Authors: Ernest Dempsey
The SUV
sped off, cutting past the delivery truck as men were still trying to get the
doors locked down. Sean had to find a way to stop the truck. He laid down
covering fire as his support team continued to appear through the hole in the
floor. When all of them had made it to cover, he signaled for them to take out
the guys on the catwalk first. He could handle the two on the ground.
Mere
seconds after he’d given the order, one of the men on the catwalk fell over the
railing and smacked into the floor. His support team on the left picked off the
gunmen one by one in quick succession. Sean wasted no time. He pulled out his
Berretta and ran towards the first of the two terrorists on the ground,
squeezing of three shots as he sprinted to a concrete cylinder. The target
dropped to the ground leaving one guy remaining. The delivery truck roared to
life as the loan terrorist continued to fire his weapon recklessly in Sean’s
direction. He gave a quick nod to Vince who was still tucked behind the crates.
Vince popped up and fired twice with his AR-15.
The
gunman’s assault rifle went silent as the truck started to pull away. Sean
dropped his pistol and put the butt of his assault rifle against his shoulder.
He would only have one chance to hit the driver as the truck made the turn to
go through the door. If the vehicle reached the exit, he doubted the team on
the outside would be able to stop it.
He closed
one eye and breathed slowly as he watched the front edge of the truck. It
swerved to the left then turned sharply to the right. The driver, a man in a
black turban with a thick black mustache appeared in his scope’s crosshairs.
The truck would be gone in less than three seconds. Sean let out a long, slow
breath, and squeezed the trigger.
He’d received commendations for valor and leadership. But none of that
mattered anymore. Taking lives was something he was good at. And he wished he
wasn’t. Sean longed for a life in which he didn’t have to kill, didn’t have to
hide, or worry that someone was watching him. His friend, Tommy had given him a
standing offer to join the International Archaeological Agency. It was a
security position, the main task of which was to secure artifacts for transport
to research facilities. The pay was good. The hours were great. And the risk
factors were much lower. It was exactly what Sean had been looking for. Since he
had a long-time interest in ancient history, it pretty much sounded like the
perfect gig.
His resignation from Axis had been difficult. He’d worked with Emily a
long time. She had become one of the few people he trusted in the world. But
she would be okay without him. Or so he hoped. There were a young group of
recruits that looked promising for the small agency. The realization that he
wouldn’t regret leaving, but he might regret staying, was the biggest
influencing factor.
Emily had begged him to stay on. But
too many things were telling him to get
out. So, he did. And he never looked back. That wasn’t to say he ever lost
touch with his former boss. They’d helped each other out several times since he
left. And he imagined that cooperative exchange would continue well into the
future.
“We’ll be landing in Istanbul in a few minutes,” the pilot’s voice cut
through his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. Everyone was securing their
seatbelts in preparation for landing.
Sean hoped this visit to the ancient city would go better than the
last.
Istanbul, Turkey
The untamed scents of the eternal city filled Alexander Lindsey’s
nostrils as he stepped out of his car, onto the sidewalk. The dry air outside
his lavish hotel was filled with the smell of spices, herbs, roasting meat,
onions, and garlic; all of it wafted in his direction from the bazaar a few
blocks away. Istanbul was a wild parade for the senses. The sidewalks were a
river of people dressed in a vast array of clothing from the bland to the extraordinarily
colorful. Lights flashed from a thousand directions. The sounds of cars, music,
and laughter filled his ears.
DeGard exited the vehicle and gazed around at the sites of Istanbul at
night. The city was a cornucopia of historical significance. The city had been
the economic center between Europe, Asia, and the Middle East for thousands of
years. It was dead center of the famous Silk Road, and was the only connection
between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Over the course of its history, Istanbul
had been the capital city for four major empires. In the early 1920s, when
Turkey became a republic, it was passed over as the Turkish capital in favor of
Ankara. Still, the city had grown immensely during the twentieth century,
boasting the second largest population within a city limit in the entire world.
Everywhere DeGard looked he could see the mingling of modern humanity,
ancient architecture and design, and Islamic influences. Each time he visited,
DeGard felt like he was in a cultural playground.
Lindsey didn’t seem nearly as impressed. A scowl covered his face, and
he hurriedly trudged into the hotel, past the doorman in a costume that
reminded him of the story of Aladdin. Inside the hotel, he was greeted by more
smiling faces and a world of opulence that would appease the most particular of
tastes. His scowl still prevailed.
