The Devil's Triangle

  The lieutenant appeared at his elbow. “And I will take you there. You are not going to just walk away from this mess, Agent Drummond. My superiors want answers.”

  “Fine. You mean Major Russo?”

  Caldoni nodded.

  “He can give me answers as well. Let’s go, you can get us there even faster.”

  Mike jogged up to him, rubbing her bloody hands together, like Lady Macbeth.

  “Lieutenant Caldoni, Special Agent Michaela Caine.”

  Mike got in his face. “This shouldn’t have happened. Where were you, Lieutenant?”

  Caldoni said in credible English, “Signorina, we came when we were supposed to come.”

  “That’s Special Agent Signorina.” She waved her hand around. “This should not have happened.”

  “No,” Caldoni said, “it shouldn’t have happened. It will harm tourism.”

  It was close, but Mike didn’t punch him.

  “Let’s go,” Nicholas said. Caldoni led them around the corner, across a bridge, and into a speedboat. “It is faster than walking,” he said, and they roared off.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ospedale San Giovanni e Paolo

  Venice, Italy

  When they raced into the emergency center, Lia was already being taken to surgery.

  Lieutenant Caldoni guided them to a small waiting room and asked them to stay there while he called Major Russo. There was a small Nespresso machine on a side table. While Mike watched numbly, Nicholas made shots of espresso for both of them. Usually Mike drank her coffee black, but after one look at her, Nicholas poured three sugar packets in hers.

  They drank silently. Nicholas set down his paper cup and put his head in his hands.

  Mike knew he was mentally replaying what had happened at the piazza and beating himself up, par for the course.

  She said very precisely, “Listen to me, Nicholas, what happened was not your fault. It was the freaking Carabinieri’s no-show, this Major Russo’s doing, no doubt. I’m thinking, too, that Kitsune should have known the shooters were there, and warned us. If we spotted some of them, why didn’t she? You know what? I say let’s blame her. Yes, that makes me feel better.”

  He raised his head, gave her a twisted grin. “Yes, all right, we’ll blame Kitsune. I can’t believe we aren’t all dead. If Lia doesn’t make it—”

  She kept her voice matter of fact. “She will make it. She’s young, she’s strong, she’s in excellent shape, and they got her here and into surgery quickly. Lia will be fine.”

  “Do you think they’ll take all the earrings out of her ears?”

  She laughed, couldn’t help it. “I hope they leave in her belly button ring.” She hiccupped, and her breath hitched. “She lost a lot of blood, Nicholas. It was all over the marble floor on the balcony.”

  And on your hands, too, from trying to stanch the flow of blood. He looked at her hands, now scrubbed clean of Lia’s blood. “All right, she’ll make it. We were lucky.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, the shock of one of their own being shot, the possibility of Lia’s dying, it was too scary to talk about anymore.

  She said, “It’s no big mystery. The Carabinieri knew we’d be there and they let the shooters go for us. They wanted all of us, particularly Kitsune.”

  “This time she’s made herself some powerful enemies.”

  “Do you think it will make her reconsider her career choice?”

  “No.”

  She said, “It isn’t supposed to be like this, Nicholas. As Covert Eyes, we’re supposed to be covert. That’s the whole idea. Whoever set this up knew we were coming, they were waiting for us to come. They didn’t care if tourists got hurt or killed. Too many shooters, too many.”

  “Kitsune killed one who was about to take off my head. Then she helped me up onto the balcony and disappeared.”

  Mike whistled. “So that’s why Louisa lost her. She doubled back.” She studied his impossibly handsome face. “Know what I think? She saved you because she likes that dent in your chin.”

  Nicholas rolled his eyes. “She saved me because we’re all she’s got.”

  “Do you think Adam will find anything useful? Like the identity of Kitsune’s client?”

  “If Adam can’t, then no one on this earth can.”

  “Oh yes there is. You.”

  “Your faith in me is grossly overrated—”

  She shushed him, pulled out her phone. “It’s time to break the news to New York.”

  But before she could dial, the phone rang in her palm with the familiar 212 area code. Mike picked up, said, “Sir, I was just going to call you.”

