The Ancient Breed (9 page)

Suddenly the four men burst into laughter, leaving the woman completely bewildered.

9

T

he ominous skyscraper cast a pall over the Manhattan skyline like a tombstone. It was an architectural masterpiece of amber glass framed with black marble, and it glittered like a pale gem beneath the setting sun. The imposing structure narrowed as it approached the top six stories, and few people had ever been invited to the lavish penthouse on the uppermost floor. It was strictly reserved for the owners of the privately held Aspirations, Incorporated, world-renowned for their anti-aging products. However, the building’s architectural beauty was merely a facade that cloaked an ancient evil within.

Today, as was their custom every month on this date, the three owners convened their board meeting and discussed the corporation’s business and financial matters. The three elderly owners were Grant Donovan, Sloan McGrath and Tobias Simpkins. The six-foot two Donovan was muscular, ruggedly handsome and had a full head of wavy silver hair. McGrath’s medium wiry frame was an inch shorter than Donovan; his countenance was pinched in a perpetual scowl. Gray streaked his thin, unkempt red hair. Simpkins was the tallest partner at six-foot four. He carried himself with a regal air and was generally considered to be the leader of the group. His eyes were a vibrant blue, and his wide smile could exude charm and warmth – or lethal frost, depending on his mood. Those who were well acquainted with the Aspirations board members unanimously agreed that Tobias Simpkins was the most ruthless.

All three men’s bulbous noses were networked with broken blood vessels. Their complexions were scored with leathery wrinkles and their beetle brows were dusted gray. The flesh on the backs of their hands were sallow, translucent and dotted with liver spots.

They wore ultra-expensive business suits and smoked hand-rolled Havana cigars. A bluish-gray haze rose toward the ceiling where the powerful smoke-eater sucked it quickly from the boardroom. Sloan McGrath reached into his suit jacket pocket, withdrew a business envelope and pushed it across the table to Tobias.

After scanning the brief report, Tobias passed it to Grant Donovan. When he finished reading it, he refolded the report and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Incompetence is the only word for it,” Tobias said at last and his partners agreed. “That fruity jackass, Dr. Patrick, has botched his assignment but good.”

“Well, what’s our next move? We can’t allow Warnke Construction to continue excavating until we’ve had a chance to remove the elixir,” Sloan asserted.

“Plan B,” replied Grant.

“Precisely,” Tobias agreed. “Are our back-up people ready and willing to move later on tonight?”

“They are,” Grant replied. “I spoke with them less than an hour ago.”

“If your associates are nabbed by the cops, they can’t be traced back to us can they?” Sloan asked nervously.

Tobias frowned at McGrath.

“Of course not,” Grant snapped defensively. “I’ve taken the usual precautions. Besides, those people don’t care who they work for as long as they get their cash payments.”

“Good, good,” Sloan said quickly.

“That’s the easy part, Sloan,” Tobias reminded him. “Opening the vault and transporting the elixir without being seen are the most significant challenges.”

“Are we certain that the elixir’s even there?” Sloan questioned again. “All we have is the word of that pompous medical examiner.”

Tobias stood and strode across the boardroom to the armored cabinet that protected the ancient archives. He opened the ponderous door and returned to the table with yesterday’s thermal readings of the site. He spread them across the table, nearly spilling Sloan’s clear
refreshing
drink.

“Hey take it easy, Tobias,” he whined.

Tobias smiled and bowed. “I was a bit careless, wasn’t I?” There was no hint of remorse in his tone.

“First,
our
flyover scans go deeper into the ground,” Grant explained. “Look, there’s the gray square displayed on the Warnke scans.” His index finger pointed to the area. “But what they don’t know is that the guardian’s pillars and the sacrificial circle are there as well.” He pointed to a sizeable circle and two small circular shadows on their scans.

“Knowing Tobor’s flair for the dramatic, that’s how he kept the local savages under control. This has got to be the place,” Tobias said. “
Our
elixir is there.”

“Little did the old sorcerer know that his property would end up sinking into that damn swamp,” Sloan groaned.

