The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (16 page)

Max could picture these people, including the woolen turban that his father had called a llauto. They had been fierce warriors, who had resisted assimilation by the Incas with all their might—but in the end, they had been absorbed into the greater empire. Max tried to suffer through the pain as his father continued his mental lecture.

Kuelap was eventually abandoned, after being occupied from 800 AD until sometime in the mid 1500s. The only access to the fortress is through the town of El Tingo. Being inside the fortress is like stepping into the past, Max, especially if you moved into the mausoleums that are hidden on the banks of a lagoon known locally as Laguna de las Momias, or the Mummies’ Lagoon). There you’ll find a number of bodies preserved from the ravages of time, buried with their treasured possessions… and their secrets.

Max grunted in pain as more images came in rapid succession: he saw the Spook accompanied by two beautiful women, one a brown-skinned woman dressed in a knee-length skirt and a blouse with a plunging neckline. The other woman was a brunette with pouty lips and a trim figure. She was dressed identically to her female partner, both clad entirely in black. The Spook was standing over the bloody form of a man that Max could not recognize.

The scene then shifted to the Spook watching as his female servants engaged in a dizzying battle with someone that the Peregrine knew well: Kirsten McKenzie, the former Nazi who had married Max’s best friend. Kirsten was clad in her Iron Maiden armor, but it was obvious that she was losing this particular battle.

Max shuddered as the images faded, but a cold fear struck him. “Kirsten! Is she in danger now? When did that scene happen? Or is still to come?”

Much to his dismay, there was no answer from his father. The fog surrounding him quickly disappeared and Max found himself sitting up in his bed, heart racing. He looked about and found that Evelyn was gone. For a moment, he worried that she, too, was in danger, but then he recalled that she had taken the children for the week to visit their maternal grandparents.

The Peregrine rose and searched for the phone. He had to call Will and Kirsten, and then he had to make sense of all that he had seen. For some reason, this Spook was going to be headed towards Kuelap—unless those images had been in the past. Had the Spook already gotten what he needed from Peru?

When no one answered at the McKenzie home, Max threw on a coat and hurried downstairs, to the secret lair beneath his family’s home. In the lab he’d dubbed the Peregrine’s Nest, he transformed from socialite to vigilante.

The Peregrine took flight.

CHAPTER II

The Iron Maiden’s Tale

The McKenzie house was located in a pleasant part of the country, just outside Atlanta proper. Originally, Will had come to town as the youngest police chief in the city’s history and had taken up residence in a small apartment. But after meeting and marrying Kirsten, the two of them had—with some help from Max—found a house for themselves. The Peregrine had always enjoyed visiting them here, finding the area very calming, but now its isolation seemed a very poor choice for a man who had made a lot of enemies. Max had no reason to believe that the Spook might be someone who disliked Will, but it certainly wasn’t out of the question.

The Peregrine parked his black roadster in the driveway, parking right next to Will’s police cruiser. Max noted that there were several lights on in the house, despite the fact that it was nearly four a.m. He pulled out a pistol and held it in one gloved hand as he approached the front door.

Max immediately noticed that the front door was open, its frame having been shattered. The Peregrine stepped inside, being careful to keep from making too much noise. The living room was in a shambles, with furniture overturned and the glass tabletop having been shattered.

The sound of a woman groaning made him hurry behind the couch, which was resting on its side. Finding the Iron Maiden, Max knelt at her side. Her face was mostly hidden beneath her helmet, but Max could see her eyes and the lower portion of her face. Her gaze seemed unfocused and there was a bit of blood dribbling from between her pursed lips.

“Kirsten… it’s me, Max.” The Peregrine helped her sit up and he noticed that she raised a gauntlet to the side of her head, wincing as she did so. “Move slow. You might have a concussion.”

“How did you know—?” she stammered, confused by Max’s unexpected appearance.

“Long story. Did you catch the names of those two women? What did they want?”

