Moon Mask (63 page)

When his father had told him that an old shaman in Mali had given him clues to the whereabouts of the Progenitors, it had been the final straw.
“We’re scientists, not mystics!”
he had shot back in the middle of the argument. His father had been devastated that he would not accompany him on what would prove to be the greatest adventure of their lives. Both distraught, they had parted company. Six months
later, the official verdict into the disappearance of his father’s expedition had been made.
Lost, presumed dead.

“Hey,” Sid’s calming voice cut through the turmoil of his thoughts, bringing him back into the present. She came into the bedroom from the bathroom with nothing but a white towel covering her body. She was drying her black hair with another towel while peering at him with a touch of concern in her eyes. “I thought you were going to get some sleep.”

He took a deep breath and tried to make himself relax. His head sank into the pillows- surprisingly soft and comfortable considering they were on a military base. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sid padded barefooted over to the side of the bed and dropped her hair towel to the floor. She ran one smooth hand across his bare chest and stomach. Despite being an academic, there was nothing saggy or baggy about her husband-to-be. His stomach was firm and solid, his chest well-formed and his arms were heavy with muscle. She longed to have them wrap around her, to feel the intimacy they had been denied since this crazy adventure had begun.

“I’m sorry about how I reacted earlier,” she said.

King met her eyes and forced a smile. “It’s okay.”

“I just . . . I just don’t want to lose you Ben.” Her index finger ran up the centre of his chest, his neck and chin and then stroked his cheek. She leaned closer to him. “I just want this all to be over. I wish the Moon Mask had never been found.”

King wished he could have said the same to her but despite what he had said to her after Gibbs’ team had picked them up from Patagonia, he knew that this was one Pandora’s Box which he needed to open. His father had died, disgraced in the eyes of his peers and, worse, he believed, disgraced in the eyes of his son, the only survivor of his family. For his sake, for
all their
sakes, he
had
to see this through to the end!

Yet, the turmoil he felt that raged inside of him was unrelenting. His need to honour his family’s memory conflicted with his desire to whisk the woman he loved off to some secluded island somewhere where they could spend their days far away from the horrors of the world.

Surprising even himself, the usually mild mannered man grasped Sid’s head and pulled her down into a passionate kiss. At first taken by surprise, she started to pull away but, feeling his hunger echoed inside of her, she quickly gave in. Their lips locked, their tongues played and coiled around one another. He ripped her towel from off of her body; she tore his from his groin and then clambered astride him. Both ready for one another, they slid together perfectly, the sudden intimacy erupting. He drove into her, deep, holding her tightly. His eyes wandered down her body, the gentle yet definite contours of her neck and shoulders, her rounded breasts which he couldn’t resist lapping at with his tongue. His strong hands slid down her waist, over her hips, his thumbs rubbing her inner thigh before moving closer to her lustrous core, playing with her. The minutes of passion rolled on, time, that enemy which every man and woman tried to conquer, seemed to slow, and then stood still, as they moved together, their bodies rocking in hypnotic rhythm, their lips tasting one another, the intensity flaring, erupting up through their bodies in an explosive crescendo.

Sid cried out in intense pleasure as he felt the fire explode from within him, their bodies tangled together, one and the same. Then, fulfilled for the moment, she crashed down on top of him, pressing her body against his, kissing his neck. He ran his hands up and down her bare back, circled her firm buttocks then began the return journey. Soothing, relaxing, and before either of them knew it, their sudden brief burst of activity drained the final reserves that they had been running on for days. Tangled bodily with the woman he loved, sleep finally began to claim Benjamin King’s troubled mind.

“I never want to lose you, Benjamin King,” his fiancée whispered.

He smiled. “You never will . . . Alysya
King.
”

She returned the smile. Warm and loving. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid with the Moon Mask,” she demanded wearily. But, as sleep finally claimed her, she did not hear the hesitation in his voice.

“I promise,” he lied.

