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ERNEST DEMPSEY
ENCLAVE PUBLISHING
CONTENTS
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Prologue
1.
Bellevaux, France
2.
Aachen, Germany
3.
Venice, Italy
4.
Pyongyang, North Korea
5.
Atlanta, Georgia
6.
Atlanta
7.
Aachen
8.
Aachen
9.
Aachen
10.
Cologne, Germany
11.
Cologne
12.
Cologne
13.
Cologne
14.
Cologne
15.
Cologne
16.
Brussels, Belgium
17.
Cologne
18.
Frankfurt, Germany
19.
Bellevaux
20.
Thonon-les-Bains, France
21.
Thonon-les-Bains
22.
Geneva, Switzerland
23.
Glastonbury, England
24.
Glastonbury
25.
Glastonbury
26.
London, England
27.
Glastonbury
28.
Rome, Italy
29.
Vatican City
30.
Vatican City
31.
Vatican City
32.
Rome
33.
Mount Nebo, Jordan
34.
Mount Nebo
35.
Mount Nebo
36.
Pyongyang
37.
Mount Nebo
Thank You
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Author Notes
Other Books by Ernest Dempsey
Dedication
Acknowledgements
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PROLOGUE
Jerusalem
AD 1100
The king’s final orders began with a fit of coughing, as did nearly everything he’d said in the last three days. A thin line of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth into the dark blond beard, his pale face the ghastly color of eminent death.
Godfrey stared at the far wall, eyes bloodshot and sagging. He’d been propped up on a stack of pillows to make him more comfortable, but the cushions did little to ease the pain from the illness ravaging his insides. Ever the warrior, Godfrey didn’t give in. He hardened the muscles in his face so as to not show weakness to the others in the room.
His younger brother, Baldwin, stood nearby with hands folded. He wore a solemn expression—lips drawn into a frown, eyes sullen and full of pity.
No one was sure what had happened.
Godfrey was a relatively young man, only forty years of age. Up until the day he first noticed the symptoms, he’d been in near-perfect health.
Baldwin searched the eyes of every man and woman in the room, hoping to find a traitor in their midst on whom he could place the blame. He suspected poison, but there was no way to be certain. There was also the fact that he’d never seen symptoms like this before from any poisoning. That didn’t mean it could be ruled out. They were strangers in a strange land. The rules were different here.
“Brother,” Godfrey said after the violent stretch of coughs ended. “Come to me.”
Baldwin gave a nod and stepped close to the bed. “Yes, my king.”
The line pried a dismissive snort from Godfrey’s nose. He forced a feeble smile across his face and shook his head. “I’ve told you before, Brother, I do not deserve the title of king. There is only one king of Jerusalem, and that is Jesus Christ. I am merely an advocate and defender.”
Another series of coughs racked his body as soon as Godfrey finished the sentence. Baldwin reached out to steady his brother and give him comfort. When the fit subsided, Baldwin waited for a moment before he spoke again.
“Brother, what would you have me do?”
Godfrey looked into his brother’s eyes and pinched his lips together. He was in a tremendous amount of pain, and it was all the great leader could do to not scream. “Leave us,” he said and waved to the others. “I would like a moment with my brother.”
Baldwin watched as the assistants, nurses, and military advisers filed through the door and disappeared into the hall, leaving the two brothers alone in silence.
Godfrey swallowed. “There is something…something I need you to do.” He struggled to speak.
“Name it, Brother, and by God it will be done.”
Godfrey admired his brother’s loyalty, his fierce determination. He would make a great leader for Jerusalem. “For many years now, I have waged war on the Muslims, fighting for God and His kingdom.”
“And fought well, you have.”
Godfrey raised a weakened hand, signaling that he wasn’t finished. “I believed in the war. I still do. And that is why you must do exactly as I say.”
“Name the task.”
“First, I must make a confession to you, my brother. I…I have kept a secret from you…from everyone, all these years.”
Baldwin frowned, his eyebrows knitted together. “A secret? What kind of secret?”
Godfrey grinned as best he could. “A secret that bears enormous power.”
Baldwin wanted to ask what kind of power, but another string of coughs cut him off.
Godfrey’s body sagged, and for a moment Baldwin thought his brother’s life had come to an end. A quiet whistle seeped out of Godfrey’s nose and told Baldwin his brother was still alive, albeit barely.
Godfrey drew in a deep breath and did his best to straighten up. “This power does not make one invincible, as you can see for yourself. At the end of this day, I will be dead. Nothing can stop that now.”
“Don’t talk like that, Brother. The nurses—”
“The nurses do not know what is wrong with me. My race is run. I accept that and look forward to meeting my God. There is something, however, you have to do for me. And there is something you must know.”
He paused for a moment, reflecting on something from the past. What it was, Baldwin didn’t know.
“Jerusalem will fall to the Saracens again, Brother. No matter how strong our line, no matter our defenses, they will return, and they will overrun us.”
Baldwin started to refute the notion, but Godfrey went on. “I do not wish that to be the case, but I know that is what the future holds. Things always change, Baldwin. They cannot stay the same forever. That is not the way of the universe, and certainly not the world of men.”
Baldwin’s head bowed low. “Will this happen in my lifetime?”
“Difficult to say. I think not, but it is possible.”
“What can I do to stop this?”
Godfrey’s eyes narrowed. “You must lead the people as best you can, Brother. Be true to God and to them. Let that be your guiding principle.”
Baldwin waited a minute before he spoke again. “You mentioned a power.”
“Yes. It is the great secret. Eight others possessed it before me. It is a relic of incredible importance, and must never fall into the hands of the Saracens. Were that to happen, I fear the worst.”
“I…I don’t understand. If this relic is so powerful, why not use it to fend off the Muslims? We could destroy them forever.”
“It does not work that way, Brother. Its power is not infinite. It fades. I do not know how to describe it other than to say that this relic must be returned to its home until it calls to another.”
“Calls to another?”
Godfrey gave a slow nod. “I never told you this. In fact, I never told anyone. You must promise to keep this information secret until the day you die. Is that understood?”
Baldwin hesitated and then nodded his agreement. “I swear.”
The answer was good enough for Godfrey. “I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was out for a ride on my horse—you know, the path that runs through the forest on our family land.”
Baldwin’s head rocked up and down. “I do.”
“The great leaders of Christianity were calling for soldiers to lead a Crusade against the Saracen hordes in Jerusalem. I was uncertain whether or not I should go. Of course, I knew the answer. It may surprise you to know that I had a good amount of fear in my heart.”
That did surprise Baldwin. He’d never known his brother to fear anything. On more than one occasion, Baldwin witnessed his brother overcoming incredible odds on the battlefield. One such occasion was during the main assault on Jerusalem. While many leaders would have stayed near the back of the lines, Godfrey led the men into battle, cutting down enemies from atop his steed. Even after losing his horse, Godfrey fought on, hacking his way through enemy lines as if some kind of divine power coursed through him, surging him forward without ever tiring. Baldwin recounted times when his brother had even fought off wild beasts with his bare hands, killing ravenous animals three times his size.
“Fear is a natural thing, Baldwin. It is the point in the road in which men make a decision to be courageous, or cowards.” He let the words sink in before he continued. “During my ride through the forest, I decided to take a moment to pray. So I got off the horse and knelt by a large oak, one that has been on our land since long before we were born. I prayed that God would give me strength to do what is right, and to fight for Him in all things. When I arose and opened my eyes, I was surprised to see a man in gray robes standing less than twenty feet away.”
“A man in gray robes?”
“Yes. I drew my sword and demanded he tell me who he was and what he wanted. I told him he was on my land and that by rights I could cut him down for trespassing.
“The man drew back his hood and revealed an old face, worn with the wrinkles of time. His beard and hair were white like snow. But his eyes were full of peace. I knew he meant no ill will.”
Baldwin had been sucked into the story and leaned in close. “What did you do?”
“I lowered my sword and asked him what he wanted. The man told me he had a gift for me, and me alone. I asked what kind of gift, but he wouldn’t answer. He merely stepped forward and produced a map from an inner pocket of his robe.”
“A map?”
Godfrey nodded. “Yes. I asked what the map led to, what area it depicted, but he would not answer. When I took a moment to look over the map again, the man was gone, as if the forest had consumed him. I mounted my horse and looked everywhere, but the old man was nowhere to be found. He’d vanished.”
“What did you do?”
Godfrey’s lungs wheezed like he might cough again, but the fits didn’t return. “I deciphered the map and used it to find something incredible, something that helped me during the Crusades. Without it, we would have surely lost.”
The buildup was tugging at Baldwin’s curiosity. “What is it?”
“A sword. But not just any sword. It is a sword that commands incredible power. For a time, the one who wields it cannot be destroyed.”
“For a time?”
“That power fades, remember? It needs to be returned to its home until the world needs another leader to rise against evil. That is the task I ask of you, my brother. You must return the sword to its home. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe. You must tell no other human about this. If evil were to find it, the world as we know it would end.”
“But how could evil use it if the power fades?”
Godfrey forced a smile across his lips. “When it is returned to its home, the power renews itself. Then the sword becomes the ultimate weapon once more. Whoever wields it will be unstoppable.”
“Where do I take it?”
Godfrey raised his hand to a golden necklace clinging to his chest. It was a circle, surrounded by five half circles. The jewelry gave the appearance of a golden sun. Godfrey ripped it from his neck and handed it to his brother.
Baldwin stared at the object in his palm as Godfrey’s cold, clammy fingers pulled away.
“The location…is inside. Remember, Brother…you must never tell a soul. Only God can reveal the location to His sword. He chooses who will wield it next, not you or I.”
Godfrey’s breaths came quicker. His face tightened, and Baldwin knew his brother was on death’s doorstep.
“The sword, Brother. Where is it?”
“It is safe, in a place only you would know where to look. When we were children, remember the trick I played on you with your favorite toy?”
A tear formed in the corner of Baldwin’s eye. He remembered the event well. Somehow, Godfrey had taken his favorite toy sword and put it in his own scabbard. Wearing it in plain sight, Baldwin never suspected. After allowing his younger brother to search the house for the faux weapon, Godfrey gave away the hiding place by tapping his finger on the hilt.
Baldwin stood up straight and glanced down at the weapon. Then he looked back to his brother. In the rush to get to his brother’s side, he’d not even noticed the difference.
Godfrey gave a weak nod. “It was the safest place for me to put it, Brother. Take it back to where it belongs. That is my last request for you.”
Suddenly, Godfrey’s body tensed. His lungs gurgled inside his chest. He shook violently for several seconds, fighting death’s grip as long as he could. Then, as suddenly as it began, the fit ended, and Godfrey’s eyes settled on a random spot on the ceiling.
Baldwin stared at him for a second and then reached out his hand. He took Godfrey’s in his own and held it tight. The skin was cold, like the stone of a wine cellar back in their homeland.
“Brother?” he said.
There was no response.
Baldwin leaned in and listened to Godfrey’s chest. It was deathly silent.
He straightened up, fighting back the tears. “Nurse!” he yelled.
People flooded the room once more. Wailing soon commenced. The military leaders paid their respects and then immediately began the discussion concerning Godfrey’s successor.
Baldwin heard his name more than once, but he didn’t care about that at the moment. He had a mission to complete, the last request of his brother.
He stepped out of the room and wandered down the hall until he found an empty room on the right. It was nothing more than a simple cell, a place where one of the maids slept. He stole a quick glance down both directions of the corridor and then slipped inside, closing the door behind.
He stared down at the sword in the scabbard. How it had gone unnoticed to him was still a mystery. In hindsight, he had never given much thought to putting on his belt and scabbard. It had become second nature, an unconscious action in a multitude of routine things he did every day.
Why would he have noticed?
Now, as he stared down at the hilt, he could tell the difference. The silvery metal handle was shinier than his own weapon. The thing looked as if it had never seen the wear and tear of battle.
With a twinge of fear in his heart, he wrapped his fingers around the handle and eased the blade out of its housing. Remarkably, the edges were still perfect, and the steel still gleamed as if it had just come out of the smith’s polish.
Baldwin held the sword at waist level and noticed something etched into the blade just above the hand guard. His eyes narrowed with curiosity, and he raised the weapon so he could read the lettering.
There were three lines, one in Hebrew, one in Greek and one in Latin. The first two were languages Baldwin didn’t speak. He had a feeling they all said the same thing. His eyes widened as he read the last line in Latin.
Caliburnus.
Chapter 1
BELLEVAUX, FRANCE
Tommy’s wide eyes stared unblinking into the gaping hole in the rock. His team from the International Archaeological Agency had been working alongside teams from all over the world to uncover centuries-old ruins, buried just a few hundred yards from an eleventh-century castle, or what was left of it. The location was perched atop a steep mountain. It was framed by picturesque views of the Lac de Vallon and the surrounding hillsides covered in green coniferous trees.
