Gods and Men- The Hank Boyd Omnibus Page 7

“Yikes,” I say.

  “Yep, bad dude.”

  “You said they were brothers. All four of them?” Dad asks.

  “Yes, but we aren’t sure if they were actually lineal brothers or blood-brothers, like in a secret sect kind of way.”

  “Wait a sec, back up Kane. How do you even know that there is anything here, to begin with?” I ask, nodding to the land outside the window. I understand the severity of the situation and that others are looking for it besides us. The one thing I’m not quite sure of is…

  “Have there been other expeditions to Algeria in the past,” I continue, “maybe covert ones that only a select few know about?”

  Kane straightens a little.

  That’s all I need to know.

  “What happened on those other expeditions?” I ask.

  “Expedition.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding.

  “Expedition, as in only one other mission was conducted in the area.”

  “Why only one?” Dad asks.

  “Because the eight men who went in never came back. They literally just disappeared off the radar, like the sand just swallowed them up. They each had a GPS unit, of which, all failed. The brass back home just chalked up the loss to a huge sandstorm that blew through the area around the time they arrived on location.”

  “Just like the one that uncovered our dig,” Dad says, staring blankly out the window of the plane.

  “That’s what some of the eggheads back home think too. They believe that your little site is the same entrance our team tried to find. The difference between now and eight years ago is that we have better tech and better personnel involved.”

  “How are we better equipped than the Special Forces soldiers that died out here?” I ask.

  “Those men were just that, soldiers. They weren’t versed in the science or history that is involved here. They see a target, and they engage. You guys are the most learned men alive in this field right now. Uncle Sam, along with some other very influential people, want you to succeed. They do not want Zero to acquire whatever waits for us beneath the sands of the Sahara.”

  “Like our own potential deaths?” I ask, getting upset.

  “If it comes to it, yes.”

  “We aren’t soldiers, dammit!” I boom. I’m not angry at Kane, just the deadly situation we’ve been thrown into. We have no proper training, nor the want to put ourselves in the line of fire.

  And yet, here we are, heading straight into the fire itself.

  I lean forward on my knees and look Kane straight in the eyes. “All we are going to find out there in the burning desert is sand…blood and sand.”

  14

  Tiska Djanet Airport

  Djanet, Algeria

  We are greeted by a burst of unrelenting heat as we exit our flying limo, but mercifully, we’re prepared for it. Kane has been ordered to accompany us and has outfitted us with a backpack water device. It’s a very streamlined bundle that kind of reminds me of a North Face Borealis hikers pack—it even has the North Face logo on it, so it looks genuine. Sticking out of its top is an auto-closing water valve that only opens when sucked on, a nice touch, so you don’t get sand in it. The valve then wraps around, attaching to one of the shoulder straps and sits right next to my jaw.

  The bottom half of the rucksack has its usual storage compartment like an ordinary bag. The only significant difference in our packs versus someone else’s is that they are designed to accommodate a gun. In my case, I have a Glock 17 9mm, and three spare magazines tucked neatly inside. The real kicker with these bags, the Tactical-Backpack or Tac-Pac as Kane calls them, is that you can conveniently draw your already loaded weapon from a Velcro-style pocket on the side. So, there is no need for a holster.

  Even Kane has his dual Desert Eagles tucked away. His is customized so he can reach around his lower back and draw both at once, one from each side.

  Rambo, eat your heart out, I think, watching him from behind, seeing his slightly bigger pack bob up-and-down with each of his long strides.

  “Do we really need the guns?” I had asked earlier.

  “Do you want to be as unprepared as you were at the airport if we run into some of the psycho brigade again?” Kane replied.

  “That’s not fair,” I reply. “We couldn’t have weapons in the airport. It wouldn’t have mattered then.”

  He looks back at me. “This ain’t the States, Hank. Things are a lot different over here—security included.” He continues, “You were incredibly lucky in Algiers. If we come across more people from Zero, I doubt there’ll only be a small assault team this time. I have a feeling that the kitchen sink is about to be brought.”

