“Sounds like a police sting. The cops tell the fugitive to come collect his lottery prize.”
“Not far off the mark. They wanted the treasure in the worst way. When Dr. Everson disappeared, they hired the Marzaks to put together the mercenary expedition to wipe out Amir and dive on the treasure.”
Hawkins leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.
“You’re making me feel like a real Mickey the Dunce. I risked my ass on your crazy treasure hunt for nothing.”
“Don’t run yourself down, Hawkins. Your mission served a purpose. Word that a U.S. expedition was going in to find the treasure was a charade that would persuade the Shadows to send in their own people.”
“How did you pick me?”
“From our acquaintance with your previous Afghan service.”
“A certifiably insane guy with a messed up record?”
“You fit the job description. And you were expendable. Nothing personal about it.”
“It became personal when the Marzaks tried to kill me. Your call, too?”
“Regretfully. We assumed that your mission would fail, and were prepared to give you back up that would make sure that was the case. But you immediately took control of the operation, forming your own team and looked prepared to succeed. We forgot that even a crippled hawk has a sharp beak, so we had to clip your wings.”
“When that didn’t work you brought in Murphy who happened to bump into me at the airport and gave us Rashid.”
“Murphy was just a hastily devised back up plan.”
“Was Marzak’s ambush in Maryland part of that back up?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Didn’t Marzak tell you? He kidnapped Dr. Everson and held her hostage. We were able to free her.”
“I had nothing to do with that. It would have been a distraction. It troubles me that he went off the reservation.”
“Here’s something else to trouble you. We found the emerald scepter and the Prester John treasure in a Colorado mine.”
“Well, congratulations, but it means nothing to me compared to the country’s mineral wealth. If the Chinese gained control of Sheik Amir’s holdings, more takeovers would follow.”
“A new domino theory.”
“Correct. But revelation of the treasure’s existence would be an undesirable loose end that must be tied up. You see where I’m going?”
“You want me to tell you where to find it. But there’s another loose end that needs tying. The Prophet’s Necklace.” He turned in his chair and spoke into the shadows. “Isn’t that right, Marzak?”
A figure holding a gun stepped into the light. Hawkins stood and held his arms in the air while Marzak frisked him, then sat down again.
“You evidently have eyes in the back of your head, Hawkins.”
“The ones in the front work quite well. I saw Fletcher glance over my shoulder the same time he dropped his arm down to the alarm button on his desk. Welcome back from the dead,” Hawkins said.
“Death was not in the cards. I was well protected with my Kevlar vest. How did your friend set off the booby trap without getting killed?”
“Not very difficult. He sent in a robot that triggered the bomb.”
“Ingenious. Your friend ruined a good shirt, however.”
Hawkins touched his ribs where Marzak’s dagger had taken a slice out of his flesh. “That makes us even.” He turned back to Fletcher. “At what point did the Prophet’s necklace go from being a ruse to the real thing?”
“What makes you think that’s the case?”
“You confirmed it when you bragged to your friends that something was in the works that would surpass 9/11. Marzak told me he set it up, but he wasn’t the trigger man.”
Fletcher snarled. “You talk too damned much, Marzak.”
“He never identified you. He said he and I were arrows in the same quiver. In other words, we were both fashioned by the same arrowsmith. From what I know, the necklace also qualifies for that dubious honor. How many victims will you kill in the sarin attack?”
“Enough to provoke the anger and the determination to mount a major strike.”
“Pakistan might object to a carpet bombing campaign and occupation of its borders, and they have nukes,” Hawkins said.
“They will be told that their nuclear storehouses have been targeted and will be destroyed if they try to stop us.”
“So we’re in the region forever?”
“If need be. Decades are nothing in the history of occupations.”
“I was in Iraq,” Hawkins said. “We learned that occupations are a lot harder to maintain than they used to be.”
“We also learned a lesson from Iraq when we had to compete for the oil after sacrificing so much blood and money. This time we will secure the lithium fields first and use this as a bargaining chip to control the rest of the mineral riches for the U.S.”
“The American public isn’t going to like more fighting.”
“That will work in our favor. Instead of regular troops we will fill the ranks with contractors sent by Arrowhead and other security companies. This will give us even tighter control.”
“People are going to die, no matter who is involved,” Hawkins said.
“What of it? We’re talking about an international chess game in which pieces are often sacrificed for the greater good.”
“You’re insane, Fletcher. Those are your countrymen you’re sacrificing so you can control mineral wealth that doesn’t belong to you.”
“Then why don’t you ask your countrymen what they’ll think when China controls the lithium that goes into the batteries that will power their smart phones and electric cars. Ask people what they think of an economic catastrophe that will reduce our country to a third-world beggar state.”
“Too bad for you the Prophet’s Necklace is not going to happen.”
“Really?” Fletcher’s eyes narrowed to slits. He picked up his phone and quickly punched out a number. “It has happened.” Hawkins tweaked up the right side of his mouth in a lop-sided grin and reached for the envelope containing his discharge. He plucked a pen from a holder, wrote down a series of numbers, and pushed the envelope across the desk to Fletcher.
Fletcher’s jowls quivered as he read off the numbers. “How did you know?”
“I had Marzak’s phone number from our chat at the boat. He used his own phone to talk to me.”
“That’s right, Hawkins,” Marzak said. “I thought you might try to ping my location if I used Dr. Eversons’ phone.”
“Too bad. A friend who is very good at this kind of thing used it to track the slave numbers that would activate the explosives. The phone network has been neutralized, the FBI alerted and the bomb sites are being cleared.”
Fletcher turned his fury on Marzak. “You fool! Your carelessness has ruined months of planning.”
Marzak tucked his gun into his belt and started toward the study’s exit.
“I will take that as a dismissal. Congratulations, Hawkins. Till we meet again.”
“Hawkins killed your brother,” Fletcher said. “Don’t you want revenge?”
“That was your responsibility as much as Hawkins’, so you might want to temper your call for vengeance. I’m off to buy an island. You and Hawkins work it out. My contract is terminated.”
Fletcher aimed his pistol at Marzak’s back and in a quiet voice said, “So are you.”
Marzak spun around gun in hand, but Fletcher’s first shot caught him in the side when he was halfway into the pivot. The second bullet crashed into his rib cage and penetrated his heart. He crumpled to the floor.
Hawkins let out the breath he’d been holding. “Nice shooting for a history professor, Doc.”
Fletcher glanced at the body and back at Hawkins.
“You set this up,” he said, his voice quivering with rage.