Their painstaking efforts had resulted in not only the discovery of structures that predated the castle but dozens of artifacts including pottery, glassware, and remnants of weapons. They’d also found a section of rock in the basement of the ruins that had been carved out by human hands. Inside was a stone sarcophagus.
Never had Tommy expected to find anything like this in an historically remote location. Sure, he’d hoped there would be some artifacts or relics on site, but to find an actual sarcophagus was beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.
The team of workers cleared a path and set up a series of lights inside so Tommy and his assistants could see more easily. He moved down the temporary wooden steps onto the lower landing, followed closely by three others. Two were men from Oxford. A third was a female anthropologist from Switzerland.
The buzz grew quickly and soon a daily crowd of onlookers arrived outside the roped area surrounding the site.
Tommy wasn’t accustomed to people watching as he and his team did their work. He preferred to take care of things in secret. This project, however, wasn’t his baby. Most of them weren’t, although the people who brought in his team typically let them operate however they wanted.
Cameras flashed around the four as they entered the floodlights’ pale glow coming from the corners of the cave. Only a few people from the media had come to cover the story. The number didn’t matter. What mattered was the discovery itself.
Tommy had already taken a look at the stone box, but that didn’t keep the sight from stopping his breath as he stepped closer and beheld the shield engraved on the surface. A Templar cross was cut within the shield’s borders, surrounded by four other, less elaborate equilateral crosses. It was a symbol synonymous with the legendary Crusader, Godfrey of Bouillon. Tommy thought it, though he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t need to. The fact that the symbol was here in France made no sense. The great leader was purportedly buried within the confines of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.
Then Tommy reminded himself of where he was. This land would have fallen squarely into the area that was considered part of Godfrey’s property.
Was this the true burial spot for one of the greatest leaders of the Crusades? Or was it one of his followers? Tommy had put off the answers until he had more time with the evidence. He was only seeing the tip of the iceberg at this point.
The other three hadn’t seen the surface of the sarcophagus yet and were unaware of the engraving. Tommy had kept that a secret to only be revealed by their own eyes.
“Incredible,” said one of the men from Oxford. His gray hair and beard were badges of honor in a world where one’s depth of knowledge was dependent on years of experience. This was Dr. Tim Hathaway, an anthropologist from London. He’d been an expert in his field for more than 30 years.
The other man—one of similar age and manner—was Dr. Nicholas Remming. He nodded in agreement. “Well done, Tommy. Well done indeed. A Templar burial site. Astonishing.” Remming had been a professor of medieval studies for 22 years and had taken part in more than a dozen digs across Europe.
“Not just a Templar, Doctor. These perfectly align with images often associated with Godfrey of Bouillon.”
The older man raised an eyebrow and fired a suspicious look Tommy’s way. “We’ll see.”
The researcher, Dr. Cherie Sauvad, took a few pictures with her smartphone and then began putting on gloves she’d brought in. Her graying brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The hairdo stretched the shallow wrinkles on her forehead, almost making them disappear.
“I hope you gents are ready for this,” she said.
The other three nodded, and she motioned for two of the workers outside to join them in the sepulcher. The men—both of Asian descent—hurried inside with crowbars and shovels.
Sauvad motioned to the sarcophagus lid. “Be very careful,” she said. “Make sure the lid doesn’t fall into the box. The last thing we need is to crush the remains.”
The two Oxford men took a nervous breath as the workers wedged their tools into the seam between the top and the bottom of the box. When they were satisfied with the depth, they leveraged the iron, and the lid came off its housing. The workers nodded at each other and slid the top a few inches toward the far wall. Dust tumbled out and over the lip of the sarcophagus. The two older men covered their faces with handkerchiefs to ease their breathing.
Once there was enough room for the workers to get their fingers under the lid, they set down their tools and took up positions opposite each other on either end. With a curt nod, they hefted the heavy object and slid it to where it was slightly less than half off the bottom. There, they held it in place, letting most of the weight rest on the sarcophagus’s rim.
“Perfect,” Sauvad said. “Just hold it there for a moment.”
The two workers pressed down on the lid’s edge to keep it in place as she moved closer.
When the dust settled, the cave’s occupants all stared inside to see what secrets the stone box held. They all expected bones, probably wrapped in medieval clothing or armor.
Instead, what they saw was a dusty shield. No skeleton. No armor. Just a shield.
Everyone in the cave frowned.
“Where’s the body?” Sauvad asked. “I don’t understand.”
Dr. Remming glanced over at Tommy. “You’ve kept this area secure since its discovery, yes?”
“Of course,” Tommy stammered. “We’ve had video surveillance and guards posted around the clock. If someone tried to get in here, we’d have known about it.”
Sauvad continued gazing into the sarcophagus. She reached out and ran a gloved finger along the shield’s edge, wiping a thin layer of dust from the surface. Her action revealed a pale yellow metal.
“Gold leaf on the edge,” she said. “If someone broke in here to steal something, they would have taken this with them.” She looked closer and wiped her hand across the breadth of the shield. “What’s this?”
She repeated the action three more times until everyone in the chamber could see clearly the image on the metal surface.
It was a black eagle, a symbol used by one of the greatest kings to ever live: Charlemagne.
“Wait a minute,” Tommy said. “That can’t be right.”
“It must be a forgery,” said Hathaway. “Charlemagne is buried in Aachen. Everyone knows that.”
“Yeah, but there’s no body here. Maybe this wasn’t meant to be a burial chamber.”
“Why, then, is there a sarcophagus?” Remming asked. “And why is it on Bouillon land?”
Tommy put his hands on his hips and stared at the shield. “Dr. Sauvad, may I use your gloves for a moment?”
“Certainly.”
“What are you doing?” Hathaway asked, his voice full of uncertainty.
“Just having a look.”
Tommy lifted the shield from its resting place and stared into the shadow underneath. A yellowish object caught his attention. Propping the shield up with one hand, he used the other to reach under. A moment later, he laid the shield back down and held up the object he’d removed.
It was a circular medallion with five half circles surrounding it. Every eye in the room stared at the small treasure.
“What is it? Who was the owner?” Sauvad asked.
“Where is the owner?” Remming asked.
“Look,” Tommy said. “On the back. There’s something inscribed on the metal.” He peered closer. “It looks like Latin.”
Sauvad read the lines out loud before the others had a chance. “It says, All who draw the sword will die by the sword.”
“Why in heaven’s name does it say that?” Hathaway asked.
The two workers suddenly drew pistols out of their jackets and pointed them at the other occupants.
“Hand over the medallion,” one of them said in heavily accented English. “Do it now, and don’t try anything stupid.”
The two Englishmen took a moment to process what was happening.
“What is the meaning of this?” Remming demanded.
Tommy answered for them. “They’re stealing this artifact. Which, I don’t have to tell you two, is a bad idea. You won’t get out of here with it.”
“We’ll see,” the worker who’d spoken before said. “Medallion. Now.”
His voice grew louder but still not loud enough to be heard outside the cave.
“You two positioned yourselves perfectly,” Tommy said. “Nobody can see you thanks to where the walls cut off. But they’ll see you come out. Then what’s your plan?”
“Not your concern. Now give me the medallion, or I kill her.” The worker pressed the muzzle to the side of Sauvad’s head.
She trembled but didn’t dare move.
“Okay, just take it easy,” Tommy said. He held out the object and moved his hand slowly toward the gunman. “Point the gun at me, not her. She’s not the one holding what you want. I am.”
“Shut up,” the gunman snapped.
When Tommy’s hand was at full extension, the gunman shoved Sauvad out of the way and snatched it from the American.
“Now all of you step back into the corner.” He waved his gun. His partner sidestepped toward the entrance, circling around the sarcophagus.
Tommy watched the second man’s movement and instantly recognized an opportunity. As the silent partner neared the other gunman, Tommy slid his hand on top of the sarcophagus lid as if to brace himself. When the other three researchers were safely behind him, he pressed down hard on the lid’s corner and stepped back.
The heavy object immediately slipped off its housing and crashed to the floor, crushing the second gunman’s foot in the process. He howled in agony. His trigger finger instinctively pulled and fired off a shot that ricocheted around the room.
Ironically, it struck the shooter in the side of the head, and within seconds he slumped to the floor. Tommy clambered over the lid and twisted the weapon out of the dead man’s hand. He spun around to aim at the other guy, but all he saw was the man’s feet as he sprinted up the stairs.
Tommy shook his head like a dog. “I usually have a guy for this.”
He jumped over the dead man’s left leg and took off.
People gasped, and one person shrieked.
Tommy imagined the gunman wielding his weapon to clear a path. He burst from the cave and charged after the thief. Another woman in the crowd of onlookers screamed at the sight of Tommy running with a gun.
“It’s okay,” he said, putting up a dismissive hand as he ran by. “I’m one of the good guys.”
His disclaimer did little to ease any minds. People still ducked and scattered.
Tommy didn’t have time to worry about that.
He had a thief to catch.
Running up another section of steps sent his heart rate to its max capacity as he reached the third and final tier.
Tommy gasped for breath, forcing himself to keep going. His legs felt like bags of sand, growing heavier and heavier with every step. The thief appeared to be unaffected by the stair sprint. He’d lengthened the gap to nearly twenty yards, and it wasn’t getting any better for Tommy.
The only way down from the dig site was a narrow one-lane road that wound around the mountain, circling it until arriving at the bottom, and a slightly wider road leading out of the rural village.
The thief was making his way toward one of the few cars parked nearby. If he got in, stopping him would be nearly impossible.
Tommy took a few more steps as the thief skidded to a stop at the driver’s side of a red sedan. He reached for the door handle but was halted by a loud pop. The bullet smashed into the front quarter panel. Another gunshot sent a round through the windshield.
The thief took cover behind the next vehicle in line and waited. Tommy was crouched on one knee, aiming carefully with his weapon. Now that the other guy was behind another car, he didn’t have a clear shot. And Tommy was out in the open, completely exposed.
Without warning, the thief rose quickly and fired four successive shots. Tommy did the only thing he could. He dove and rolled as the dirt erupted around him. As he tumbled sideways, he managed to extend his weapon and squeeze the trigger five times.
The shots were wildly inaccurate, most sailing off into the ether, or wherever errant bullets go. Two, however, made themselves useful.
One found its way into the front left tire of the red sedan, rendering the getaway car useless. The second round snuck under the vehicle the thief was using for cover and struck the man in the shin.
He instantly dropped to the ground, howling in agony. The fingers on his free hand wrapped around the bloody wound. He didn’t release his weapon, though.
Tommy seized the moment. He dragged himself up and ran as hard as he could toward the car on the far end of the row. Gunfire erupted again from the thief’s weapon, but Tommy dove for cover before any of the bullets even came close.
Safe for the moment, Tommy tucked in behind the front tire of an SUV and waited a second.
“Okay. Stay on the offensive,” he whispered.
He took a deep breath and peeked around the vehicle’s front end. Instead of seeing the man writhing on the ground from the bullet wound, Tommy was shocked to see the guy hobbling desperately toward the curve in the road.
“Seriously?”
If the situation hadn’t been so dangerous, he would have thought it a hilarious sight.
Tommy crept out from behind his hiding place with his pistol held waist high. He still panted for air, but the run had been a short one and in the time he’d been hiding, his legs had mostly recovered.
“I have got to start working out more,” he said and took off after the thief once again.
In spite of the wound to his leg, the thief had picked up speed and was already nearing the bend in the road. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Tommy bearing down on him. He raised his weapon and fired a salvo at the big American.
Tommy’s reaction was almost catlike. He’d seen the guy’s intent when he turned around. The only place Tommy could take cover was a large boulder on the side of the drive. Bullets splashed into the gravel and pinged off the boulder until no more shots rang out. Tommy wasn’t as good at counting enemy rounds as his friend Sean, but he was pretty sure the thief’s gun was empty.
He popped around the corner, fired a reply of his own, and caught the thief in the middle of checking his pockets for a fresh magazine. Startled, the man took off again, running down the road.
Tommy dashed after him, like the worlds slowest 100-meter sprinter coming out of the blocks. His lack of speed didn’t matter now. His prey was injured, and that tilted the odds in Tommy’s favor.
The thief panicked as Tommy closed the gap to less than ten yards. Then he did something unexpected. He spun to the right and veered toward the cliff’s edge as if he planned to jump.
Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the man draw closer to the ledge. There was no time to lose. If the guy jumped, the medallion could be lost forever to the depths of the lake below.
With only two yards between Tommy and the thief, and only one yard between the thief and the precipice, Tommy pushed all his weight onto his left foot and leaped forward with arms outstretched. The thief looked back in time to see the big American flying at him. He tried to jump away, but it was too late. Tommy’s right arm struck the man’s heel. The heavy force tripped him and sent him tumbling toward the precipice.