Will followed him in with wide eyes staring around at all of the
sights. He had stayed in luxurious hotels during his employment with Lindsey,
but this one might have topped them all. Lavish burgundy curtains flowed from
the ceiling of each end of the white marble concierge desk. The glass elevator
was in the center of the enormous lobby, ferrying patrons up and down the
twenty-story facility. In front of the elevator, a wide semi-circle fountain
displayed an amazing water show like a miniature version of what one could find
at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.
Lush greenery hung from the balconies and ledges. Enormous pottery
lined the orange-tan marble floor with various trees from the region.
Kaba had entered the building before the others and secured the
checkout, knowing that Lindsey did not wish to delay. The Prophet was tired
from his extensive journeys. He would need a good night’s rest before moving on
to Ararat the next day. It would be a journey of several hours, and he would
need all the energy he could muster. She stepped away from the mocha skinned
woman behind the concierge desk and handed Lindsey his room key, sure to point
out which room he would be staying in. She also handed a key to Will, but gave
him a knowing, flirtatious glance as she did.
DeGard had finally dragged himself inside and spun around in circles
as he inspected the hotel’s interior for the first time.
“I have to say, Monsieur Lindsey, you certainly know how to travel in
style.” The old man simply grumbled and shuffled away towards the elevator.
DeGard looked at Kaba with a confused expression. “Was it something I said?”
She shook her head. “No. But he detests Islam. And we are in the heart
of a city that is built on it.”
“Ah,” the Frenchman realized. “I see. And how do you feel about that?”
A quizzical expression passed over her face. “I do not believe in
religions,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone that suggested he should already
know.
DeGard seemed somewhat surprised. “Yet you follow a man who is
obviously religious?”
She crossed her arms, the tight white turtleneck she’d put on
accentuating her muscular figure. “I do not follow The Prophet because he is a
Christian. I follow because he pays well, and he will rid the world of all
wickedness.”
There it was again: a cryptic reference regarding getting rid of the
wicked. DeGard wondered if his employer was planning some kind of holocaust or
ethnic cleansing. He watched as Lindsey and two of his other men stepped onto
the elevator and ascended the many stories to his floor. Kaba and the others
had grabbed some of their luggage and were walking towards the next elevator.
The Frenchman wanted to get to the bottom of things. He felt like he’d
been kept in the dark long enough. He caught up to Kaba and pulled on her
shoulder. As soon as he’d done it he knew it was a bad move. She spun around
quickly with a defensive frown on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to make the peace in his meekest, nasal tone.
“But what is all this I keep hearing about getting rid of the world’s evil
doers? That isn’t the first time I’ve heard about it. What is the old man
planning?”
Her eyes narrowed, sizing him up to see if she should apprise him of
what Lindsey was planning. “I think if you want to know about what The Prophet
intends to do, you should speak to him about it.” She turned around as the
elevator doors opened then stepped inside with Will and the remaining men from
their group. DeGard watched the doors close with an annoyed stare.
“Fine,” he said to himself, and pressed the button between the
elevators.
A few minutes later, DeGard was knocking on the door to Lindsey’s
room. The old man had reserved a room on the top floor of the hotel. DeGard
imagined his employer preferred the space so he could look down on everyone
else. The thought brought a disfigured smile to his wiry face. He wiped away
the grin when the door opened.
Lindsey stood in the doorway. He had already put on a black smoking
jacket, and poured himself a bourbon in one of the hotel’s rocks glasses.
“What do you want?” he asked in a clearly annoyed. Lindsey took a sip
from the bourbon and barely flinched as he swallowed. He’d been in a foul mood
since arriving in the city.
DeGard decided to be blunt. “Monsieur Lindsey, if I am going to be an
integral part of this operation, I want to know exactly with what I am
involved.” He almost literally stomped his foot as he was metaphorically
putting his foot down. Lindsey seemed unimpressed so the Frenchman continued.
“I want to know what it is you and your little group are up to. You are the
head of The Order of Golden Dawn, non? This is a well concealed organization
which very few people know of. But you are planning something on a global
scale, and from what I have heard you and your associates saying, many lives
will be lost. Is that true? Are you planning some kind of holocaust or
genocide?”