  Zachery said only. “Tell me it wasn’t you.”

  “Sir?”

  “Have you not seen a television? Or Twitter? ‘Breaking news: the Piazza San Marco overrun with a gun battle’? Seven believed dead, one transported to a local hospital. No tourists hurt.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid it was us. We were ambushed.”

  “All right, I know you’ve all sorts of justification, but more important, is anyone of ours hurt?”

  “Lia was shot, the bullet hit her just above her body armor. She’s in surgery right now. Nicholas and I are here at the hospital, waiting for Louisa.”

  A long pause from Zachery, then, “Gray was monitoring you, then everything went dead. We had no way to contact you. I trust you kept young Adam safe?”

  “Yes, he’s fine, working at the hotel.”

  She turned on the speaker.

  “A moment, sir,” Nicholas said. “You were monitoring us and we went dead?”

  “Completely. Satellite went down, all the comms went offline. This happened before the shooting, mind.”

  “That makes no sense. Our team comms have been working fine the whole time.”

  “Gray doesn’t have an explanation. All I know is I haven’t been able to reach you until now, which means the satellites are up again.”

  Nicholas said, “Someone must have used a jamming device. Someone intentionally blocked us from your view. And who could that be other than Kitsune’s clients, who want her dead, and apparently want us dead, too?”

  Both Nicholas and Mike heard Zachery draw a deep breath. Mike looked up when Louisa came running into the waiting room, Adam right behind her. She held up a hand, mouthed, “Zachery.”

  Zachery said, “Do I believe you, Drummond? Or did you personally go offline to black us out?”

  “No, sir. I would never do that.”

  Mike said, “Sir, we did not black you out. Nicholas told you we were ambushed. As you know, the Carabinieri was supposed to watch our backs, be on-site in the square, but they weren’t. We’re checking into it.”

  Nicholas said, “Which means we’ve got a very powerful enemy. They took you offline, removed our backup, and tried to take us out. This isn’t good, sir. The only people who knew we were coming were Carabinieri and Kitsune. And she didn’t engineer this.”

  Louisa said, “When the Carabinieri finally showed up, it was over. They didn’t want to let Nicholas go.”

  Zachery said, “I’ll make some calls. You won’t be detained or hassled again.”

  Ben came on. “Will Lia be all right?”

  Mike said firmly, “She will be fine, Ben, but I won’t lie to you. It was close.”

  Zachery said, “I’m calling her dad. He’ll want to come over to be with her. Keep me posted on her condition. Look, guys, you’re always telling me Adam Pearce could call the moon if only there were someone there to pick up the phone. I don’t care if another satellite goes down, you stay in communication with me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  1989: Hurricane Hugo made landfall in South Carolina. The 162 mph winds caused 61 fatalities and resulted in $10 billion in damages.

  The Bermuda Triangle

  Jason opened his notebook to an empty page and began his daily journal entry, a family tradition he valued. It was his hope that in the future, someone would read his journals, perh
aps even understand what he had created and why.

  He recorded the events of the day, closed the fine leather cover, and stared at the North Star satellite system. He was tired, he admitted it.

  A subtle beep.

  Jason opened his eyes—he’d just been resting them for a minute—not really been napping.

  His longtime assistant said, “The twins are on the line, sir.”

  “Put them on the screen, Burnley.”

  Two identical faces stared out at him.

  Cassandra said, “Hello, Grandfather.”

  Ajax said, “Sir.”

  “Yes? What did you find?”

  “We found the site, the materiel, even a gold cherubim wing, looked like it was broken off the Ark.” Cassandra paused, then, wonder in her voice, “Grandfather, I hear it buzzing at me, and Ajax feels its warmth. It is real, it is amazing.”

  Jason asked carefully, “Your mother? And the rest of her team?”

  Cassandra’s eyes filmed with tears. “Mother’s bones aren’t here, but all the rest of the teams’ are. We couldn’t tell what killed them. It was as if they’d simply fallen down dead. We’re thinking someone poisoned them but we don’t know who.

