John Sneeden: The Hades Conspiracy

Zipping up his coat, Pauling strode briskly toward the canal. It was mostly quiet, save for a television blaring through an open window. The smell of garlic drifted out of another. On any other evening, he might have actually enjoyed the walk.

About halfway down, Pauling heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head slightly but decided against turning all the way around. No need for panic. It was probably a local out for a walk. Just breathe deeply and keep walking. Look like you’re supposed to be here.

As Pauling neared the canal, he picked up his pace. So did the person behind him. Pauling’s adrenaline surged. That was too much to be a coincidence. Whoever it was, they were trying to keep up with him.

Unable to resist looking back, Pauling finally swung around. The area behind him was shrouded in deep shadows, concealing whoever was there. Finally, a dark figure emerged. The hairs on Pauling’s neck stood on end. Unibrow. The soft expression of a fake tourist had been replaced with the steely look of a killer. Needing no further encouragement, Pauling turned and sprinted off. Strangely, the man didn’t run in pursuit.

Upon reaching the end of the street, Pauling turned left along a walkway that ran along the canal. He couldn’t see it from here, but he knew the taxi stand was only two blocks away. He would sprint the entire distance if he had to. He would do whatever it took to survive.

As he looked ahead, Pauling saw a second man striding toward him, the twin of the man behind him, absent the unibrow — tall, muscular, and menacing. Pauling pivoted back. Unibrow rounded the turn and was closing in fast. Aside from diving into the canal, there was no way out. He was trapped inside a closing vise.

At this point, protecting the map had to take priority. Pauling knew he’d probably die, but he would do so without giving them what they came for. He shuddered to think what would happen if it got into the wrong hands, assuming it was authentic. Thankfully, he’d put together a plan to ensure only one person ever found it — someone he could trust, one of the few people who would understand the clues Pauling had left behind.

With the men closing in from either side, Pauling removed his phone and typed out a text. He wasn’t a spiritual man, but he prayed it would work. It had to. If it didn’t…

The two attackers were less than ten yards away. Pauling’s fingers moved quickly over the keys. He entered all the information the recipient would need and nothing more.

Unibrow lifted a gun.

Done . Pauling hit Send. When he received confirmation it had gone through, he flung the phone out into the canal. As it sank into the dark waters, he felt a hard object impact the base of his skull.

He thought about Emily. Then his world melted to darkness.

Zane Watson frowned deeply as he plucked the object from the desk. “You’re telling me this is an explosive device?”

“You have the power of three grenades in your hand right now,” Brett Foster replied.

Zane examined it from all angles. Approximately six inches long, it had the appearance of a small flashlight. Somehow, it didn’t seem possible an object so small could house so much destructive power. He looked at Brett. “Is she ready for the field?”

“Ross is supposed to sign off on everything tomorrow.”

“I’m guessing he’ll keep one of these babies in his glove compartment.”

Both men worked for the Delphi Group, a private intelligence organization with a very simple mission: to assist the United States government by conducting investigations the government couldn’t or wouldn’t associate itself with. That included, but was not limited to, operations related to the bizarre and the supernatural.

Delphi was founded and led by Dr. Alexander Ross, sometimes known as the Oracle. A former Director of National Intelligence and CIA case officer, Ross was regarded as one of the most respected figures in the history of United States intelligence, a man known for his razor-sharp mind and an uncanny ability to assess and combat threats. He was also a connoisseur of cigars and cognac.

Delphi headquarters was housed on the top floor of a modern office building in Arlington, Virginia, a location conducive to its symbiotic relationship with the CIA, the FBI, and other select agencies. None of the other tenants in the building were aware of the organization’s purpose, although a stubborn rumor had persisted it was an import-and-export business with a controversial clientele.

Delphi’s investigative work was conducted by a team of operatives who were ready to deploy around the globe at a moment’s notice. The most crucial operations were led by senior operative, Zane Watson, the organization’s second-in-command, and junior operative Carmen Petrosino. While not technically an operative, Brett Foster was Delphi’s resident computer geek whose official title was Chief Technology Specialist.

Zane knew Brett had been working on a secret project for six months, but his work in the field had kept him away from the details. Zane had brought it up several times with the Oracle, but the chief had been strangely coy, only letting on that it was a revolutionary weapon.

“Assuming it actually works, that’s pretty impressive.” Zane scooted his chair closer to the desk and placed the device under a halogen lamp.

“Not only does it work, it works consistently. Keiko and I field tested thirty of them last week, and we only had one malfunction.”

“Let me guess; Keiko was the one doing the actual testing, and you were several hundred yards away, holding a beer.”

Keiko was the world’s most advanced humanoid. Having the appearance of an Asian woman in her thirties, she could move, speak, and think in a way that blurred the lines between humans and machines. She had previously been an instrument of a criminal enterprise, but due to ethics programming by her maker, she’d eventually changed sides and offered her services to Delphi.

“We can get Keiko a new arm or a leg. Last I checked, we can’t do that for me.”

“Why not be Delphi’s first Cyborg?” Zane sat back in his chair. “Speaking of getting limbs blown off, tell me how this baby works. How long does it take to detonate?”

“You have five or six seconds from the time you trigger until detonation. We felt that was ample time to launch it toward your target. But at the same time, you need to use it with extreme caution. If you try to toss it through a tiny window and it bounces back, you have a big problem.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“That’s the danger of working with any explosive device.” He patted Zane’s shoulder. “I’m not concerned about you, though. Men with wedding bells in their future don’t take unnecessary chances.”

Zane shook his head. “Keep that up, and I’m going to field test this thing right now.”

Zane knew Brett referred to Katiya Mills. Recognized as one of the leading anthropologists in the United States, she had joined the Delphi team on a recent operation to the Amazon rainforest. Even though Zane had tried to suppress the feelings that arose at the beginning of the mission, he couldn’t deny the immediate attraction the two had for one another. As the team traveled deep into the jungle, flirtation ensued. Then, in a moment Zane would regret at the time, the budding romance boiled over in a dark tunnel. Feigning the need for assistance, Katiya called Zane back to help her squeeze through a narrow crevice, only to pull him in for a kiss when he arrived. Zane remembered it as the most passionate encounter of his life, something he didn’t say lightly.