Kirsten pulled off her helmet, shaking out her blonde hair. She looked sweaty and bruised, but otherwise intact. The slightly unfocused look to her eyes was beginning to fade, replaced by a cold anger. “They were with a man dressed in a skeleton mask. He was called the Spook. The girls had codenames too: the Negro was named Mercy. The white girl was Grace.”

Max assisted her in getting up off the floor. After setting her couch back upright, Max urged her to sit down. “Were they old enemies of yours? Or of Will’s?”

“No. But they knew who I was. When I heard someone forcing their way through the door, I threw on my Iron Maiden armor… but I should have called Will, I suppose. He’s out on a case, but he could have sent a patrol car. I’m getting out of practice, I’m afraid.” Kirsten saw Max studying the room, obviously trying to see if they had stolen something. “All this damage was done while we were fighting. They wanted knowledge.” She tapped the side of her head and then winced, regretting the move.

“Tell me,” Max urged. “I had a vision… I have to stop them from accomplishing whatever goal they have.”

“I thought you didn’t have those any longer.”

“Neither did I.”

Kirsten smiled at that, recognizing that Max shared her taste for gallows humor. “When I was still serving the Fuehrer, part of my job was to track mystical artifacts and lands. Hitler has long believed that his rise to power was foretold by ancient legends, and the accumulation of occult artifacts is seen by him as confirmation of his special place in the world. I came across some writings by an Australian named Edgar Allen, who claimed that there was a lost fortress in Peru that was home to a powerful weapon, forged from metals created in lost Atlantis. I sought out Mr. Allen and found him, but he was unwilling to share with me the specifics of his beliefs… until I convinced him that it would be in his best interests to do so.”

Max said nothing, but his eyes took in the form-fitting armor she wore. Kirsten could be ruthless when necessary and he had no doubt about what form her “convincing” had taken.

“He claimed to have been part of an expedition that found the fortress—and, more importantly, to have discovered a series of graves alongside a lagoon. There were mummified bodies within and one of them was protected by a stone wall, with various warnings posted not to disturb the grave. Allen and his companions forced a hole into the crypt and Allen himself squeezed inside. He found a perfectly preserved corpse, and the legendary weapon in the mummy’s grip.”

“Why didn’t he take it with him?” Max wondered.

“He said it was too awful. That no one should have it. So they sealed the tomb back up and left. He says he wrote about it as a warning, not an enticement.”

“So you never followed up on it after you met with him? You didn’t go and claim it for the Reich?” Max’s words were tinged with suspicion, and he couldn’t help it. It was unlike Hitler and his agents to let any possible weapon lay unused.

“I thought that he was crazy, Max. He was jittery and shifty-eyed even before I began beating him. Rather than risk spending Reich funds on a wild goose chase, I informed my superiors that he was dead and left it at that. I never gave him another thought until tonight, when those women and their master broke in, demanding to know where Allen could be found.”

“And you told them?”

“Yes. I didn’t see any point in refusing to do so, particularly not after it became clear that I was losing. They must have read the same papers I did and believe that he’s on to something. But he’s not. He’s insane, like I said.”

Max stood up and took out the small mobile telephone that he always carried with him. Based on experimental technology, the handheld device was somewhat heavy, but could be used to contact allies for hundreds of miles.

“What are you doing?” Kirsten asked.

“Calling Will. He needs to come and check on you. I have to take off after the Spook. Did he speak to you at all during all this?”

“No. He just stood back and watched. His girls did all the talking. And hitting. They’re well-trained in martial arts.”

The Peregrine heard Will pick up on the other end of the line and he quickly filled in his friend on what had happened. When he’d gotten a concerned confirmation from Will that he was on the way back, Max ended the connection. “I need to know exactly what you told them. Where are they going?”

“He left Australia about six years ago and moved to the States. When I found him, he was living under an assumed name—Daniel Creek—in Manhattan. I’m sure they want to find him because the actual location of the crypt is well hidden. You could find all the other mummies without much difficulty, but the one with the weapon isn’t quite so easy.”

The Peregrine nodded and started to leave, but he paused in the doorway. “Did Allen ever tell you what this weapon actually
did
?”

“No… but he made it pretty clear that it wasn’t a power that man was meant to have.”

