Hurriedly, he exited the crypt and snatched it up. “Yes?”
“This is the Norseman. Where on earth were you?”
So now they rebuked him even when he forced himself out of the perfect dream to take their call. “Tied up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I answered as soon as I was able.”
“Look, never mind that now. Much has happened. The Shadow Elite are no more.”
Cayman was momentarily surprised, his interest piqued. “And what of the tomb?”
“You are allowed to sound a bit despondent about it, Cayman. It’s fine to show your feelings. We made you what you are today. I imagine that makes us some sort of parent figure to you?”
“Yes, sir, it does.” Cayman imagined slicing the Norseman’s face off with some ancient bits of metal he had found in Kali’s tomb.
“Well, I’m sorry to say I’m the only one left. Our friends have perished.”
Cayman emitted what he thought amounted to a regretful sigh. “Where are you now? Should we seal the tomb forever?” Joy snared his heart.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m on my way to you now with the pieces beside me. We’ll show the world that we still mean business. That is what we will do.”
Cayman sensed more. “And?”
“And that tenacious bastard Drake is but a few minutes behind me with some of his cohorts. You must be ready for me, Cayman. Men at arms. Guns prepped. Tomb organized. We won’t have long to implement our plan.”
Cayman smiled down the phone. “Oh, I’ll be ready, sir.”
Drake was happy to be behind Dahl as he piloted the big Apache through the oily air. The thudding of the heavy rotors was like music to his ears, Dinorock to the power of ten. The instrument array gleamed and flashed with the promise of unlimited weaponry. Dahl handed him a pair of ear mufflers.
“Fuck that,” Drake said. “I’m savoring the sound and every second of being inside this machine.”
Dahl laughed and clicked something on the side of his own headphones. He had pondered for a few moments before deciding to contact Olle Akerman.
“Ja?”
“It’s me again, Olle.”
“Ah. You again. Still not dead? I have my eye on your wife, you know. Such a pretty lady.”
“Not quite dead, no. We’re chasing the pieces of Odin, my friend. Do you have anything that might help us?”
“I’d say — go faster. Does that help?”
“Olle—”
“Ja. Ja. I know. Well, do you see now? Do you remember the words that I spoke? ‘The sequence of events will reveal all of the God’s secrets and mankind’s decision to save or destroy itself.’ Odin’s much vaunted Day of Reckoning has arrived.”
“Ragnarok?”
“Yes. Odin avoided his own Ragnarok to fight in a future which he may have seen using the time-travel devices. Now it’s up to you to see us through this one.”
“Anything about the pieces?” Drake asked.
“I know this,” Akerman said. “The pieces are key. Not just ‘the key.’ But key. See the difference?”
“Meaning?”
“Whilst trying to translate some of the old Akkadian, the so-called God language, I began to wonder why some of the logograms referring to the word ‘key’ were represented not only by pictures of the eight pieces, but also by diagrams showing the center of a great city. I now believe it means the pieces are the most important part. Steal, destroy or even break just one piece and the rest won’t work. The device itself will never work without them.”
Dahl pushed the four-bladed twin-engine attack chopper a little faster. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Akerman’s last words were lost in static. “Unless we discover another way to start the weapon…”
Drake watched the war-machine in motion, studied the flashing keypads, spinning dials, toggles surrounded by red and black plastic. Dahl flicked several switches to prime the laser-guided Hellfire missiles, but essentially, these were back-up. The black shark had more armaments than you could shake an enormous stick at. What Dahl really wanted to use was the IHADSS — the Integrated Helmet and Display Sighting System — the system that could slave the helicopters 30mm chain gun to his helmet display, making the gun track and fire in accord with its wearer’s head movements.
Right now Dahl’s sights were on the helicopter that held the Norseman.
“Ready to end this?” The Swede brought the Apache swooping nearer, engine roaring, seeming to hover like a giant deadly fly, its “eyes” the weapon pods, its “feet” Stinger and Sidewinder missiles.
Drake sighed. “So, so ready.”
Dahl let loose all hell and the Norseman’s helicopter exploded in an immense fireball, bits of metal and fragments of ancient artifact and pieces of the Norseman spearing the air in every direction. The boom echoed through the mountains and chased the recently vanished sun below the silver-lit horizon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Russell Cayman heard the loud static crackle as he prepared to end the call. A second before that, he thought he might have heard the Norseman scream.
An interesting sound.
Carefully, he replaced the phone to his ear. He spoke a few words. He waited. Tried again. After ten minutes, he killed the call and redialed.
Nothing but an empty void. Almost as if there was nothing there. Cayman’s lips twitched into a smile. The Norseman was dead. Drake, or someone else, had taken the old bastard out. It was over.
Cayman was free!
For now, he thought. If Drake had indeed won the day, then he would send in the wolves to raid the tomb — and soon. It took Cayman just a few moments to realize there was nothing he could do about that. Not even if he kept the Shadow Elite’s demise to himself and told the men to keep fighting. The authorities possessed the might to eventually prevail.
Excitement galvanized him. Quickly, he cast about, saw a discarded holdall lying in the middle of the floor below and hurried down to collect it. Within minutes he had hastened back up the stairs to Kali’s tomb and was struggling to open the great lid, employing as much force as possible. The heavy concrete slab grinded like the cracking of the earth, but before his strength gave out, he managed to widen the gap a little more.
Within minutes he had filled the holdall with Kali’s bones. The larger ones, he had to snap, but he was sure the Goddess wouldn’t mind — she’d been dead a long time. With the job done, he stood back from the tomb, taking it all in one last time, and felt the sharp sting of tears at the corners of his eyes.
The home he’d never had.
But he was used to moving on. All his life he’d being shipped from home to home, school to school, agency to agency — just a matter of exchanging one battlefield for the next. And he’d always been ready to kill to protect his temporary sanctuary. He hefted the bones of Kali now and walked out of the tomb of the gods without looking back again. It was time to disappear for a while.
A new chapter in his life had just opened up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Mano Kinimaka had already proposed a Hawaiian Christmas, so when the big man decided to spend his recovery time over there, the entire team followed. Only a few days after beating the terrorists and the Norseman in battle, they found themselves put up by a grateful American government at a fancy hotel overlooking Waikiki Beach.
In real life, there were still many tough questions to be asked, traitors to be wheedled out worldwide, and crossed paths to be smoothed over anew, but for one night at least, the hard trials of reality vanished and celebration reigned.