Threshold (40 page)

King didn’t like that everything he had done since heading to Rome was outside the reach of U.S. resources, but he couldn’t deny the results. Though those results were slow in coming this afternoon. The hot Mediterranean sun beat down on the metal building, heating its insides like an oven. Even the mighty Hercules had shed his suit coat and unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt.

“It’s too bad your people didn’t think to bring in an air conditioner,” King said.

“I’ll be sure to have them take care of it next time,” Alexander replied.

As King wondered whether or not Alexander was joking he realized that the man had just confirmed his suspicions. This
was
a temporary lab.

Tension had King’s body in a tight grip. Unless they found some kind of lead soon, their investigation will have run dry. King checked the date and time on his watch. Day four was well under way and Fiona was now out of insulin. He gripped the edge of the lab table he was leaning on, feeling his anger rise.

“I’ve got something,” Davidson said, backing away from a microscope he’d been standing over for the past ten minutes.

King stood straight and headed for Davidson, eager for news.

“At first glance, the sample looks like any other stone, and to the human eye acts the way we all expect a stone to act—like nothing at all. But at the microscopic level, well, take a look.” Davidson switched out the slides. “This is a normal stone.”

King arrived before Alexander and took a look. He saw a patchwork of stone crystals mashed together.

“Stones are composed of varying sizes of mineral grains. Differing amounts of minerals give us limestone, granite, basalt, et cetera. In this case we have Preseli spotted dolerite containing chunks of plagioclase feldspar, which adds to its bluish tint, especially when wet. The point is, the minerals contained in stone are compressed in a random formation that does not shift unless the stone is broken.” Davidson switched out the slide when King stood back. “This is a sample of the bluestone.”

King looked again. The stone crystals were now an orderly formation of overlapping minerals. Their placement throughout was still random, but it was as though they had been snapped into an organized grid. “It looks like chain mail,” he said.

“Exactly, which would give the stone flexibility, and the ability to merge, at least temporarily with similarly affected stones. Like Velcro. Or a zipper.”

Alexander quickly looked at both slides. “Anything else?”

“It has no traces of DNA, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Davidson said. “As I mentioned before, they’re not living. Simply animated by some kind of energy.”

The statement struck a chord in King’s memory. His family had taken a southwestern summer trip in an RV. The strange site had been one of their stops, at the insistence of his father. “This isn’t totally unheard of in the natural world. The sailing stones in Death Valley move on their own. Some are as heavy as eighty pounds but travel across the flat desert appearing to move under their own power. They leave grooves in the ground hundreds of feet long, make ninety-degree turns, and sometimes travel in pairs before breaking off in different directions.”

“Amazing,” Davidson said. “Are there theories about how they move?”

“Heavy rain coupled with high winds is the best I’ve heard of,” King said.

“Perhaps wind alone is enough?” Davidson said. “If stone can be affected by sound, such as with a golem, perhaps there is a rock formation that produces a certain tone at the right frequency, something that sends a simple command: move! Has anyone looked at the stone’s microscopic structure?”

“They didn’t talk about that on our family vacation,” King said.

Alexander began switching off the lab equipment. “If there’s nothing else, I think we should be go—”

“We’re not going anywhere yet,” King said, wondering how much more Alexander had planned without his knowledge. “You may think the world is your playground, that you have the right to go anywhere, do anything, and treat the human race like game pieces, but you don’t. I, on the other hand, represent the wishes of the president of the United States, a man with real power and authority in this world. And I am in charge of this mission. Not you.”

A darkness consumed Alexander’s face. He turned to King, staring him down with eyes that showed a desire to kill. King had no doubt it had been a long time since someone spoke down to him, and he did not take it well. But King didn’t falter. Instead, he turned his eyes away from Alexander’s glare and looked at Davidson. “Is there anything more to glean from these stones?”

“I … I would need more samples. Different samples.”

“Like this?” came a deep voice from the darkness at the end of the warehouse. A figure emerged holding a glass jar. Inside it was a lump of gray material. The man holding it was Bishop. Queen and Knight followed him.

King greeted the others with a nod. He had made a call to Deep Blue shortly after leaving the hotel, requesting the team’s deployment to Israel. He knew they would arrive quickly thanks to the
Crescent
and had left his cell phone on so they could track his location. With the majority of his team present, he felt a renewed calm and measure of control return to the situation. This King was a pawn to no man, even one who couldn’t be killed.

Alexander glared at King and with a raised voice said, “You had no right to bring them here without my knowledge.”

“You seemed to have access to privileged U.S. intelligence. I thought you would know.”

Alexander lost his patience and stomped toward King. Davidson ducked out of the way.

King didn’t flinch as Alexander stopped inches from his face. “Do I detect a hint of megalomania?” King poked him in the chest, purposely instigating a reaction. He had a point to make. “Don’t like not being in control, do you … little man.” He punctuated the statement with one last poke to the chest.

