The Thieves of Darkness (52 page)

A tall man with long, flowing white hair and beard stood upon a mountain, clutching a long staff.

“Hello, Michael,” a soft voice called out.

Michael turned around.

The man was of average height, his dark hair bristle-short. He wore a green loose-fitting robe of silk that hung to the ground, its sleeves and collar trimmed in gold. His skin was the color of weak tea, his face an amalgam of Asian cultures, while his shoeless feet were wide and thick with calluses. His eyes spoke of wisdom arrived at through an incredibly old age, yet his face was not harshly wrinkled; but for a single scar that ran down the man’s right cheek, his skin was unmarred by time.

Michael couldn’t help feeling as if the world had slowed, causing a time drag that was tranquil and filled the air with a quiet peace.

Michael looked at the man, he looked at the sketches and paintings, he looked out at the open valley and finally back at the monk.

“What is this place?” Michael said in a hushed tone.

“A place of prayer, a place of worship and study. A world in balance.”

“I see that,” Michael said with respect. “I don’t doubt you know what I mean, though, in fact, I probably didn’t even need to ask the question, did I?”

The man smiled. “Then you already know the answer.”

“Shambhala?”

“Man has come up with names and ideals, some close, others that couldn’t be further from the truth…” The man smiled. “This place has no name and yet it has many names.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Does it matter that you understand? Do you question why you believe in God? Has anyone ever offered you undeniable proof of his existence?”

Michael’s silence answered the question.

“And yet you are certain.”

“Even more so now that I’ve seen this place.” Michael paused, lost in thought. “You ask if I believe in God. But the God I refer to, the God of my religion…” Michael had trouble finishing his thought.

“Man insists on ascribing names to everything. Every religion seeks to make God its own, to make its God the greatest.”

“Who’s right, then?”

The monk smiled. “Everyone’s right.”

Michael smiled back as if they were in a mind game of philosophical challenge. He finally pointed to the depictions on the wall. “These pictures,” Michael said. “They’re beautiful. Who are they?”

“Again you ask questions to which you already know the answer.”

“Yes, but this one.” Michael pointed to the dark-bearded man with white skin. “How can this be?”

“There are eighteen years of his life that are unaccounted for,” the man smiled.

“But he was here?”

“He traveled many places. Someone looking to share wisdom, to learn of the world, travels often and travels far.”

Michael stared at the picture, and finally turned his attention to the man in the tattered robes. “And this man—”

“Michael,” the man cut him off. “Not all is peaceful here, not all is what it seems.”

“How old is this place?”

“It was built before memory, built to hide a crack in the earth.”

“It feels so…” Michael searched for the word, “… calm.”

“As you feel the peace of heaven, so too does the torment of hell lie beneath our feet. And someone has arrived here to awaken it. To let it loose on the world. To steal the secrets hidden away here for millennia.”

“Where is everyone?” Michael walked to the window looking out on the grounds, which at first he had thought of as peaceful but which now he could only think of as ominous.

“The people who live here have been taken hostage; one is dead.”

“And the people responsible…?”

“They’re all waiting for you.”

“What?” Michael asked, tightening the grip on his pistol. “Where?”

“You must not let them take anything from here.”

“I’ve been in your rooms downstairs; they have full access to the gold, the treasury…”

“Those things do not concern me—”

“I’ve been in your library; they blew open the door. There is a shelf, its labels indicate things I could never have imagined.” Michael paused. “The shelves are empty, Venue has already—”

The monk held up his hand. “They have nothing of true value. Those items, those scrolls, parchments, and books, were removed almost five hundred years ago. They have been stored away, in a room they will never get into.”

The man looked at Michael, his eyes gentle but strong, fatherly in conveying an unquestionable sense of warning.

“Nothing must be taken from beyond the lowermost door of this sanctuary. They will unleash a darkness, a disease that will corrupt
the mind as it creeps over the land. Venue seeks not only riches but the knowledge of God, the power of darkness.”