Sea Girt,

New Jersey, USA

“About
two weeks ago, two men in black suits came to my door,” Mrs Braun explained. She and Alex Langley were once again in her living room only this time their postures were much more business-like. Langley had to keep reminding himself that the woman before him was nearly ninety because her energy and focus was that of a much younger woman.

“They said they needed to speak to Emmett immediately,” she continued as she powered up her dead husband’s computer. It was state-of-the-art and the fast processor brought life to the machine quickly. “I told them he wasn’t around, he was out fishing.” Langley remembered seeing the blue and white fishing boat moored to the house’s private jetty. “But they insisted. Said it was a matter of ‘national security’ and all that crap that men just like them have told me over the years. But you’re different though,” she added, eyeing him, still with suspicion, but now with a twinkle of hope. Hope that this was the man who could bring about justice for her husband.

“Anyway, what could I do? They were talking about it being a federal crime to impede their investigation, so I showed them to the transmitter over there,” she nodded to the radio Langley had spotted earlier. “What they didn’t realise was that I was listening in on an identical radio in the kitchen.”

Langley laughed. “Mrs Braun, I should arrest you for making that confession.”

“Just you try it,” she replied. Langley could feel a bond growing between them as he watched her navigate clumsily through her husband’s computer system. “Well,” she defended her actions anyway, “I was fed up with the government just whisking him away. He was an old man, not in any shape for all this excitement and drama anymore. Anyway, they told him all the usual stuff, ‘national security, we need your help, lives on the line’ that sort of thing. But Emmett said no. He said he’d finally retired and that they’d have to find someone else.”

“And what did they say?”

“Something very strange. They said, ‘the Phoenix has arisen’.” She paused for dramatic emphasis. “Of course, I had no idea what that meant but Emmett apparently did because he immediately agreed to help them. He came back to shore, packed some of his belongings and went. That was the last time I saw him.” Her voice wobbled at this last statement but Langley pushed on, fearing the momentum of her confessions would falter.

“Is there something you’re going to show me?” he asked, looking at the computer.

She snapped herself out of the melancholy that again threatened to overwhelm her and resumed her search through the computer. “Emmett had a photographic memory,” she said. “You could show him a page torn out of any book and a week later he’d be able to dictate it to you word for word. He was a brilliant man.” Langley had already come to that conclusion. “He was under orders not to talk to anyone about the work he did for the government, and he didn’t utter so much as a single word until the day he died. But, despite not being allowed to retain any material or data from the government projects, whenever he got back from one of their ‘missions’ he would sit here and barely move for days and days, recording everything he’d seen and learned, hoping that it might help in the future.”

She turned and looked up at Langley, allowing him to see the screen. On it, a folder icon was displayed and beneath it was the single word: Phoenix.

“After I was told that Emmett had been killed in a ‘car accident’ I knew he’d been killed to protect the secret of Phoenix, so I switched this infernal machine on to see if he’d kept any information about it.” She double clicked on the icon but the computer beeped and displayed a password box.

“He encrypted it,” Langley realised.

“I’ve tried every possible password I could think of,” she confessed, “but I can’t get in.”

“Well that’s just a basic encryption package,” Langley explained. “You can buy the software on the high street or download it from the internet. I should be able to hack into it fairly easily.”

“Be my guest,” Mrs Braun said, vacating the chair for him. But just as Langley sat down a strange sound assaulted his ears. It sounded like a wooden chair leg screeching across a tiled floor. It came from down the hall where Langley had seen the kitchen was located. The old lady, ever wily, had heard it too.”

“Does anyone else live here?” he asked, cautiously rising to his feet. The old lady’s face had gone pale.

“It’s just me now,” she confessed.

