The Twelve Stones (8 page)

The other man adjusted his sunglasses slightly to block the light now streaming from the window opposite him. He adjusted some ancient looking papers in front of him, placing them in the Italian leather briefcase beside him. His suit, obviously tailored in some of the finest London shops, screamed refined business and taste. It was expensive, designer cloth, sewn together in a practical fashion.

But it was his ring that caught everyone's eye when he entered the room. It was the only piece of jewelry he wore
,
and a curious archetype for a man so wealthy. Blood red, and fastened in a flexible silver coating that ran the length from his knuckle to the tip of the finger, the stone sat on his skin, as if the hand had begun to grow around the jewelry. It was not meant to be a distraction, and yet, those who found themselves staring at the ring found themselves brutally removed from the situation quickly. It was those situations that his right hand man Geoffrey Tate had been hired for.

Like his ornate jewelry, there were many things about Rupert Kline that made you want to stare in wonder. Appearing out of nowhere in the bull markets of the 1980’s, Kline had created a financial empire unlike any that Wall Street had seen before. Billions ran through Kline’s firm every day, and billions more appeared like magic. Kline had the Midas touch,
and
his experience and ruthlessness on the Street had become legendary. Kline was the master at creating something out of nothing, squeezing every bit of blood out of each company he invested in.

In 1992, in response to the growing global demands on his business, Kline announced an entirely new venture, dedicated to the global security needs of American businesses and their employees across the world. Kline’s oft-stated goal was to become the
“
big box store
”
of protection, offering tools and weapons to American companies who did business overseas in dangerous places. On paper, and its website, the company was full of happy people, returning safe from dark and distant destinations. Smiling faces, and reunited families, safe back where they belonged.

It was better than getting a Proof of Life photo instead.

Kline’s MARS
S
ecurity
Corp was his greatest asset. Named for the Greek God of War, his company was responsible for the successful rescue of over thirty-five businessmen and women over the last fifteen years. With those kinds of favors owed to him, Kline used his company to forge new alliances and deep ties with businessmen all over the world. There was little going on in the world that the
“
richest man you never heard of
”
didn’t know about.

The helicopter pilot pressed the intercom button to speak directly to his employer.

“We’ll be landing in two minutes Mr. Kline.”

Watching the helicopter approach, Alex felt a small gnawing fear that somehow, they had managed to track him down and were now going to kill him and his father. However, the helicopter had already settled into a landing hover
;
it was too late to get away from them now.

Alex glanced to the east, to the road leading into this particular campground. He cursed his stupidity for coming up to the Mesa top unarmed.
Out in the middle of nowhere, he had felt the weapon was unnecessary, and so
he had left
the .45
behind in the Jeep. Now, he felt himself wishing for the familiar weight hanging from his arm.

Alex looked to the west and saw a group of approaching vehicles. Several large 18 wheelers hauling heavy digging equipment were rolling down the desert road
,
kicking up an incredible plume of dust. Alex realized that th
e
helicopter
s were
only the advance group of a much larger operation.

Ted glanced over at his son, whose eyes were darting around, looking for his exits and anything that could become a weapon in case of emergency. Ted looked at his son in the eyes and shook his head.

“
Let’s play this out a bit. I think you’re OK.”

Reassured, but still wary, Alex reached towards his backpack, grasping it tightly, rummaging inside. As Alex’s heart raced, the stone that he had forgotten about lay underneath his shirt and glowed faintly.

The helicopter settled down gently on the dusty
m
esa mountaintop. Tate opened the door and stepped out, ducking his head away from the prop wash above. Folding down the stairs, Kline posed at the door of the helicopter and examined the two climbers. Rage flashed up from deep in his gut, and the stone on his finger flashed red.

Kline, rubbing the stone on his ring as he exited the chopper
,
charged towards the father and son, berating them at the top of his lungs.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing on my property?” Kline roared
in a clipped English accent
as other helicopters began to land on the
m
esa, their engines
giving
a high
-
pitched whine as they slowed to a stop.

Ted squinted as Kline approached the two of them. “I think you're lost,” Ted took a map out of his back pocket. “This is all national forest land we’re standing on right now.”

“Not anymore,” Kline snapped, “I bought it three hours ago.”

Ted’s right eyebrow rose. “You can’t just
‘
buy
’
national forest land
!
I
t
takes an…”

“Act of Congress, I know. I have one.” Kline snapped his fingers and a large bald man
,
wearing a leather jacket that didn’t quite hide the pistol he was packing, handed Kline a thick folder of papers. Kline waved them in front of Ted’s face. “Satisfied? Get off my property
,
or I will have my associate remove you.”

Unimpressed Ted cocked his head, “You should know I’m not someone that’s easily impressed or intimidated by a man who obviously goes through life blustering his way through other people, like you’re doing. If you like, we can always call the sheriff and let him settle...”

Bored with Ted’s speech, Kline didn’t wait for another word. Instead, he grabbed the sizable pistol out of his large assistant’s holster and shot Ted point blank in the chest.