Michael felt the weight of the knapsack on his back suddenly grow; a sense of guilt began to fill him. He turned away from the monk and looked once again at the pictures upon the walls, out the windows on the impossible world below. His mind was a jumble; he feared for KC. His only thought had been to save her, to rescue her from her father, from this place, but now the monk’s words weighed heavily upon his heart. It was as if the man could read his mind, read his intentions; it was as if he knew exactly what Michael carried in his knapsack.

“They come now.”

“Who?” Michael looked toward the door and raised his pistol.

“You must remember, Michael, stay in the light and do not listen to the voices, for they will lie to you, they will offer you your heart’s desire; they know what you want, what you love.”

Michael cast a glance toward the man, but he was gone, shafts of sunlight piercing the window where he had stood.

“Michael?”

Michael turned back to find KC standing alone in the doorway, the flames of the candles glinting off her moist eyes. They stared at each other, relief washing over Michael.

“What are you doing here?” KC said in anger.

Michael continued looking at her, shocked at the rude reception. “Are you all right?”

As Michael approached her, the shadows in the hall behind her came alive, and four guards emerged from the outer hall as Iblis, Venue, and Cindy came up behind KC.

Busch lay upon the warm ground of the tunnel, clutching the sniper rifle in his hand. He occasionally moved it about, lining up the cross hairs on flowers and branches, truing up his line of sight. His body had finally shaken off the last remnants of cold, allowing his mind to gain complete focus.

He hoped Michael’s plan was sound. It was rushed and was predicated on too many factors out of their control. But it was all they had. And KC was all that filled Michael’s mind.

There was a lack of rationality when it came to love. It compelled men to do the most foolish of things, the most dangerous of things, sacrificing sanity in favor of those who held their heart. It had caused King Edward VIII of England to abdicate the throne for his mistress, it had caused Menelaus to send the Spartans to lay waste to Troy after Paris stole his wife, Helen, and it had caused Michael to break into an ancient palace to steal a map that shouldn’t exist.

But what Michael was doing, while for love, was more than rational. He was saving her from a father who was undeserving of being called human; a father who would send his own daughter to prison to be executed, acting as her judge and jury, a father who would drag his daughter up a mountain for his own selfish gain, using his daughter as
a shield. He was the antithesis of love, of a parent, standing in sharp contrast to everything a father should be.

Busch would die for his two children, he would sacrifice everything for their well-being, and he couldn’t fathom what possessed a soulless man like Venue.

Between Iblis and Venue, Busch wasn’t sure who was actually worse, but as he lay in the mouth of the cave, the butt of the Galil rifle hugged up close against his cheek, he hoped one of them would emerge from the door so he could make the world a little safer.

What are you doing here?” KC repeated to Michael, her voice desperate, pain-filled, as she stood in the hallway.

Michael looked at her, relieved to see she was alive.

“Hello, Michael.” Venue stepped forward, interrupting their moment. “I understand you are quite the thief, quite the deceiver.”

Pain rose in KC’s face.

“Let her go,” Michael demanded.

“How do you know she doesn’t want to be here, that she didn’t come of her own accord?”

“Give me a break,” Michael said as he turned to KC. “He called me, said you would die if I interfered, if I stood in his way.”

“You’re not a very good listener,” Venue cut in.

Michael opened his knapsack and pulled out the leather tube. “KC, it’s not that I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s amazing what one will do for love, huh, Michael? I didn’t even need to ask you to bring it.” Venue’s eyes locked on the tube. “How do I know it’s the real one?”

“I don’t play with people’s lives the way you do.”

“Oh, aren’t we the hero,” Venue said in a dismissive tone. “Let me see it.”

“When you let KC and her sister leave and I know they’re safe.”

“What?” Cindy spun about in confusion. “I’m—”

“Fuck this,” Iblis said. He violently grabbed KC by the neck, pulling her back so fast that she had no time to react. Iblis twisted her body over, tilting her blonde head against his chest so she couldn’t hold her balance, his blade resting against her carotid artery.

Michael held KC’s eye as she struggled against Iblis. There was no fear in her, just anger. But Michael saw Iblis’s eyes, his cold, dead eyes that clearly said that he wouldn’t hesitate to slice KC’s neck, despite how he felt about her, in order to get what they wanted.