Tommy kept his head up as he hit the gravel. The thief rolled toward the ledge only a few feet away. Without a second to lose, Tommy reached out and grabbed a handful of the thief’s jacket just as the man’s momentum carried him over the steep drop-off.
For a second, the thief’s dead weight pulled Tommy downward. Tommy kicked his toes hard into the gravel as he was dragged toward the edge. Luckily, his foot caught on a rock embedded in the ground. With his upper chest hanging over the precipice, he was faced with a six-hundred-foot drop down an 80-degree slope. Even though it wasn’t straight down, the odds of surviving such a fall were slim to none.
The thief’s good foot was planted on a narrow ledge about six feet down. Apparently, he was having second thoughts about jumping.
“Grab my arms,” Tommy said. “I’ll pull you up.”
The man’s narrow eyes were full of angry determination. He said nothing in response.
Tommy’s fingers and forearms strained to keep the man’s weight up even though the guy had a fragile foothold.
“I can’t hold you like this forever. Let me pull you up. Then we’ll talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about, American dog. Soon, the world will bow to us and the Dear Leader.”
“Dear leader? Listen, you can tell me all about it. Just take my hand, and let me pull you up.”
Tommy twisted one hand, trying to get a better grip on the inside of the man’s jacket. He grunted and felt his foot sliding off the rock that was the only thing keeping him from going over the edge as well.
The thief’s eyes blazed as he stared into Tommy’s. “For the leader,” he said in a menacing tone. He reached up with both hands to grab Tommy and pull him down, but his foot slipped off the ledge below.
Tommy’s fingers instinctively let go. For a bizarre second, the thief hung in limbo as gravity wrapped its hands around him. His eyes went wide as he suddenly felt himself being dragged downward.
For a second, Tommy watched as the man tumbled through the air until he saw the man’s head violently crack against the rocky slope. Then the thief’s somersault instantly sped up as he plummeted to the water below.
Tommy shimmied back to safe ground before the man hit the lake. There was a faint splash in the distance, signaling the thief’s fate. Tommy breathed hard for a minute. Then he propped himself up with one hand on the ground.
His eyes caught a glimpse of something on the gravel a few feet away. It was yellowish and glimmered in the sunlight peeking out from behind white fluffy clouds above. He crawled the short distance over to the medallion and picked it up, holding it to the light. Underneath the engraved words was one number: a nine.
When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “What secret are you hiding?”
Chapter 2
AACHEN, GERMANY
Dr. Jann Heimrich stared at the screen in disbelief.
He’d been working on the DNA sequencing project for more than two years. It had begun with getting the appropriate paperwork and permissions, and wading through miles of other red tape.
That was to be expected when dealing with the remains of one of the greatest kings who ever lived. Getting access to tissue and bone samples of Charlemagne was one of the most ambitious things Heimrich had ever taken on. After months of interviews and appeals, he’d finally gotten permission to examine a small portion of the king’s body.
The Aachen Cathedral had been roped off one evening, which wasn’t a huge problem since few parishioners visited after dark. Under careful supervision, Heimrich had taken the samples from the remains, stored them in the appropriate containers, and then transported them to his lab on the other side of town.
The process, the years of waiting, had all led to this, this incredible revelation.
“That can’t be right,” he said.
He adjusted the view on the screen by zooming in closer.
The adjustment didn’t change what he already knew to be correct. “That’s impossible.”
“What’s impossible, Doctor?”
The voice startled Heimrich, and he instinctively spun around to make sure it was his assistant.
“Oh, Michael. You frightened me.”
“Maybe if you weren’t working alone in the dark in an old laboratory after nightfall….”
Heimrich snickered. “Good point. What are you doing here so late? I thought you would have gone home for dinner.”
“I just had a few things to clean up before I left for the night. What are you doing?”
“Come, come. You must have a look at this.” He beckoned his Korean assistant to the computer.
Michael obliged and padded from the doorway over to the workstation. Heimrich scooted his rolling chair to the side so his assistant could get a better view.
“See?” He pointed at the screen as Michael leaned over and examined the display. “The DNA, it’s…”
“It’s not human.”
Heimrich shrugged his head to one side. “Well, not exactly what I was going to say. It definitely is human.”
“Not like any human DNA I’ve ever seen.”
“Correct. You’re correct on that.”
Michael leaned in closer to the computer. His face was less than a foot away from it now. “Are you talking about some kind of evolutionary mutation, Doctor?”
“You know me better than that.”
It was true. Heimrich didn’t subscribe to the theory of evolution. He’d studied the evidence on both sides of the argument and chosen the side with an architect.
“What, then?” Michael asked.
“I’m not sure. Whatever this is will be a big discovery for us.” He pointed at some of the dots on the screen. “This could prove that certain people from history were more than just ordinary humans.”
“Are you saying that Charlemagne was more than a man?”
Heimrich stared at the screen. “What I’m saying is that he was no normal man. With these additions to the sequence, it’s possible he could have been smarter, maybe even stronger, than an average man.”
“That would certainly account for his military prowess. How did this happen?”
Heimrich absently rubbed the scruff on his chin as he considered the question. He’d been thinking on it long before Michael entered the room.
“Have you ever heard stories about relics that gave human beings incredible powers?”
“Of course,” Michael said, standing up straight again. He tweaked his neck to the left and right to get the kinks out. “It’s one of the reasons people are searching for the Holy Grail.”
“Right. An excellent example. There are people who believe that if they find those relics, the objects can give them some kind of power. What if the power a person receives is actually a genetic transformation, something that makes them—as you said—more than human?”
Michael raised a dubious eyebrow. “Doctor, you don’t actually think there is something out there that could cause this sort of mutation in a human being, do you?”
“All I’m saying is that something changed Charlemagne’s DNA. And like you said, that could account for his incredible success as a warrior.”
“Yes, but he died.”
Heimrich raised a finger. “Aha. I had the same thought.” He maneuvered the mouse and clicked it a few times to zoom in on the image. “You see here how some components are somewhat smaller than the regular pieces of code?”
“Yeah…”
“It appears they deteriorated, probably over time.”
“So what does that mean, exactly?”
Heimrich fell back in his chair and put his thumb to his chin once more. “I’m afraid I have no idea.”
They lapsed into silence as Michael considered the doctor’s theory. “All of the samples had this same result?”
“Every single one,” Heimrich said, nodding. “They’re all consistent. The mutation happened throughout the entire code. What I wouldn’t give to have taken a blood sample from Charlemagne himself. Then we could have confirmed what was going on.”
Michael sidetracked the conversation to public relations. “Are you going to announce this discovery?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. We’ll set up a press conference, get all the appropriate people involved. The scientific journals will be extremely interested in this find. Obviously, it will stir up a good amount of wild theories, but that is to be expected. At least the officials who gave us access to the remains will be glad to see something incredible came out of it.”
Michael listened, keeping his face emotionless, like stone. When Heimrich finished, Michael crossed his arms and gave a nod. “I’m sure you’ll be world famous as a result of this find, Doctor. This is going to be huge.”
Heimrich blushed. “Well, thank you, Michael. I don’t seek to be famous, although some of the money that may come with fame would be nice. Have to pay the bills. But yes, I should think the news of this discovery will go far and wide.”
Michael unfolded his arms and in doing so revealed a black pistol with a lengthened round barrel.
Heimrich frowned at the sight of the weapon.
Michael spoke before the doctor could say anything. “We can’t have the world knowing about this little secret, now can we, Doctor?”
The muzzle flashed four times, brightening the laboratory for a half second with each squeeze of the trigger. Michael lowered the weapon and stared at his handiwork. Three rounds to the chest and one to the head made sure Heimrich was dead.
Michael glanced back into the corner near the door. He’d disabled the camera earlier. The little red light on the side no longer glowed. There would be no evidence, no witnesses as to what just happened.
Hurriedly, he put away his gun and set about collecting the samples of mutated DNA. He found a medical cooler he’d placed in the room under one of the tables and put the samples inside. It was still very cold in the box, which would protect the DNA long enough for him to get to the drop-off point.
Next, he deleted all the computer files that contained anything about the Charlemagne DNA. The last thing he needed was for the police to accidentally find what the doctor had been investigating.
Satisfied the information was secure and all the samples taken, he grabbed the cooler and strolled out the door into the hallway. All the cameras in that wing of the building had been disabled so he’d have a clear path to his getaway car.
Soon, he would return to North Korea a hero.
Chapter 3
VENICE, ITALY
A small section of the building’s corner exploded in a burst of debris and dust as the bullet smashed into the decades-old brick. Sean ducked his head and jumped into the alley as his pursuer fired another round—this one sailing wide of the corner and into the façade of the building next door.
He drove his legs harder, pounding the concrete with the balls of his feet as he approached the next intersection of the sidewalks.
Sean had visited Venice several times in the past. That didn’t change the fact that the mazes of causeways, sidewalks, and canals were extremely confusing—even for Venetians. Based on his previous tack, another canal would be up ahead on the right. That or he’d find himself—quite literally—in a dead end.
He clutched the brown paper package tight in his right hand and tucked it under his armpit like a football as he darted toward the next turn.
The gunman behind him fired again. The bullet ricocheted loudly off the concrete close to Sean’s right foot. Another bounced off the windowsill near his left elbow.
He reached the turn and ran ahead, finding a bridge that spanned one of the old city’s many canals. A few tourists stood on it with their elbows on the railing, probably talking about how romantic the city was or how they’d like to stay another day if they could.
Other than for its historical value, Sean didn’t feel the same way about the old city on the water. It smelled in the morning and—as mentioned before—was extraordinarily confusing to navigate. He didn’t particularly care for the people either, noting that the Italians farther to the south seemed to be much friendlier.
Maybe he’d just been to Venice for the wrong reasons. Like the one under his arm.
He cut to the left and found himself staring at steps that descended into the water. No sidewalks lined this canal.
“Crap.”
He heard the footsteps of the gunman approaching the bridge. The guy was running at a furious pace.
Sean stuffed the package into his jacket pocket and pressed his back against the building nearest him, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Sean felt the pursuer was close enough, he spun around the corner, extended his arm, and clotheslined the guy squarely across the throat.
The gunman flipped 90 degrees, his face smacking the ground as he landed. His weapon tumbled through the air, struck one of the steps leading into the water, and plopped into the murky liquid.
Disoriented and desperate, the gunman grasped at his throat. Sean knew he’d crushed the man’s larynx. Without immediate medical attention, he would be dead in less than ninety seconds.
Apparently, the gunman didn’t care.
He kicked his leg and caught Sean off guard, squarely in the ankle. Sean fell to one knee. Alertly, he sensed the next attack and raised his elbow in time to deflect the man’s downward punch. The momentum brought the attacker too close. Sean instantly twisted his body, getting as much force behind the counter as possible, and drove his fist into the man’s gut.
The two tourists on the bridge stood in awe for a moment and then took off running in the other direction, the woman yelling something in Serbian.
Sean rose quickly and swung with his right fist. His target was hunched over yet still managed to deflect the first punch. He couldn’t stop the second one. Sean’s left fist snapped like lightning, striking the man’s jaw. His head rocked back, and he staggered toward the bridge rail. Sean pressed the attack, landing a second and third blow until the man could barely stand.
Sean stared at him for a second with fists still up and ready. The guy’s nose bled, his right eye already swelling. He wavered—gasping for breath—and then collapsed, prostrate, onto the sidewalk.
A nudge with his shoe against the man’s side told Sean the guy was dead. Sean took in a deep breath and sighed. He picked up the object he’d dropped during the fight and stared at the wrapping.
He considered opening it but knew he should wait.
Sudden movement in the corner of his eye confirmed his caution. He ducked back for cover as another pursuer fired a pistol. The bullet thumped into the building on the left across the bridge.
“These guys just don’t give up.”
He drew his weapon and whipped around the corner. His finger squeezed the trigger three times, unleashing a deadly metallic volley at the second gunman. Sean didn’t wait for the man to return fire. The second he saw the guy duck for cover, Sean sprinted across the bridge and into the next alley.
More gunfire erupted behind him, but the shooter was too far away to be accurate. No doubt the man was trying to chase while shooting, which would only make it worse.
Sirens whined from somewhere beyond the buildings. The tourists must have alerted the police. Of course, it could have been the gunshots that alerted the citizenry to trouble.
Either way, Sean had no desire to deal with the authorities. He had to get away.
He ducked down a pathway running alongside one of the canals and then turned right into another parallel alley. He didn’t need to check what time it was. Sean knew he was at least five minutes late. Fortunately, there was no way his ride was going to leave him.
He burst through one of the archways of Saint Mark’s Square and into the crowded plaza. Dozens of pigeons sprang to life, startled by his sudden appearance. The flocks of birds flapped their wings furiously as they climbed into the air and swirled over the piazza.