“It wasn’t luck, Sloan. It was brilliant planning on his part,” Tobias conceded. “After all, none of us has been able to find his place in four thousand years.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Devious son-of-a-bitch,” Sloan begrudgingly agreed. “But what I can’t figure out is what tipped you off that this particular site is
the one
?”

Grant grinned. “The discovery made by Warnke’s construction workers. You know, the deformed bones?”

“Big deal. What’s the significance of a few bones?”

Tobias sighed. “Sloan, you never were much good at understanding what you see. Remember when we experimented on the half-breeds with Tobhor’s improved formula after we fled Europe? They drank the elixir and grew younger for a brief time, but then the elixir altered a few of their genes that we purebloods don’t possess. Instead of preserving their youth, the elixir changed them into those blood-thirsty little brutes.”

“Think of them as a cross between a pygmy cannibal and vampire,” Grant appended.

Sloan whistled. “Now I remember those savages!”

“The ancient breed,” Tobias reminded him impatiently. He couldn’t tolerate fools. “God, I hope you’re satisfied now.”

Sloan nodded uneasily.

“Now back to the logistical problem of how we remove the elixir from Tobhor’s little fortress. Any suggestions?” Grant asked.

“I believe our solution is to pump the elixir from the fountain into sterile tanks, and then deliver half of it to our warehouse in Baltimore and the other half to a temporary site in the Midwest. I don’t think we want to put all our eggs into one vulnerable basket,” Tobias expounded. “The stuff’s too valuable.”

Grant and Sloan glanced at each other and nodded.

“I’ll check into some Midwest storage rental sites,” Grant volunteered.

“Good idea,” Tobias said. “Okay, gentlemen, is there anything we’ve overlooked?”

“Yes and I’m afraid it’s a major oversight,” Grant replied.

Tobias arched his brows. “Really? What’s that?”

Grant leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “The Zyloux.”

Tobias chuckled. “That demon? Hell, no one’s reported seeing it for over five hundred years. My guess is that it no longer exists in this dimension.”

“I beg to differ. Alick Tobhor wouldn’t give up his watchdog so easily. He was a smart magician, much like Xavier Wolfe and his family from Duneden, Ohio.”

“Yes and look what happened to them. Xavier and his entire family are either dead or exiled from this dimension,” Tobias countered. “And I believe Tobhor’s dead, too. And don’t forget that we’ve been duplicating Tobhor’s elixir for thousands of years, and the Zyloux has left us alone.”

“A weakened formula,” Grant reminded him. “Nothing like the original.”

“What’s the Zyloux?” Sloan interrupted.

Grant rolled his eyes. “A relentless, murderous demon that Tobhor conjured from our old dimension to protect the elixir and ceremonial site from trespassers. It’s supposedly unstoppable, except by us of course. What’s with you, anyway? Lose your memory?”

“Old age has blocked out a lot,” he replied sadly. “Okay, let’s say for argument’s sake that this demon makes an appearance while we’re stealing the elixir from Tobhor’s fortress. How would we stop it?”

Tobias stood and raised his voice. “We’re powerful mages, too! We can kill it with our combined spells. But trust me, the damned Zyloux is
history
.”

A troubled Sloan turned to Grant. “What do you think about the Zyloux?”

Grant wasn’t as certain as Tobias that the demon was gone, but he wasn’t about to side with that tedious coward, Sloan. “Tobias is right. The Zyloux’s back home where it belongs and Tobhor’s dead.” He raised his fluted glass filled with a clear effervescent liquid. “Just imagine how much younger we’ll be when we drink the real elixir instead of this homemade substitute.” Grant forced a smile. “We’ll be – what do the kids call it today – oh yeah, chick magnets!”

Tobias and Grant laughed, but Sloan appeared unconvinced.

“A toast then.” Tobias held up his crystal glass. “Here’s to the real elixir,” he said, excitement rising within him, “and to regaining our youth.”

The three quaffed the liquid and then waited for it to take effect. Slowly the gray vanished from their hair, the broken blood vessels faded from their noses and the deep wrinkles melted to fine indistinct lines.

Ten minutes later, three middle-aged men arose.

“I’ll arrange for the tanks, transportation and pump,” Tobias informed them.