  We enter the small terminal through the rear with a grind of sliding doors, the screech of metal-on-metal snapping me back into the now. Djanet’s airport isn’t as organized as the one in the capital city, but on the bright side…there are fewer terrorists. That can’t be a bad thing, right?

  Cold air conditioning welcomes me next as I close my eyes and relish in its goodness. It has to be at least a thirty-degree difference—maybe more.

  We move forward, Kane leading the way and breeze through what passes for security. He doesn’t say a word, only having to flash his credentials. The local airport police stationed here give him a wide-eyed glance and step aside. I can’t tell if both officers were intimidated by the man’s ID or by his sheer mass. Probably both, I decide.

  Five minutes later we exit the airport and walk out to the pick-up area out front which is basically a parking lot. The heat slaps me in the face and will all at the same time, making me curse under my breath. But before I can verbalize my discomfort, Dad speaks up.

  “Ah, Omar my boy!” he yells, waving his hand.

  A young man climbs out of a worn Land Rover and heads our way. He’s of average height and build and maybe around twenty-five years of age. Dad strolls towards the newcomer and vigorously shakes his hand.

  “Can we trust this guy?” Kane asks in a hushed tone.

  I glance over and see him with his hand in his pack—no doubt clutching the grip of his gun. I step towards him and bend down, pretending to tie my shoe.

  “I don’t know,” I say not looking up. “I’ve never met him before, but he comes highly recommended from some colleagues back in the States.” I stand. “Dad seems to trust him. He’s talked to him quite a bit over the last few days.” I turn to Kane. “Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

  Kane nods, never taking his eyes off Omar, and then joins them over by the car. It feels weird telling a “company man” what to do but, he is pretty much our own private security right now. The thought of this six-foot-six war machine as my own personal muscle makes me smile and puts a little pep in my step, making me forget about the heat for a second. Okay, maybe half a second.

  I sigh, wiping away a bead of sweat from my face, and join the rest of our party mumbling, “We might as well get the introductions over with.”

  I step up next to Kane as he reaches out and shakes Omar’s hand. “Hi, the name’s Kane… Dr. Jeremy Kane.”

  Both Dad and I quickly glance over to the big man, doing a double take. Dang, his name really is Kane. I could have sworn he was lying to us in the hospital room when I asked him. Then again, he could still be lying now… He notices our attention and gives us both a wink. Omar is too busy wincing from the pain of the vice grip crushing his much smaller hand to notice our expressions.

  Kane mercifully releases the slighter man, steps aside, and slaps me hard on the back. “…and this is the legendary Hank Boyd.”

  I groan, both in pain and in response to Kane’s acting skills. The guy’s laying it on pretty thick, but from Omar’s reaction, he either didn’t notice it, or he just isn’t used to being swindled like this. He grimaces and flexes his hand, and before he looks my way, he gives Kane a venomous look.

  He turns and composes himself. “Ahem…Yes…Mister Boyd… Your father has told me much about you.”

  He used the word Mister like it’s an insult. So, I return the favor.

  “I see you’ve met Doctor Kane, but don’t let the title fool you. He’s also in charge of security for my father and me.” I look up to Kane, seeing him smile at my comeback to Omar. Then, I return my attention back down to the much smaller man. “Is that going to be a problem, Mister Jafari?”

  Omar cranes his eyes up at the man, who could easily be a foot taller and over a hundred pounds heavier than him. It’s as if J.J. Watt and Rob Gronkowski somehow had a baby. Seriously though, Kane’s a monster.

  I think Omar’s bladder is doing a tap dance number right now because he’s sweating…a lot…even in this heat. Kane gives him a mischievous grin and a wink of his own. It’s a look that says, “Please, try me. I dare you.”

  Knowing he’s severely outmatched by us Americans, Omar turns quickly, officially losing the battle of wits, and faces Dad. “Right this way, Dr. Boyd, my car is fully fueled and ready to take you into town.” He then climbs into the dust-covered SUV and shuts the driver side door, out of earshot.