Lindsey listened as patiently as he could. He almost seemed amused by
the archaeologist’s clown-like mannerisms. The man’s thin pasty frame didn’t
help. Lindsey took another sip of the bourbon and chopped his lips after he
swallowed, savoring the taste of the oak-aged liquor.
“My dear, DeGard,” Lindsey smiled at his visitor. “Am I to understand
that you are developing a soft heart for the degenerates of the world? I
certainly understand, knowing full well the reputation that precedes you.”
DeGard bit his lip for a second while his face flushed red at the
barb. He cocked his head sideways for a second then responded. “A soft heart?
Non, Monsieur. However, if you are planning some kind of massive attack on
humanity, I want to make sure I will not be harmed.”
Lindsey snorted a short laugh. The loose skin under his chin shook as
he responded, and his hollow eyes stared back with sincere deprecation.
“You will be spared, Monsieur DeGard, but only because you are working
for me.”
“That is all I needed to know.”
The old man closed the door before the Frenchman could say thank you
or goodbye. Not that he needed to. Alexander Lindsey was a strange man. That
was certain. And he’d not come clean about what he was planning. DeGard was
still frustrated about that. At the moment, there was nothing he could do. He
would find out what the crazy old man was scheming soon enough. As long as he
was safe, that was all that Luc DeGard cared about.
He’d learned a long time ago to always watch out for number one. It
was what he did best. And no matter how much money he was being paid for this
wild goose chase, he wanted to make sure he would live to spend it.
Istanbul, Turkey
Driving through the streets of Istanbul was almost surreal to Sean.
Most of the buildings looked the same, with a few, more modern exceptions
sticking out here and there. Bright flashing signs lit up the night sky and
illuminated the streets and sidewalks like a strange, electric sun.
The plane had landed a few hours before, but the man Jabez had made
arrangements with for pickup arrived thirty minutes late. Based on the thick
traffic, Sean didn’t pay much mind. Of course Firth had complained the entire
time they’d sat in the lonely hangar off to the side of the airport. Sean
wished he’d had one of the tranquilizers he’d used on more than one occasion
with Axis. In fifteen seconds the professor could be out cold, the only problem
being that they would have to carry him into the hotel, which might look
somewhat conspicuous. Sean laughed to himself at the thought.
Adriana hadn’t said much on the flight or after they had arrived. She
seemed deeply interested in the leather bound book she had been reading. Her
eyes glimmered in the lights of the city as she stared out the window.
Their host, a squat Turk named Khalil, zipped the small caravan of
SUVs through the busy evening traffic of downtown Istanbul. He didn’t say much,
probably because of the reaming he’d taken from Jabez on account of his
tardiness. But Sean got the impression he was more a man of action rather than
words. He wore a short red fez, a linen long sleeve shirt and matching pants,
and sported a Fu Manchu style moustache and goatee. His dark hair was slightly
receded, giving Sean the impression the portly man to be roughly in his mid to
upper forties. Since Khalil hadn’t said a word on their drive into town, it was
unclear whether the man spoke English or not.
The vehicle turned into a driveway that was blocked off by an ornate,
bronze gate. Palm trees and shrubbery lined the pavement beyond the entrance,
leading to a five-story hotel overlooking the Mediterranean. The gate opened slowly
and the two SUV’s passed through, zipping their way down the driveway and to
the front of the hotel. Several valets waited under a giant awning made of
plaster, accented with cedar cross beams and paneling. The valets were dressed
in uniforms that almost looked like Turkish military garb, with gold tassels
and medallions dangling from their shoulders and chests. They quickly opened
the doors for the new arrivers and began busily asking which things they could
take.
When Jabez exited the vehicle, a younger valet stared at him with
uneasy apprehension. Jabez was an imposing figure, and when he wasn’t smiling,
that sense was only amplified. The young man got over it quickly and asked if
there was anything he could take in. Jabez shook his head but never broke the
stern look on his face. The valet rushed off to help someone else.
Firth was clearly used to a life of convenience, and all too happy to
allow the men to carry his few bags. He carried himself with an exhausted
dignity through the bronze-framed doors.
Inside the hotel, the guests were greeted by tan marble floors and
matching pillars. Hundreds of thousands of mosaic tiles covered the walls in
dramatic fashion. Signature domed archways hung over openings in a hexagonal
lobby. The portals led to the different sections of the facility containing the
hotel quarters, dining and entertainment areas, exercise and spa area, and the
lobby in which they were standing.
