Chapter 112

 

 

6:15 p. m.

 

Calla ran her hand along the dusty wall of the tunnels. The stench of damp earth and dirt congested the confined space. Wet stone made the ground beneath their feet slippery as she picked up her pace. She’d heard of the monastery harboring a maze of escape tunnels underneath the tidal island. The church stood on a labyrinth of crypt that created a platform constructed to take the weight of a church. Her eyes strained for the dim light piercing through the crypts arches. This part of the crypt hadn’t been used in centuries by the look of it. She must’ve blacked out in the virtual environment or had she been thrown out.

A noise in front of her alerted her. She wasn’t alone.

Calla strained her eyes as a dark figure at the end of the left arch drew into frame. He was only a few feet away. Calla lengthened her neck and studied the man opposite her who was a good few inches taller than her.

Calla tugged at the ruby dress, releasing the good part of the skirt so she could stand upright.

His face rearranged itself into a grin and gleam appeared in his eyes. Her eyes fell on the strong face. Lascar, with deep-set black eyes, short black hair in an uncomplicated crew-cut style above a square face and distinct cheekbones, glared at her. With indifference in his eyes, she could pick out that face of betrayal from any crowd.

She should know. She’d escorted the man to Belmarsh Prison herself.

With broad shoulders and clearly less than twenty percent body fat in one lean physique, he gaped at her.

“I put you in prison,” she said.

“When will you learn that you can’t put the commander of the operative agents behind bars?”

What was that thing he was wearing?

Lascar trailed a finger up her cheek and down to her lips. A glint of desire crossing his face. Anger welled in Calla at his insistence and she fought the urge to clout one in his nose.

He leaned forward, positioning his head inches from hers, his eyes fixed on her concentrating gaze.

She scrutinized the etched lines on his face, and shunned the permanent sneer that kept resurfacing. She could do little without a weapon and understood now where the intruder she’d encountered in the prime minister’s house a month ago had gotten ahold of the gecko suit.

Lascar wore the same dry adhesive gloves that imitated the microscopic hairs found on gecko feet. They’d allowed him to mimic the same scientific sticking principle.

Now with a few enhancements, the suit was wearable armor for him and coupled with his operative strength and training, she had to be careful.

A deafening blast rocketed the tunnel and threw Calla back against the damp wall.

“Calla?”

Behind her Nash’s unrelenting voice became clear. His boots splashed the water around his feet as he and Jack caught up with her.

Calla whipped round to where Lascar had stood.

Nothing.

She strained her eyes focusing on the spot Lascar had been standing.

“You okay?” Jack said.

“Not sure? What happened?”

“Alex was on to you when you were in the auction. From what we can gather from your earpiece and the feed we had on you, she must’ve drugged you somehow.”

Calla set a hand on her head and pieced together a memory. Yes, a blinding blow had landed on her head in the auction room. That’s what had caused the blackness.

“That’s when we knew we had to find you,” Nash said.

“Alex must’ve been on to you and when we couldn’t see you for several minutes we followed her here until we found you. We need to get out of here. The water level is rising. She left you here hoping the water would get you at this mounting tide. We had to blast our way in,” Jack said.

Calla felt coolness around her ankles. The tide on the Couesnon river rose further, which meant at any minute the crypt would flood.

A bullet whistled past them and chipped the stone wall behind them.

Nash swirled round only for his jaw to meet Lascar’s blow.

Nash plummeted to his knees.

They zipped their heads when Lascar suddenly navigated their way with ease. A glow appeared on Lascar’s suit. A glow that penetrated darkness and flooded them with light.

Nash groped Lascar’s heel and launched him to the wet ground head first, then arched suddenly to pull himself upright. He reached for his gun and held it aimed at Lascar as he writhed on the floor hands to his gut.

Calla held Nash back fearing what Lascar could execute with his suit. He could let off something at any moment and it would be their guess as to what.

Nash’s aim remained steady and drew a red laser circle on Lascar’s chest. Nash’s finger curled around the trigger.

A shot vibrated in the tiny space.

The bullet reflected off Lascar’s suit producing a snarl from his lips as he leaped forward and stood upright.

Calla understood and cursed under her breath. The suit incorporated combat and protective technologies completely operational in a fully powered, integrated unit. Lascar was impenetrable and the look in his eyes suggested he wouldn’t hesitate to use whatever weaponry the suit came with.

She now understood. It was indeed an operative suit she’d used once and highly guarded equipment of the operatives. Liquid amour ran in the defense mechanism of the suit which, coupled with Lascar’s operative ability, would render him unbeatable. The liquid instantly hardened when hit by any of Jack’s or Nash’s bullets. Monitoring the vital signs of his body, the suit provided Lascar with heat if cold and vice versa.