“Stay here,” he told her, slowly pulling his handgun from the inside of his jacket. Mrs Braun backed away at seeing the weapon but Langley ignored her as he moved out into the hallway and slipped back into his previous persona as a SOG operative with ease. He glided silently towards the kitchen. Weapon at the ready, he eased himself through the half open doorway, crouching low. A strange smell assaulted his nostrils but he didn’t have time to process it as a black-clad figure suddenly bolted from hiding and burst through the door which opened from the kitchen onto the front of the house.

Langley sprang into action instantly, bounding through the kitchen and crashing through the door which the intruder had slammed back to slow him down. Out on the road the passenger door of a black sedan, its engine running, swung open and the intruder dived into it. Langley fired but the car had already shot off the mark, rubber burning as it screeched away up the street. Langley ran out onto the street proper and aimed his weapon at the speeding vehicle but it was too far away.

Then it struck him. The smell.

Gas.

Eyes wide, he spun and ran back to the house. “Mrs Braun!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Get out of-”

Then the house disintegrated into a roiling ball of flames, pluming high into the sky. The shockwave of the explosion slammed into Langley and threw him down the street. The heat burned his skin, singed his hair and seared his lungs. He hit the ground hard and was temporarily paralysed.

The thunderous boom echoed into the heavens as pieces of debris rained down all around him.

46:

Scars

NATO Air Base Geilenkirchen,

Germany

Irritated
by the disturbance, Nadia unlocked the door to her room but, seeing who stood on the other side, she instantly began to close it again.

Nathan Raine thrust his foot into the gap and pushed against it. “Nadia, I just want to talk-”

“I have nothing to say to my accuser!” she shot back vehemently. Realising she wasn’t going to win against the former special forces soldier, she stepped back. Raine, who had been pushing against the door, flew in, almost going down. He re-gathered his composure and looked at her.

“Is this how you All-American-Heroes get the girl?” she demanded sarcastically. “By forcing your way into their room? Is this how you got Lake?”

“What?” he frowned, confused.

“I saw her leaving your room the other night!” Despite herself, she couldn’t keep the acid jealousy out of her tone. Unable to sleep after landing at RNAS Culdrose two nights ago, she had finally given in to the attraction she felt for the former fugitive. She had tried to deny it for months, watching him at the expedition base camp, swooning the young interns yet daring to turn his charm onto her the next morning. She couldn’t deny that she had always found him physically attractive: a lithe, athletic form, well-toned body, a permanent five-o-clock shadow, dishevelled hair and moody blue eyes. But her superior intellect- she was a genius after all- prevented her from succumbing to her base desires. Another trophy for the cocky American pilot.

But she had seen how he had worked during this crisis and almost felt herself swoon idiotically at his dare-devil heroism, his calm head under pressure and his unyielding sense of duty to his friends, especially when King and Sid had been taken hostage. He had become a man possessed by determination to find them and save them. How could she not fall for him?

And so she had crept out of her room in the dead of night, excited by the prospect of feeling her legs wrapped around his muscular body, of tasting his sweat as they clawed desperately at one another. But she was too late. She had halted in the shadows and watched Kristina Lake leave Raine’s room, barely dressed, hair matted, face flushed.

She had almost felt tears threaten and, angry as she was at herself, the sense of betrayal had kept her awake all night, seething and indignant. Only hours later, the first man she had almost given herself to in years had accused her of betraying the team. The betrayal and the hurt had pierced her on a much deeper, more emotional level than she cared to admit even to herself. She could forgive Sid and King for getting swept up the conspiracy against her. She could forgive Gibbs and his team for placing the security of the mission above all else.

But she couldn’t forgive Nathan Raine for breaking her heart.

“So how was your little American slut?” she demanded bitterly now.

Raine, taken aback by her discovery of his night with the SOG operative, ignored the Russian’s words. “I didn’t come to get the girl,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I came to apologise.”

“Oh, well that is okay then.” Sarcasm dripped off of every word. “So long as you have apologised, then falsely accusing me of betraying the team, my friends, the United Nations, and having me arrested, really doesn’t matter anymore!”