Sean’s head spun around a full 360 degrees as he admired the
craftsmanship that had gone into creating the palatial hotel.
“I guess your friend has a decent connection here, huh?” he quipped at
Jabez.
The Arab cocked his head for a second as if making such arrangements
were just another typical day at the office. A few moments later, his driver
was handing out room keys and giving directions for finding their rooms.
Adriana noticed that Jabez and his four men didn’t receive a key.
“Where are you and your men staying?” She prodded.
He turned and smiled at her. “We will be in a home not far from here.
A place like this is far too grand for simple men like us. Humble quarters are
all we require. And we must also pray for strength tonight.” He smiled wide
with the last part. “All of this would be an easy distraction,” Jabez waved his
hand around dramatically showing off the extravagant interior of the lobby.
The Arab turned back to Sean. “I will return in the morning to pick
you up at 8:00 o’clock, Istanbul time. So, be sure you have eaten a big
breakfast. It will be a few hours drive to the border. Arrangements have been
made so the Armenians will know we are coming, and should not give us any
trouble.”
“That’s good to know.”
Firth was still frowning. Sean had figured the man had grown tired of
all the intrigue. The older professor was what Sean and Tommy called a
“classroom archaeologist.” They rarely got out and did any exploration in their
twilight years.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” the older man said, bobbing his head and
fedora as he spoke, “but I am going to bed. I shall see you in the morning.” He
waved a dismissive hand and plodded off in the wrong direction through the
entryway of the spa.
Sean snorted a quick laugh, knowing in a moment the professor’s
dramatic exit would be ruined with a U-turn and an embarrassing walk to the
other side of the lobby.
Sure enough, thirty seconds later Firth re-appeared and stalked
quickly across the marble tiles, past the lavish beige couches, and through the
correct portal. Adriana snickered slightly.
“I suppose we should turn in as well,” Sean put out a hand for Jabez,
who took it and gripped it appreciatively.
“We will see you tomorrow. I pray the Father keeps us safe.”
The man spun around and ushered the rest of his men out the doors. His
last sentence lingered in Sean’s mind, though. He couldn’t help but wonder why
they wouldn’t be safe. It was doubtful Lindsey was on the same trail. But
experience had taught him to never get too comfortable. As soon as you did was
when the enemy could rear its ugly head.
He followed Adriana across the room and into a great hallway lined
with bronze candle sconces. A thick burgundy carpet ran the length of it atop
more of the marble tiles like the ones they’d seen in the lobby. A set of
elevator doors opened up to the left as they neared.
A few moments later, they had reached their floor and were walking
down a hall that mirrored the one they’d just left.
They’d been silent since leaving the lobby, but Adriana broke the
quiet. “Sean, my father does covert operations for various governments of the
world.”
The sudden confession caught him off guard. “I’m sorry. Your dad does
what?”
“Technically, you could consider him to be a spy. Now, he mainly does
contract work for different agencies connected to the United States
government.”
They stopped walking at an intersection of two hallways. A
glass-ceilinged dome loomed above them. Enormous pots with small palm trees
dotted the corners of the circular intersect.
Sean’s eyebrows stitched together. “Espionage? Your father?” It was
rare when someone surprised him. But he had to admit to himself this was one of
those times that really caught him off guard.
Adriana could tell he wasn’t sure about the idea. “It isn’t as bad as
you make it sound. He doesn’t work for any bad people,” she defended with a
slight pout.
He shook his head, still confused. “I’m sorry. Why are you telling me
this anyway?”
“Because. He may be able to help us uncover whatever it is Lindsey is
up to. My father has connections in places some of your friends may not. It
could be worth a try.”
Sean nodded slowly, finally understanding the connection. “Okay,” he
agreed. “See what he can find out. I will contact Emily and she what she has
turned up. Call me if you hear anything interesting.”
She smiled wryly. “I texted him over an hour ago. If father can find
anything, he will be calling soon.”
He gave an impressed smile and walked the remaining twenty feet to
their rooms. Hers was across the hall, and she looked back after unlocking it
with her card key. Sean had turned around as well to watch her for a second. He
cast an awkward smile across the six-foot space.