“I’ll get in touch with our subcontractors and give them the green light to sabotage the Warnke construction site tonight,” Grant said. “Then I’ll look for a secure Midwest storage facility, but we’ll have to store both elixir tanks at our Baltimore Harbor warehouse until I can locate someplace.”

They left the boardroom and entered their private elevator. It whisked them nonstop to the private parking garage beneath the building where three limousines and chauffeurs awaited. Grant restrained his delight. He had anticipated the meeting’s outcome and selected a suitable Midwest facility – one he would keep secret from the others. He had his own plans for the second tank of elixir.

A scheme that would soon destroy an entire town’s population.

10

T

he striking woman stepped inside the motel room. “I just heard what happened to Blossom Smith and Clay Corey on my car radio, and I can’t think of one lousy reason to laugh about such a tragedy,” she admonished them. Tears glazed her eyes.

“Neither do I, young lady,” came a low, hoarse voice behind her.

“Grandfather.” Crow rushed to the door and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”

“Obviously more than you and your FBI friends are,” he replied angrily.

“Look, Grandfather, a little humor keeps us balanced.”

“It sounds like you’re all unbalanced to me,” he sniffed. “Why don’t we restart your investigation by asking this lovely young lady for her name?”

No one alive knew the actual age of the last survivor of the Omaha tribal elders, but Grandfather had outlived his seven wives and his seventeen children. Age gullies etched his dark face and bloated pouches hung beneath his vigilant onyx eyes. The ancient Indian’s hoary hair was twisted into two braids like his grandson, Crow. He stood six feet tall, and he proudly carried himself with a sang-froid air, wise in the ancient mystical arts. His remaining challenge in life was to pass on this long-forgotten knowledge to his obstinate computer geek of a grandson. However, he begrudgingly admitted the futility of forcing these skills upon Crow; their stubborn temperaments were too much alike.

The old man offered his hand. “You may call me Grandfather,” he offered. “Revealing my given tribal name embarrasses my grandson.”

She tossed Crow an
I-can’t-believe-you
glance. “I’m sorry to hear that, Grandfather. I’m Professor Lisa Anders from Florida State University.”

The old man’s eyes widened. “Oh, Blossom has told me a great deal about you. You are – or were – her favorite professor.”

“That was very kind of her to say so.”

Neo extended his hand. “I’m Neo . . .”

“Doss,” Lisa completed. “I watched you tear up my Dallas Cowboys several years ago.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“And I’m Crow.” He shook her hand and was surprised by her strong grip. “Blossom’s my niece, and I can assure you that we don’t find anything humorous about her situation. I apologize if it appeared otherwise.”

“Apology accepted.”

“What are you doing here, Professor, if you don’t mind my asking?” Neo asked.

“Lisa, please. Blossom called me last night and told me that she discovered a gold lock box on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico during her dive yesterday,” she explained. “I promised to stop by this afternoon to take a look at her find, since I was already in the area. I’m afraid I got here later than I expected. That beach traffic’s a real nightmare.”

Grandfather cleared his throat. “Now that that’s all settled, let’s get on with this investigation,” he said impatiently.

Crow reviewed the sparse facts of the case with Lisa and Grandfather, and then they donned hairnets and inspected the bedroom. Neo pointed out the indentations in the bath towel on the dresser.

“I know how we can easily discover what the chest looked like,” Lisa said abruptly as she reached for a dresser drawer.

“Wait!” Neo and the hairnet agent shouted simultaneously.

“Put on a pair of these latex gloves. We can’t have you contaminating the crime scene with your fingerprints,” Neo quickly explained and handed her a pair.

Once her gloves were tugged on, she examined every drawer until she came upon what she was searching for. “Here,” she announced triumphantly, holding up Blossom’s digital camera. “Blossom’s an avid photographer. If anything, she takes twice as many shots of her discoveries than are necessary for her records.”

Neo flashed Crow a
how-could-you-have-missed-that
glare.

“Let me see the camera, please,” Crow requested, and Lisa complied. After a brief inspection, he noticed there were twenty-three pictures taken. “We can check out the pictures on the LCD screen, but they’re going to be pretty damn small. I can enlarge them on the notebook computer back in my hotel room, and we can study them more closely tonight. Say my place at the Holiday Inn in Fort Myers Beach around eight?”