Sean kept running, now leery of an attack from above and behind.
Tourists pointed at the mass of birds as they took flight. But some continued taking pictures or drinking their morning coffee. Only one or two people noticed the American running at full stretch as he turned toward the harbor.
Another gunshot echoed from the square as Sean cleared the last pillars and crossed over the main thoroughfare on the edge of the city. A woman screamed from behind him, but he didn’t turn around to see what happened. His focus was straight ahead, on a brown speedboat waiting at one of the docks.
A man off to his left yelled something in Italian. Sean knew what the word meant, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stop. His eyes stayed locked on the boat less than forty yards away. He sensed the police rushing toward him. Fortunately, the gunman fired again, and their attention immediately turned his way.
Sean didn’t see the bullet strike an innocent tourist in the leg just a few feet away from him. With the police now on his side, Sean pumped his muscles faster.
The tapping of his feet on concrete and stone changed to thumping as his shoes repeatedly pounded on the wooden dock. In the boat, he could see Adriana was looking his way.
“Start the boat!” he yelled.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Adriana twisted the key in the ignition and the motor roared to life. She’d only tied off the back end. She stepped over and loosened the rope, dropping it on the deck. Then she stepped back to the wheel and wrapped her fingers around the knob to the side.
The sirens grew louder. Sean noted the police boats splashing through the waves as they drew close to the docks. The spotters were pointing at the crowd of people near the piazza.
He took two last steps and then dove from the dock into the boat, rolling to a crashing halt against the gunwale.
Adriana didn’t wait for an order. She shifted the knob forward and eased the boat out of its slip. The motor groaned and lifted the bow several feet. Adriana guided the craft out into the open water, keeping her eyes forward just in case the police had noticed her escape. Looking casual was the first step in remaining anonymous.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail, but a few loose strands had pulled free and flapped around in the wind.
When they were clear of the busy channels, she turned the wheel and steered toward the backside of the nearest island across the way. She glanced down at Sean and flashed him a bright smile.
“Had some trouble back there?” she asked in her Spanish accent.
Sean was still catching his breath. He sat up enough to look out behind them at the chaos surrounding San Marco Square. “A little. It wasn’t easy; I’ll say that.”
“Is it ever?”
He shook his head. “Almost never.”
She gazed out over the water as the bow rose and fell in the two-foot swells. “I’m assuming it’s in your jacket. That or you dropped it in your mad dash for the boat.”
Sean chuckled and reached into his jacket. He produced the object, still wrapped in its brown paper. He held it up triumphantly and shook it with a flick of the wrist.
“Aww, that was nice of you to gift wrap it for him.”
“I thought he’d think it was a nice touch,” Sean said, continuing her sarcasm. “A brown bag was the best I could do. Thought it might help to disguise it.”
“Did it?”
“Not even close.”
Adriana snorted. “Well, Tommy should be happy. I imagine he’ll get a good amount of press for this one. Not to mention some powerful friends.”
“Yeah. And enemies.”
Chapter 4
PYONGYANG, NORTH KOREA
Han-Jae Pak strode through the dark corridor, wearing the smile of a triumphant warrior. He carried a small metallic case in his right hand, locked to his wrist by a thin chain and cuff.
None of the soldiers saluted as he walked by. He wasn’t an officer, not that they knew of. Pak’s job was entirely undercover, only known to the highest of officials in the North Korean government. Not even the Chairman knew who he was or what he did.
His boss made sure of that.
Pak stopped at the pair of elevators and pressed the button. It didn’t surprise him that the door to the right opened immediately. Due to the lateness of the hour, he doubted anyone would be out and about. Curfews made certain that the city’s citizens were off the streets well before midnight.
After a slow ride up to the penthouse, Pak stepped off and turned to his left. One of the guards—a low-level soldier in the North Korean army—greeted him with a nod and moved aside to allow Pak to pass.
Pak recognized the man but didn’t say anything to him. There was no time for chitchat. He had something of extreme importance to share.
At the last door on the right, Pak stopped and knocked three times. A moment later, an older man in a gray shirt and pants opened the door. His black hair was slicked back. The cheeks below his eyes were slightly swollen and his neck a tad pudgy.
Pak wasn’t surprised. The only people in the country who tended to eat well were the ones who ran it. General Ku Min-Woo was one of those. When the general had first approached Pak about a secret mission, the younger man had been wary. After a little convincing, however, Pak started to see things the general’s way.
What they were doing wasn’t some piddly little thing, either. It was clear-cut treason. If the Chairman found out about it, they’d both be dead men, along with at least a dozen or so others who’d been in on the conspiracy. For most of those involved, it was worth it, including Han-Jae Pak.
He’d worked as a spy for nearly a decade. The general knew he was one of their best operatives, but that wasn’t the only reason he’d chosen Pak. He knew that Pak had a desperate family who was—at this very moment—probably starving to death. A promise of extra rations would make people do things they’d normally scoff at. Especially in North Korea. The rules here were different.
Since Dear Leader had done nothing to assist Pak’s family, he figured it didn’t matter if what he was doing was treason or not. In reality, the Chairman had betrayed his people. Now it was time to set things straight.
Han-Jae wasn’t anti-government. He was proud of his heritage and believed North Korea should assert its power on a global stage, but in the pursuit of vainglory, the government had forgotten its most important responsibility: its people.
“You’ve done well,” the general said. He moved aside and motioned for Pak to enter.
Once he was inside, the general closed the door and led the way to a dining room table in a corner just beyond the kitchen. The condo was minimally decorated, as were those of most officials who worked in government. General Min-Woo, however, had a much larger living space than the average citizen. The condo featured three bedrooms, two baths, and a living room that was the size of most apartments in Pyongyang.
Pak set the metal case on the table and pulled a small key out of his right pocket. He loosened the cuff from his wrist first and then inserted the key into the hole on top of the case.
“There’s nothing dangerous in there, correct?”
“Of course not, sir. All of the samples are currently in our labs under safe watch.”
Min-Woo gave an approving nod.
Pak flipped the snaps holding the two halves of the case together and lifted the top. Inside was a stack of printed images and papers.
“The reports you asked for,” Pak said. “Along with images of the DNA samples, straight from the German’s lab.”
Min-Woo picked up the documents and pored over them. He set them down after a rudimentary glance and pinched the corner of one of the images. He held it up to the light and stared at the genetic sequence.
“The mutated blocks are smaller than the others.”
“Just as you predicted, sir. Your theory about the source of the mutation fits perfectly with this evidence.”
Min-Woo’s head rocked back and forth absentmindedly. He was mesmerized by the picture. “I knew it. And even so, I couldn’t believe it was real until now, having seen it with my own eyes.”
“This will make us a world superpower, General. No one will be able to stand in our way.”
“In time, Han-Jae. In time. There is much work to be done before that can happen. And we must operate with the utmost secrecy. If the Chairman were to find out about our clandestine operations, he would have us both shot.”
No other person in the city would dare speak of performing secret operations outside the scope of the Chairman’s knowledge. But Min-Woo was not an average citizen. He personally swept his condo for bugs every other day, making sure no one was listening in on his schemes. Of course, he’d found devices. It was easy enough to remove them, place them somewhere quiet when he needed to, and then put them back where he found them. That way, whoever put them there would find them upon checking in every now and then.
He knew exactly how things worked. After all, he’d been running similar operations to catch traitors for nearly thirty years. It wasn’t his primary job, but it was certainly part of it. Because of that, Pak trusted the general implicitly and knew better than to ask whether the room was clean or not.
“Any word from the others?”
Min-Woo’s face lengthened into a troubled scowl. “Unfortunately, they were not able to complete their part of the mission.”
“How is that possible?” Pak’s eyebrows knit together, wrinkling his forehead.
The general set the image back in the case and put his hands behind his back. “They’d been working the site with the archaeologists from America. It seems when the sarcophagus was opened, somehow the Americans seized control. One of our men was shot and killed immediately. The other made it out of the cave with the medallion, but he fell to his death off a cliff.”
“Were the French authorities able to identify them?”
“It’s unclear at this juncture. All I know is that they’re dead and the Americans have the medallion. Their leader, a man named Tommy Schultz, was the one responsible. We believe he’s received permission from the French government to do further research on the object before turning it over to them.”
Pak crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like I need to pay them a visit.”
“I have others I can send. You just got back. You need to rest.”
Pak knew what the older man was saying was a test. He’d seen it before, hundreds of times. Weakness was never rewarded in their culture.
“I’ll be ready to leave within the hour, General.”
Min-Woo feigned considering his operative’s offer. “Very well,” he said after a moment. “Take your best three assets with you. This research is extremely important, but none of it matters without that medallion. Understand?”
“Clearly, sir.”
“Good.” Min-Woo pointed at a folder on the edge of the counter in the kitchen. “You’ll find everything you need to know about Schultz in that file. He’s had a history of encounters with dangerous people. So don’t let his appearance fool you. Schultz is a problem. Once you have the medallion, kill him.”
“With pleasure, General.”
Chapter 5
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Tommy stared out the window of the seventeenth-floor office window. The city bustled below, like it did nearly all hours of the day. Atlanta had turned into a sprawling epicenter of capitalism over the last few decades. The city had grown so much that all the peripheral towns became monstrosities in their own right. Buckhead had been nothing more than a cool hangout when Tommy was in college. Now it had its own downtown area.
He looked over to the left where the rubble of the old IAA building was being transformed into what would be their new headquarters. The foundation had already been laid. With that done, things would progress rapidly.
The doorknob clicked and Tommy spun around, wrested from his thoughts. He was surprised to see Sean at the door.
“Where in the world have you been?” Tommy asked as he stood up.
Sean’s eyes danced over the room before settling on his friend. He gave Tommy a short hug and then sat down in one of the guest chairs. “I already told you; we were in Italy, working on a project.”
Tommy raised a suspicious eyebrow. “One of Adriana’s Nazi art things?”
“No,” Sean’s head moved side to side. “This was something different.”
Tommy’s eyes went to the black leather-bound box under his friend’s arm. “Is that it?”
Sean ignored the question for a moment. “I have to say, I like the new digs.” His eyes wandered again, taking in Tommy’s temporary office and the view of the city. He pointed at the construction site a few blocks away. “Keeping an eye on things from above?”
Tommy snickered and glanced back over his shoulder out the window. “That’s not why I rented this space.”
“Didn’t hurt either.”
Tommy’s lips cracked a thin smile. “True.” He decided to change the subject. “So, I found something interesting while I was in France.”
“Yeah, I saw your text.” Sean had received the text message from Tommy before returning to the United States. “You were a little vague as to what you found. And by a little, I mean you gave me nothing to go on.”
Tommy’s grin widened as he raised both eyebrows. “Seems like we both have something interesting to share. That reminds me, by the way, I could have used you in France.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Turns out two of our assistants on the dig weren’t vetted very well. They tried to steal the artifact we found in a sarcophagus.”
“Sarcophagus? What sarcophagus?”
“That’s the part of the story you’re interested in? Not the fact that I was almost killed, along with several other people? What about a priceless and mysterious artifact almost being lost to antiquity?”
Sean snorted and bowed his head. “Yes, I apologize. Go on. Tell me what happened.”
Tommy hesitated and motioned at the object on the desk, his curiosity getting the better of him. “No, I’d rather see what you brought me first. The box is nice.”
He stared at the leather-bound box, analyzing its shape and size.
Sean smirked. His friend had always struggled with patience. They’d known each other since childhood, their bonds tested through Tommy’s parents’ mysterious death when they were younger.
“Fine, go ahead,” Sean said. “Open it. Just stop making it weird. I’m not asking you to marry me.”
Tommy’s eyebrow twitched upward. “You sure?”
Before Sean could reach out and take back the box, Tommy snatched it off the table. Sean crossed his arms and watched with a smug grin on his face.
Tommy carefully pulled the lid off the box and set it to the side. He stared into the container for a second and then looked up at his friend. “So, seriously, you’re not asking me to marry you, right? Because this looks like a yellow diamond.”
“It is.”
“This can’t be a real diamond,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m no gem expert, but something like this would be incredibly expensive. Which, again, I’m just curious why you’re giving it to me.”
Sean’s smirk broadened. “You don’t recognize that rock, do you?”
Tommy held the box closer to his face. He tilted his head one direction and then another, trying to get a better angle to analyze the precious stone. He gave up after less than a minute.
“No,” he said with a shake of the head. “I mean, if this is real—and I’m still not sure about that—it’s probably one of the biggest diamonds I’ve ever seen. Where on earth did you find it?”
“Funny you should ask,” Sean said as his friend continued staring at the yellow-hued gem. “I tracked it down to some guys in Venice. They run a crime syndicate there. Jewelry isn’t really their thing, but I guess for this one they made an exception. Normally, they deal in paintings, which is how Adriana and I found them.”