“You don’t have to stay in your room if you don’t want to, Sean.” Her
voice was confident and hopeful. The Spanish accent was intoxicating and filled
his ears like music. Her figure beckoned to him as she stood with one hand on a
hip. Every instinct told Sean to step across the hall, wrap his arm around her
slender waist, and press his lips into hers. He could tell from the look in her
chocolate, almond shaped eyes that she was hoping he would.
For a few seconds, Sean imagined what her firm, tight body would feel
like. The outline of her athletic legs in those tight pants she always seemed
to wear was almost too much to bear.
But something made him hesitate, made him decline every natural instinct
that was roaring inside his head. “I need to get cleaned up,” he basically
ignored the invitation. “It’s been a long day, and we should get some rest.
Please, though, let me know if you hear anything from your father.”
Her face was the picture of disappointment and confusion. She’d thrown
herself at him, and he had rejected her.
Sean doubted many men would have done the same thing. She was better
than that, though. And she deserved better. He’d met her several weeks before,
and they had gotten to know each other fairly well so far. But he didn’t want
to ruin that. He hoped that, someday, they could venture into a physical
relationship. Maybe he was old fashioned. At least he thought he was, more so
than most people in an age of Internet dating and sexting.
She pushed open the door and disappeared inside, a dejected look
washing across her face. The door clicked shut, and Sean remained standing on
the threshold of his own room. He owed her an explanation. He knew he did.
Maybe later he would try to tell her how he felt, what he wanted.
He banged his head against the door slowly a few times. “What is wrong
with you, Wyatt?” he said quietly to himself. “What are you doing?”
Sean unlocked his door and slipped inside.
The room felt like many other hotel rooms he’d stayed in before. At
their core, they were all the same: just glorified bedrooms. Sure, there were
different coats of paint or fancy wallpaper, tiled floors or hardwood, lush
sofas, and dozens of decorative pillows. In the end, though, he just wanted a
decent place to sleep. None of that over-the-top stuff really meant much.
He had to admit that the room was different than most he’d stayed in.
The interior decorator had decked out the Arabian architecture with an array of
colors and hues that pleased the eye, but wasn’t so distracting one couldn’t
relax.
Sean turned on the shower, one of the more ordinary places he could
find in the hotel. The tiles were beige, filled in with a dark grout. It had no
doors, only an entrance into the shower with a short, tiled wall going up one
side to protect from splashing onto the floor of the rest of the bathroom. He
let the hot water soothe his senses for several minutes before cleaning up and
getting out to dry off.
He threw on a t-shirt and boxers then noticed his phone lighting up on
the dark cherry oak dresser across from the bed. It was a text message from
Adriana. Sean hesitated before unlocking his phone to read it. He wondered if
she was going to say something about the uncomfortable exchange in the hallway
from earlier. Shrugging it off, he opened the phone’s interface and read it.
“I have information on Lindsey you need to hear. Come over ASAP. PS,
I’m sorry about earlier.”
Sean smiled at the text, glad she wasn’t angry at him. Putting himself
in her shoes, he actually felt a little bad for her. It had to be awkward.
He pulled on some jeans from his bag and went across the hall. When
she opened the door, she was dressed in a snug, red t-shirt and some gray
pajama pants.
She still looked a little uncomfortable, and bit her lower lip in a
cute gesture. Before she could say anything, he beat her to it.
“Look, Adriana. I want to…I really like you. And I am definitely
attracted to you.” His words made her face light up slightly. “But we have a
lot going on right now, and I don’t want to jump into anything with you. I just
want to get to know you and not have this turn into some one-nighter because we
got caught up in the moment. Understand?”
“Yes,” she nodded, still smiling. “I do.”
“When all this is over, I think we should just get away from
everything and get a little alone time. Sound good?”
She nodded again.
“Okay,” he still beamed at her. “Now, what did your father say?”
Sean stepped into the room that looked almost identical to his own. He
was almost a little disappointed at that fact. A tiny part of him had hoped
each room was uniquely decorated.
Adriana sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her phone. Sean
assumed a casual seating position on the nearby sofa.
“Father has many contacts in the United States. It turns out, our
friend Alexander Lindsey has his hands in many pies, as you Americans say.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, impressed with her use of the expression. “No one has
been able to prove anything in regards to Golden Dawn and their direct
operations, but it seems Lindsey and the same collection of men have accounts
that get distributed into a network of investments and legitimate businesses.”