The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) (23 page)

Brightmoore stood up and shook his head. “No, no, my boy. I’m an old fellow, now, and have no business digging in trenches. These days, I am perfectly fine with opening a bottle of brandy and reading good old fashioned history books.”

Nick gave him a smile. “I understand. But you are getting some credit if we make it out in one piece.”

“As I bloody well should,” he replied with a smirk. Then, he gave Nick a hug. “You’re a good man, Solomon. The world could use a few more fellows like you.”

Nick smiled and returned the embrace. “I think you had a little too much wine.”

Brightmoore laughed. “Well, there are only so many pleasures in life-”

He never got to finish his sentence.
 

A burst of gunfire erupted inside the room, shredding books and shattering the computer screens. Antique vases and statues exploded into dust and the walls became pockmarked with holes and cracks as bullets tore up entire chunks. Brightmoore became unnaturally still, as a single dot of dark red expanded from his chest.

Excalibur’s training took over. She ducked for cover behind an aluminum shelf and extracted her handgun. Nick had no such training. Like most people in shock, he remained frozen on the spot as he observed the events occur in slow motion. He saw the details, the opportunities for evasion, but there was nothing he could do about any of it.
 

Instead, he could only watch as Brightmoore was riddled with more bullets. Nick counted five in total—five pieces of lead that embedded themselves into the old professor and spit blood in their wake. Brightmoore dropped his cane and slumped forward, dead.
 

Nick was suddenly aware of the sound of heavy footsteps as half a dozen heavily armed men carrying assault rifles marched through the mansion, with as much grace as a herd of buffalo. Behind them, appeared man dressed in an impeccable cream-colored suit and slicked-back hair. He bore no weapon, but carried himself with the arrogance of a dictator.
 

This man did not need a weapon to be dangerous.

“Mister Solomon,” Astrid said from across the study. “You owe me some answers. And I have come to collect.”

Chapter 33

Half a dozen assault rifles were pointed squarely at Nick.
 

He raised his arms and smiled weakly. “Whoa. Take it easy.”

Astrid walked in between Nick and his hired thugs. He pulled a pistol from his waistline and began waving it around like a gangster in a movie.

“Did you really think I couldn’t find you?” he cawed.

Nick was too busy grasping the situation to pay attention to his words. Instead, he focused on the gun in Astrid’s hands. Compared to the larger rifles carried by the other men, his firearm was much smaller—small enough to fit into Astrid’s delicately manicured hands. Already, Nick was processing every ounce of information about that pistol: a 1960’s Llama III-A model, self-loading blowback pistol with a .380 ACP eight-round magazine. The slide was plated in gold and had a series of intricate engravings, giving it an aristocratic appearance.
 

An ostentatious weapon for an ostentatious man.

As Astrid began pacing around, Nick started thinking of ways to get out of this situation. He had already identified four different ways he could disarm Astrid, but even then, the chances for survival were slim. Not to mention Excalibur, who was armed with just her Glock pistol, hiding behind cover. A few well-placed bullets could easily tear through the aluminum cabinet she was tucking in behind.

“I had to go through every known associate you ever worked with,” Astrid was saying, “and that is a very long list.” His eyes wandered over Brightmoore’s bullet-riddled figure and shrugged. “So sorry he was caught in the crossfire. Now, where is the lovely secret agent babysitting you?”

Excalibur peaked her head from behind the cabinet, with her gun trained squarely on Astrid. “Put your weapons down.”

Astrid scoffed at her. “I hardly think so. We are seven, you are one, and I am well aware that Mister Solomon doesn’t carry a weapon. Which makes this very easy.”

He jabbed Nick in the chest with his pistol and pulled back the hammer.

“I’d do what he says, Agent,” Nick said, putting his hands up in surrender. “It’s not looking good for us out here. Don’t worry, this jackass won’t
 
actually shoot me.”

Astrid pressed his gun harder. “Oh, really?” He reached over and snatched the printouts that Nick was still holding in his hand. “I have the precise coordinates to El Dorado. Remind me again, why do I need you?”

Nick offered him his most devious grin. “Because unless you can read Meso-American dead languages, you won’t be able to open the door.”

“We have explosives.”

“You can’t find this place with guns and bombs, Astrid, and you know it.”

The Spaniard’s eyes narrowed. “And you know this, how?”

“Because it was in that red book you made us steal in Venice,” Nick replied.

“I can always obtain the book and read it myself.”

“It’s hidden in the glove compartment of the truck we came in,” Nick said flatly.
 

Astrid’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment, and he nodded toward one of his men, who promptly went to retrieve the ledger.
 

“You won’t be able to read a word,” Nick continued. “And that’s why you won’t kill us.”

A flash of anger contorted Astrid’s face. “I can find other scholars.”

Nick let out a small bark of laughter. “You’ll never find someone who can read all that. There are only four people on this side of the country who can help you. One is off the radar, another suffers from severe Alzheimer’s, one lies dead a few feet from us, and you’re currently poking your teeny-tiny gun at the remaining one,” he said with a satisfied smirk—not many people were able to work a phallic insult when held at gunpoint.

Astrid didn’t get the joke, but he understood when someone was insulting him. “Tell your bitch to come out and drop her gun,” he growled.

“Or what?”

The smugness returned in Astrid’s voice. “While I can’t kill you until I confirm your story, I can make your existence a painful one.” To prove his point, he aimed his gun lower and fired. The shot went in between Nick’s legs, leaving a sizable hole in the floorboards. “It’s not the size of the gun that matters, but how you use it.”

“Is that what women tell you?” Nick retorted.
 