Ted looked down at the expanding pool of blood on his chest. He stumbled backwards only to find air behind him. Horrified, Alex watched as his father’s body slowly tumbled over the side of the cliff and down two hundred feet to the ground below.

Alex felt his body go completely numb. All the years of training, all the discipline the Army had taught him went straight out the window. He turned, screaming at Kline
,
“You son of a bitch!!” as he rushed him attempting, something, anything to strike back at the man who had just so casually killed his father like he would a fly who had offended him by landing on his soup.

Kline didn’t
even
blink as the former football star charged him. As Alex approached, Kline calmly swatted Alex away with his forearm. Alex felt as if he were hit by a tree trunk. His body flew off towards the edge of the
m
esa, as if slammed out of the park by the great Bambino himself.

Landing a few feet from the edge of the cliff, his body
skidded on the ground
. Alex desperately tried to grab hold of any rock,
any root,
anything that would stop his trajectory towards the edge
and
beyond
that
a quick route to the ground five hundred feet below.
A
t the last moment, Alex saw a shrub growing out of the side of the mountain. He grabbed onto the leaves and co
a
rse bark in a last
-
ditch effort to stay alive. His body swung precariously from the edge of the cliff, and Kline approached with his bodyguard.

Alex struggled to hang on
.
H
is toes searched the granite wall
,
like his father had taught him
,
for any sort of hold that might relieve the pressure building up on his fingertips. But it was unfamiliar territory, and he couldn’t find any place to support his body with. Kline looked down in contempt at the dangling young man.

“Get off my property.” Kline calmly said as he smashed his heels into Alex’s fingertips. Howling in pain, Alex let go of the edge of the cliff and began to fall to the ground below. Satisfied, Kline turned back to his bodyguard
,
who was just catching up to him.

“
I was under the impression that we had this area watched.”

Ice filled Geoffrey’ veins. The sentries on duty that Geoffrey had assigned had obviously missed these two tourists, and his employer was looking for someone to blame. Better a sacrificial lamb than his own neck.

Geoffrey checked the PDA in his hand.

“
The men we had posted here yesterday failed to appear today.”

Kline sniffed the air, not looking at his assistant, surveying the desert floor below him. “They took their seed money and ran?”

Geoffrey shifted his weight. The question was a double
-
edged sword
,
and Kline could react one of two ways. Either it would be Geoffrey’ fault for recruiting two unreliable men, or Kline would rain down hellfire on the people who were supposed to have been watching the Mesa. Hesitating, Geoffrey decided the truth was probably most appropriate. “It would appear so
,
sir.”

Smirking, Kline turned towards Geoffrey. “My guess
,
Mr. Tate,
is
that they have not gotten farther than Mexico. We have a branch in San Diego
,
do we not?”

Geoffrey nodded quickly
,
relieved
.
I
t
was looking likely that Kline was going to let him off the hook for this one.

“
Then have them take care of it
.
A
nd
when they find them
,
Mr. Tate...”

Geoffrey looked up from the message he was writing on his PDA and into his boss
’s
cold blue eyes.

“
Have our team take them for a plane ride and throw them out at 40,000 feet.”

Geoffrey nodded and entered Kline’s special instructions.

Kline brushed his black suit with his right hand, attempting to remove some
of the dust and dirt the landing helicopter had blown up around him.
He
looked up at his assistant and clapped his hands.

“
Tut tut
,
Mr. Tate. Time is wasting away. Make certain those two bodies are found and buried deep in the desert. I don’t want any problems over the next few days. Understand?”

“Sir.” Geoffrey Tate nodded and moved off
towards the two
other helicopters
which had just finished their landings on the
mesa
. A
s several men emerged from each, Geoffrey shouted orders at all of them
. Kline turned back to the gorgeous brown, green
,
and red scene in front of him
,
watch
ing
as the setting sun disappeared behind the horizon. Inhaling the dry desert air, he smiled as he rubbed the stone in his ring.
Today was going to be a great day.

Chapter
Six

T
he dream always began the same
way
.

It was ten years ago
,
when he was still in college. Scott had convinced him to attend a Greek fundraiser for Scott’s fraternity. Scott had pressured Alex many times to get involved in the Greek system at Stanford, but Alex had never developed any interest in it. The parties were legendary, but Alex wasn’t in college to party hard. He had a goal, a place he wanted to be in ten years, and with only a year left for his studies, he was nearly getting away with it.

The images were flashing faster in front of him. For an instant, Alex awoke, moaning in immense pain. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, the light from a distant sunset trickling between his battered eyelids. The effort
to stay awake was too much,
and he felt himself slipping back
into unconsciousness
. As a last ditch effort, he struggled to try and become aware within his dream in attempt to control it,
pushing himself away
from the painful memory.

His subconscious overpowered his will to stay aware
.
S
lowly
,
he melted back in time, falling deeper back into his troubled subconscious.