Then Boudreau and a horde of mercenaries poured out of the barn, guns firing, screaming like demons. Did that mean the other mercenaries had given their lives to be decoys? Had they been firing blanks or at a designated position?
Reality hit her like a nuclear payload. The Blood King’s men were among the marines now, fighting, and Boudreau was pounding toward Hayden, knife raised in challenge.
Alicia spurred the team on with her ingenuity and spirit under fire. Within minutes, they had reached the top of the final rise and were laying down a halo of fire at the entrenched defenders. Alicia spied a big house, a big barn and a double garage. The property backed onto a wide river, no doubt a means of escape, and a helipad stood near the barn, complete with one shabby-looking chopper.
She glanced behind her. “Grenade launchers.”
The team leader frowned. “Already on it.”
Alicia pointed to enemy positions. “The low wall there. The backside of the house. Behind the Rolls. To the right of the fountain.”
The team leader licked his lips. “Flush the bastards out.”
Multiple explosions made the ground shake. The attackers fired three rounds of grenades and then rushed forward in one-two formation, still firing as a unit but fanning out in a deadly arc.
With a devastating severity, they stormed the Blood King’s ranch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Drake’s booted feet touched the floor of the chamber. Before the others started to descend, he set of a luminescent flare to brighten their way. Immediately, the walls came to life, their etchings now standing out starkly to Drake’s shocked eyes.
Whorls, like the ones on the two portable devices. Now confirmed as being exactly the same as the ones Torsten Dahl and his team had discovered in the Tomb of the Gods back in Iceland.
What manner of ancient civilization had they stumbled onto lately? And where would it all end?
Ben and Karin and the rest of the Delta team repelled down the drop rope until they all crowded around the huge archway of the Gates of Pele. Drake tried hard not to look too deeply into the inky blackness beyond.
Ben and Karin fell to their knees. The actual arch itself consisted of some kind of dull metal, perfectly smooth and symmetrical. Upon the surface of the metal were etched the same tiny markings as the rest of the cave.
“These markings”—Karin touched them carefully—“are not random. Look. I see the same whorl repeated time after time. And the rest of the cave…” She glanced around. “Is the same.”
Ben fumbled out his phone. “This is the pic that Dahl sent us.” He held it up to the light. Drake leaned forward, confident that the Delta team would be alert for intruders.
“So the Tomb of the Gods has some link to the Gates of Hell,” Drake thought aloud. “But what do the whorls mean?”
“Repeated patterns,” Karin said quietly. “Tell me. What kind of markings, ancient or
Modern, consists of many repeated patterns?”
“Easy.” The big Komodo hunkered down next to them. “A language.”
“That’s right. So if this is a language—” She indicated the chamber walls. “Then they tell quite a story.”
“As do the ones Dahl found.” Drake nodded. “But we don’t have time to analyze it now. Kovalenko’s through that gateway.”
“Wait.” Ben gripped the bridge of his nose. “These markings…” He touched the archway. “Are exactly the same as the ones on the devices. To me, that says this gateway is a fixed version of the same contraption. A time travel machine. We’ve already concluded that the gods may have used the portable devices to flit through time and influence fate. Maybe this thing is the master system.”
“Listen,” Drake said quietly, “that’s fine. You’ll figure it out. But beyond that gate—” He jabbed a finger into the pitch black. “Is the Blood King. The man responsible for Kennedy’s death, among hundreds of others. It’s time to stop talking and start walking. Let’s go.”
Ben nodded and stood up, looking a bit guilty as he brushed himself off. Everyone in the chamber drew a deep breath. There was something else beyond the gate that none of them wanted to mention:
The reason Captain Cook had changed the archway’s name from the Gates of Pele to the Gates of Hell.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The state of Hawaii shuddered in the grip of a madman.
If a helicopter could sweep by, one capable of offering a wide, panoramic view of the dark, immoral events that were unfolding across the islands, it would swoop first across Oahu to take in the besieged hotel, the Ala Moana Queen, where expert members of several SWAT teams had just started to move against a well-armed, well-motivated force of mercenaries who held all the high ground and countless hostages. It would zoom past at pace, avoiding the hellish clouds of black smoke that poured from at least a dozen shattered windows, warily pinpointing the openings where masked men with rifles and grenade launchers could be seen herding helpless men, women and children into groups that would be easier to slaughter.
And then it would roll away, up and to the right in a great arc, at first toward the sun, that fat yellow ball inching its way toward an uncertain and possibly disastrous future, and then dipping beneath and to the left on its terrible journey of discovery toward Kauai. It would pass near Diamond Head, oblivious of the heroes and villains searching for secrets and chasing terrible dreams through the extinct volcano’s darkest and most dangerous subterranean caverns.
On Kauai, it would plunge toward the sweat-drenched man who had chained himself to the railings of a coffee shop, sealing its patrons inside and clearly showing off a vest packed with dynamite and the shaking hand that clutched a dead-man’s detonating device. If the picture panned in close, it would see the desperation in the man’s eyes. It would clearly reveal the fact that he couldn’t possibly hold out much longer. And then it would soar high, rising again over the rooftops to follow the graceful curve of the exotic coast. On to the burning ranch where Hayden Jaye had just faced off with Ed Boudreau whilst Mai Kitano and the rest of the marines fought in close hand-to-hand combat with dozens of Boudreau’s mercenaries. Amidst the appalling din of death and battle, the injured hostages wept.
And onward. The past and the future were already colliding. The ancient and avant-garde locked in conflict.
Today was a day gods might die, and new heroes might flourish and rise.
The helicopter would make one last fly-by, tearing across the contrasting landscapes and dynamic ecosystems that made up the Big Island. Racing over one more ranch, it would focus for a few moments as Alicia Myles, Mano Kinimaka and their team of marines stormed a well-defended compound where hostages and mercenaries and men wearing necklaces made of dynamite came together in one almighty clash. Around the edges of the battle, powerful vehicles revved and made ready to evacuate the Blood King’s men by land and air and water. The camera would start to zoom away as Alicia and Kinimaka lifted their heads, aware of the absconders and already making tracks to intercept and eradicate them.
And at last the helicopter would veer away, just a machine but still a machine teeming with images of man’s folly, of the courage they can display and discover, and of the worst evil that they can do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Drake stepped beneath the archway Captain Cook had christened the Gates of Hell to find himself in a rough-hewn, narrow passageway. He switched on a rifle light and attached it to the barrel. He also strapped on a shoulder light and adjusted it so that it illuminated the walls. For a while there was a plethora of light and no obvious peril.