‘OK,’ Adams said, nodding his head, ‘so we have a possible connection. What else do we know about them?’
‘We’ve simply not had the time to run a complete check on the group,’ Stephenfield admitted, ‘but what we have found out is interesting, to say the least.’
‘What have you found?’ Adams asked.
‘From our initial investigations, using various government resources, which thankfully we still have unofficial access to, it seems that, far from being purely a talking shop, the annual meetings are used as a recruiting ground of sorts.’
‘Recruiting for what?’ Lynn asked.
‘Ah,’ Stephenfield replied. ‘Well, that’s the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, isn’t it? Reports from certain attendees who have spoken about the event indicate that at some stage of the weekend conference, each delegate has to have an informal “chat” with the steering committee. This chat is held in a private room, something of an interview, it would seem. But nothing is ever mentioned about what it is they might be recruiting for. But it seems that over the years, an unusually high proportion of guests at the meetings end up having unfortunate “accidents” — car crashes, heart attacks, slipping in the shower and breaking their necks, you name it.’
‘So what do you think is going on?’ Lynn asked.
‘I suppose one possible explanation,’ Adams ventured, ‘would be that occasionally one of them turns the offer down. And, now that they know what it is, the group silences them in order to ensure their true purpose never becomes public knowledge.’
Ayita nodded his head slowly. ‘Our thoughts exactly, Matt,’ he said. ‘So the question still remains, what are they recruiting for? Something they are willing to kill for, certainly. And so I can’t help but feel that it ties into your own problems somehow.’
‘But how?’ Adams asked, confused.
‘We are still investigating, but our powers are now — thanks to Kern — necessarily limited.’
Adams and Lynn looked at each other, thinking hard. Was there anything? Anything at all that they might have missed?
‘The helicopter,’ Lynn said suddenly, looking up. ‘I tried to find out information on the flights myself, but I couldn’t get access to any of it. In Antarctica, there were two military helicopters, Chinooks I think. They had serial numbers on their tail rotor assemblies.’ She thought for a moment, and then recited the numbers, glad that her scientific mind and memory of detail were still working.
Stephenfield nodded his head. ‘They may have been false IDs, but given that they expected everyone on board your chopper to die, it’s possible they may have been genuine. We’ll look into it.’
Adams looked at Stephenfield, then at all of his comrades both new and old, until his eyes came to rest on John Ayita. ‘Thank you,’ he said with deep sincerity.
Ayita waved his hand. ‘It is our duty to avenge the death of brother Takanawee,’ he said gravely. ‘And if it involves a forty-thousand-year-old body and the world’s most powerful secret cabal, then that is an adventure none of us would turn down.’
3
Santa Rosa is a tiny township in Pima, Arizona. Less than four hundred and fifty people live there, in an area of just under six square miles, with over fifty per cent of its population existing below the poverty line. It is situated squarely in Tohono O’odham territory, and was therefore safe — outsiders were unwelcome, and very easy to spot.
The tiny flat-board house Adams and Lynn were using was one of the only unoccupied units in the township, and Ayita had organized for them to stay there for the time being. They were given a pick-up truck in case they needed to get to Phoenix to collect the lab results or if they needed to leave in a hurry for any reason, and were told that Stephenfield would visit them in twenty-four hours with news of their investigation. As telephones and other forms of electronic communication could no longer be trusted, it was decided that face-to-face meetings were the only answer.
As Adams looked out of the dirty living-room window from behind the dusty shutters, he felt the memories returning. He had spent many days in Santa Rosa — known as Kaij Mek to the O’odham — over the years he had worked for the Shadow Wolves, running down leads, talking to the town’s inhabitants, and cutting for sign down by the area’s major highway, Indian Route 29.
It was close by, just off Indian Route 15, that he had discovered the truck all those years before. And the bodies.
He turned away quickly and headed for the kitchen, and saw Lynn lying on the sofa, asleep. She had been complaining of sickness, and Adams had laid her on the couch, where she had passed out instantly.
Even asleep, he admired her beauty, the taut yet soft line of her cheek, the arched eyebrows, the way her hair fell across her forehead, arms wrapped across her body and knees up to her chest.
He crossed the room, took his jacket from an easy chair opposite and placed it over her. He bent closer, kissing her gently on the cheek.
He wondered how she felt about him. He knew that their physical reunion in Peru was probably the result of deep emotional needs requiring some sort of powerful physical release after their escape across Chile and the subsequent helicopter crash. But for him it had been more than that, something he had wanted to happen on an even more fundamental level, and he hoped that Lynn felt the same way.
They hadn’t really had a chance to talk properly since then, everything had been happening so fast, but as he looked down at her, his heart skipping the proverbial beat and his stomach swimming, he knew one thing. He loved her.
He lay down next to her, cradling her in his arms, nestling his head against hers. He closed his eyes, drinking in the scent of her hair, contented for the first time in many years.
And then, mercifully, he drifted off into a deep sleep; for the first time in a long time, a real sleep.
Twelve hours later, Adams sensed the man about to knock on the door. He was already standing next to it. The sound of footsteps coming up the path had woken him from his sleep, and he had leapt from the couch, revitalized and filled with new life from his extended, much-needed rest.
By the tempo of the gait, he surmised it was Stephenfield — although it seemed the intelligence chief had altered the length of his stride, perhaps to test his awareness.
‘Come on in, Sam,’ he said, opening the door just before the knock came.
Stephenfield looked up and smiled. ‘You didn’t fall for it then?’
‘You nearly had me,’ Adams joked as he let his old friend in, ‘but I guess you’ll just have to try harder next time.’
‘Well, you always were the best,’ Stephenfield admitted as he entered the living room. He spotted Lynn sitting on the couch, rested now after her long sleep, and nodded his head in greeting. ‘Hi, Lynn,’ he said amiably.
‘Hi, Sam,’ Lynn said in return. ‘I’m not sure what we have in the kitchen, but can I get you something?’
Stephenfield shook his head. ‘No thanks,’ he replied. ‘You’re probably going to want to hear this right away. We’ve got some news.’
Adams went to sit down on the couch next to Lynn, and they interlinked hands without even thinking. Stephenfield took his seat in the armchair opposite.