Damn it! He’d probably broken into the operatives’ labs both he and Vortigern had once protected, but now were banned from.

Her hand remained in front of Nash and she studied Lascar’s scoff.

Nash took further aim with his pistol.

“Don’t, Nash,” she said. “You hit him. But that suit will be able to heal any wound you cause. It’s equipped with medical balm and can self-diagnose any wound he receives.”

Nash kept his focus on Lascar and a muscle ticked in his jaw. His lips pressed into a grim line.

“What else have you got, Shields?” Lascar said, belting out a laugh.

Nash remained silent.

Jack’s gun remained marked in sync with Nash at Lascar’s position.

The operative moved purposefully toward them, his focus on their fire arms. Calla galvanized toward him and kneed him in the groin. Pain shot up her knee at impact with Lascar’s suit.

With one hand on his gun, his free hand gripped her by her hair. “I’ve learned with you that it’s not okay to hit a woman. It’s best to tame one.”

She caught Nash’s and Jack’s eyes.

Jack fired with speed and precision sending a bullet whizzing past her ear in a high-pitched whine. Lascar caught the bullet with his gloved hands.

Jack fired again.

The bullet drove Lascar back, but only for a second. With Lascar’s solid grip still on her mane, Calla rammed a boot back into his shin. He released her and reeled back.

Lascar’s fist slammed the gun out of Jack’s hand and knocked a blinding blow across his face. He hit fast and fierce as he kneed Nash who went down grunting.

Lascar enjoyed every inch of the functionality of the body armor.

Fear knotted inside her as Calla dug in her spirit for renewed will. With Jack and Nash unconscious, she was out-matched.

She heard a quiet moan from Jack and caught his eye. Calla shut her eyes and concentrated.

Lascar sprang forward and forced Nash’s hand behind him. Calla wiped her brow and squinted. Lascar suddenly released his hold over Nash.

With the charge of electricity revitalizing her operative genes, the energy gave her the confidence to face the truth she’d been trying to avoid. She was telepathic, had always been, could read minds, before her enemies could register their own thoughts. Her enemy’s weakness at processing human emotion had always been her strength at channeling human behavior. Nash had been right. Always use the attacker’s strength against them, whatever that strength is.

Right now, strength was in the operative’s suit. She only had to access it and use it against him.

An invisible force violently tossed Lascar backward and slammed him against the wet stone in front of them.

His body slid in one collapsing heap to the floor.

She’d accessed an ability she’d avoided for two months. Still cleaving on to her newfound energy, Calla pulled Jack up in one fluid motion, regaining her stability in the flooding waters. The men retrieved their guns from where they’d fallen and had their target in sight.

Calla approached and stood over Lascar. His hand sprang to life, gripped her leg and brought her down to him.

A deep laugh vibrated in Lascar’s throat. “You’ll need more tricks up your sleeve than just a few kicks and a pretty face.”

Calla edged away from the hot breath of his bark.

Lascar sprang upright. “Ever wonder why the Maltese Cross lures the greedy? Ever wonder about its allure to you? It took me a while to figure it out, not being the history expert like you. The cross represents more than you can imagine. It’s in your DNA and fuels the agents of the dark lords of the net.”

“Get your facts straight. There is nothing dark about the Maltese Knights. There never has been. They are an Order with sovereignty under international law.”

“You have no idea who you are dealing with.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Perhaps you’d better ask why they picked you. Why they marked you with their tattoo. The auctions were inspired by you. Think of it as a game with you as the only prize at the end of the game. Your time is running out. Time you asked, why you?”

A wave of apprehension shot over her. What did he mean? Confidence was one thing in Lascar, but ego was something else.

She lunged forward.

She blinked twice.

He was gone.

 

 

 

 

Calla edged back into Nash, maneuvering her body with difficulty. She felt great uneasiness in the joint of her left ankle. It must’ve sprained when she’d been dumped in the crypt.

“You okay?” Nash said.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“How’d you toss Lascar like that?” Nash continued.

“I dug into his mind and willed his brain to reverse the suit on himself.”

Jack whistled amused. He scooped the strap of his light backpack on his shoulder. A pool of water formed around their feet.

“Jack, you guys should get back. I’m going after Lascar,” Calla said.

“No. He is a lunatic,” Nash said grabbing her hand. “This is about you for him.”

Calla knew what he meant. Lascar wanted something more from her even if she couldn’t work out what it was. She slowly let her hand out of Nash’s and pressed her lips softly over his. “I’ve got to do this, Nash, and you know why.”

Dread lurked in the intensity of his eyes.

