“All right, all right.” Theodore couldn’t bear it any longer. “Men already asked me yesterday. That is why I was getting the hell out of there. They were more persuasive than you, threatening to cut parts off and mail them back to me over the next few months.”
“Describe them,” the interviewer said. “Figures, faces. Any names. Everything.”
Theodore did as he was told and then returned to the main subject. “The Dagger of Nemesis,” he said. “It came from the enormous German tomb, the one I worked on. It’s about, oh, six inches long.” He showed the measurement by using the tips of his fingers. “And perfectly obsidian in color. There are no reflections. And still, even now, it’s sharp as a woodcutter’s axe. I don’t know which ancient civilization made weapons like this, but they sure knew what they were doing.”
“You don’t buy into the ‘gods were once real’ theory?”
“I can see its merit,” Theodore said. “Real, living, powerful people worshipped for generation after generation, after which less-developed, lazier races just adopted the old stories, turning the main figures into gods. It makes perfect sense, to be honest. But I can’t go that step further and believe these gods had powers. Of any kind.”
“Okay, understood. Please go on.”
“The dagger is unique, certainly priceless. One of the most irreplaceable objects the world has ever discovered, but—”
The interviewer couldn’t help but interrupt, to Hayden’s annoyance. “Then why did you steal it and sell it to a member of the public?”
“Money.” Theodore shrugged. “I had gambling debts. Two children. A wife that outstripped both our means. I guess it was the easy way forward.” He hung his head.
“Who did you sell it to?”
“Joseph Berry,” Theodore said. “The oil man from Dallas.”
Kinimaka was peering over her shoulder. “I heard of that guy.”
The interviewer confirmed the name and soon Cambridge came back onto the secure line. “This man, Joseph Berry, lives less than three hours west of Dallas by chopper. We have all his addresses and liaisons, more coming as we speak. I suggest you head that way right now.”
“Tempest have a day’s start on us,” Hayden said.
“So it seems. I’m activating all Texan contacts now. Stand by, Miss Jaye, and I’ll soon have more information for you.”
Hayden relayed their destination, guessing they were about two hours from Dallas itself. The rest depended on where Joseph Berry had his home and where he was right now. She studied her companions — Mano, Yorgi, Molokai, Dahl and Smyth. More than enough muscle to take down Berry and take on Tempest. Of course, she had no idea how the new terrorist angle would present itself, but speed, valor and vast experience would see them through, she was sure of it.
Theodore Brakski, the archaeologist inside the interrogation room, had been captured in Stockholm by a small cell connected to the British SAS. It was sad to see they had been a day late, otherwise they may have whisked him away. Hayden thought that might be a good idea even now, but then Cambridge was back on the comms, ruining her thought process.
“Obviously, Mr. Berry is wealthy. He’s a troubleshooter for a very large oil company and often stays in Dallas for weeks on end. We’re using credit card information and CCTV to track him right now, but online presence shows him at home in Arizona just a few hours ago. He bought a last-minute economy class train ticket to Dallas and right now, I’m looking at him boarding a train, carrying a backpack about an hour ago. As we speak, he’s on that train.”
Hayden thought it through. “So this wealthy guy buys a cheap ticket to Dallas and boards with a single backpack. Is he running?”
“Could be he got wind of Theodore’s arrest. Maybe he knows about Tempest and is running to Dallas to collect his more influential belongings before scarpering for good.”
“Well, let’s ask the guy nicely,” Hayden said. “Let’s get to that train.”
“How are we with the second GPR device?” Cambridge asked.
Yorgi held up a black box. “Technically it’s not GPR,” he said. “But Dahl left detailed instructions. It’s more of a cross between a GPS and a long-range metal detector. But we’re not searching for the world’s most precious metals here — not rhodium, extremely rare and valuable, or platinum, gold or iridium. We’re looking for the unknown element and we can only calibrate it by taking readings from an object that contains the same. Hence, these shavings I took from the Key of Hades.”
Smyth shifted uncomfortably. “Was that a wise move?”
Yorgi shrugged. “We shall see.”
Hayden gazed at Yorgi. The young Russian had become more distant over the last few weeks, ever since he revealed to them the tale of his past and why he killed his parents in cold blood. Something was brewing there, Hayden knew. Something that retelling the tale had resurrected. Yorgi still needed closure, and Hayden could think of only one way he might achieve it.
“Set us on the path of that train,” she told the pilot. “We’re ready back here.”
Cambridge’s voice suddenly snapped into life. “Damn, we have a big problem. Local authorities are reporting that terrorists have taken over the train and hostages taken…”
Hayden closed her eyes. Were they already too late?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What exactly are we looking at?” Hayden asked Cambridge.
“It’s bad. The terrorists are threatening to drive the train into Dallas Union Station and explode it. They have hundreds of hostages on board, who they’ll kill if the authorities try to stop them. Double-edged sword. If you didn’t know it by now this is what we call deep shit, people.”
“Details?” Kinimaka asked, always the inquisitive agent.
“Eight hostages, all with bombs. Possible suicide vests. Our man, Joseph Berry, should be in the third car from the front. There are eight cars, so I’m guessing one terrorist per car. But that’s a guess.” He let out a ragged sigh. “I hate to think this is all Tempest’s doing.”
“It sounds like it could be,” Hayden said. “They have had a full day to prepare this terrorist cell, for starters. Enough time to make plans. They steal the dagger and let the train burn. Cover up a theft with an atrocity. It won’t be the first time.”
“Why not nab Berry at home?” Smyth asked.
“I don’t know,” Hayden admitted. “Time? Surprise? Other issues. Maybe they failed and the train is their penance. Cambridge, are they diverting the train?”
“They won’t. There’s hundreds of hostages on board and they don’t wanna risk it.”
“So they’re letting it ride straight into Dallas?”
“They’re working on it.”
“Change tracks?” Molokai suggested.
“Trains can be tracked by any cellphone,” Hayden said. “The terrorists would know.”
“Dead man’s switch?”
“Not feasible without killing the driver.”
“Kill switch?”
“Again, stopping the train would alert the terrorists. The hostages are the risk element. Cambridge, tell me, have the terrorists made any demands?”
“Just that they will in due course.”
“They’re searching for the dagger,” Hayden said. “They have to be. Pilot, how close are we to that damn train?”
“Just arriving now.”
The chopper swooped over the railway tracks, and then veered back around, trying to follow the sweeping line of rusting rails. Still flying high, but with the nose angled downward, it approached the rear of the racing train.
Gunfire came from below. Two bullets clanged off the chopper’s metalwork, making the pilot veer away. He backed off to a safer distance, but Hayden and the others could still see everything that they needed to.