“So you used your girlfriend’s connections.”
“Don’t hate the player,” Sean said with a shrug. “Do what you have to.”
“I’m still confused. Why should I know what this is, and why did you go looking for it?”
Sean crossed his arms. “Honestly, I’m disappointed in you, Schultzie. I really thought you’d recognize the Florentine Diamond right away. It’s one of the more famous missing jewels in the world.”
Tommy looked up from the box and gazed at his friend, appraising him to see if Sean was lying or not. “The Florentine Diamond? You can’t be serious.”
Sean’s stare never wavered; his pressed lips gave no sign of dishonesty.
Tommy’s eyes returned to the diamond, then to Sean, then back to the diamond once more. “It can’t be. No one has known where this thing is for—”
“Almost a hundred years,” Sean finished the thought. “Yeah, I know. I thought you’d be a little more excited about it than this.”
“Sorry. I just…is this for real?”
Sean burst out laughing. “Yes, buddy. It’s real. Promise. You’re not on some television practical joke show.”
“This…this is incredible. We’ll have to set up a press conference, contact the Austrian government to make sure it’s returned safely…this is a huge get, Sean. Well done.” Tommy’s face beamed with delight. Anytime his agency could deliver something of incredible historical value to the world, he got as giddy as a little boy on Christmas morning.
Tommy Schultz had built the International Archaeological Agency with the money his parents left him upon their untimely deaths. With shrewd investments and good public relations, he’d grown that amount into the hundreds of millions in a relatively short time, though most of that growth had been in the last year or so.
“I’m just so excited. Thank you, Sean. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t mention my name when you announce this. Okay?”
“As always.”
Sean Wyatt preferred to remain anonymous. He’d made enemies all over the globe during his time with Axis, a small government agency now based in Atlanta. While most of his enemies were either terminated or in jail, some were still hiding in the shadows, waiting for him to reveal himself.
“Now,” Sean said, interrupting his friend’s excitement, “didn’t you have something you wanted to show me?”
Tommy shook his head, snapping back to reality. “Right. I almost forgot. I mean, it pales in comparison. The kids are working on getting more details right now, but we don’t have some of the resources yet that we had in the old building. New hardware will be here later in the month.”
He stood up, sidled over to the center of his desk, and pulled out the middle drawer. Next, he removed a plastic bag with a golden medallion stuffed inside. “Here,” he said, extending the baggie to Sean. “Have a look.”
Sean’s eyebrows lowered as he took the bag and held it to the light. “Looks pretty old. Five, maybe six hundred years? Where’d you find it? That dig in France?”
Tommy nodded. “Yep. Found it up on the mountain above the lake. And it’s older than six hundred years. We think it belonged to Godfrey of Bouillon. The sarcophagus had an eagle on it that looks remarkably similar to Godfrey’s crest. Plus, it was on old Bouillon land. No body in the crypt, though. Very strange.”
Sean listened as he continued inspecting the medallion. When Tommy was done, Sean pointed out the writing on the back. “I assume you already translated this Latin.”
“Yep,” Tommy said. “It’s a reference to a verse from the Bible.”
“Matthew 26:52. But why is it on this medallion? And what does the nine mean?”
“Good questions. We don’t have all the answers yet, but we’re working on it. Godfrey of Bouillon was a Crusader. Actually, he was the Crusader. He led a massive siege and subsequent assault on Jerusalem and captured it. Then he was named king. Godfrey was a religious man and didn’t want to be called king. He said the only king of Jerusalem could be Jesus. That medallion,” Tommy pointed at the object, “was included in several portraits of Godfrey. What you’re holding in your hand is something that belonged to one of the greatest military figures in history.”
Sean gazed at the object with his mouth agape. “I have to say, Schultzie, I thought I brought you something nice. This, though. This is incredible.” He paused a second to think. “That story still doesn’t explain the engraving on the back.”
“Right. We had to do a little connect-the-dots work on that. As it turns out, Godfrey is part of a group of men referred to as the Nine Worthies or sometimes called the Nine Good Heroes.”
Tommy slid into his desk chair and pecked away on the computer. Then he clicked the mouse twice and turned the laptop screen around so Sean could see it.
“That is a picture of a thirteenth-century sculpture in the rathaus in Cologne, Germany. It features the Nine Heroes.”
Sean stared at the image for a long minute before speaking. “Who are all the others? And why haven’t I heard of this?”
“Oh, you know of most of them. The other eight men are Joshua, King David, Judas Maccabeus—”
“The Jewish rebel?”
“The very same. The carving features three Jews, three pagans, and three Christians.”
“Dogs and cats living together.”
Tommy snorted. “Anyway, Hector, Julius Caesar, and Alexander the Great make up the pagans. The three Christians are Charlemagne, King Arthur, and our friend Godfrey. Best we can figure, that is the nine the medallion refers to.”
Sean frowned. He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, but two of those guys are fictional. I mean, maybe Hector was real, but King Arthur? Come on. That whole Merlin story is a fairy tale.”
Tommy rolled his shoulders. “I’m just telling you who they are. It certainly accounts for the number on the back of that medallion.”
“Right. I get that. It’s just hard for me to get past the fact that King Arthur—and probably Hector—weren’t real.”
“For now, that’s irrelevant. Each of these nine men exhibited chivalrous qualities of one kind or another. That’s why they’re called good heroes and not just heroes. Some were kind to women, others were very generous, some were merciful.”
Sean set the medallion down carefully on Tommy’s desk. He pondered the information and then crossed his arms. “Well, that’s a nice story. And congrats on getting two incredibly important artifacts in a single week. That’s gotta be some kind of record for you.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. He sounded crestfallen.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like there’s more than meets the eye to this thing. The riddle on the back of that medallion…”
“Okay, hold on. There’s no way we know that’s a riddle. It’s probably just a way of honoring those other eight guys, you know? I wouldn’t look too much into it, buddy. Be happy you made another historic discovery. I can’t wait to see you on the History Channel.”
Tommy let out a half-sincere laugh. “Yeah, but something doesn’t feel right. I told you about the guys who tried to steal this.”
“Yeah.”
“They were Korean.”
“So?” Sean shrugged. “Who cares where they were from? A thief’s a thief, right? They probably just wanted to sell it.”
“They were North Korean,” Tommy said.
That changed things. “North Korean? Are you sure?”
Tommy nodded slowly.
“How sure?” Sean double checked.
Tommy opened a side drawer of his desk and pulled out a folder. There were pictures inside along with files on both thieves. “They were North Korean spies. Interpol had been watching them for some time. CIA, too. Not sure how the two men slipped by all those eyeballs, but they did.”
“And we hired them.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. I paid them.”
Sean’s head twisted back and forth. “I don’t understand. Since when did Pyongyang care about archaeology?”
“And since when did they use some of their highly trained spies to attempt to steal artifacts? I’m afraid right now we have more questions than answers. I’ve been talking back and forth with my connections in Europe. They can’t seem to piece together a motivation.”
“Did you call Emily?”
“No. I thought maybe you’d be better suited for that phone call, seeing how you two were partners and all.”
Emily Starks was the director of Axis. She’d worked her way up through the years as a field agent. Sean and Emily had worked several assignments together. When Emily became the director, Sean walked away. He always maintained the two occurrences were coincidental. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t lying. He’d had enough of the spy game. She saw it in his eyes the day he resigned.
“Sure, I’ll give her a call and see what she knows. If the CIA has them on a list, Emily probably does, too.”
The phone on Tommy’s desk started ringing.
He reached over and picked it up. “Hello.” After a second he said, “Hold on, Tara, I’ll put you on speaker.”
Tommy hit the speakerphone button and set the receiver back in its housing. “I’ve got Sean here with me, Tara.”
Tara Watson and her research partner, Alex Simms, were among the best in the business when it came to digging up hard-to-find facts and evidence. They almost never left the lab, except to get coffee—something that had saved their lives in one instance.
“Oh, hi, Sean. Glad to see you made it back from Venice safely.”
Tommy glanced over at his friend. “She knew?”
One of Sean’s shoulders raised for a second. He pouted his lips. “I had some questions along the way.”
Tara interrupted. “So, Tommy, we’ve been working on this thing with the Nine Worthies, like you asked.”
“How’s it coming?” Tommy said.
“Slow. We started by digging into each character in the Cologne carving. There’s a good bit of information on most of them, except Hector and Arthur, which is what we expected. That’s not why I’m calling, though.”
“Oh?”
“Get online, and do a search for Charlemagne.”
Tommy waited for a few seconds to see where she was going with the conversation.
“Are you doing it?” she asked.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I thought you were going to say something else.” He spun his monitor back around and set to work typing.
“I am.” She paused and listened as Tommy pecked away at the keyboard. “See anything unusual in the headlines?”
The screen flickered and produced the search results. Two of the top links were articles about a murder in Aachen, Germany.
“A couple of news outlets are reporting a murder in Germany. There’s an article about Charlemagne…”
“Stop,” she said, sounding a tad more commanding than intended. “Click on one of the articles about the murder.”
“Okay…” He clicked the blue link and a second later was taken to the news site. After scanning the article, Tommy said, “That’s terrible. Why would someone kill that poor guy?”
“Yes, it’s tragic. I know. But take a look lower down in the article. The killer switched off all the cameras in the building. He even went so far as to delete any footage that could possibly have him in it.”
“Let me guess,” Tommy said, “now he’s disappeared, and the police don’t know who they’re looking for.”
“Yes and no. He was able to take out the cameras in the research building. However, he didn’t know there was one across the street that happened to catch a full view of him. The image is lower down in the article. It’s a little fuzzy, but the cops know he’s Asian. They’re looking for him now. He’s the prime suspect.”
Tommy’s interest piqued. “Asian?”
“Probably Korean descent.”
Tara might as well have run a truck through the office. The room fell into a somber silence.
“You don’t think?” Sean said.
“That there’s a connection between the guys who tried to steal that medallion and the death of a scientist in Aachen? I know. If it’s a coincidence, it’s a creepy one.”
“This article says the scientist was doing research on Charlemagne’s DNA,” Tommy said. “It doesn’t say anything about the results of his work.”
“Alex did some digging around. The reason the article doesn’t mention results is because almost everything related to the study was stolen from the lab. The killer took all the specimens and data.”
“So we don’t know what he might have found.”
“Actually,” Sean interrupted, “Tara said almost everything was taken. Tell me this guy slipped up.”
“Always so astute, Sean. Correct. Investigators swept the entire place. They found something underneath the dead man’s workstation. He’d taped a slide underneath his desk—they assume for safekeeping.”
“He must have known someone might try to kill him,” Tommy said.
“It certainly appears that way. Or maybe he was paranoid. In any case, the authorities confiscated the specimen and are holding it as evidence.”
Sean thought for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t suppose they bothered checking to see what was so special about that particular slide.”
“I’m not sure at this point. They may have, but if they did, it’s being kept extremely quiet.”
“Okay, Tara. Thank you, and tell Alex I said thanks, too.”
“No problem, and will do. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”
Tommy hung up the phone and looked across the desk at his friend. It was a look Sean had seen many times during the course of their friendship.
Sean spoke before Tommy could. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not a good idea.”
“What? I was just going to see what you had planned the next few days.”
“Look, Schultzie. Just because a scientist was killed researching Charlemagne’s DNA and Charlemagne happens to be on this sculpture doesn’t mean there is any sort of connection to your medallion.”
“It doesn’t mean there’s not. Plus, if the killer was North Korean, that makes the connection way stronger. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“Maybe. But then you have to ask yourself, why? Why kill that guy and take his research? And what does he or his research have to do with that medallion? One was dealing with Godfrey of Bouillon and the other Charlemagne. It feels a little like you’re reaching on this one.”
“Come on, buddy,” Tommy said. “What else do you have going on right now? Huh? We go to Germany, have a look around, and if there’s no connection, then we spend a few days taking in the sights and then leave. What’s the big deal?”
Sean sighed. “I’ll talk to Adriana.”
Chapter 6
ATLANTA
“Sure, sounds like fun,” Adriana said in a cool voice.
Sean raised a dubious eyebrow at the comment. “Um…first off, I thought we were going to try to take a little time off from danger and adventure. You know, do some normal people stuff. And second, it wasn’t an invitation.”
Adriana put a hand on each hip and slowly shook her head. “You’ve been singing that song since we met. We both know you and I aren’t cut out for normal life. Remember your kayak shop in Florida?”
“Yeah.” Sean sighed. “How can I forget?”
“You thought moving to the beach and running that place would be relaxing. The whole time you were there, all you could do was pace around waiting for something to happen.”
“I know.” His head drooped. “But this time, I’m serious. I don’t like the idea of you getting shot again.”
“Oh, so this is about me?”