  Dad turns and gives us a disapproving look.

  “What?” I ask, but it’s Kane that continues.

  “We need to see how he reacts when threatened. You may trust this man, but I don’t.” The look in his eyes is as intense as staring down a Great White. “If you want me to keep you and your son alive, then I need to operate under my own measures. We have no idea who we can trust. As of right now, he’s in my grey-zone. You two,” he points to Dad and me, “are in my white zone.”

  “And Zero?” I ask, very much enjoying this display of badassery.

  “They’re in my black-zone, aka, my ‘shit list.’ You don’t want to be on that. It generally doesn’t end well.”

  I laugh and give his shoulder a slap of my own. “I bet.”

  Dad climbs into the front passenger seat while Kane and I open our respective back passenger doors. Before we climb in, I look over the roof at Kane. “So, Dr. Jeremy Kane, is it?”

  He looks up at me with a shrug and a grin, “I have a Ph.D. in B.S., but yes, the name really is Jeremy.” I nod, and we climb in, buckling up as Omar pulls out onto the main highway.

  I extend my hand to Kane and say, “Nice to meet you, Jeremy.”

  Kane does the same. “You too, Harrison.” I wince, not in pain, but at the use of my birth name, immediately regretting my attempt at being a smartass.

  Omar pulls us into the left lane and quickly accelerates to 60mph. It’s a relatively short thirty-minute drive from the Djanet airport to the outskirts of town where we’ll be staying. Thankfully, the Land Rover has adequate room for my taller frame. Kane, on the other hand, looks downright squished.

  I relax and enjoy the hard blowing A.C. It feels incredible in this brutal heat and is gonna suck when we have to leave it. I tip my head back and shut my eyes, hoping for a quick nap. But before I can nod off, I get a nudge in the side. I open my eyes and see Kane staring at me.

  “Watch this,” he whispers. He pulls out the biggest bullet I’ve ever seen and taps Dad on the shoulder. “Here, Dr. Boyd, take a look at this, will ya’?”

  Still talking and not paying attention to what Kane is handing him, he nonchalantly takes the object. He immediately gasps and turns around, looking back at us.

  “What’s this?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. He holds the bullet up for everyone to see, including Omar, who glances at it in the rearview mirror.

  “This, Dr. Boyd,” Kane plucks the huge round from Dad’s fingers and removes one of his Desert Eagles from his pack. He then expertly ejects the magazine and inserts the bullet. I see him glance up and notice Omar staring at him, eyes wide.

  Kane slams the magazine back in, using more force than I’m sure is needed. Though the act does get the desired effect...

  I see Omar’s shoulders flinch, causing the Land Rover to swerve ever so slightly to the right. Dad didn’t notice it, but it was there. The man is scared to death of Kane.

  Kane holds up the intimidating weapon, looks into Omar’s reflected stare, and says, “This is what happens when someone screws with me.”

  15

  Djanet, Algeria

  A man stepped out from inside one of the homes bordering the open desert and lifted a phone to his ear. He had to cup his hand around the mouthpiece for the caller to hear him over the howling wind.

  “Have they arrived, Tommy?”

  Tommy Whitten, also known as Razor, rolled his eyes at the sheer disrespect his employer had for him and the others in the organization. The only reason any of them continued to put up with the man called Wolf was that the pay was good…and that the man gave everyone the creeps. If any of the stories about Wolf were true…they had the right to be frightened.

  Tommy just hoped this job was over soon and that he could get back to his home in San Diego. The weather was always perfect in San Diego. Not like this place, he thought to himself. He hated the heat. Must be amazing to be a weatherman in southern California.

  The people who hired Wolf and his team were a mystery to him, very suspicious for sure, but they paid—well—and that’s all that mattered. People in their lines of business didn’t have much of a moral compass. At the end of the day, they had a contract to fulfill and wouldn’t get paid until it was finished.

