The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake 2) (7 page)

My God,
he thought.
They’re acting like we’re at war.

Below decks they were shown to separate, Spartan cabins. Harrison left them with a brief: “Thirty minutes,” and Drake found himself with some alone time, at last, with his friends.

He went to Hayden first. Not that he had to walk far in the cramped confines since Mano Kinimaka took up half the room.

“There is no doubt we will avenge them. Trust me, Hayden.
No doubt.
”

“Boudreau . . . he’s not only a sadist and a murderer, he’s damn clever too.” Hayden eyes were saturated with pain. “A terrible enemy.”

Drake leaned in close. “We’ll get him.
Trust me.
”

The words he left unsaid echoed around his brain:
I’m a far worse enemy to him than he ever will be to you.

“So what’s the verdict?” Ben was saying. “Something still doesn’t ring true here,” and now he looked at his girlfriend. “They brought all this stuff out of the ocean. Cannons. Anchors. Sounding weights. And nothing happened. Then
boom!
, they bring up a rusty old box and some mythical monster decides to surface and  fight the U.S. military for it who, in turn, decide to guard it with a damned army,” Ben spread his arms. “How did everyone know what it was? And, why not go get it
before
the salvage operation?”

Drake thought about that for a second. “Toddler Blake’s got a point.”

“Bollocks, crusty.”

Hayden shrugged. “For me, it was just another day, another case I pulled. They told me to investigate, so I did. We don’t question why.”

“And how did Blackbeard, of all people, get involved?” Kinimaka spoke up. “And the alien thing? Bullshit.”

“What did you find out?” Drake asked Hayden. “You said it was the answer to the Bermuda Triangle mystery. What is it?”

“I
also
just found out the damned thing comes in two parts.
Two.
We have the first. I don’t think there’s anyone alive who knows where the second part is.”

“But what is it?”
Kennedy was getting frustrated. “Maybe you could tell us, Mano?” She turned a sweet smile on the giant. Drake shook his head - bemused.

“Boss did go over it,” Kinimaka admitted. “Most of it skimmed right over the top of my head, to be honest.”

Hayden smiled sweetly. “It’s a time displacement device. And it’s time we went to see it.”

*****

Through the bowels of the great ship they were led. Silent marines with loaded and cocked weapons escorted them front and behind. In Ben’s whispered words it almost felt as if
they
were captives here. The massive cruiser rocked slightly from side to side, its joints and welds groaning like a host of condemned souls.

At last they reached a nondescript door and were ushered inside. True to form, the soldiers lined up outside.

Harrison was already there, pacing faster than some English footballers cheat on their wives. Watching him with wry amusement was one of the ship’s officers. A third man was further away, bending slightly to study an object placed on a steel table.

“At last. At last,” Harrison beckoned them in, looking sweaty and nervous. “This way. Device is over here.”

Drake frowned hard at the aid. “You got somewhere else to be, Justin?”

The aid blinked. “Umm, no. Why?”

Drake waved him on. Kennedy whispered: “Take it easy. Guy’s weird, but harmless.”

“It’s probably me,” Drake admitted with a glint in his eye. “I just don’t like guys with very small penises.”

Hayden blinked in interest, Ben shook his head, and Kennedy bit. “How’d you know . . . ?”

“Break the name down,” Drake smirked as he strode ahead. “Just. In.”

“Dinosaur,” Ben called after him. “That joke’s older than York Minster.”

Drake approached the metal table. The man next to it straightened and gave him an appraising stare.
Soldier,
Drake thought.
Commander. Probably in charge of the military forces around here.

“Name’s Drake,” he said holding his hand out. “Matt Drake.”

“As in Bond?” the man let slip a little smile that didn’t grace his eyes. “Jo Bradey. SOG.”

Drake was rocked, despite himself. The SOG were a small elite force
within
Delta force. A highly secretive group, not too dissimilar from the command he used to be a part of - the English SRT . He hid his surprise by glancing towards the table.

“So that’s the thing that’s got everyone’s knickers in a twist, eh?”

His friends gathered around him. Before them, given pride of place on an otherwise bare table, sat what at first glance appeared to be a rusty metal box. When Drake bent a little closer, unconsciously imitating the SOG commanders’ pose of a minute ago, he was able to distinguish several tiny marks decorating its rough-looking surface.

What at first appeared to be a shabby old hunk of metal was on closer inspection a clever work of art. Indistinct, sweeping whorls covered the entire exterior, each one designed to blend with the next - infinite arches perhaps, or graceful waves of power.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Harrison was still trying to push things along. “This is the device that was hauled up from the bottom of the ocean, from Blackbeard’s own cabin, we think. You can see now why it might be traded back and forth during the pirate days.”

“And you think this thing has been the cause of random occurrences in the Bermuda Triangle?” Kennedy asked sceptically. “A phenomenon which, as you know, has always been denied and disproven. Until now.”

“As it will continue to be,” Bradey said. “Half the aeroplanes landing in Orlando travel through the heart of the Triangle. We wouldn’t wanna panic folk bound for Mickeyland now would we?”

“They do?” Ben asked. “How many of them know that?”

“Surprisingly few,” said Bradey chuckling.

Ben set his jaw. “Look,” he said, “there’s something you people aren’t telling us. How do you
know
that thing . . . ” he waved at the box, “ . . . is responsible for causing the Bermuda Triangle? How
can
you? The phenomenon has never been attributed to anything, ever, so how is it possible now to say - ‘oh yeah, this box is the cause.’”

There was a moment’s silence that threatened to stretch into something more uncomfortable. Hayden filled the gap eloquently.

