Threshold (15 page)

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, but only made it one more step before Aleman stopped him again.

“I’m not sure you will, King. Not this time. Because the last three attacks happened on three different continents at the exact same time. Whoever is behind this is not alone, and has amazing resources.”

King looked back. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that Hercules may not have meant us to figure out where he was. And if you’re right, and find him beneath Rome, he might not be happy to see you.”

“I’m going to make damn sure he’s
not
happy. We might be named for chess pieces, but he’s done moving us on the game board.”

*   *   *

THE ROAR OF
the F/A-18 hit him like a pressure wave as he left Decon and entered the hangar. He held an index finger up to the waiting pilot, who nodded in response as he brought the jet to a stop and killed the engines. King approached his parents, who had been sitting in metal folding chairs on the opposite side of the hangar. His mother looked worried as she sat with her hands over her ears. His father looked positively thrilled by the presence of the jet.

Peter held his hands out toward the jet and spoke to King. “You know, if this was a MiG I could fly you wherever you’re going myself.”

King stopped, looking at his father with a quizzical expression. He really knew nothing about his parents. In many ways they were strangers to him, and small things, like the creases around his father’s eyes that had once given away his jests, now said nothing.

Peter waved at him. “I’m kidding, Jack.”

“Right,” King said, but he still wasn’t sure if the man was joking or not. His parents had been spies. His mother shot a man. That one, or both of them, could pilot a jet at this point wouldn’t be too shocking.

Lynn placed her hand on King’s back and rubbed hard, the way he had liked as a child when sitting through a boring event. “Honey,” she said, standing in front of him. She took his cheek and pulled his face down, while glancing at the jet. “Are you someone important?”

King couldn’t help but smile. For all the secrets his parents had, he had just as many. Whatever documents his mother had seen, most likely an I.D. or message from one of the team, wouldn’t have given away exactly what it was he did. They knew as little about him as he did about them.

But they were family.

King hugged his mother. “The things I do … no one will ever know about them. I’m no one, Mom.”

“You’re a father,” she said.

“Foster parent,” he corrected, leaving his mother’s embrace and standing up straight. “And not a very good one.”

“Bullshit,” Peter said. “Where you’re going, is it dangerous?”

“Yes,” King said, not wanting to lie to his parents and realizing his father wasn’t asking for important details.

“You could get killed?”

“Yes, Dad.”

King could see worry creeping into his mother’s eyes and didn’t want her to break down in tears.

“And you’re doing this for your daughter?”

King thought about the question. It was his job to put his life on the line for all Americans. He did it all the time. But this was different. This was personal. It was for Fiona. “Yes.”

“Son, there is no greater love than a father who is willing to lay down his life for his children.” He took King’s shoulders in his hands. “Do you understand?”

The words resonated with King. He wasn’t a good father. He knew that. How could a single man on the world’s most mysterious and elite Delta team attend to a thirteen-year-old girl? But that wasn’t his father’s point. The point was, he would die to save Fiona.

Strange, that a man who spent the last ten years in prison could make so much sense,
King thought, and then held his breath. Peter had gone to jail and suffered the loathing of his son so that he could have a normal childhood. He had given up his life to protect King from the realities of their past. The tough old ex-con, ex-spy, without realizing it, had just told King he loved him.

“I understand, Dad. Thanks.” King headed toward the jet and looked back with a grin. His mother grew weepy as he climbed the ladder. He turned back toward Decon where Aleman stood in the doorway. “Find them someplace to stay.”

Aleman saluted in reply.

He climbed into the jet’s rear section, sat down, and strapped in. He tapped the pilot’s head and they began moving back out of the hangar where an empty runway awaited.

As the jet taxied out of the hangar and Aleman walked toward them, Peter looked down at Lynn’s teary face. “All set?”

She nodded and said, “I don’t like this.”

Peter squeezed her arm. “He’ll be fine.”

Aleman arrived and said, “How do you feel about Best Western?”

“As long as they have a continental breakfast, I’m good,” Peter said.

The three exited the hangar together and watched King’s F/A-18 roar into the air, headed east. A loud boom washed over them as the jet broke the sound barrier, becoming a distant speck in the sky.

TWENTY

HE SAT TWO
hundred feet beneath the surface of the earth surrounded by darkness, and yet able to see. The large circular space had once served as a kind of sitting room, a bath perhaps, but had, for the past year and a half, been used as a laboratory, though some might call it a torture chamber. His test subjects included insects and animals from the desert above, humans from surrounding villages, and even the earth itself. They were like clay in the hands of an artist, malleable, but his skills needed honing and his manipulations often cost the living their lives while the inanimate found life—at least temporarily.

Those brought to life had vastly different roles. The quickly animated stone subjects were large, strong, and doltish. But they followed orders without pause or moral hindrance. Unfortunately, they didn’t last long. If he didn’t repeat the words that granted life within fifteen minutes, they would return to their prior state. Clay held together best, enduring without need for a repeated imbuement, and with it, his finest creations came to being.