He stepped toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Yeah. A big part of it is.” He pulled her close and felt her breath against his skin.
She looked up into his cool blue eyes. “When you put it that way, you almost sound like a nice guy.”
His grip on her lower back tightened at the joke. He snorted a quick laugh. “I can be nice.”
“I think you need to go with Tommy. It’s been a few months since you did anything with him.”
“Oh, so you’re trying to get rid of me?” he asked, pretending to be offended.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed him playfully. He didn’t budge. “No. I’ll come along for the ride.”
“It’s up to you. I’d prefer you stay somewhere safe.”
“As sweet as that is, we both know that’s not going to happen. And besides, how unsafe can it be? Aachen is a nice place.”
“A safe place where a scientist was murdered in his lab.”
It was Adriana’s turn to sigh. “I know. Honestly, maybe I need to be there to have your back. I know Tommy will be there, but you can never have too many allies.”
He knew she was going to get her way no matter what he said. If he was honest, he’d rather she be with him than off doing her own thing. She’d been looking into a new mystery lately, a painting that went missing during the early years of World War II. Adriana had made quite a name for herself in the art underground. She’d successfully discovered and returned more priceless works of art than any other single investigator in history. As a result, she’d also picked up a few enemies of her own.
“So when do we leave?” she asked before he could fire off another protest.
Sean sighed. “Tommy’s getting the details sorted out on our end. He’d like to get access to the crime scene. That’s not going to happen. I spoke with Emily about the North Koreans. They’re trying to get more information on the case, but right now it’s coming at a trickle. Hard to get any real intel on that country since they’re so closed off from the world.”
“Look at it this way: we’ll have time to pack.” He offered a weak smile.
“I already packed.”
The front door opened, and a moment later Tommy entered the room. “Well, it looks like everything’s all set on my end. Heard anything new out of Emily yet?”
“Not yet,” Sean said, giving a quick shake of the head. “She’ll keep me in the loop.”
“Well, I’ve got some news. Under tight security, some scientists at the university near Aachen have analyzed the remaining sample. The results should be ready by the time we get there.”
“Well done, Schultzie. What does that mean?”
“It means we can find out what that scientist was learning about Charlemagne. By doing that, we can try to draw a connection between his murder and the North Koreans at the dig site in France.”
Adriana cocked her head sideways and passed Tommy a dubious, narrow-eyed glare. “Did you order the sample analysis, or were they already doing that and you’re just taking credit?”
Sean giggled. His friend was busted.
“Okay, yes,” Tommy confessed. “They were doing it independently. But I did have to request access to the analysis. I would love to be able to get into that scientist’s lab.”
“Won’t happen,” Sean said. “With a full-on murder investigation, I doubt the German authorities will be happy to have us poking our noses around. It would be best if we get in with your friend, get what we need, and get out of there.”
“What is it we need, anyway?” Adriana said.
Tommy fumbled for an explanation. “Well…”
“He doesn’t know,” Sean answered for his friend. He turned to Tommy and shook his head. “Honestly, this feels like a wild goose chase. If you think you’re going to find any connection between your medallion and some DNA samples from a guy who’s been dead for a thousand years, you’re drifting toward the crazy side of the river.”
“Look, I know it’s a stretch, but let’s see where it goes. I mean, Germany is nice this time of year. Maybe we can relax, get out and see the sights.”
“You found a girl!” Adriana said out of the blue.
Tommy was taken back by the sudden comment. “What? That’s silly. Me? A girl? Come on.”
Sean crossed his arms and stared at his friend with disbelieving eyes. “Seriously, you’re an awful liar.”
“What’s her name?” Adriana asked.
Tommy sighed. “What? No. You know what? Just…no, I’m not doing this. We’re going to Germany to investigate a potential connection with a probably priceless artifact. This has nothing to do with a woman.”
“Oh, so there is a woman?”
Tommy’s face flushed red. “Look, can we just get back on task? We’re going to Germany to investigate why an innocent man was killed and a possible connection to the medallion I found in France. End of story.”
The other two remained silent for a moment, so he continued. “With any luck, the university will have already come up with some answers.”
“So she’s a professor at the university,” Sean said with confidence.
“You know, I don’t have to listen to this. We’re dealing with a very serious matter.”
“You’re right, buddy. I’m sorry.”
“We both are,” Adriana added, desperately fighting back the smile that was trying to escape.
“Yeah,” Sean agreed. “We both are. You’re right. Let’s just go over there and figure out what’s going on with this medallion thing.”
“Thank you,” Tommy said, exasperated. He was visibly relieved they’d finally dropped the subject.
Sean’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled in a mischievous smirk. “And while we’re there, if we happen to bump into a lady friend of yours, that’s just a bonus.”
“All right, you know what? Yes. Yes, there’s a woman at the university who happens to be a friend of mine. No, I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. Okay? But nothing ever happened between us.”
Adriana turned sympathetic. “Oh, why? Why didn’t it work out?”
Tommy put his hands out wide. “Isn’t it obvious? We live a few thousand miles apart. I can’t just drop what I’m doing, hop in the car, and drive out to meet her for dinner.”
Sean understood. Distance had strained things with him and Adriana. Not to mention the fact that Adriana’s hobbies were extremely dangerous. Fortunately, she’d been spending most of her time with him in the States lately. They went a few weeks without seeing each other, but those times usually happened after long stretches together.
Still, Sean was curious how Tommy had been able to keep this a secret. He decided not to press the issue for now even though it itched his mind like a flea on a dog.
He’d get to the bottom of it sooner or later.
Tommy struggled to get them back on topic. “Can we please focus?”
His guests nodded.
“Please continue,” Sean said, fighting back the urge to giggle.
“Okay. What we know is that the verse on the back of the medallion is from Matthew 26. It’s a quote from Jesus when Peter cut off a man’s ear in Gethsemane.”
“When they were about to arrest Jesus,” Adriana said.
“Right. The guy who lost the ear was Malchus. Of course, Jesus reattached it for him. It was one of the last miracles He performed. Anyway, that’s beside the point. The thing is; why was Peter carrying a sword?”
Tommy let the question hang in the air for a moment while his friends considered it.
Sean and Adriana exchanged a questioning glance.
“Funny,” Sean said. “I never really thought about that before. I mean, I’ve known that story since I was a kid, but it never dawned on me that Peter was armed. Of course, I knew he was. Just never bothered to ask why.”
“Exactly!” Tommy exclaimed. “He was armed, carrying a weapon right there on his belt. Why? Up until then, the entire mission of Jesus had been about peace and healing and hope for eternity. Why would one of His closest followers be carrying a weapon?”
“Some of the disciples were zealots,” Adriana offered. “They were ready for a rebellion against Rome. At least in their minds they were.”
“That’s a good thought,” Tommy said, “and we know that a few of them were zealots, for sure. Peter had all the makings of one.”
Sean interrupted. “I feel like you’re about to refute that theory.”
“Am I that transparent?” Tommy asked. “Okay, fine. Yes, the zealot thing is a good theory. The verses, however, don’t suggest that any of the other men were armed. If they had been, wouldn’t they have tried to fight off the authorities for their messiah? You have to figure the brothers known as the sons of thunder would have done something about it had they been armed.”
“James and John, right?” Sean said.
“Correct. They were known to have a temper, as was their father. It would seem much of their angst was against the empire.”
“So it would follow that they would have been armed, or at least tried to fight.”
“Exactly,” Tommy said. “If they were carrying weapons, seems likely someone else would have been hurt.”
“Okay,” Adriana interrupted. “What are you getting at? Peter was the only one carrying a sword. Fine. So? What does any of this have to do with Charlemagne and your medallion?”
“So we come back full circle to the mission of the messiah. See, most of the disciples believed that Jesus was here to set up an earthly kingdom. They were hoping He was going to overthrow the Romans and set up the new Jewish empire. He had to correct them on that belief constantly. Even when He did, they wouldn’t accept it.”
“You’re saying Peter was ready to be the first soldier for the new Jewish nation?” Sean asked.
“At first, I thought maybe that was the answer. Now, I’m not so sure. He would have talked with the others. The entire group would have been carrying weapons if that was the consensus.” Tommy shook his head. “No, Peter was the only one. That makes things interesting.”
“Looking forward to seeing where you’re going with this.”
Tommy raised a finger. “I thought you might be. Remember how I told you about the sculpture in Cologne?”
Sean gave a nod. “Yeah. The nine heroes.”
“Yes. The Nine Worthies. There is something peculiar about that sculpture. Before you ask, I’ll just go ahead and tell you. Every single man depicted is carrying a sword. While the clothing and facial hair are all somewhat skewed to the era in which each of the heroes lived, their swords are all the same.”
Adriana raised an eyebrow. “You mean they all look the same?”
“I mean they all are the same,” Tommy said. “That makes no sense. The sword that Joshua carried had to be different than the one Charlemagne took into battle.”
“Maybe it’s just an artist error,” Sean said. “That sort of thing happens all the time. Much quicker to keep it uniform. Plus, Charlemagne’s sword is on display in the Louvre.”
“A valid explanation,” Tommy admitted. “I thought the same thing at first. Sidebar, I’m impressed you know where his sword is. Then I started analyzing the rest of the sculpture. The clothing, while somewhat similar, does have unique traits that date it to the appropriate time frame. Same with the shields, the crowns, even the hair on their heads. Why then, if the artist was so meticulous about everything else, would he make the swords identical?”
Sean’s mind connected the dots rapidly. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that all of those guys carried the same sword?”
“It’s possible. Or does that sound crazy?”
“Kind of. You’re talking about a sword that would have been passed down through millennia. Not only would it have had difficulty surviving the hundreds and thousands of years, but how would it have been passed down from generation to generation without eventually getting lost? Not to mention it would have worn down over time.”
Tommy smirked as if he knew Sean was going to out all those things. “I’m not saying it’s correct. All I’m saying is that it’s interesting to consider. Look at the facts. Every man in the sculpture experienced incredible military success. They were nigh unbeatable in battle. What if their abilities were something more than human?”
Sean and Adriana were both taken back by the question.
“What do you mean, more than human?” Adriana asked. “You don’t mean they were extraterrestrials or something?”
“No,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “I’m not saying those men in the sculpture were from outer space. The sword on the other hand…”
“So you’re suggesting that the sword—the one Peter had—was the same sword used by all those guys from the Nine Worthies? Not only that, you’re saying it had some kind of power?”
Tommy could see the doubt on his friends’ faces. He’d doubted the theory himself when he first made the connection. Now, he wasn’t so sure he was wrong.
“There can be no denying the facts. These men were all men of incredible military prowess. They were nearly unbeatable in battle, in spite of overwhelming odds. It was almost as if they had an unfair advantage.”
“Yes,” Adriana said, “but let’s say that sword does have some kind of otherworldly power. How does that transfer to one person’s entire army?”
“It wouldn’t have to do much,” Tommy said. “Look at the story of the three hundred Spartans at the battle of Thermopylae. Those three hundred soldiers held off tens of thousands from the Persian army.”
“They had a tactical advantage with the bottleneck in that spot, though,” Sean argued.
“Sure. But fighting all day, every day? Had to be exhausting.”
“Are you saying Leonidas had the sword, too?”
“No,” Tommy said. “But I’m saying it wouldn’t take much—if there were something that could help a small group of troops—to turn the tides of battle.”
The others considered his point, and the room fell into a long silence.
Tommy’s phone rang in his pocket, interrupting the quiet moment.
“Hello. Tommy here.”
Sean and Adriana watched and listened as their friend went through the motions of his phone conversation. When he ended the call, Tommy’s eyes burned with a grave intensity.
“That was Helen and Joe.”
Sean grinned. “Mac and Helen? How are they?”
“They’re good,” Tommy said in a serious tone. “I put them in charge of the dig site in France. They said they found something.”
“What?” Sean asked.
Tommy stared blankly beyond his two friends. “It was in a stone cylinder.”
“What was?” Adriana said.
“A vellum codex. The writing had faded, but was still visible due to the way it had been completely sealed in wax. They said they’re still working on the entire translation, but it references all nine of the heroes from the sculpture by name. It was stamped with a Templar cross. And it mentioned the sword.”
Adriana broke the stillness after a minute of contemplation. “Okay, just so I understand what you’re saying, this codex mentioned Templars. Does that mean we’re looking for the Holy Grail now? Or a sword?”
Tommy shook his head. “Not the grail. I think we’re looking for Excalibur.”
Chapter 7
AACHEN
The dramatic church spires soared above the rest of the old city. Wet cobblestone streets curved in and out between the buildings. Cafes made of brick stood across from taverns built from stone. In spite of the rain that fell earlier, the cafes still had their outdoor sitting areas open, though no one took the offer. The empty chairs were a permanent fixture, something that probably couldn’t be done in an American town. The seats would have been stolen long ago.