  “Sir, even though the Ark isn’t here, we have the cherubim’s wing.”

  “Any clues to what happened to your mother and the Ark?”

  Cassandra swiped her hand over her eyes. “Yes, Dr. Gregory dug up an old crate and inside we found a map. In Mother’s handwriting.” She held up a sheet of paper. “We hope it’s the location of the Ark, but she doesn’t say. I’ve scanned it and you should have it now.”

  Jason pressed a button and the page appeared before him.

  Ajax said, “As you can see, it’s a map of a mountain, not just any mountain, sir. It’s our mountain.”

  “Castel Rigone?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s been excavated,” Jason said, “and searched and searched—”

  Ajax said, “Then we haven’t searched hard enough. Mother left this for us to find, she knew we were the only ones who could. We pray she somehow managed to avoid being killed and got the Ark out of the Gobi and back to Italy. We are heading back home today, to Castel Rigone.”

  Cassandra was shaking her head. “I’m not convinced. How could Mother have gotten the Ark back and buried without anyone’s knowledge? All we know is that the Ark was stolen from the palazzo and lost in a sandstorm in the Gobi. I have the proof—the cherubim’s wing, broken off the Ark. Grandfather, as I told you, I can feel its energy, it’s welcoming me. Do you think the letters from Pope Gregory X are accurate?”

  Jason said, “Our family has operated all these years under the assumption that yes, they are, that the Polo brothers stole the Ark from the pope, his plan to present it to Genghis Khan. It would seem you’ve found the evidence to prove that. Despite the idiotic move of stealing the staff from the Topkapi, you did manage to find the cherubim’s wing.”

  Ajax lurched back, fury on his face. He felt Cassandra’s hand on his arm and regained control of himself. “I wouldn’t say it’s proof. For all we know, this piece was simply broken off the Ark and buried here. Why? I don’t know. None of this makes much sense. Do you understand any of this, Grandfather?”

  Jason said, “I will accept that the Ark did reside in the Gobi—for a very long time. Didn’t you find anything useful, some evidence of why the entire team died? Where your mother possibly could have gone?”

  Cassandra said, “No. And we don’t understand this. As I said, if Mother somehow made it out of the Gobi alive, why didn’t she contact us? We’re her children. We could have gone to her.”

  Ajax said, “It’s possible someone followed Mother, poisoned the team, but who knows? Fact is, I don’t know what to believe, Grandfather. All we know is she’s gone, the Ark is gone as well, and all her team is dead. She left us a map, and it intimates that the Ark is at Castel Rigone.”

  Cassandra said, “Grandfather, remember the storm you engineered ten years ago to clear her specific site? Well, it makes no sense Mother would have wandered out of the safe zone. So maybe she’s still somewhere out here in the Gobi, with the Ark, still hiding, or captured, unable to contact us. Maybe another storm—”

  Jason shook his head. “Listen, you two, there will be no more storms, not in the Gobi. We’ve done too many lately in search of her camp, we can’t run the risk of someone taking too close a look, especially considering the magnitude of the most recent event.”

  Ajax said. “I know you didn’t think it necessary to go so large, but if you hadn’t, I doubt we would have discovered Mother’s site. Surely it was worth it. If we have one more we can search farther away—”

  “The magnitude of this storm left over three thousand dead in Beijing, and that’s only the latest count. You never weigh the chances of success or the likely destruction and loss of life before you want to take action. I see no upside to creating another storm. And our next incursion is already in play, and it will wreck enough havoc.”

  “But—”

  “Cassandra, you showed me the Genesis balance sheet. To survive we need more money, and quickly, particularly after your lavish grant to that Polish archaeologist.”

  Ajax said, “This is the hurricane heading for the gulf? Oil futures are down, I take it?”

  Jason said, “Everything is in motion. There will be plenty of warning, so people can evacuate. You will both go to Castel Rigone as you planned.”

  Ajax said, “What worries me, Grandfather, is that the Ark might not have ever made it to Italy.”

  “Go back to the palazzo. Search again. And I want you to bring me the cherubim’s wing. I must see it for myself.”

