In his thirties, he realized how much time had gone by and how pointless life truly was. It was nothing but a series of events, some good, some bad, and in between there were choices to be made.
Holmes chose to stop caring about anyone.
The day he consciously made that decision, he started to feel better. His focus went purely to building his empire, to crushing anyone who got in his way, and to eventually becoming one of the wealthiest men in the world.
Part of it was for the money. After all, cash bought things that produced pleasure. The real reason behind it all, though, was that as long as Holmes was building something, he didn't have to care about anything else or anyone.
He worked tirelessly. An efficiency expert to the core, he cut out the fat from his business systems and used it to fuel his one-man empire.
The only thing that stood in his way had been the board of directors. "Shortsighted old fools," he said. "They got what they deserved. To think they were going to try to cut me out. I built their company into what it is. Ungrateful. That's what they were. Ungrateful, greedy swine."
Holmes's only regret was that he couldn't see the look on that insolent Jerry's face as he plummeted to his death. What he would have given to hear Jerry's screams. Holmes imagined it was like a little girl squeal. Jerry talked big, but Holmes knew those types. They were little dogs with a big bark. Nothing more.
That dog would bark no more. And now Holmes had total control.
His phone abruptly started ringing in his pocket, rousing him from his thoughts. "Tell me you have good news."
"I do."
"That's a relief. I was starting to think you were running into problems."
"I am. I have good and bad news."
"Pfft. You know, just once I would like to get only good news. Seems like life has a rule about that or something. You can only get good news if you take it with bad."
"I assume you want the bad news first."
"Actually, no. Let's start with the good."
"I checked with my source; you're completely in the clear. We've put out some social signals suggesting a known terrorist group is taking credit for the attack earlier today. Next thing the authorities will find is traces of an explosive that is a calling card from that group. We've already nabbed the fall guy. He'll be dropped off at police headquarters with a dud bomb attached to his chest and his tongue cut out. He won't make it five steps before they shoot him on the spot."
Holmes changed his mind about that drink. He stepped over to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of a chic single malt scotch, and poured it into an empty glass. After a long, steady sip, he set the glass down and let the liquid streak down his throat before speaking again.
"Good. And the bad news?"
"The Americans are proving to be a problem. They took out three of my men earlier tonight. I'm going to have to handle this personally."
Holmes had been afraid of that. He knew about Sean Wyatt's reputation with the IAA. Before that, he couldn't learn much. It was a history shrouded in secrecy. That usually meant he worked for either a government entity or an extremely shady organization. Didn't matter. Both of those career paths made him extremely dangerous, which was why Holmes hadn't put Jack directly on the job. Jack was one of the few people Holmes trusted.
"No," Holmes said. "Bring in someone else. I heard about some guys out of Serbia who were looking for work."
"That's who Wyatt killed earlier today."
Crikey. "Then we get others. Money is no object. You hear me? Spend whatever it takes to get the best out there. Track Wyatt and his cronies, and sic those dogs on them. I don't care if you have to bring in a whole strike team, make it happen. We need the location of that relic. Everything depends on it."
A moment of trepidation passed between the two.
"I'll bring in the guys who did the elevator job," Jack said. "Their skills go beyond just demolition and explosives."
"Just make sure that you get them on it immediately. And tell them not to destroy anything that might help us in our search. They can't just walk in and blow up the evidence along with the targets. We need anything they've found totally intact."
"Understood. They'll be thorough, but careful."
"Good. Keep me updated."
"Of course, sir."
Holmes ended the call and set the phone on the counter. He stared at the golden liquid in his glass for a second and then took another huge gulp, finishing off the rest. The burn going down his throat was only slight, the way good scotch was meant to be. He took a deep breath and poured another glass.
These American meddlers were becoming a real problem, he thought. Maybe it was time to start using a little leverage.
Chapter 22
No one in the group slept well during the rest of the night. After a group effort to take the bodies down to the trash bin and dispose of them, they decided to leave the hotel and try sleeping in the car at one of the camping areas nearby.
At nearly five in the morning, Reece woke suddenly after a restless half hour of sleep. He looked around in the darkness and rubbed his eyes. Unable to go back to sleep, he pulled out his phone and quietly opened the door. He stepped out into the cool early morning air. His brain raced — something that happened more and more frequently lately. Most of the time he was overly concerned about his bills and payments that were past due. At the moment, he was thinking about something else.
He carefully shut the door to make sure he didn't rouse the others. It was his turn to keep watch, so the others were dipping in and out of consciousness. Even taking turns with guard duty didn't produce any kind of relaxation.
Reece tiptoed away from the car and pressed the home button on his phone. The screen lit up and cast a bright glow onto his face. He winced at the sudden light and turned away for a moment, looking up at the stars to adjust his vision. As he gazed into the heavens, he remembered why he loved the outback. Billions of stars, planets, solar systems, and galaxies twinkled in the black canvas overhead. A thin gray line streaked across the horizon to the east, a sign that the dawn was on its way.
He looked back to his phone and then back at the others still sleeping in the car. "Come on, Reece. Think."
At the hotel, they'd only taken a few minutes to do some online searches for any information on the royal valley from the riddle. Their efforts had been in vain. There were any number of interesting things that came up. One of the more frequent results had to do with the Valley of the Kings in Egypt.
Reece tapped the screen and entered his search query again. Still no hits that made any sense regarding Australia and a royal valley. He lowered his phone and looked up again at the stars.
"Maybe you're being too direct," he muttered. "Think about it. This is a riddle, remember? Mathews wouldn't have made it so obvious to give the actual name of the place. It's more likely a description of what it looks like. Or maybe…"
What if it's a synonym or something like that?
The thought popped into his head as if from nowhere. "What's another word for royal? Royalty, no that's the same thing."
Think, Reece. Think. What kinds of people are royals?
"Kings, queens, princes, princesses, dukes, earls…"
He typed in prince's valley but didn't find anything useful. Next he tried queen's valley. Still nothing. Then, as he was typing in the word king, it hit him.
"I'm not looking for a valley. It's a canyon. Kings Canyon!" He nearly yelled the last part of his epiphany. "That's it! Kings Canyon!"