Europe had its share of thieves, but they were too busy picking pockets or targeting items that would fetch a higher price than simple street chairs.
Inside the tavern, a group of revelers laughed and shouted, sharing stories from the day or maybe from long ago.
Sean kept his eyes alert as he and the other two made their way down the street toward a cafe where they’d meet their German contact. Thing was, she wasn’t actually German.
June Holiday was Tommy’s friend, the woman he’d kept secret from Sean and Adriana for the better part of the year. She’d grown up in the United States but had attended university in Germany. Identifying more with the culture there, she’d remained in Germany ever since.
Tommy had met her when he first arrived in the border town before he began work at the dig site in France. He’d been in Aachen for a day, touring the university, when the person giving the tour introduced them.
June worked at the university as a researcher. Her specialty was in genetics, which intrigued Tommy. His initial thoughts were how he could get June to help with some of his own projects at IAA. There were many times they had to outsource genetic testing of samples. She could be his connection in Europe.
Of course, it wasn’t just work that endeared Tommy to June. Her locks of golden blonde hair trickling down past her shoulders, her bright smile, the radiant blue eyes, and her enthusiastic personality made her impossible to resist.
Tommy just hoped he didn’t screw it up.
When he was in France, he’d slipped across the border several times on weekends to take her out for dinner or coffee. They talked mostly about work, which turned out to be fine since they had a mutual interest in each other’s careers. After the third date, however, things got more personal. During one conversation, the time passed so quickly they didn’t realize they’d been talking for nearly six hours—until two o’clock in the morning.
Their connection was unlike any Tommy had ever felt with a woman. Part of that was due to the fact he didn’t have much time to date since he was busy most of the time or out of town.
Being on the eastern border of France had opened the door to opportunity, and Tommy had walked right on through.
The three visitors rounded a corner and turned right down another street. A collection of black and white umbrellas sat over more chairs and tables in front of a cafe on the left a few dozen yards away.
“There it is,” Tommy said with a hint of excitement in his voice.
His traveling companions knew his exuberance wasn’t due to the meal they were about to have. It was the blonde woman sitting with her legs crossed, wearing a navy-blue sundress, tortoiseshell sunglasses, and a smile that seemed permanently stuck on her face.
She waved to the group and stood up from her chair in the corner. Tommy’s smile broadened as they approached. He ignored the hostess at the podium just outside the black railing surrounding the outdoor sitting area, and walked straight over to June.
Sean and Adriana paused and watched as the two hugged each other. There was a quick exchange of pleasantries before Tommy turned to his two friends lingering a few yards away.
He motioned them over and turned back to June. “June, these are my friends, Sean and Adriana.”
She smiled pleasantly to both of them and shook their hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you. Especially you, Sean. Tommy says you two have been friends since childhood.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not all he’s told you,” Sean said.
Her teeth gleamed in spite of the overcast sky. “He said you have a penchant for getting into trouble.”
Sean raised an eyebrow. “Did he tell you that he’s the one dragging me into trouble more often than not?”
June cast a sidelong glance at Tommy, who blushed and put on his best Who me? face.
“He omitted that part.” She turned to Adriana. “You, he wasn’t so forthcoming about. But he did have some complimentary things to say.”
Adriana nodded at Tommy. “Aww. You’re so sweet.” She reached out and squeezed his cheek with finger and thumb.
“Okay. Enough with the introductions. Can we please sit down?” Tommy said.
“Is he always this testy with you?” Sean asked June.
“Always,” she said, taking a cue from Sean.
Tommy gasped, but before he could defend himself the server came by and asked for their drink order. Everyone ordered coffee. Tommy got his with a little extra milk.
“So you’re here to take a look at the Charlemagne DNA,” June said while the others looked at the menus.
She didn’t beat around the bush. There less than two minutes and straight to business. Sean appreciated that.
“Yeah. Your friend here,” he motioned to Tommy, “thinks there might be a connection to an ancient weapon of untold power.” Sean ended the sentence with his best monster truck announcer voice.
Tommy scrunched his face at the comment. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
June’s eyebrows shot up, and she twisted her head slowly until she faced Tommy. “You didn’t mention anything about an ancient weapon. Something you forgot to say to me?”
He tried to shake off the question, but her gaze was going nowhere.
“Wait,” Adriana interrupted. “You didn’t tell her your theory?”
“Theory?” June said. “What theory? Yes, please. Tell me your theory, Thomas.”
Tommy was cornered. And all three of his companions were enjoying watching him writhe.
“Yes, it’s just a theory. Okay? Probably incorrect,” he said finally.
“You sounded pretty sure about it when you told us back in the States,” Sean said.
Tommy’s face turned deep red. “Okay. Fine. You guys just love giving me a hard time, don’t you? Yes, June. I’m sorry. I do think there might be a connection between the DNA sample you checked out and a very old sword.”
“Not just any sword,” Sean added.
Tommy flashed him an irritated look. “Would you let me finish?”
Sean put up his hands in surrender.
“Like I was saying, I did some research, and there are some really interesting bits of information that coincide with one very specific sword from history.”
“Excalibur?” June asked.
Tommy’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
She snorted a laugh. “Seriously? I’m no historian, but how many famous swords are there? Can’t be that many. I just guessed the one that sticks out most. What did I win?”
Tommy shook off his disbelief and scooted closer to her, more smitten than he’d been a moment before. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you?”
Sean chuckled at the way she’d phrased it as a question. “I like this one, Tommy. Try not to screw it up. Otherwise, we might have to ditch you for her.”
Tommy tried to ignore his friend’s joke. “Anyway, I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to sound crazy, but yes, I think there might be a connection between Charlemagne’s DNA and Excalibur.”
“Interesting. At some point, you’ll have to tell me where you came up with this theory. For now, you may as well have a look at the results from the testing we did on that sample.”
“Sounds good. We’ll just get something to eat and then head over to the university.”
June’s lips curled. “Actually, I took the liberty of bringing the results to you. Thought it might be best if we didn’t interrupt a murder investigation.”
“I could hug you,” Tommy said.
“You can,” she said. “After you look at these.”
She reached down and pulled a green folder out of her laptop bag next to her chair. She laid the folder on the table in front of Tommy and nudged it toward him.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Be my guest.”
He paused for a second, apprehensive about opening the folder, partly because he was afraid the results inside might prove him wrong. When he finally got up the courage to flip it open, he was dismayed at what he found.
It was mostly a bunch of numbers, columns, and data points he didn’t understand.
Before he could ask what he was looking at, June spoke up. “The sample we analyzed was definitely different than anything else we’ve investigated. This data shows that whatever Charlemagne had going on genetically was certainly something special.”
“Special?” Adriana asked.
“Yep. We’re not entirely sure what to make of it. However, it does seem to be some kind of mutation. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“This mutation,” Sean said, “it kept him human, though. Right? I mean, he didn’t become a monster or anything like that?”
“Not at all,” June said. “It is definitely human DNA. If I had to guess, it just made him stronger, possibly a little quicker with his mind as well. Again, that’s only a guess at this point. As it pertains to the legend of King Arthur and his fabled sword, Excalibur, are you suggesting that the sword may have caused Arthur to be stronger and smarter than other humans?”
“He’s only one of them,” Tommy said. “There were others who also had incredible abilities when it came to combat.” He hesitated a moment and then went on. “You know the sculpture of the Nine Good Heroes in the Cologne rathaus?”
June had to think for a second. “Seems to ring a bell. I only went in there to do the touristy thing. This country has so many rathauses, it starts to feel like if you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.”
“This sculpture has nine men—three Christians, three Jews, and three pagans.”
She smirked. “Sounds like the beginning of an epic joke.”
Tommy was thrown off by the comment and then pushed through his laughter to continue. “True. Anyway, you know the names.” He rattled off all nine of the men in the sculpture and the similarities of the swords they carried.
Then he took a plastic bag out of his jacket and placed it on the table. June’s eyes were drawn to the golden object inside. “What is that?” she asked.
“A medallion I found in France when I was here last. I think it belonged to Godfrey of Bouillon.”
Sean cut in. “Except that Godfrey is buried in a tomb at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.”
“Right,” Tommy agreed. “So the tomb I found couldn’t have been his.”
“It was probably a relative then, right?” June said, looking up from the medallion as she pulled it closer.
“Possibly,” Tommy said. “We’re not sure. I’ve still got people on site in France looking around for more clues.”
June squinted her eyes as she tried to process the information. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You wanted to know about Charlemagne’s DNA, which I could have just told you over the phone or via email. Yet you flew all the way here to find out in person? On top of that, it’s not just Charlemagne you’re investigating. It’s a whole series of ancient kings?”
“To be fair, Judah Maccabee wasn’t a king,” Sean offered. “And Joshua was more of a guide than anything. A ruler of sorts, but not a king.”
Tommy ignored his friend’s cynical comment. “We’re also here to have a closer look at the sculpture in Cologne. I’m hoping there could be a lead there, a clue that could help us figure out the next place to look.”
“To look for what? Excalibur?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but yes. I have reason—we have reason—to believe it might actually exist. Think about it. Every man in that sculpture had a similar sword. From what we know about the Arthur legend, it gave the one who carried it incredible power. If those leaders were able to get their hands on it, they would have wielded the same power.”
“If I may,” Adriana said, “I’m as skeptical as anyone when it comes to this sort of thing. Tommy makes a good argument, though. And I have to say, I’m definitely curious.”
June sighed after taking it all in. “I have to say, this is pretty overwhelming. You three do this sort of thing all the time, running all over the world, chasing leads to old legends?”
“Well,” Tommy said, “it’s not the only reason I came to Europe.”
“No?”
A sly grin crept across his face. “No. It was a perfect excuse to see you again.”
It was June’s turn to blush.
She reached over and touched Tommy on the arm. “That is so sweet.”
Sean rolled his eyes. Adriana noticed and nudged him with her knee.
“Stop it,” she mouthed.
“So do you want to come to Cologne with us?” Tommy asked.
June considered the offer. Before she answered, Tommy already knew what she was going to say. “I do. I really do. It sounds fun, but I have to work. If you’re still here this weekend, maybe we could spend some time together?”
Tommy hid his disappointment well. “It’s okay. And yes, I would definitely like to stick around over the weekend. I look forward to it. One of the perks of having a company jet is we can decide how long our stay will be.”
Sean fought off the urge to remind his friend that he and Adriana would still need a ride home. Instead, he decided to let Tommy have his moment.
His friend hadn’t had a significant love interest since college. And even then, Tommy was so absorbed in his studies that he didn’t make time for dating. Those habits carried over into adulthood. By the time he’d started feeling lonely, the time he could have used to hone his social skills had passed him by, leaving him a bit awkward when it came to engaging with members of the opposite sex.
He still wasn’t very smooth, but with June it didn’t seem like he had to be. Deep down, Sean hoped his friend had finally found the right girl.
A different server approached wearing a black button-up shirt and matching pants. He appeared to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, with dark blond hair. “Has anyone helped you yet?” he asked.
“Yes,” June replied in almost-perfect German. “The girl with the short brown hair took our drink order.”
Sean’s eyes had drifted to the people passing by on the street before the server began speaking. When he turned his attention to the younger man, it was already too late.
Sean saw the towel draped over the server’s right hand. More importantly, he saw what it covered: a subcompact 9mm pistol.
Before Sean could warn the others, the server pulled the towel back so everyone at the table could see the tip of the weapon. The few passersby going about their morning routine or visiting touristy spots didn’t notice.
“Now if you don’t mind,” the man switched to English, “slide the medallion over to me, as well as the folder. I’d prefer not to kill anyone.”
“And yet you’re pointing a gun at us,” Sean said through clenched teeth.
Tommy eased toward June to keep between her and the weapon.
The server shrugged and tilted his head to the side. “I do what is necessary, Mr. Wyatt. If you want to protect your friends, you’ll do what I say.”
“I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “Do you two know each other? Sean, who is your friend here?”
“Mr. Wyatt does not know me, Mr. Schultz. Nor do you. Again, give me the medallion, and no one gets hurt.”
“You’re not going to use that gun here,” Sean said, his voice cool as the other side of the pillow. “You’re bluffing or bullying, but you’re not shooting. Not with this many people around. And if you know me, you know that if you pull that trigger, you’d better put one through my skull. If you shoot one of my friends, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground. I can promise you that. But my money says that you have no intention of squeezing that trigger. Too many witnesses who’ve seen your face. So I think maybe you should put that peashooter away and walk on.”
The gunman swallowed hard. His eyes turned to slits. Sean knew at that moment he was spot on. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t want attention. Thieves rarely did.
“Here are your drinks,” a familiar voice interrupted the standoff. The female server returned with a tray full of beverages and began setting them on the table. She noticed the man dressed like one of the restaurant workers. At the sound of her voice, he’d concealed the weapon once more.
