David Leadbeater - Weapons of the Gods

Then Drake’s opponent held out a hand and a cellphone. “Listen,” he hissed. “You have to listen to this.”

The mercs stopped their onslaught, panting. Drake started at the man and the phone. Hayden helped Kinimaka to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” a voice said. “They have me.”

Drake didn’t recognize the voice at first. Hayden frowned.

Mai spoke up. “It’s the chopper pilot.”

Drake stared into the darkness of the park. The chopper sat in a pool of solid darkness, thirty meters away, but as he watched, somebody shone a flashlight onto the face of the pilot. No other figures were visible but the threat was clear.

“We only want the flail,” the merc said. “Give me the flail and your pilot lives.”

Mai didn’t hesitate; just walked forward and handed it over. The mercs melted away, sliding back into the darkness.

Hayden started walking toward the chopper. “Not good,” she said quietly. “They planned this as a redundancy. If we didn’t know before, we can be damn sure that Tempest know we’re in the hunt for the weapons.”

“So what do we do next?” Kinimaka asked.

“We beat the bastards to the last one.”

The chopper dropped them in Port Said, at a location close to the military museum. El-Montazah Park was quiet in the early morning, enabling the team to slip away and find a hotel, before dressing in civilian clothes and heading out for a long-overdue breakfast. They couldn’t hide their bruises, but they did manage to pass for seasoned tourists.

Almost, Drake thought. In reality, soldiers weren’t hard to spot.

Seated at the back of a small eating house, they ordered pastries, hot drinks and bottled water. A decent amount of privacy was afforded them as the team sat back to relax and rejuvenate.

“We lost the flail,” Hayden told Cambridge over the phone. “Stand your Egypt team down.”

The SAS captain didn’t question them. “You can go straight to the final weapon. Lauren Fox and Secretary Crowe are making headway in DC. Their plan is sound — it’s just a matter of waiting for the right time to execute it now.”

“Great,” Drake said. “And on that other, personal, matter?”

“Yes. Your friend Yorgi touched down aboard a Boeing 747 last night, landing in Moscow. He rented a car and then found a hotel on the outskirts of the city. He’s safe, but we’ll keep watch.”

“No problems?”

“No…” Cambridge’s tone made Drake sit up.

“What is it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s nothing to do with Yorgi, but something massive is brewing. I hear it in the chatter we listen to. In cell communications. Through informants. Everywhere. It’s all unsubstantiated. Do you remember when the Blood King attacked the President in DC? Before that, the terrorist and merc chatter went through the roof. Well, it’s happening again. Right now.”

“Not connected to Tempest?” Hayden asked.

“No. The chatter there is immense, yes, but it’s relatively open channel, centered on just a couple of areas in the world. But this… this is so deep and dark, it’s scary.”

Scary? Drake didn’t like the sound of that.

“DC was a bad time for us,” Drake remembered. “For all of us. This only reconfirms that we need to get our names cleared fast and restart business as usual. We can’t be left in the dark for something like that.”

Mai sipped water. “Can I ask if there’s a reason you mentioned this in the same breath as Yorgi?”

Cambridge sighed down the line. “Yeah, yeah, it seems to be originating from Russia.”

Drake knew they had many enemies over there, but Kovalenko was dead. So were many others. “Let’s find the last weapon,” he said. “Before worrying about ghosts. And where are we with the Syrian terrorist camp and disavowed teams?”

“Ah, well there’s some good news. We have a plan for contacting all the teams and trying to get them to work together. We’re proposing a series of code words, and dispatching locals to meet up with each team. You guys were right — there are dozens. Hundreds of men and women. We’ve established our neutrality with extreme difficulty through already implanted code words — phrases recognized by each team and put in place at training level. We still have a few friends at places like Fort Jackson, Fort Knox, Benning, Sill; that kind of thing.”

“Good idea,” Dahl said. “A soldier’s mindset is established at training level. Throw a few old idioms at him — known only to the men that trained him and those that struggled with him — and he’ll sit up and take notice.”

“It worked,” Cambridge said. “We’re developing a strategy to bring them all together.”

“Where are they all?” Luther asked.

“Scattered,” Cambridge said. “Mostly across the Middle East. Egypt. Syria. Afghanistan. Iran. Iraq. Anywhere there’s conflict in Eastern Europe.”

“I know we lost it,” Alicia said. “But what’s the significance of the Flail of Anubis?”

“Sure, I had a whole speech prepared for when you handed it over. Anubis was the Egyptian god associated with mummification and the afterlife. Of course, he’s associated with the quintessential depictions of men with dog’s heads and the like. He was one of those that determined whether a soul would be allowed into the realm of the dead. He’s one of the most ancient of gods, and also one of the most famous — but plays practically no part in any Egyptian myths.”

“Didn’t they also depict him as a jackal?” Drake asked.

“Yes, he’s had many different roles through the ages. Highly revered though.”

“And do we have any idea where this flail might be taken?” Luther asked. “And, whilst we’re asking — where all the other weapons are being stored?”

“That is a good, fresh angle we’re trying,” Cambridge said. “Tracking the weapons, as you say. But the short-range devices we have are limiting. It’s difficult to keep track. At the moment, by backtracking events from all around the world, we’re pretty sure the weapons are being sent to the United States, and that there are over twenty of them.”

“Events?” Drake asked. “Not all terrorist, please?”

“No, not all,” Cambridge said to the team’s relief. “Nothing on the scale of the train episode either.”

“I really think you should start analyzing the weapons that you have,” Hayden told him. “The only way to beat Tempest is to get a step ahead of them. Lauren and Crowe are trying in DC. I believe you can do the same over there. What’s so special about these weapons?”

“Another good idea,” Cambridge acknowledged.

“It’s the coffee.” Alicia finished off her third cup. “Strong and black over here with a mega-caffeine rush.”

“Just what I need,” Cambridge said. “I’ll be in touch soon but, for now, I’ll send you details of the Forge of Vulcan.”

“Easy one?” Drake asked hopefully.

“No, it’s the toughest yet. I was half hoping Tempest might get to it first but, as you say, perhaps they’re leaving the hardest and most dangerous artifacts for last.”

“We’re on it,” Hayden assured him. “And will report back. Oh, and Cambridge?”

“Yes?”

“Use more resources to discover exactly what this ‘big thing’ emanating out if Russia is. Y’know, just in case we all survive and get back to America. I don’t wanna end up stuck in the middle of another blood vengeance battle again.”

The Forge of Vulcan was not only dangerous to reach, it was going to be intensely dangerous to get close to. The area lay close to an IS stronghold. Cambridge didn’t add it to his report but Drake knew IS emerged from what had been al-Qaeda in Iraq, which was formed by Sunni militants after the Western invasion in 2003. In 2011 IS joined those fighting against President Bashar al-Assad in Syria, where it found comparative safety and hordes of weapons. Drake also knew that over eight hundred people had traveled from the UK to join the conflict in Syria and Iraq, with just under half returning since.