But there was more to accomplish. Much more. He had a firm grasp of manipulating the inanimate, but the animate still eluded him. And that was key. A computer programmer couldn’t rewrite software code if he didn’t know the language in which it was written. But if that language was learned, the code could be hacked and rewritten. The same was true of the human mind, the world’s most sophisticated, organic computer. And he was close to deciphering the original coded language. Once he knew the language, he could rewrite the code of the human mind. Only a few fragments of knowledge still eluded him and they were nearly lost to time.

Sometime, far in the past, the human race spoke one, unifying language. But suddenly, as though erased from the minds of its speakers, the language was lost—though not completely. Fragments of the ancient language remained hidden in the new dialects, passed down orally through generations. Even fewer fragments had been etched into stone by those wise enough to realize the knowledge would die with them. Identifying the lost written fragments had taken time, but the tracks of the ancients were easy to follow once you knew what to look for. With the last stone fragments still being tracked down, there was time to perfect a few more tricks.

He read through his notes one last time as he would soon attempt something he knew could have disastrous results. Even the smallest mispronunciation could undo him. He might survive, in fact he didn’t doubt it, but even a small explosion could reveal his position to his enemies stationed above.

He sipped from his teacup and noticed the time. The others would be checking in soon.

A blue glow lit the space around the man as he turned on his laptop. It revealed lab tables covered with cages, some containing rodents or reptiles. Several different types of rock, sand, clay, and crystal filled a collection of bowls. Lines of metal bars came next—an assemblage of earth elements.

The laptop chimed a moment later.
Seth
. The man answered it, looking at a reflection of his own face. “All went well, Alpha,” Seth said. “All living specimens have been eradicated and all traces of the written language have been destroyed. No interruptions this time.”

A second chime indicated a second call.
Enos.
Opening the second call and networking the three, Alpha said, “And how is Australia?”

“No problems,” Enos said. “Have you heard from Cainan yet?”

They were all nervous about Cainan. Their successes around the globe couldn’t dull their apprehension about facing the mass of special Forces stationed at Fort Bragg. At the same time, it was an excellent test of their true capabilities.

He glanced at his watch, seeing Seth and Enos do likewise on the screen. How alike they all were.

The computer chimed.

Cainan.

Alpha took the call and patched it in, allowing the five of them to talk as though each were in the room despite being worlds apart. “Cainan.” The tone of his voice was loaded with questions that didn’t need to be voiced.

“Bragg is in ruins. The U.S. special forces took large casualties and were unable to mount a successful counterattack.”

Alpha knew well enough that Cainan was delaying the meat of his report. He cleared his throat. “And the girl, Fiona?”

“
He
was there.”

“King?”

“No, the other one,” Cainan said. “The thorn in our side. He took her.”

Alpha grimaced. The man, whose identity and location were still unknown, but were being tirelessly researched, had first made his presence known at the Siletz Reservation in Oregon. In the confusion, the girl had escaped into the arms of Delta, behind the fortified walls of Fort Bragg. And since then he had thwarted many of their attempts to eliminate those that, know it or not, had the knowledge to undo what had taken half his life to achieve. They had succeeded in as many attempts, but the cumulative knowledge of those now protected in secrecy …

He pushed his fears aside, focusing on the problem at hand. “King will go after her. Wherever he goes, follow him.”

Enos nodded. “He’s resourceful. He’ll find her.”

“He’s being tracked?” Alpha asked.

Cainan’s head bobbed up and down. “The assets did their job. He’s on a jet over the Atlantic.”

“Alone?”

“The other chess pieces left earlier, each leading an individual team. I don’t know where.”

Alpha’s eyes widened momentarily and then he chuckled. “They’ve gone looking for others. Identify which at-risk languages are the most likely targets.”

“You don’t want us to intercept?” Cainan said.

Alpha was grinning. “Not at all. But I think letting several countries know that U.S. special forces intend to invade their territory and abduct their citizens will create a hostile atmosphere that might do the work for us. If any of them are headed for Russia, our friends there will be most welcoming, I’m sure. That would leave only King as a concern for the future.”

“And what if King finds us?” Enos asked.

Alpha smiled and stood, taking a small lizard by the sides and picking it up. “I am leaving for Pontus shortly. And should he track us here…” He held the lizard up and spoke the ancient words he had recited so many times in his mind. The lizard began thrashing in his hand, changing before their eyes. “He will find only death.”

Seth, Enos, and Cainan watched with wide eyes as the video appeared on their laptops in Vietnam, Australia, and the United States. Identical grins stretched on their faces.

After placing the still changing lizard into a large cage, Alpha returned to his seat and paused. Something about killing King was unsatisfactory. The man had taken everything from him except the one thing no man could take: his life. King deserved worse. He deserved to know the same pain. “On second thought, Cainan, take the girl. Bring her to me. If King survives the journey, we will welcome him here.”

He disconnected the call and powered off the computer. When the screen went black, he caught his hideous reflection in the glossy laptop display and frowned. “I’ll take care of you soon enough,” he said before closing the laptop.