“Would you like a menu?” the girl asked the gunman.
“No,” he replied in German. “I was just leaving.”
“That’s right,” Sean said. “Our friend here was just leaving. Although he might be interested in filling out a job application. He’s already dressing the part. Isn’t that right?”
The gunman’s nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened.
He spun around and marched away without looking back.
“Guess he wasn’t interested,” Tommy said.
“Guess not,” Sean said as he watched the gunman disappear into the pedestrian traffic. “But, I doubt we’ve seen the last of him.”
Chapter 8
AACHEN
“Who was that guy?” June asked with a tremor in her voice.
“I don’t know,” Tommy answered. “But we’ll find out.”
“He had a gun, Tommy.”
“I realize that.”
June gasped. “You say that as if you deal with this sort of thing all the time.”
Sean raised an eyebrow at his friend but didn’t need to say anything.
“It happens from time to time,” Tommy said. “That’s the risk involved with recovering artifacts of this nature.”
“Risk? He had a gun, Tommy. He pointed it right at us.”
“I know,” Tommy said, putting his arm around her.
She slid to the side to get out from under his attempt at soothing. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I don’t know what you all are involved with, but I’d prefer to not have guns aimed at me.”
She stood up and collected her things.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Sean said.
“Sean, it’s been nice to meet you. Adriana, you as well.”
“He’s still watching us,” Sean added.
June’s eyes widened. She glanced around the pedestrian street to see if she could find the man’s face. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Look,” she said. “Whatever that guy wants, he wants from you two…three. I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
Tommy stood up and tried to put his hand on her shoulder again. She shrugged it off.
“When you decide to get into a career that doesn’t involve deadly weapons, feel free to give me a call.”
She started to walk toward the cafe’s entrance.
“Second floor. Red building across the street,” Sean said.
His words froze June in place. “What? What did you say?” She looked back over her shoulder at him.
“It’s not the guy we just met. He’s waiting for us around the corner. Doesn’t need to be in sight because he’s got a pair of eyes watching us from that red building over there.”
She started to divert her gaze to the building he was referring to, but he stopped her.
“Don’t make it obvious you’re looking,” Sean said. “Be casual. Second-story window, second one over from the white door below it.”
June twisted her head slowly. Tommy and Adriana waited a moment before they stole a quick look. All three saw the same thing. A dark silhouette standing in the window moved suddenly, causing the cream-colored curtains to ripple in the window.
“He ducked out of sight, didn’t he?” Sean said, staring into his cup.
June nodded absently.
“These guys rarely work alone,” Sean said. “Come back over here, and have a seat. They’re not going to hurt us. If they were, they’d have done it by now.”
“Or they would have waited,” Tommy said.
“Right. Which means these guys wanted us to know they’re here.”
“Why would they want that?” June asked, still held in place by fear.
“Who knows? Typically, they’ll do that to make a statement. In this case, it’s probably a warning.”
“A warning?”
Adriana jumped in. “To get off the trail we’re following.”
Sean nodded in agreement. “That’s a good thing. Means we’re heading in the right direction.”
“A good thing?” June blurted. “It’s a good thing to have a gun pointed at you?” Her voice rose with her level of anger.
“That’s not what he meant,” Tommy said.
Before she could protest further, Sean urged her to return to her seat. “Please. Sit down, June. You’re much safer with us than on your own.”
“No. I don’t think so. I think I was safer before I met you three. I’m going back to the lab. Please don’t call me or follow me or whatever it is you do.”
She walked toward the entrance to the outdoor eating area. Tommy stood up to stop her, but Sean kept him in place. “Hold on, buddy.”
“Hold on?” Tommy said. “She’s in danger if she leaves here alone.”
“I know. Just give her a head start.”
“A head start? I’m not using her as bait, Sean. She’s a woman, a woman I happen to have feelings for. So I’m sorry if I don’t agree with the whole give-her-a-head-start plan.”
He stormed by Sean and hurried after June. She’d already merged into the increasing current of people walking down the cobblestone street.
“Would you use me as bait?” Adriana said, curling her bottom lip.
“Not unless I was sure you’d be okay.”
She didn’t seem surprised. “So you think June will be okay?”
“She would have been if Tommy had stayed here. Now they’re both in trouble.”
“We going after them?”
He nodded. “Yep. Just as soon as that guy across the street steps out the door.”
Sean reached across the table and picked up the folder. He stuffed it and the medallion into his rucksack.
“Why do you think that guy was bluffing?” Adriana asked.
“Someone who intended to hurt us wouldn’t have shown their face. They wouldn’t have come after us in broad daylight. And they wouldn’t have been so polite.”
“Polite?”
“Yep. He clearly said he didn’t want to hurt us.”
“And you believed him?”
Sean’s lips pressed together in a grin. “I’ve played cards long enough and been in this game long enough to know when a person is lying and when they’re telling the truth. That guy wasn’t lying.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” he said, staring across the street through the passing bodies. “But it looks like the spotter is on the move.”
Adriana followed his eyes across the street to the white door in the red building. A man dressed in black pants, and a matching pea coat stepped out onto the street. His gaze was aimed in the direction Tommy and June went. The guy slipped on a pair of sunglasses and started after them, careful to stay close to the buildings to keep out of sight.
“Are we going after them now?” Adriana asked.
“Yep,” Sean said with a nod.
He fished some euros out of his pocket and put enough on the table to cover their bill.
“Shall we?” he asked.
“Sure,” she answered with a cute smirk.
They made their way out of the cafe and onto the street, keeping a careful eye on the spotter across the way. He was dipping in and out of sight between the other people walking along. Occasionally, he paused to pretend to look at fruit or some other items in the outdoor marketplace, probably because he thought his quarry had noticed him. All the while he never realized he was being followed. At least that’s what Sean hoped.
From Sean and Adriana’s vantage point, it appeared Tommy was trying to convince June not to leave as the two made their way toward the next street, where Sean was 99 percent certain the gunman was waiting. More than once, June spun around and waved her hand at Tommy. Sean read her lips as she told his friend to go away and leave her alone.
June turned right and started down an alley. The man across the street made a corresponding directional change and hurried to stay in pursuit.
“No, what are you doing?” Sean said.
“Going into an alley like that definitely isn’t a good idea,” Adriana voiced Sean’s concern.
“Yeah. What do you think we should do?” he asked as he twisted sideways to avoid a rather plump man in a gray suit and tie.
“You’re asking me?” She sounded surprised.
“Always open to good ideas.”
“You go in behind this guy. I’ll go up to the next street, run around, and cut them off.”
“You sure you’re fast enough?”
She lowered her head and gave him a playfully irritated look.
“Yeah. I’m fast enough.”
Before he could question her, she took off, ducking and weaving through the pedestrians. It didn’t take her long to reach the next corner, where she disappeared behind the row of buildings. Meanwhile, Sean peeled off into the alley behind the spotter as he pursued Tommy and June.
Now, in between the buildings on either side, June’s voice resonated louder than it had on the main street.
“I told you, Tommy, I’m going back to work. Leave me alone. I don’t want to get involved with whatever you all are up to.”
“June, please. Just listen to me. I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “Please. We really need to get back on the main street.”
Tommy turned around and saw the man in the pea coat behind them. Sean ducked behind a garbage bin before his friend could see him.
Seeing the spotter following them, Tommy knew they were in trouble. “June, sweetie. I think it would be a good idea if we go back to the cafe and chill out for a bit. Just let me explain things.”
“What is there to explain? You and your friends are obviously involved with something dangerous. I’d prefer to keep that kind of danger out of my life. My car is just around the corner, so I’ll be fine.”
She’d no sooner gotten the words out of her mouth than the gunman from the cafe stepped out from behind the corner ahead. His towel was gone, and now he held the weapon in plain sight in front of his waist, aiming it right at the approaching couple.
June stumbled to a stop. Tommy saw the threat and stepped in front of her.
“It would have been easier if you had given me the medallion at the cafe, Mr. Schultz. Now you’ve put yourself and your girlfriend in a bad situation.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” June said.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tommy said almost simultaneously, though he sounded a tad hurt.
“I don’t care,” the gunman said. “Give me the medallion and the folder.”
Tommy shook his head. “Like my buddy said, you won’t fire that weapon here. Too many people will hear it. Police will be all over you within minutes. Then what will you do?”
The gunman flashed a toothy grin. “Well, we can’t have that.”
He reached around his back and produced a black cylinder. His fingers made quick work of the sound suppressor, and within twenty seconds it was attached to his weapon’s muzzle.
Tommy swallowed.
The spotter stepped up from behind and grabbed June’s arms. She shrieked for a second, but the spotter covered her mouth with a gloved hand. She struggled for a moment, until she felt something press hard into her lower back. Tommy spun around to rush to her aid, but there was nothing he could do. He saw the gun in the spotter’s hand.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the first gunman said. He put out his hand with palm up. “Medallion. Now.”
“I don’t have it,” Tommy said. “It’s at the cafe with my friends.”
“You must think we’re stupid. You would never let something as valuable as that medallion leave your sight.”
“What do you want with it anyway?” Tommy asked. “I guess a two-bit criminal like you plans to sell it on the black market. No one even knows what it is. I doubt you could get more than a few hundred bucks for it.”
“We aren’t interested in money, Mr. Schultz. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
Out of nowhere, a can of tomato sauce zipped through the air and struck the gunman on the side of the head. As he toppled sideways, the gun in his hand went off, sending the bullet into one of the wooden support beams of the building to his left.
The spotter shoved June aside and took aim at the corner from where the can had been thrown.
“Who’s there?”
He heard rapid footsteps behind him and spun around in time to see Sean charging at full speed. Before the spotter could react, Sean plowed his shoulder into the man’s midsection and drove him backward toward Tommy.
Sean let out a growl as he forklifted the guy an inch off the ground.
Tommy stepped out of the way as Sean drove the guy into the ground. The spotter’s head smacked against the hard surface, knocking him out instantly.
The original gunman recovered from the can striking his head. After a few seconds of staggering, he regained his balance and took aim at the new threat.
He only heard two footsteps from his right before a foot snapped up and kicked the gun out of his hand. The gunman ignored the sharp pain in his hand and turned to face the adversary who dared interfere.
“Ms. Villa,” he said, assuming a fighting stance.
“And you are?”
He swung a fast kick at her midsection. She knocked it down with a swipe of her fist. The kick was just a decoy to lower her defenses. He faked a jab, which she tried to block, and then sent a roundhouse into her right cheek.
Her head whipped to the side, and she stumbled backward. The man didn’t relent. He jumped through the air and kicked hard with his right foot, landing the blow on the same cheek he’d just struck.
Adriana tripped and fell backward, crashing into three garbage cans next to the corner.
Sean and Tommy saw what happened and rushed to help. The gunman glanced over his shoulder and saw them approaching. He reached down, grabbed Adriana by the jacket, and yanked her up onto her feet. She winced in pain but was still conscious.
The man produced a knife and pressed the sharp edge against her neck. “Stay back,” he warned.
Sean and Tommy skidded to a stop just ten feet away.
The man shuffled his feet backward. “I’m warning all of you. Leave this place. You do not know the power you’re meddling with. Those who raise the sword will die by it.”
His hands moved suddenly, and he threw something onto the ground. He shoved Adriana forward and dashed down the adjacent alley just as the little metal disk erupted in a searing white flash.
Sean grabbed her and dove clear of the blast radius. Tommy tackled June and covered her to keep any shrapnel from hitting her.
“Tommy, you guys okay?” Sean asked, unable to see anything as his eyes started the slow progression of adjusting back to normal light.
“Yeah, we’re okay. You guys?”
“Yeah. It was just a flash bang.”
Tommy sat up and waited for the world around him to slowly change back from bright white. “It looked like one of those disks you got from your buddy at DARPA.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Sean said. The white light had already started fading. He helped Adriana to her feet and then half felt his way over to the unconscious man on the ground. “You hear what he said about raising the sword?”
He felt around in the guy’s pockets, but found no identification, money, or credit cards. The only thing he discovered was a single key. It was certainly old, since keys like that were rarely used anymore except for historical buildings. At the end of the stem, an interesting design had been carved out of the metal: a sword and a crescent moon.
“Yeah. That verse from Matthew again.” Tommy said. His eyes had begun adjusting, and he could see Sean was holding something. “What’s that?”
“A key.”
“Key? To what?”
“I’m not sure. But our friend here probably won’t tell us anything until he wakes up.”
Sean noticed something on the spotter’s wrist and lifted the limp hand to get a better view. “Now that’s interesting.”
“What?” Adriana moved closer and looked over his shoulder. Then she saw what he was examining. “The other guy had one of those, too. It was on the same wrist.”
“You’re sure?”
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