Black Onyx Duology (13 page)

3

Hank Jensen stood on the ice, staring out over a black sea. The moon was full, and he’d never seen it so clearly, so big. No lights were in Antarctica, so nothing dimmed the glow emanating from the sky.

He shifted, trying to light a cigarette. His gloved fingers couldn’t flick the lighter well, and the few times he’d been successful, the flame didn’t come because of the cold.

“You all right?” Jones asked, coming up behind him.

“Cold, man.”

“Thirty below, homie. You better believe it.”

“How long we gonna be here?”

Jones looked over at Tyler Edgar, who was going over a map by the campfire. “’Til he tells us to leave.”

Tyler put away the map and whistled. Three men piled out of the tents, putting on their gear and crampons.

Tyler Edgar walked over to Hank and Jones. “We’re leaving.” 

“Now?” Jones asked. “Can’t it wait ’til morning?”

“No. It can’t. Get your gear and stay close.”

Hank mounted the snowmobile, feeling the cold wind against his face as he adjusted his goggles. The snowmobiles roared to life, and the six men sped away from the camp. The air flying into Hank’s face was so cold, he thought the small amount of skin exposed between his goggles and the scarf tied around his mouth was going to freeze and fall off. They rode a good twenty minutes. Considering that they’d hiked six days since landing in Queen Maud Land, twenty minutes wasn’t long to wait.

A mountain came into view. The side was perfectly smooth, as if it were made of metal instead of ice and rock. They stopped the snowmobiles at its base.

Tyler stepped off first. “It’s here. Let’s go.”

They readied their ice axes and formed a line. Hank brought out two Grivel Force axes that resembled the arms of a praying mantis. He pulled his beanie down farther and followed Tyler up the small trail leading to the summit.

As he climbed, the air howled in his ears. The cold became so biting that his Fischer sub-arctic gear was useless against it. His chest, legs, toes, and fingers felt like icicles. He looked up at the summit, which was still a ways off, and felt overwhelmed. The escarpments on either side led down into blackness—and death, should they make one slip.

Hank didn’t know how long it took, but it seemed forever until they reached the cap. Tyler pulled out the map and held a flashlight on it. He pointed to an opening the size of a manhole cover
in the mountain.

They inserted ice screws and bolts then looped cords through before hooking ropes to their harnesses. Tyler was the first one down the hole, followed by Jones. The other three men would be staying, but Hank waited a second just the same, hoping one of them would go down in his place. When none did, he hooked in his harness and descended into the blackness.

When he finally landed on solid ground, Hank realized he wasn’t in any normal cavern on some random mountain. The surface was smooth, and the walls were curved and shaped. The room was manmade.

“Over here,” Tyler said.

Hank and Jones glanced at each other before following Tyler. Hank kept track of time because he wanted to know exactly how long they walked and how long it would take him to get out. He timed twelve minutes before they came to some sort of ice bridge.

Tyler stopped a moment before making his way across. An abysmal gloom dropped off on either side, seemingly falling to the center of the earth. Even his with powerful flashlight, Hank couldn’t see the bottom. They crossed the bridge, and Hank’s mouth fell open.

Before them was a city made of white ice. Hank couldn’t take his eyes off the buildings. The structures appeared to be consummately efficient, not a single wasted ornament. Hank peeked into one of the doors, but before he could see inside, Tyler yelled at him to keep moving.

When they came to the tallest structure, a spiral tower, Tyler put away the map. He took off his gloves, and Hank realized it wasn’t that cold anymore.

Tyler ran his hand over some symbols carved into the structure. He then pulled out a tin case with black fluid in it. He rubbed the fluid on the symbols then walked through the wall as if it weren’t there.

Jones looked astonished then shrugged and walked through the wall. Hank glanced around and took a deep breath before closing his eyes and doing the same.

Inside, Tyler and Jones were descending stairs set into an opening in the floor. Hank followed them down, his heart pounding in his ears.

4

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Hank recognized that they were in some sort of chamber. Bound in transparent blocks of ice were suits in the shape of tall men. Underneath them were pools of black fluid, the same fluid Tyler had pulled out of the tin case.

Hank stood in front of one of the suits, staring up at the empty eyes. He’d been told about the suits, but he didn’t think Tyler had adequately warned him of how weird the sight would be. He glanced down at the black fluid and thought he saw it move.

“Over here,” Tyler bellowed.

Hank and Jones followed Tyler into an adjacent chamber. The walls were crumbling, and the ceiling had a hole in it. The room looked as though a fight had taken place there. Tyler walked across the floor and rubbed some of the black fluid on what appeared to be a sealed door. It swung open.

On the other side was another chamber with a dull green glow from a light source Hank couldn’t see. In the center of the room, another transparent block of ice lay on the ground. And inside was the most stunningly beautiful woman Hank had ever seen. She was nude, her profile a perfect expression of the human form. Her silky black hair flowed over her shoulders, and a band of sparkling jewels crossed her forehead.

