David Leadbeater
The Seven Seals of Egypt
CHAPTER ONE
A dense fog swirled and thickened beyond the edge of town, seeping inside the blurred boundaries with questing fingers as cold as ice. The midnight darkness, already close to impenetrable, congealed until it resembled a living, breathing, shambling thing. All noise was muted, and the views across the valleys toward what they now knew was Dracula’s castle were reduced to a creeping white mist pressed up against the window panes as if seeking a way inside.
A crackling fire warmed the inside of the large room, embers spitting in the hearth like angry demons, a chorus line of bright orange flames dancing along the walls and on the ceiling. The crackling pop and bang of timbers filled the room like gunshots, putting the gathering on edge.
“We can’t stay here,” Torsten Dahl said.
“We ain’t going anywhere.” Hayden nodded at the nearest window.
“Yeah, get a grip, Torsty,” Alicia Myles croaked in a mock-frightened voice. “It’s impossible to say what’s lurking about in that mist.”
The Swede shook his head slowly. “You’ve been reading too much Stephen King.”
Alicia blinked. “Reading who? Do I look like I spend my time in bed reading?”
“You’re the one afraid of ghosts.”
“Dude.” Alicia lowered her voice and stared around theatrically. “You know we’re in Transylvania, right?”
The Swede ignored her. “A few days is fine. But ten Europeans staying at the same hotel for almost a week. Rarely leaving. Eating indoors. Staying together. Looking shifty—”
“One thing I do not look,” Kenzie said, close to Dahl’s right elbow, “is shifty.”
“Maybe not. But I do. I know it’s surprising — but Alicia does have a point. We don’t look like… civilians.”
Alicia only nodded as if sharing wisdom. Kenzie took a moment to study the other faces in the room.
“And do you think we could ever be civilians?”
Matt Drake grunted and drank coffee. “I’ve been struggling with that one for years, love.”
“You tried once, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Didn’t work out so well.”
“Which leaves us—” Hayden gestured at the four walls “—here.”
It was the largest room in the guesthouse, where Drake and Alicia were staying. The carpet and the painted walls were tired-looking, the furniture shabby. The bed was small and uncomfortable. Black and white photographs on the wall portrayed several castles and were smeared and dusty. The baseboards and corners of the room were chipped and pitted, untouched for years.
“Where to next then?” Kinimaka asked.
It was a good question. The team had been mulling it over for days on end, exhausted all lines of conversation, and then started again. Information coming out of DC was scarce and unreliable. Hayden knew people that would fight for her; that would keep her in the loop, but the last thing she wanted was to compromise them.
“We know some high-level players in Washington burned us,” Hayden said. “We can only speculate as to Kimberley Crowe’s involvement. She’s relatively new to the job and could have been railroaded. Or… she could be the instigator. We need to get closer, go higher. Somehow, we have to get back to DC.”
Dahl shook his head. “We’ve been over all this,” he said softly. “Those I care about are in DC. The girls… and Johanna.” He covered the pause by talking fast. “We don’t know the breadth of what we’re up against and we can’t risk my family being used against us.”
“I can’t believe they would sink that low,” Kinimaka said.
The Swede didn’t look at him. “They’re politicians,” he said. “Yes, I know some are good. Some are trying to do the right thing. But as for the rest…”
He didn’t finish. It had been said before.
“Keeping a low profile is best for now,” Drake agreed.
“And the Sword of Mars?” Hayden pressed. “The longer that weapon of the gods stays in the wrong hands the worse I feel. It could be part of a longer-term venture.”
“Like what?” Mai asked. “It’s only just surfaced.”
“No telling how long people have been looking for it.”
“And who says Cambridge of the British SAS is the wrong hands?” Drake wondered.
“Well, don’t forget it could also be with the Chinese Special Forces,” Hayden reminded them. “That’s a vast and deadly gulf between choices.”
Drake acknowledged her words with a nod. “True.”
Lauren, quiet until now, spoke up. “I should go back to DC. I wasn’t with you in Peru when all the… shit happened. I wasn’t there when Joshua died. I’m free.”
“They’ll interrogate you,” Smyth said a little dismissively.
“What can they say?” Lauren protested. “I was on the phone to Crowe herself, gathering Intel and acting as the go-between. And it can be vouched for. Like I said, I’m free.”
“Almost as if we set it up,” Hayden said. “Or someone did.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Lauren insisted. “But of all the people here I am the one that can go back to DC with ease, with impunity. Yeah, they’ll question me and I’ll tell them all I know. But the longer I hang around with you guys the longer it will take for them to believe me, and leave me alone to do my thing.”
The entire team stared at her, thinking it through. It was true, almost as if had been set up right back at the beginning of the Inca operation. Lauren Fox was in the clear.
“They’ll quiz you about the four corners mission, and why you didn’t leave sooner,” Smyth still protested.
“Yeah, and I’ll say I kept my distance. Which I did, for the most part. This was my first real opportunity to leave. I’ll tell them I slipped away in Transylvania and then recount everywhere else you’ve been. I’ll tell them everything, quickly. Hope they check it out. Then…” She shrugged.
“They’re trained for this kind of thing. They’ll see through you,” Kinimaka noted.
“You forget who I am.” Lauren smiled. “And why I was initially recruited. My job is lying. My whole world was built around a lie. Jonathan initially recruited me for one thing — lying.”
Again, the team sat back, more than a little impressed. Had Jonathan Gates envisioned a scenario like this, way back then? It was impossible, of course, but all bases had to be covered for all contingencies, and Lauren was the perfect actress and deceiver.
“Can’t say I saw this coming,” Drake said. “Nobody could. But Lauren does have a good point.”
“They could keep her locked up for months,” Smyth said. “Black-site her. Torture her. They could kill her and drop her down a well and we’d never know.”
“All I need,” Lauren said, “is one chance. One chance to get close to President Coburn. If I get that done—” she spread her arms “—all this goes away.”
“Smyth does have a point,” Hayden said. “I know how this shit works. They may keep her hidden away for a long time. Unofficial. Off the books. They may want all trace of SPEAR gone forever.”
“Then I’ll make if official,” Lauren said. “I don’t need my goddamn hand holding here. I’ll walk right into the New York Times and give myself up.”
Drake and the others regarded her with admiration. “It could work…” the Yorkshireman said.
“It will work,” Lauren said. “I can do this for all of us.” She coughed at the end of her last sentence, waving the help from Smyth away. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve been coughing for days.”
“Yeah, dickhead, it’s called a cold.”
“She’s right,” Alicia said. “I have one too. You never tried to hug the tits off me, Lancelot.”
“And me,” Drake put in.