When the punch came, King was expecting it. He ducked to the side, feeling the breeze of Alexander’s fist pass his face. The fist smashed into a metal support beam behind King. A loud clang accompanied by the crack of breaking fingers rang in King’s ear. The missed blow would have normally been enough for King to take the upper hand in any fight, but Alexander didn’t react. Nor did he react to the perfectly placed punch King delivered to his side. Instead he took King’s arm, spun him around and pinned him against the support beam. The impact split King’s lip and the pressure on his arm would soon snap it. He fought against the pain.

“Don’t be stupid. You can’t win this fight alone,” King said.

The pressure increased.

“And your secrecy is compromising my mission.”

“Your mission? You’re a fool to think yourself my equal,” Alexander said between clenched teeth.

“I don’t consider myself your equal,” King said. “But unlike you, I’m not alone.”

The barrel of a handgun tapped against the back of Alexander’s skull. “Hey,” Queen said. “Remember me? We met a few years ago. I never did get a chance to thank you for the help, but if you mess with my boy here, I’m going to thank you by putting a bullet in the back of your skull. And please don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m incapable of hacking off that handsome head of yours and burying it in the sand.”

Alexander tensed for a moment before releasing King. He stepped back and eyed Queen. “I do remember you. You’re as charming as Rook.”

King saw Queen tense. The confrontation between him and Alexander had been brewing and needed to be worked out. But Alexander would regret lighting this fuse with Queen. “Any word on him?” King asked, stepping in.

Queen looked at him. “Not a peep.”

King turned back to Alexander. “You’re welcome to stay on with us, but you need to toe the line. If I sense you working another angle from this point on, I’ll drop you from the team.”

Alexander stared at King for several seconds before smiling. “You’re lucky I like you, King. I agree to your terms.”

The look in the man’s eyes revealed the agreement would last only as long as it continued to serve his needs, but King was okay with that. The reverse was true as well. He needed Alexander’s knowledge and resources to track down and stop Ridley, but when they’d accomplished that, he would leave the man behind.

Seeing the confrontation ebb, Davidson stepped forward. “Um, excuse me, but did you say you had a new sample?”

Bishop handed him the jar full of gray material.

“Is this from a golem?” Davidson asked.

“Formerly known as Richard Ridley,” Knight said. “Now known as Richard Hunk-of-clay.”

Davidson’s eyes grew wide. “This had a name? It was a … a human golem? Made of clay?”

Knight gave a nod.

“Fully human?”

“Until he turned to clay,” Bishop said. “Before that he seemed to have all the intellect, memories, and personality of the actual Richard Ridley. He lived among people who had no idea he wasn’t fully human.”

“Lived with people?” Davidson asked with wide eyes. “For how long?”

Knight shrugged. “Days, maybe weeks. We’re not sure yet.”

“There goes your fifteen-minute continued-utterance theory,” King said.

With a nodding head, Davidson said, “I should say so.” He turned to King. “But this was a clay golem in the form of a man. What applies to the crude stone giants may not apply to something this … sophisticated.”

Davidson untwisted the cover from the sample and smelled the clay. His face was pale, but excited.

“What is it?” King asked.

Davidson held the sample aloft like it was some kind of ancient treasure. “We shouldn’t call this man Richard.” He looked King in the eyes. “We should call him
Adam
.”

SIXTY-ONE

Location Unknown

FIONA WOKE IN
a new cell, similar in size and shape to the last, but the stone was now brown and flat. A small slit on one side was the only feature. It allowed air and a small amount of light into the space. But where she was didn’t matter. She still needed to free herself from her bonds and set to work upon waking up.

Fiona spit a bloody clump of rope fibers onto the floor next to her. She had been working on the rope for what felt like several hours, chewing feverishly and taking breaks. Her gums had become raw and bloody, but the injury was minor and fairly painless in comparison to the pain she felt in her body. Bound tight and struggling for so long, her muscles had begun to cramp. Waves of dizziness struck. Her headache persisted and accompanied a dire thirst. She tried to ignore her discomfort and focused on her bindings, which were now held together by only a few strands of twine.

Fiona’s arms shook as she pulled them apart. The fibers grew taut and tore slowly as one strand after another snapped. When the chewed rope reached its breaking point, it broke in two. Her arms flew out to her sides and then fell limp.

She was exhausted from her efforts, but her hands were free. Fighting against the tiredness gripping her body, she reached down to her feet and began untying the rope binding her ankles. What normally would have been a quick job took ten minutes as the severe tingle of full blood flow returning to her fingers made every movement agonizing.

With her feet free, Fiona stood slowly, using the wall for support. As she did, a wave of nausea struck and threatened to return her to the floor. She placed her face against the cold stone wall. She took a moment to breathe and let her body figure itself out. Once she felt a measure of balance return, she slowly bent down and touched her fingers to her toes. The stretch felt good. She stood tall again and breathed deeply. She felt better, but still quite dizzy and the headache and thirst had yet to diminish.

Moving as quietly as she could, she walked to the cell’s only light source, the long slit in the stone wall. She peered through the slit, expecting to see a guard. But there was no one there.

Why would they guard a cell with no doors?
Fiona thought.

The space directly outside the cell was just another stone wall. She moved to the left, angling her view so she could see down the hallway. It opened up ten feet beyond. The light was brightest there.