Tyler bent over her. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“Who is she?” Jones asked.

Tyler again took out the tin of fluid. “She’s our queen.
Our rightful queen that should have ruled over us for six millennia. Instead, she’s locked down here like some animal.”

Tyler searched the block of ice and found some more of the symbols
near the woman’s head. He rubbed the fluid over them, and they began to glow. The ice block descended into the floor, revealing the woman lying on a bed of crimson fur.

She opened her eyes. She inhaled as if she’d never done it before, and a smile spread over her perfect teeth.

Tyler took her hand and helped her sit up. “
Pon noi te facsi, mi regalia
.”

“You do not prefer your mother tongue?” she asked in a voice as smooth as silk.

Tyler bowed his head. “Queen, forgive my ignorance. I did not think you had heard my tongue.”

“I have heard centuries,” she said, running her hand through his hair. “I have heard the burning of Babylon, Caesar’s speeches, and the soft steps of the one you call Jesus. I heard the screams as Rome burned and the wars of faith between the Turk and Christian. I listened as Napoleon marched and as Hitler made the world tremble. I have heard all of humanity.”

“Yes, Queen. I will never doubt again.”

She rose and moved across the room like a beautiful serpent, her hair falling over her breasts. She stopped in front of Jones and placed her hand lightly on his face. “Are they your slaves?”

“No, Queen,” Tyler answered. “They are sacrifices. For you.”

Before Hank could ask what Tyler meant, the woman smiled and kissed Jones. At first, nothing happened, and then Jones’s hands started trembling. His head began to jerk violently. Jones let out one scream then burst into flames.
A second later, his body fell to the floor, nothing but a skeleton.

The woman wiped her lips and looked over at Hank.

“No!” Hank turned and ran through the door they had entered.

He sprinted through the city. The only noise was his boots against the ice as he headed for the bridge. He turned a corner and lost his axes but didn’t dare stop to get them.

He was halfway across the bridge when he felt a pressure against his back. His body was lifted off the platform. He turned his head to see the woman floating in the air, holding him underneath his arms like a baby.

“Let me go.”

“As you wish.” She released him.

He tumbled into the darkness, his screams echoing off the ice as they mingled with her piercing laughter.

5

The James Mentzer Orphanage sat on three acres of pristine grassland about three miles outside of Honolulu. Dillon had purchased the land using the bulk of his savings and a sizable inheritance left to him by James. The upkeep was another issue.

When Dillon walked in through the double doors and took off his sunglasses,
he was accosted by two assistants and an administrator who needed signatures for supplies. “Guys, just give them to Jaime. She’s the executive director.”

Seemingly deaf to anything he said, they continued to all speak at once as he made his way down the hall to his office. A little chubby girl ran to him and threw her arms around his right leg. He tried to move, but she hung on as if she would fall into a hole if she let go.

“Sophia, honey, I need to get to my office.”

“You said you would come have tea with me tonight. With me and Emily.”

“Emily’s your dog, right?”

“Yes, and she will be very upset if you don’t come.”

“Man, are all of you out to get me?”

She looked up at him with soft brown eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I see what you’re doing. Don’t do it.”

She swallowed, and her lips turned down into a frown. “I’m lonely. I just want someone to play with me.”

“Who taught you that? Was it Jaime? Did Jaime teach you that?”

Letting go of his leg, the girl giggled and then scurried off. He turned to the three men following him, holding up his finger for quiet. “A minute, please. And then you can suck as much blood as you want. I promise.” He stepped into his office and shut the door behind him.

Jaime sat behind his desk, a mountain of paperwork in front of her and a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Your adoring public can’t get enough of you, huh?”

Dillon collapsed in a chair across from her. “I’ve stopped answering my phone.”

“We’re going broke, Dillon. They’re just scared and looking to you for leadership.”

“I don’t have any to give. I opened this place thinking I could hire people to run it so I wouldn’t have to. What the hell do I know about running a business?”

“You ran a pretty good one not too long ago.”

“I hunted for gold and jewels then swindled native people out of them. That’s not exactly running Google.”

She shrugged. “You could always sell.”

Dillon looked out the window. Just off the tree line was the encroaching strip mall and condominiums put up by Briar Development. Dustin Briar had been trying to purchase the land the orphanage was on for the past year.

“That guy is so slimy,” Dillon said.

“Who? Dustin? He’s not so bad.”

“You’re just saying that cause you dated him.”

“I didn’t date him. We went to one dance in high school. And now he’s a rich real estate developer who could have any woman he wants.”

“And you’re stuck in a failing orphanage with an ex-treasure hunter. You could always go ask him out.”

“I could.”

“I know you could. But you won’t.”

“Oh, really? And why’s that?”

“Something about me all alone, trying to keep the orphanage afloat wouldn’t sit well with you.”

“We could use that money to build a new orphanage on one of the other islands. Somewhere cheaper.”

“I like it here. And these kids have been shuffled around from one crappy place to another. They deserve to have somewhere nice for once.”