CHAPTER III

The Spook and the Explorer

Edgar Allen stood facing the bedroom window of his Manhattan apartment, watching as the sun slowly rose in the eastern sky. He wore only a robe, a cup of coffee clutched in one trembling hand. From this cup he took small sips, but he didn’t even notice the flavor. He merely stared out at the city before him, the same fear that had haunted him for years reaching into his heart and holding it firmly in a chilly embrace.

Behind him, there was a rustle of sheets, and Edgar tore his gaze away from the sunrise. He saw a Hispanic woman lying nude in his bed, one of her breasts having slipped free from the covers. She was beautiful—long and lean, with breasts that begged to be touched.

She was also a prostitute, as were all the women Allen interacted with these days. Since his expedition to Peru, he’d been plagued by a feeling of impending disaster. By opening up that tomb, he felt like he’d set in motion something that could only end with multiple deaths and extreme bloodshed. It would be his fault… he’d woken something ancient and hungry, and its only sustenance was violence.

Given that, he felt he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of a relationship. He was a nervous wreck and would never be able to act as a husband or lover truly should. So, when the need overtook him, he paid for companionship.

The girl—Gina? Allen hadn’t bothered trying to commit it to memory—looked up at him, running a hand through her dark hair. She made no move to cover her breast. “Sweetheart, are you coming back to bed? You paid me enough that you can get seconds if you want.”

Allen grunted. “You can get dressed now. I’m done with you.”

Gina pulled an ugly face and slid out from between the sheets. She berated him in Spanish as she got dressed but Allen didn’t care. He’d already turned back to the window. He had no idea when it would happen, but eventually, his mistake was going to cost not only him but so many others. He was certain of it.

Allen didn’t notice when Gina left, or that she took his wallet with her. It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered, except existing, breathing, eating, sleeping, from one day to the next.

It was while musing over this that Allen began to notice that his reflection in the window, faint to begin with, had begun to subtly alter. It no longer resembled his face but rather a skull-like monstrosity, set against a black background.

Allen took a step back as the face began to grow larger, finally peeling out of the window entirely. A body came with it, belonging to an obviously fit man dressed in a black bodysuit, boots, and cloak.

“Edgar Allen,” the stranger said, his voice sounding impossibly ancient and full of power. “I am the Spook. I have come for the knowledge you possess.”

Allen started to scream but the sound died in his voice. He continued staggering back until he felt strong hands grip his arms, holding him in place. He looked over his shoulder to see two beautiful women, one black and one white. They were smiling cruelly at him, as if enjoying his terror.

“Please,” Allen pleaded, finding voice as the Spook came closer. “I know what you want, and it’s too dangerous! Leave it be!”

The Spook laughed, shaking his head in response. “Let me be the judge of that.” He placed a black gloved hand across Allen’s jaw and mouth. “Nod if you understand what I’m about to say, Mr. Allen. I know that somewhere in the lagoon near Kuelap is a tomb containing a very powerful weapon. You can either tell me specifically where I can find that tomb, and then live. Or you will tell me after we force the knowledge from you… and then leave to a long, lingering death.”

Allen narrowed his eyes, knowing that he couldn’t allow the weapon to fall into this madman’s grip. He bit down hard on the Spook’s fingers but his teeth passed through the flesh and glove, clenching hard against one another.

The Spook drew his hand away and chuckled. “You can’t harm me like that, Mr. Allen. I’m not at all the sort of man who can be hurt by biting and scratching.”

Allen screamed as one of the girls bent his arm painfully behind his back.

“Now,” the Spook continued, in an almost conversational tone of voice. “Tell me all about this tomb.”

Allen tried to resist, but he had never been a strong man, neither physically or spiritually. He began to babble almost incoherently, but the Spook nodded sagely, drinking in every word.

“Very nice, Mr. Allen,” he said when the spiel was concluded. “I think you’ve done very well today. A pity that you know far too much about our plans for us to allow you to live, however. Though you haven’t seen my face, you have heard my voice and might be able to place it later, when you’re a bit calmer. I can’t run that risk.”