Threshold (31 page)

The chopper’s three passengers weren’t fazed by the inclement weather, but the pilot, Luis Azurdia, was terrified. However, the bonus offered to him by his three wealthy clients was too generous to pass up. During the rainy season, travel to El Mirador was nearly impossible by land, and the site was mired with mud, flash floods, and few options for overnight stays. Tourists were few and far between as a result. The money Luis stood to make from this flight would cover the rest of the rainy season.

A second flash of lightning filled the cockpit with blinding light a fraction of a second before a resounding crash filled the air. Luis’s heart pounded. He’d never flown in a storm like this. Hell, if it was raining most tourists would cancel their trip.

He looked back at his passengers, hoping to see them fidgeting nervously, praying for fear in their eyes. If they called off the flight he might still be able to get that bonus. But the big Arabian man appeared to be meditating with his eyes closed. The skinny Asian man bobbed his head to music supplied by iPod earbuds. And the woman, her striking blond hair and forehead covered by a blue bandanna, simply looked out the window with a scowl. She, at least, looked like she wanted to be someplace else, but the storm was not on her mind.

Queen focused on the jungle below, watching an endless sea of trees. El Mirador was one of the most remote locations in Guatemala, which allowed the ancient Mayan city to remain fairly unexplored until 2003, when a team of archaeologists set up camp and began excavating the overgrown city. Despite the area’s natural beauty, the mysterious location they would soon explore, or the potential danger that awaited them there, her thoughts were half a world away.

In Russia.

With Rook.

News of his team’s extermination had been a blow to all of them. The men were comrades and friends. But Rook’s M.I.A. status was especially disturbing. He was more than a friend. She had worked hard denying her feelings, fighting against them as hard as any mythical creature they had faced, but with Rook missing, possibly dead, she couldn’t bury how she felt. And right now, she felt pissed.

She had petitioned to be freed from the mission in order to track down Rook, and if possible, rescue him. But she had been denied by Deep Blue himself. The mission came first. She knew Rook would agree, but it didn’t loosen the knot twisting in her stomach. To lose him now …

She shook her head, willing herself to not think it. She
would
find him when this was over.

What bothered her most was that despite being brave in almost any scenario, neither of them had the guts to talk about their feelings for each other. Ever since their kiss a year previous she had sensed his quiet discomfort around her. But they never spoke of it. Like the hardships of battle, they swallowed it. Buried it. Because they both knew that love on the battlefield could get people killed.

She realized now that soldiers died on the battlefield either way. And now Rook may have as well; a fact that would not have changed if their relationship had become romantic.
At least then he would have died knowing,
she thought, and then forced a new thought:
I’ll tell him when I find him.

A flash of light made her squint and look away from the window. As thunder rolled over and through the helicopter she glanced toward the cockpit and made eye contact with Luis. He looked desperate and pale.

“I— Is the storm too much?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

She grinned. “Not at all.”

As a frown came to his face, Queen added, “We are more than halfway there, yes?”

“Sí,” he said with a nod. “We are almost there.”

“Then we will be on the ground shortly and the storm will most likely have passed or dulled by the time we leave.”

Luis thought for a moment before smiling and nodding again. “You are right.”

As Luis turned his eyes forward again, Knight plucked his earbuds free. “Almost there?”

“Yup,” Queen replied.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“She’s worried about Rook,” Bishop said, eyes still shut.

“We’re all worried about him,” Knight said. “But—”

Bishop opened his eyes and glanced at Knight. “Seriously?”

Knight opened his hands with a shrug. “What?”

Bishop responded by raising his eyebrows.

After a moment of thought, Knight realized what was being communicated. “Really?” He leaned forward and looked at Queen. “
Really?
Rook?”

The slightest of grins showed on Queen’s face. She slugged Bishop’s shoulder and turned to Knight. “I don’t want to break that pretty jaw of yours, Fancy Nancy, but I will.”

Knight was all smiles until Luis’s voice came over the headset. “El Mirador at three o’clock,” he said as he spoke his next words. “We made it.”

Queen, Bishop, and Knight leaned over and looked out of Queen’s window. For endless miles in the distance the jungle grew in a flat sheet of green, but here it rose up high into the sky, as though mountains had sprung up in the middle of a plain. But they weren’t mountains. They were ancient temples and pyramids built by the ancient Mayans. Near the peak of the tallest rise, the jungle cleared enough to see the dirty white stone hidden beneath. To most, the site felt both ominous and wondrous.

To Queen, Bishop, and Knight, it was something else entirely. For each knew that if they found the man they were looking for, it would become a place of violence and death not seen since the ancient Mayans soaked the forest floor with the blood of human sacrifice.

FORTY-FIVE

Amesbury, England

A GRAY HAZE
hung over the late-afternoon sky, threatening to descend and cover the landscape in fog. If not for the patchwork of green and yellow fields on either side of the road, the day would have been depressing. Despite the gloom, the drive from Heathrow International Airport in London had gone smoothly, once again thanks to the plush black Mercedes awaiting King and Alexander.

King found himself riding shotgun as usual. Alexander knew the way and enjoyed driving his cars fast, which didn’t normally bother King, but a driver that can’t be killed may not take as much care as a mere mortal.

