates, the real power behind SPEAR — the man had barely taken a breath since his wife was murdered. And he had some fierce enemies up on the Hill, rodents that would be only too glad to gnaw the ground from beneath his feet.