He may have put on a brave front but truly, he was scared. He had figured Astrid for one of those guys who wave their hands about and shout maniacally, but never actually staining themselves with blood. Now, he knew Astrid would not hesitate to pull the trigger.

Excalibur got out of hiding and dropped her gun. Two men seized her roughly and bound her hands behind her back with a plastic strap. She scowled and glared at everyone, including Nick.

Meanwhile, the lone mercenary retuned and handed the red ledger to Astrid. The lock snapped open easily and the Spaniard rifled through the pages, all the while muttering in his native tongue. Nick watched with increasing pleasure as he saw Astrid’s eyes widen with every page he turned.

Suddenly, Astrid burst into a fit of yelling. Nick didn’t speak Spanish, but he would have bet money that Astrid’s language was not fit for translation. Once he was done with his cursing, Astrid shoved the book into Nick’s chest.

“You can read this?” Without waiting for a response, he barked his next order. “Then, read it! Tell me what I need to know, and I might let you live.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”

Astrid yelled out in frustration and fired off another round into the ceiling. “Tell me! Or I will kill her,” he screamed as he pointed his gun shakily at Excalibur.

“You kill her, and you might as well kill me,” Nick replied. “I’m not telling you anything until you put the gun down and listen to me.”

Astrid whipped the butt of his gun against Nick’s forehead, and he dropped to the ground. He saw Excalibur take a step, and instantly, a rifle barrel was inches from her face.

Nick got up and held his hand out in front of him. “I’m all right,” he said.

Astrid grabbed him roughly by the collar and pressed the gun to his face. “What do you want, Mister Solomon?”

Nick groaned and cleared his throat. “What you seek doesn’t exist,” he said, looking Astrid in the eye. “There is no city of gold. But there is a treasure of much greater value. A substance which, if used correctly, could power a nation for an indefinite amount of time.”

“What are you talking about?” Astrid spat.

“A new source of energy,” Nick replied. “Why do you think the NSA wants a piece of this action? They don’t care about gold. The treasure this book is talking about is a source of infinite energy.”

“Why should I care about this?” Astrid asked. “I want gold! Besides, there is no such thing as infinite energy.”

“Think about it, man,” Nick said. “You would monopolize the world’s leading energy resource. We both know that oil is becoming as extinct as the fossils it’s made out of. You could control the future of this planet by controlling every single commodity.”

Astrid looked at Excalibur. “Is this true?”

“That’s classified information,” Excalibur shot back. “And you,” she spat towards Nick. “You’ve just betrayed your country.”

“Bill me,” Nick replied, before turning to address Astrid again. “There is treasure in El Dorado. Only, it’s not gold, but something completely out of this world. Either way, you get richer.”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me all this? What do you want in exchange?”

“Both me and her get to come with you,” Nick said. “Only I can get you through the site safely and to the energy source. But we both get to be there, alive.” He leaned close to Astrid as if sharing a clandestine secret.
 

“I want to see it,” he whispered. “You get your jollies from being rich and powerful. I get mine from solving mysteries.”

Astrid smiled at him, nodding, and Nick knew they had reached an understanding.
 

Suddenly, Astrid pistol-whipped Nick in the face again. “Don’t ever give me orders,” he spat.

Nick wiped blood from his forehead and stood up again. “You’re a businessman. Surely you can understand the concept of give and take.”

Astrid pressed the pistol was so close to Nick face that the barrel pressed against one of his eyes. “I am not a big fan of the give part,” Astrid replied.

“I’m shocked.”

“Careful, Solomon. One day you might piss off the wrong person and end up getting shot,” Astrid said, waving his gun. “You have just become a precious commodity to me again. I don’t like having to throw away my toys before I’m thoroughly done with them.” He nodded at his men.
 

“Load them up, and let’s go get my treasure.”

Chapter 34

When Captain Jack Finnegan sailed to the location of the artifact, he failed to mention a few details. Back then, it was no man’s land, with the
 
natives fighting against the Spanish and British invaders.

Nowadays, Cedros Island is a small settlement, where fishing and tourism helped support a quiet Mexican population. The island seemed to be on the precipice of civilization; still on par with the rest of the world, but its growth was taken at a leisurely pace, unlike the stressful stride of metropolitan cities.

Astrid’s private charter plane took them on location as soon as Nick confirmed it, and once they stepped out on dry land and into the arid sun, he was struck with a terrible sense of déjà vu.

Nick realized he had already been there, but not as himself—rather as Captain Jack Finnegan. Memories began flooding in, until he was violently jarred from his thoughts by one of Astrid’s flunkies. They dragged him and Excalibur to a set of quad bikes near the edge of a forest.
 

Nick gave the location of the cave to their guide, a mercenary hired by Astrid, whose face looked like a piece of dried up leather. The man wore army cargo pants and a sweat shirt, along with a machete which he seemed very enthusiastic about and a belt of AK-47 bullets, ammo for the rifle he had slung around him. He smoked with a fervency bordering on psychotic and spoke a total of three words in English, which he accented with a lot of grunts and erratic hand gestures. Nick referred to him Mowgli, because he did look as if he had been raised by a pack of wolves, and was stuck riding with him on the lead quad bike.
 

Nick did his best to avoid wrapping his arms around the guide’s torso and instead clung for dear life on the support bars at the back of his seat. The terrain was not the most hospitable to navigate on, but Nick could recall worse. Still, with the way Mowgli drove his vehicle, it was a miracle they had arrived there in one piece.

Throughout the ride, Nick saw various lapses in security and found dozens of ways he could flee. But this was foreign terrain, and he was utterly alone on this island. His enemies had guns, vehicles, and knew the land like the back of their hands—a lethal combination.

Besides, he couldn’t leave Excalibur behind.