She gave him a look that warmed his guts, as though she’d never been prouder of him. Their eyes held a moment, and they smiled.

“Everybody has flaws, Dillon. We all have weaknesses. Just because the great Dillon Mentzer discovers he might have one when it comes to running a business is not the end of the world.”

“Well, I could always go get a real job.”

“And what qualifications, Mr. Mentzer, do you have for a
real
job?”

“I used to steal. Like a lot. I’ve stolen
a lot
of stuff. There’s gotta be a market for that. Or digging up lost jewels in a jungle. I did that a few times.”

“How many words a minute can you type?”

“Can’t type.”

“Can you dictate?”

“Don’t even know what that is.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m in need of an assistant, but I don’t think you qualify for that.”

He walked over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I just came to say hey. Have to run.”

“Where?”

“Meeting,” he said, heading out the door.

“Meeting with who?”

“Meeting with
whom
. You should use proper English if you’re gonna be the executive director.”

She flung her pencil at him, and he blocked it with the door before blowing her a kiss and leaving.

Dillon unlocked the red Ferrari, which he’d bought with the last haul from when James was still alive. He’d traded a jeweled Mayan crown for it. The interior leather was tan, and the car had come with driving gloves and shoes made from the same leather. The gloves and shoes lay in the backseat, unworn.

“What the hell.” He grabbed the gloves and slipped them on.

The engine purred when he started the vehicle. He pulled out of the orphanage parking lot and drove straight to H3, the interstate that looped around the island. The wind whipped his hair, and the sun was nice and hot. A car full of girls next to him honked and waved, and he raised a hand before taking his exit.

Downtown Honolulu looked like any other medium-sized city in America. He would never guess he was on an island just by looking at it.

He pulled into the parking garage of First Hawaiian Center and had to go all the way to the fourth parking tier to find an available spot. He took an elevator up to the lobby and then the main elevator to the second floor, where his bank was. The First Hawaiian Bank had more accessible locations, but Dillon liked going to that branch for one reason: his banker didn’t totally hate him.

Richard Alana was a portly native who always looked uncomfortable in the suits the bank made him wear. He was behind his desk in his fishbowl office.

Dillon walked in without knocking. “Have you lost weight, Dick?”

“What do you want, Dillon? I’m busy. And stop calling me Dick.”

“Hey, no problem.” Dillon sat in one of the chairs in front of the banker’s desk. “But you have, haven’t you? Lost weight, I mean. And your hair looks good. New haircut?”

“I haven’t lost weight, and I didn’t get a haircut.”

“Tan?”

“No. Now what do you want? I have real work to do.”

“A man who knows what he wants. You have to respect that directness. And that’s what I love about you, Dick. You’re like a chubby little brown tiger who goes after what he wants.”

Richard sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You need more money, don’t you?”

“Not a lot.”

“How much?”

“You won’t even miss it. Toilet money.”

“What the hell is toilet money?”

“Money you could flush down the toilet and never miss. It’s an expression.”

“Never heard it.”

“People say it all over. You should get out more.”

“You made it up, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“Sure.”

“’Cause you can use it, you know. On the house.”

“Thanks, I’ll get right on it. Now tell me how much.”

“Three hundred eighty grand.” Just saying the number made Dillon feel queasy. He kept his eyes on Richard, though he knew his request would be denied.

“Can’t do it.”

“You guys own this building. It’s gotta be worth two hundred mil, easy. And you can’t loan three eighty to a young girl who needs an operation?”

“What girl needs an operation?”

“There’s no girl. I made that up.”

“Get outta my office, Dillon. I’m really busy.”

Dillon looked out the window at the clouds. “We’re almost broke, Rich. They’re just kids, man. They’re just kids.”

Richard shook his head. “I can justify maybe two hundred grand more without getting fired.”

“Yes! I knew you were my boy, Dick.”

“Dillon, you’re into us for half a million. How do you plan on paying that back?”

“I’ll think of something. I always do.” He got up and walked to the door. “And you really do look good by the way. Like a Hawaiian Brad Pitt.”

Richard blushed, and a grin came over his face. “Get out, Dillon.”

“Right. See ya.”

Dillon headed back out to the garage. When he reached his parking spot, he stood and stared at his car. Three hundred eighty thousand was the number his accountants and Jaime had given him to meet the budget shortfall and keep the orphanage open another eighteen months. Driving down to the dealership, he blared
Alice in Chains’s
Dirt
album one last time.

Dillon parked in front and got out. He flipped the keys to Mike, the owner, who was out with a couple, browsing the cars.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Mike asked.

“It’s worth two hundred twenty. I’m giving it to you for the low price of one eighty.”

“One fifty.”

“One eighty. Transfer the money today, please. And e-mail me any paperwork,” Dillon said as he walked away from the dealership.

“You sure, Dillon? This car is awesome.”

He looked back at it. “I know.” He pulled out his phone and called a cab.