  Jason tapped off the hologram and sat back in his chair. Tangled visions of his beloved Helen flashed through his mind—then one final vision. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. So many more steps to take.

  He thought of all his and Helen’s efforts to keep the Genesis Group’s true purpose a secret, and they’d succeeded, beyond their wildest hopes. But the twins could ruin it all—he couldn’t believe they’d actually had the wretched fake staff of Moses stolen from the Topkapi—how could he have foreseen their doing that? Even if he had foreseen it, what could he have done to stop them?

  Even now, people as powerful as they were could be asking questions, getting close. And the thief who’d actually stolen the staff? What had happened to the thief? He’d forgotten to ask them.

  He looked at the latest weather service assessment of the storm he was building. No one was concerned, everyone predicted it would move from the coast into the Atlantic and out to sea, never touching the United States.

  They were wrong.

  Jason decided to hold off on the hurricane in the Gulf, since he couldn’t predict what catastrophe the twins might spawn next. Best reprogram the storm, make a bit of a diversion for the world’s eyes.

  Finally, he was done. He sat back in his chair, rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was tired, beyond tired, and depressed. Three thousand lives lost and he still didn’t know where Helen was. He wondered if he’d ever know.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ospedale San Giovanni e Paolo

  Venice, Italy

  Lieutenant Caldoni came into the waiting room, accompanied by another soldier, clearly his superior.

  Nicholas looked at the face of the man behind Caldoni and knew it was Major Russo.

  Russo stood at attention and said in excellent English, “I am Maggiore Salvadore Russo. I know you are upset that we were not in the piazza at the scheduled moment. We were unavoidably detained by a civil emergency, and we were called away by our superiors.”

  Nicholas said, “I trust the civil emergency was satisfactorily resolved?”

  “Of course. We are looking into the situation at San Marco. I apologize for the inconvenience. We are all greatly relieved that no civilians were hurt.”

  Mike stood, ripped off her jacket, and showed them where a bullet
had ripped through her jacket and shirt beneath, barely missing her. “One of our agents is in surgery. And see this? This was too close.”

  Russo gave her an impatient look, and his voice was cold. “Did you not understand me, signorina? I explained to you what happened.” Then he had the gall to shrug. “It is regrettable.”

  Mike shrugged back into her jacket. “We’re finished here. I’m going to go check on Lia.” She paused at the doorway. “Major Russo, our superior, President Bradley, will not be pleased about your supposed civil emergency.” Then she stalked out.

  It was an excellent shot. Major Russo drew back, and finally, he nodded.

  So Major Russo could be intimidated. Nicholas took a step closer. “Agent Caine is right. You failed us, Major Russo, and I ask myself why this happened.”

  “Do I really need to repeat myself, Agent Drummond? This incident is very disturbing. This Fox, this thief, it is obvious to me that she set you up. She is obviously very dangerous indeed, to you and to everyone in the piazza.”

  “The Fox wasn’t behind this.”

  Russo said, a sneer in full bloom, “Surely you do not believe what you say. This woman is a dangerous criminal. She is wanted here in Venice for the vicious murder of a member of our city council and his wife. It would be a coup for me—for our country—to apprehend her. There is no one else who could be behind this attack.”

  Nicholas remembered Kitsune’s elegant Italian curses when she’d told him they’d even framed her for the murder of the owners of the “drop” house. He didn’t say anything.

  Russo continued, and now his hands were fists. “Attend me, Agent. We have counted seven dead Italians, no dead Americans. It is we who have suffered violent death, not you. If there are questions about culpability, you must address them.”

  Nicholas said, “The way I see it, we’ve helped you eliminate seven of your lowest criminals with great risk to our own lives. You’re welcome.”

  Russo drew himself up to his full height, all those medals on his chest glinting in the light, the pompous little toff. “I am detaining you, Agent Drummond, until the particulars are sorted out. You will give me your weapons for ballistics analysis.” He nodded to Caldoni, who looked from Russo’s face to Nicholas’s. He didn’t look happy. He took a small step forward.