“I can explain how the CIA knew that a crappy looking box suddenly went viral and shocked the underworld to its core.”

Ben pulled a face. “OK.”

“The uplift was filmed on national TV,” she said. “Regretfully. The
moment
that box broke free of the water, the very
second
it began to spin slowly with all those cameras focused on it, monitored ‘chatter’ went up five thousand percent.”

“Five
thousand?
” Drake breathed, and even Bradey looked impressed.

“That’s how we knew it was something special.”

“What type of
chatter?”
Ben pressed.

“The type that’s attributed to bad people in bad regions. The type that’s filled with flagged code-words. The type that’s passed on through less-than-legal channels. Channels we know about but allow to operate to give us the heads up. Basically, the things the CIA are paid to do.”

“Cool.” Ben nodded. “I get that now. But . . .”

“Yes, yes, I know - the Bermuda Triangle part. Well . . .” Hayden now seemed a little embarrassed. “There are so many things recorded throughout history. We all know this. What many people don’t know is that the CIA employ various people - boffins, super-intellectual geeks, fantasists, professors - just to collect and read all this shit and feed it into a super-computer.” She grinned at Ben’s expression. “For real. We do. And we’re by no means the only U.S. agency or
world
government that does so.”

“It’s said they hired a bunch of writers to sketch out various scenarios that the government stiffs would never dream of after 9/11,” Kennedy said. “This ain’t so far-fetched.”

“They did,” Hayden said. “
We
did. The CIA. Anyway, this shit sticks, so to speak, to the grey matter. They found old writings that indicate Blackbeard was in possession of a ‘cheap trinket box that fairly made the ground sway and turned a man’s legs to jelly’. It went on to describe people just vanishing in the pirate-king’s wake, and played a massive part in cementing Blackbeard’s fearsome legend and reputation. It also mentioned a second device, a colourful bit of ‘swag that might fetch more’n a pretty penny’, but no more than that.”

Hayden looked scared. “Boudreau
knew
this second device was a controller. The CIA did not. Now, if that doesn’t scare any of you, then I suggest you go home now.”

“I get it,” Ben said again. “The cheap box is the hard-drive, the engine. The pretty device
controls
it. So the man who holds both . . .”

“. . . Manages a portable displacement device,” Drake finished.

“I still don’t know how it’s responsible for the Triangle phenomenon,” Ben stated flatly.

“What we now think is this: that the second device
controls
the output, the on/off and directionality.
But -
that the box has juice of its own. And that an unknown chain of events has, quite randomly, set it off several times over the years.”

“You do realise what you’re telling us?” Drake said to her, already utilizing the old SAS brain for weighing and measuring the ship’s defences. “You know what a displacement device is - in plain terms?”

“A time-machine. Yes. And one that can be controlled by the man who acquires both devices.”

“The Blood King?” Kinimaka sounded scared, a sentiment that just didn’t fit him.

“I can see why a thirty-year-old myth would come out of hiding to acquire such a thing,” Bradey said. “For unlimited power. The chance to rule the world through blackmail.”

“It predates all known histories,” Hayden went on. “Within its makeup are certain elements and minerals that haven’t existed since times unknown. So long before the dawn of civilisation it makes the mind boggle.”

Drake wondered about that. Hadn’t Odin’s Shield contained something similar?

Harrison interrupted his thoughts. “It has some of the oldest known constituents ever recorded. We’re talking way over 500 million years.”

“A lost civilisation?” Kennedy tugged at the waistband of her hipsters, still conscious of her figure, despite herself. “Like Atlantis?”

Hayden suddenly looked tired. “Who knows? And, frankly, who cares? Where it came from is not the issue here.”

“Well said,” said Drake nodding. He then looked the SOG commander dead in the eyes. “How good are you and your men, Bradey?”

“We have two full units here, Drake. Plus two hundred marines, Delta Force and other select companies.
God
couldn’t get into this room.”

“It’s not God I’m worried about. It’s a man who’s managed to convince the entire world for about thirty years that he’s just a myth,” he said, grimacing at Hayden. “And I’m sorry to say, that includes your super-geeks and your ‘chatter-monitors’ and all the rest of it.”

“A goddamn
Transformer
couldn’t get in here.” Bradey was starting to sound annoyed, but smoothed it over with a little grin. “Though I daresay Megan Fox might sneak through.”

There were a few moments while all the men considered the scenario before conversation caught up again.

“Time travel,” said Kennedy, who was again tugging up her jeans whilst contemplating the box on the table. “Has anyone given this thing a shake?”

Harrison gawped. “Are you kidding?”

Kinimaka looked sick. “Didn’t you
see
Terra Nova?”

Drake’s mind was still trying to get into sync with his enemies’. “Ok, so the logical next step is to search for the
second
device. To hold either piece will negate the effect of the
other
device. To hold both-” he left that hanging, aware that the U.S. government was strongly represented in the room.

“That’s the dilemma. No one knows where to start.” Hayden’s smile was tired and drawn. Nightmares of the last few days still moved in her eyes.

Drake said, “You start with the last place they were seen together. And then you follow whatever trail you can.”

“Been there,” Ben smiled. “Done that.”

Hayden gave him a forlorn look. “Is that another
Dinorock
tune. Don’t tell me they’ve got you doing it too.”

“No!” Ben’s shout was loud enough to make the marines stationed by the door glance around. “I will never join the Dinorock crew, Hey! You know that.”

“Look,” said Bradey as he started to walk away, his motion designed to break up their little party, “you’re not the only people working on this. Gut feeling? Someone’s gonna get lucky. I hope it’s you guys.”