  “Yes, they have—just now,” Tommy replied. He could see a weather-worn SUV pulling in from his vantage point further down the street. It wasn’t the one they were looking for though. It belonged to someone within the science team.

  “Do they have transportation waiting for them?”

  “No, they will have to travel on foot and so will we. There aren’t any vehicles allowed in the park. If we try to break that law, we may bring unwanted attention to ourselves.”

  “I agree. When do they leave?”

  “From what our man said, they plan on leaving immediately.”

  “Alright then,” Wolf replied.

  “Do we proceed as scheduled?” Tommy asked.

  There was a pause, causing an uncomfortable silence.

  “Sir, you there? Wolf, you copy?”

  “I’m here, I’m here,” Wolf said, sounding annoyed.

  “We shouldn’t have an issue with them. It’s just the one man that may cause a problem, a government agent escort.”

  “Ah, yes. The one called, Kane. I know this one. A formidable man for sure, but as you said, it’s just one man, and it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Tommy could hear the threat in his voice when he emphasized the word shouldn’t, meaning something bad would happen to those who failed him.

  “I’m sending you—”

  A door slammed nearby.

  Tommy hid behind a low, and extremely crooked picket fence, peeking out just enough to see a tall, well-formed woman step out of a nearby residence, waving her hand towards the incoming vehicle. His eyes lingered on her impossibly long legs a little longer, like a lion on its prey, before turning his attention back to the conversation.

  Ducking low, he quickly backed away, and rounded the rear of the house, completely out of sight. Now in the protection of the shadows behind the procured home, Tommy stood straight and lifted the phone back to his ear. He could hear an angry and concerned voice on the other end. The concern wasn’t for his own well-being, Tommy knew, but for the mission. At the end of the day, he and his fellow teammates were expendable. In the eyes of the wolf, nothing else mattered. Tommy knew should things go sour…

  “No, nothing is the matter, my apologies. There was interference on my end.” The sight of the stunning blonde was still burned into the back of his retinas. It took everything in him to remove the image of the woman from his memory and refocus on the task at hand.

  Then he remembered where they left off.

  “How many are you sending?”

  When he heard the number of men coming to back him up, he was shocked…and a little put-off. They didn’t need that much help. Did Wolf have no faith in him or the advance team stationed out here?

  The answer was pretty obvious.

  “That many? Is it necessary?” he immediately regretted questioning his commander.

  “It would be wise for you not to question my decision-making, Mr. Whitten.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Tommy quickly apologized, a quiver of fright in his voice. “When can we expect them?”

  “Six hours,” Wolf replied, back to his naturally calm, unnerving tone. “Your backup will arrive in six hours.”

  They ended the conversation without another word, just a click and Wolf was gone.

  Tommy leaned against the home’s siding and slid down to the ground. He rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes…thinking.

  Man, I hate working for this guy… He could intimidate a T-Rex.

  Getting some of his resolve back, but feeling like he was just castrated, he then stood and brushed off his pants, rolling his neck. It popped, relieving him of a little of the stress the phone call had brought upon him.

  Okay, six hours it is.

  Tommy strode by the shed in the small backyard, glancing at it for only a moment, entering the quaint home through the rear door. Inside the shed, which typically housed yard equipment and other various objects, were the bodies of the two people who lived there, or should he say, used to live there.

  16

  We’re staying in a quaint village on the border of Djanet, about ten minutes from the site. Come to think of it… I didn’t even see a sign. Omar personally knows the husband and wife we’re bunking with and he’s guaranteed our comfort. They seem to be delightful people too, knowing enough English to get by. He said we can trust them and that they house travelers regularly. It’s a consistent source of income for the couple and standard practice for more than half of the town’s residents.

  We have to pay them $100 a night, but to them, it’s more like $1,000 a night. But hey, we’re on government funds now, what the hell do I care. Still, it would have been nice to have the quality of a $100 a night hotel…or at least a free continental breakfast.