John Sneeden: The Hades Conspiracy

After dropping his luggage in the master bedroom, Roger made his way to the kitchen at the rear of the home. He entered and flicked on the overhead light. The urge for a drink was powerful now. As he crossed to the cabinets, he pondered the next few weeks. Once the investigation ended, he and Kimberly would return to Hermon and blast their way back through the blockage in the tunnel. After locating the bodies, they would drop them down into one of the many chasms, ensuring they would never be found. At that point, the city would be theirs to loot at their leisure.

Roger searched until he found his favorite drink, a thousand-euro bottle of Scotch. He twisted the cap then realized it wasn’t sealed. Someone had already been drinking it. Maids. This was the last straw. Forget the talk. He’d fire them in the morning.

Roger located a whiskey tumbler and filled it halfway. He sniffed the aroma then drained the tumbler in one swallow. The amber liquid warmed his throat, and he could already feel the stress melting away.

Lawson poured another glass to the rim and headed to the study. He would eventually make it out to the patio, but first, he wanted to review some documents related to his alias. He’d used the papers many times in the past, but from this point forward, they had to be perfect. There was no going back to Roger Lawson. After everything had been reviewed, then and only then, would he venture outside with a third glass of Scotch and a cigar.

The study was mostly dark, so Roger used the moonlight coming through the window to maneuver behind the desk. He sank into the chair but decided not to turn on the lamp just yet. Work could wait for a moment. Right now, he wanted to think back on the last night he’d spent with Kimberly. Their time together had been exquisite in every way, and it would continue when she arrived in the morning.

Satisfied by the memories, he reached for the lamp’s pull cord. It was time to get to work. As soon as his fingers closed on the ball, he stopped. Despite the darkness, something caught his eye across the room. He squinted. Finally, he saw it: a dark figure in a chair against the far wall.

His heart racing, Roger yanked on the lamp cord. A man replaced the dark silhouette. He had long, brown hair and was dressed in dark denim pants and a pocketed button-down shirt.

Roger’s mouth opened slightly. It’s not possible. It can’t be. Yet he knew it could be no one else.

The longhaired man lifted a glass that had been hidden in his lap. The Scotch. He took a sip then lifted it into the air. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s always been one of my favorites.” He set the glass on a nearby table. “How was the drive up?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Things ended so quickly the other night. I never felt like we got to say our proper good byes. To be honest, I was actually a little offended you left so quickly. We were having such a blast… Then you just disappeared.”

Roger ignored the sarcasm. “You’ll regret this.”

The man laughed. “Oh, I doubt that, Roger. There are a lot of things I regret in life. Coming here is not one of them.”

Roger could scarcely believe the man was sitting across from him. How had they escaped? Better yet, how had they discovered his identity? His attorneys had assured him it was foolproof. He should’ve listened to Camilla and killed them when he had the chance. Now this man had the upper hand, and barring some miracle, Roger would spend the rest of his life in jail, if not worse.

Despite the odds, Roger refused to give up. The man might have escaped twice, but he’d also been caught twice. For now, Roger would play to the arrogant fool’s ego and look for an opportunity to turn the tables. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, that.” The man took another sip of Scotch then continued. “As it turns out, our friends from the Swiss Guard brought an electronic copy of the map, so we studied it and discovered something interesting. There was more than one way out.”

“You’re lying. There was only one—”

“To be sure, there were a couple of tight places, but with some hard work and a bit of luck, we managed to get out by the next afternoon.”

Roger began to focus on getting out of his predicament. While he didn’t see a pistol, he had to assume the man was armed. If so, would he have enough time to jump up and flee the room without being shot? If he managed to get to the hall, he might be able to slip away. After all, he knew the layout of the house better than anyone. If he could somehow get to the bedroom he could retrieve the gun hidden there…

How could he have forgotten? He didn’t need to get up and run anywhere. He’d hidden several pistols around the house, all of which contained full magazines and one in the chamber. And best of all, one of them was stashed in a drawer mere inches from his hand.

The only thing left to do now was distract the man a minute longer. Play to his ego. “How did you manage to stay hidden after coming out? I have a source in Israel, and he told us you were never found.”

“We knew the order had tentacles across the globe, including the United States government. Although we couldn’t be sure, we knew they probably had one or more people in the Israeli government as well. We first contacted those at the highest levels of the Israeli government, people we knew we could trust.”

“So the meetings that followed were all for show?” Roger lowered his hand off the desk.

“Precisely.”

“And the searches?” Roger moved his hand to the third drawer down and grasped the handle.

“The searches were mostly for show, although the investigators did use the time to gather some evidence.”

Lawson pulled the drawer open slowly, careful not to make a noise. “Were you there with them?”

The man shook his head. “While the others were at Mount Hermon, we began the true investigation — the hunt for you. I have to give credit where credit is due. Your alias is good. Not good enough, but still one of the best we’ve ever seen.”

Roger closed his hand around the grip of the pistol resting in the drawer. The longhaired buffoon was gloating, but the gloating — as well as his life — was about to come to an end. With cat-like quickness, Roger whipped out the gun. Before he could pull the trigger, a muzzle flashed across the room.

Roger grabbed his chest, his pistol falling to the floor. He hadn’t been hit in the heart, but it was close enough. He’d bleed to death in a matter of minutes.

“Oh, those guns you placed around the house… We emptied most of them, but I left two bullets in that one. My associates told me to empty them all, but I wanted to see just how far you’d take this, Roger. Not only that, but I believe in a fair fight.” He held up his pistol. “I only had one in mine.”

Roger leaned forward, the life draining out of him. As darkness fell, two thoughts flashed through his mind:

Kimberly was arriving in the morning.

And he wouldn’t be there to see her.

After the doors slid shut, the old elevator rattled toward the upper floors. Zane stood at the back, surveying the others. Carmen, Amanda, and Pratt still mourned the loss of their teammate, Connor Reid. Despite the passage of time, his death still hurt deeply. Not only had they lost someone of valor and strength, they had lost a good friend.

But tonight, he hoped they’d find a way to push aside the pain. After the funeral, Jonas Stegmann had invited them back for a gala in their honor in Rome. The Swiss Guard wanted to thank them for their assistance in retrieving the relic, which they’d retrieved from Roger Lawson’s villa in Palermo. At first, Zane had been hesitant to accept. After all, they were simply doing their jobs. But in the end, he realized they couldn’t decline such a gracious offer.