Matthew Reilly: Hell Island

When he replied, his eyes scanned Wolf’s closely. “That was indeed our bargain, Colonel West. I thank you for honoring the agreement. I wish you good fortune in the remainder of your mission. Should you require any further assistance from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, you need only call.”

The limousine arrived at the military base. Passing the gatehouse without any checks, it arrived at two Gulfstream-IV private jets parked side by side.

Vulture and Scimitar boarded one and immediately departed.

Wolf, Rapier, Mao, and Iolanthe watched them go.

Mao said, “I don’t trust the Saudis for a moment. They have money, but they have all the honor of a gang of desert bandits.”

“They had their use.” Iolanthe shrugged. “We used them.”

“And they came through,” Wolf said.

“So what now?” Mao asked.

“Now,” Wolf said, “we get a reprieve of approximately three months, till March of next year. And we’ll need that time to research the locations of the remaining four Pillars and Vertices.”

Iolanthe said, “I have the Fourth Pillar already. The Third Pillar is believed to be in the possession of the Japanese Imperial Family. I understand that after the Second World War, a team of American agents was sent to find it but failed. Is this true?”

Wolf nodded. “Hirohito hid it during the war. We never found it. We assume it’s still somewhere in Japan.

“Which means we have in our possession the Second and the Fourth Pillars,” he continued. “The Third, Fifth, and Sixth Pillars must still be found. Likewise, all four of the remaining Vertices need to be discovered before the return of the Dark Sun in March of next year. I’ve had my scientific people working on the Stonehenge data while we’ve been traipsing around Africa, and I imagine our new African friend, the Neetha holy man, will have unique knowledge as well.”

“What about this coalition of minnow nations?” Mao growled. “This group led by your first son, the Australian.”

“He doesn’t lead them anymore,” Wolf said, thinking of Jack falling into the abyss. “Without him, they’re weakened but not destroyed. The Irish woman is formidable, as we discovered in Africa, and Professor Epper is resilient. In the short term, pressure needs to be exerted on their masters.”

“And in the longer term? What if they cross our path again?”

“Then we crush them with overwhelming force,” Wolf said.

“Good,” Mao said. “Finally.”

AIRSPACE OVER NAMIBIA

DECEMBER 17, 2007, 0645 HOURS

The Halicarnassus thundered through the sky, banking dramatically to evade the line of glowing tracer rounds that sizzled through the air all around it, tracers that had been unleashed by a pursuing South African Air Force F-15, the first of four fighters chasing it.

The big black 747 rocketed westward, crossing the boundary between the drab brown Namib Desert and the Atlantic Ocean, heading out over the vast expanse of blue.

It had been fleeing like this for almost an hour, since South Africa—all their expenses paid by the Saudis—had scrambled an air patrol to take them out: and in the last ten minutes, as the fighters had caught up with them, it had become a running aerial gun battle.

As the Halicarnassus flew, it returned fire at the lead F-15 from one of the 50mm gun turrets mounted on the inner sections of its wings.

Manning the starboard gun—facing backward as the jumbo screamed forward through the air—was Zoe Kissane. She drew a bead on the trailing F-15 and assailed it with a withering blast of 50mm fire.

But the South African pilot was skilled and he barrel rolled clear of the stream of gunfire.

“Sky Monster…!” Zoe called into her radio. “This is like shooting at goddamn bumblebees! What’s our plan!”

Sky Monster’s voice came in from the cockpit: “They might be smaller and faster than we are, but we can fly farther than they can. They gotta be running low on fuel. So the plan is: you keep holding them off while I get us as far as possible over the ocean, till they decide they’re too low on gas and have to turn back. We beat them with range.”

Sky Monster proved to be correct.

A few minutes later, the lead South African fighter loosed a single AIM-9 Sidewinder air-to-air missile and bugged out, heading back for the mainland with his buddies.

Zoe took care of the Sidewinder with a directed microwave burst that literally cooked the missile’s dome-mounted infrared targeting system, and the missile ditched harmlessly into the ocean.

The aerial battle over, she wearily headed up to the 747’s cockpit, where she found Wizard and Lily with Sky Monster.

Oddly, they were grinning, beaming even.

“Zoe,” Wizard said, “we just got a call from the Sea Ranger. Jack’s alive and he has Alby with him. The Sea Ranger has them both. They want us to rendezvous at World’s End.”

Zoe sighed with relief. “Thank God. Take us there.”

LITTLE MCDONALD ISLAND

INDIAN OCEAN

DECEMBER 20, 2007

3 DAYS LATER

At the bottom of the Indian Ocean, in one of the most remote regions of the world, there can be found a cluster of barren rocky islands.

The Kerguélen Islands are administered by France, while the Prince Edward Islands are claimed by South Africa. But south of them all, battered year-round by icy Antarctic winds and the rolling waves of the southern seas, is the Heard group of islands. They are administered by Australia.

One of the Heard islands is Little McDonald Island. It has no wildlife and little flora. There is literally no reason to go there. Which is probably why it was used during World War II as a resupply base for the Australian Navy, complete with fuel dumps, storage warehouses, and even a short landing strip.

By the 1990s, its use as a base was long obsolete and it was shut down in late 1991. Whole containers of canned food and diesel fuel had been left there, and in sixteen years, not a single can had been stolen. It wasn’t worth the effort to get there.

Which was why no one in the world noticed the Kilo-class submarine and the black Boeing 747 that arrived at Little McDonald Island two days after the high drama at the Second Vertex.

Of course, they knew the island by another name: World’s End.

The reunion of Jack and the team was a joyous occasion.

Lily leaped into Jack’s arms, hugged him tightly—then she ran over to Alby and hugged him even harder.

Zoe and Jack also embraced warmly, holding each other for a full minute.

“Alby told me all about what happened with the Neetha,” Jack said softly. “You must have been incredible.”

Zoe didn’t answer.

She just began sobbing on Jack’s shoulder, burying her head in his neck, unleashing the pent-up stress and emotion that had been inside her since her bloody encounter with the lost tribe of African cannibals.

When at last she spoke, she said in a hoarse voice, “Next time, let’s let somebody else save the world.”

Jack laughed, stroking her hair gently.

As he held Zoe, he saw Wizard and, with him, the archaeologist and Neetha expert, Diane Cassidy, plus the Neetha youth, Ono, who had helped them during their escape from the remote tribe.

Wizard smiled. “Clearly, it’s not the fall that kills you, Jack.”

“Right,” Jack said.

“Hey,” Lily said, looking around, suddenly alarmed. “Where’s Pooh Bear? And where’s Stretch?”

Once the reunion was complete and introductions made, the team went inside a decrepit old warehouse beside the island’s airstrip. Water was heated for showers; canned food was opened and eaten; and Jack explained to the others what had happened to him before he’d arrived at Cape Town.