Michael opened the tube and withdrew the true rod. He fought to remain focused as the object dizzied his mind.

“What the hell is that?” Iblis shouted, nodding his chin at the rod.

Michael held it up for Venue and all to see; the precious jewels sparkled in the firelight. But no one’s eyes were focused on the jewels wrapped about the snake…

Intertwined with them like a third serpent was a tan piece of thin cord that ran tip to tip. Enveloping the two snake heads, the malleable explosive cord terminated in a small silver rod with two protruding wires that ran to a small box.

“I think you all know what this is. One of a kind, I would imagine. Held in the grasp of a dead sultan for the last five hundred years. Of course it does have my little design enhancement. Primacord packs a hell of a punch, ’scuse the double entendre. The silver thing, right here”—Michael said as he fingered the blasting cap at the head of the snakes that was attached to a small keypad—“that’s my detonator. Now, before you think of killing KC or shooting me on the spot and ripping this out of my dead hands, you should know that if you try to release the box from the Primacord, it will go off. Only I know the code to disarm it. Once KC and Cindy are gone, you can have the rod.”

“I’m not leaving; I’m not going anywhere with you.” Cindy looked about for affirmation but everyone ignored her. “I’m staying,” Cindy shouted at Michael, as if he was crazy, and took a step closer to Venue.

“Fine.” Michael shook his head, not surprised. “Just KC, then.”

“How do we know it’s not another fake?” Iblis said, still holding the blade against KC’s neck.

“Here.” Michael handed the sultan’s rod to Venue. “How’s it make you feel?”

Venue rolled it about in his hands, turning it over and over as if just handed the key to his dreams. And then his eyes grew wide in wonder; you could see the effect on him in his face, in his overall appearance as his footing became unsteady.

“Trust me, it’s real.” Michael handed him the leather tube.

“I’m not letting the two of you walk out,” Venue said in a commanding voice, trying to regain position. He was momentarily distracted as he placed the rod back in the tube and its effect faded, his balance returning. “You give me no reason to trust you, Michael.”

“This is a trade, my life for hers.”

“No,” KC shouted, her struggle against Iblis returning with a vengeance.

“I’m the only one who can disarm this thing. And I’m certainly not going to do it while she’s here.”

“If I don’t let her go …?” Venue tilted his bald head.

“Then we all go boom.”

“You’d kill the woman you love?” Venue smirked.

“You’re going to kill her anyway and you’re her father. I figured she and I at least get to go out together.”

“Bullshit,” Iblis said.

“Don’t test me,” Michael said to Iblis, his eyes alive with rage.

“I’m not leaving here without you, Michael,” KC said, trying to break Iblis’s iron grip around her. “Blow it up now. There’s a door; you can’t let them open that door.”

Iblis pressed the knife against KC’s throat, stilling her desperate struggle.

The seconds ticked on in silence.

Venue looked at Michael, holding his eyes, each assessing the other’s mettle.

Venue finally looked at Iblis and nodded. Iblis released KC. She
stood back up and turned 180 degrees, staring down at him. She didn’t say a word as the rage poured out of her eyes onto the smaller man.

“You can’t do this,” she said as she turned to Michael.

“Yeah.” Michael nodded. “I can. Please go, Busch is waiting.”

“Michael,” KC said defiantly. “I’m staying.”

Michael stared at her. “It’s time for you to go.”

“No,” KC said as if his words were an impossible request.

“Go!” Michael shouted, turning away from her.

“I’m not leaving you.” KC fought to hold back her tears, but they began despite her efforts.

She turned her tear-filled eyes to Cindy, who merely stared at her, without pity or remorse, and said nothing as she took her father’s hand.

Michael looked at Iblis. “When she is back in the cave with my friend, completely unharmed, then you’ll get your prize.” He then turned to Venue. “I don’t care if you have to tie her up, you get her out of this place.”

Venue nodded to Iblis, who instantly looked at the guard on his right. He was six-three, lumberjack-size; his obedient eyes instantly focused on his boss.

“Escort her back to the mouth of the cave. Don’t hurt her, and call me when you get there,” Iblis said.