To distract himself from the breakneck driving, King opened his cell phone and placed a call he’d been avoiding. Not because he didn’t want to speak to his parents, but because he didn’t know what to say. There was no time for a conversation and calling just to check in seemed wildly inappropriate given the fact that his mother was supposed to be dead and his father had been recently freed from jail.

“Hi honey!” his mother answered on the second ring.

“Hey Mom.”

“Have you found them yet? The men behind the attack?”

King grinned. It was business as usual with Lynn. “You know I can’t tell you anything.”

Alexander took a right turn at a fork in the road. Stonehenge loomed to the left. After driving through the city and now the country, the megalithic monument seemed out of place, like it had been transported from someplace far away. Then his phone rang. After looking at the caller ID screen, Alexander answered the call with a hushed voice.

King strained to hear what he was saying, but Peter’s voice shouted from the background in his own phone. “Is he in Iraq? That’s still a hot spot for these kinds of things.”

“Are you in Iraq, dear?” his mother asked.

King sighed. There was no harm in telling them he wasn’t in Iraq and it would stop them from worrying. “No, I’m not in Iraq.”

“Will you be?”

“No, Mom, Iraq is not on my radar.”

“Oh good. Good.”

With the monotony of the conversation already getting to him, and a desire to eavesdrop on Alexander’s conversation, King spoke quickly. “Listen, Mom. I was just calling to make sure you were both okay, that you’re both safe.”

“Oh, we have nothing to fear here,” Lynn said. “We’re safe.”

They entered the parking lot across the street from the monument and pulled into an empty space. A large red, double-decker tour bus pulled up behind them. Eager to get out of the car and not thinking about what might be outside, King exited the Mercedes and was greeted by an amplified voice.

“Welcome to Stonehenge, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for choosing London Hills Tours.”

King closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe she hadn’t heard. She certainly hadn’t reacted. “Mom, I have to go now.”

“Okay, hun. You’ll call back when you can?” she asked. “Don’t make us worry.”

“I won’t. I will. I have to go. Love you.” King ended the call as Alexander finished his own.

“Just the two of us,” King heard him say. “A few days, and make sure it’s dry. Good.”

Alexander hung up the phone, slid it inside his pocket, and exited the car.

“Dinner date?” King asked as he exited as well.

“Reservations of a sort, but not for food.” Alexander closed his door. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But King was concerned. Everything Alexander said and did raised more questions, and with each unanswered question, his trust of Alexander ebbed. Who was he talking to? Who were the two people he mentioned? And what were these secret reservations? The only reason Alexander had to keep secrets from King—who wasn’t interested in money, power, fame, or immortality—was that he wouldn’t like what he heard.

“Throwing me a surprise party?” King asked, searching for information without an outright confrontation.

But Alexander acted as though he hadn’t even heard the question. “I can hardly remember my parents,” he said. “But I know I’m glad I didn’t have a cell phone when they were alive.” He shook his head with a grin.

King saw through the phony smile and understood the meaning behind Alexander’s deflection: back off. Not one to back down from anyone, including immortals, he was about to push the subject when a mob of tourists exited the tour bus. Some went to the visitor’s center for pamphlets, restrooms, and drinks while the rest made a beeline for the subterranean passage that led to the other side of the road and a spectacular view of the stones. Other than the new arrivals, the parking lot was largely empty, save for a few cars. By Stonehenge standards, they had the place to themselves.

The air smelled of wet grass and car exhaust—a strange mix of nature and civilization that reminded King of more than a couple battle zones. But it was mildly cool and comfortable, despite the dreary weather.

“Sorry if I blasted you,” the tour guide said as she exited the bus. She was tall, all smiles, and had a tangy British accent. Her short brown hair was partially tied back in a ponytail. When she smiled, her thin eyes became squints and her lips became slivers of pink. “Saw you gabbin’ on your cell.”

“Ah, no worries luv,” Alexander said.

King flinched and glanced at Alexander. While his accent was spot on, they hadn’t discussed any kind of cover.

“Locals are ya?” she asked.

“Born an raised in Amesbury,” Alexander replied. “But my friend here’s a highlander fresh out of the mountains. Never seen the stones before.”

“Ohh,” she said flirtatiously, sidling up next to King. “A Scotsman, eh?”

King did his best not to roll his eyes and said, “Aye.”

“Well if you have any questions about Stonehenge, I’m the one to talk to. Never mind the guides in there,” she said, motioning to the visitor’s center. “They’re dead from the neck up.”

King couldn’t help but smile at the woman. Making sure to keep his accent, he said, “Are all the lassies in London this highfalutin?”

She gave King a funny look and laughed. He knew he was laying on the Highlander role-play a little thick, but he intended to come off as flirtatious. Given the broad smile on the woman’s face, he was succeeding.

“I just know my shit is all,” she said and then motioned to her bus. “Been top banana on this crimson cruiser for five years now. And no one knows more about the wonders of Wiltshire County than me. It’s why I get top whack for my tours.” She nudged King in the ribs. “But I’ll give you handsome gents a first-rate tour on the house.”