A hail of water gushed through the low-ceilinged passage. The water was now nearing their ankles. She briefly grabbed Jack’s tablet and tapped in three coordinates in his GPS app. “Here, follow this signal and you’ll surface on the north side of the island. Tiege has a boat there for us. He anticipated the tides changing given the frequency on the island. He thought we could get stranded. Hurry, before high side sets in or you’ll need to swim. I’ll meet you at the end of this tunnel. I scanned the architecture and looks like that arched way leads to a gate out to the waters.”

Nash’s irritation was visible. “We can’t leave you.”

She set a hand on Jack’s shoulder and her eyes met Nash’s fading stare. “No. Go! You must. I’ll be okay.”

The men set off in the direction opposite to her. She could barely see in the darkness, but trusted her gut and senses to find Lascar. He couldn’t be far. Calla trudged down the cold tunnel, a shiver escaping down her spine. She soon came to a rotten set of stairs leading upward to where the light came in. Movement caught her eye. It came from above her at the top of the stairs.

She gasped. “Lascar!”

No response.

She took a deep breath memorizing her way back if whatever lay at the top of the rickety stairs was nothing more than a secured escape way. It was obvious that whoever built the vaults intended it to be used by a secret few. And a cave-in could be imminent. She wasn’t even sure if the men had gotten out. The path behind her was now entirely beneath the rising waters. The water level surged up close to her thighs. She couldn’t go back even if she wanted to. The only way was toward a seething Lascar.

Lascar scuttled up the stairs and yanked the chain around the escape gate. It broke in his grip and he tossed the metal behind him.

“Lascar, stop!”

“Enough!”

The female voice came from behind Lascar and she took three steps down in a charge toward Calla.

Calla’s eyes grew wide as the blow to her middle landed in an uncompromising knockback. Calla recoiled with the sting of the force. A second blow advanced.

Calla sailed backward and plunged into the rising water.

 

 

 

 

Calla swallowed the muddy taste of murky water. In reaction to the cold, her stomach knotted with nausea. The water swallowed her aching body, its chilling current seeping through her bones. She resurfaced.

Calla swam forward to the top of the stairs and tugged at the metal gate that stood between the escalating tide behind her and her escape. She booted the chains and the gate crashed backward sinking before her.

She surfaced into the clearing with the full view of Mont St. Michel behind her. Her path to the mainland was now gone, driven back by the high tide that covered the entire foot bridge constructed to link the island to the village just off the coastline. It would be a tough swim back to the main land.

Her ears caught the roar on a speed boat engine. In the distance she saw two figures haul Lascar onto the back deck of the boat.

Instinct has served her well. Alex and Haven were working with Lascar somehow.

Calla’s eyes followed the line to a speed boat and with Lascar now in the driving seat, she was a clear target for the women’s fire arms.

Calla squinted and bit her lip as Alex caressed the trigger on her pistol.

She fired. Calla calculated the speed of the bullet

A quick reflex made Calla dive into the water. As she lurched deeper the bullets rained around her. She had to get that gun out of their hands. Calla swam up to surface.

When she rose above water level, she concentrated on Alex’s and Haven’s trigger hand.

The guns flew from their hand and landed inches from Calla. She reached down for a sinking weapon and secured it.

Calla aimed but her hand froze at the trigger.

She couldn’t do it.

 

 

 

 

A three-year-old phobia forbade her to pull the trigger. A phobia that had chased her since she joined ISTF.

She tossed the weapon and focused on the escaping boat. Not only had she failed herself, she’d failed Nash and their baby.

Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. Who were these two? How were they connected? Someone, perhaps Lascar, had driven them to the border of insanity.

Calla could feel air leaving her lungs, exhaustion threatening to take over. With miles left to swim to shore, Calla felt she couldn’t do it.

She felt herself begin to sink.

 

 

 

 

A wave of panic washed over Calla, her body now mostly under water. Twigs and leaves slapped her face. Her eyes blinked as she fought the current by turning back toward the wall of the gate now fully suspended under water. She dove under and analyzed the enormity of battling her way back through the crypt.

The weight of the water around her ears muted all sounds. Her instinct was to swim back to the gate and she raised her head an inch above the water’s surface.

A second boat had emerged.

Her vision cleared further. “Jack!”

Jack steered the boat around Lascar’s vehicle. They’d been on the chase.

Jack throttled the engine in a chase and it was then that she saw Nash’s gun pointed at Lascar’s engine. He took one venomous shot and the engine exploded in a heat of fire.

Lascar jerked back.

Nash took another shot that landed on the steering wheel. Lascar’s hand flung off the controls and the jet boat came to an immediate halt.

Without hesitation, Jack steered their boat toward Calla and soon raced it in her direction, crushing the tide that had completely submerged the pedestrian bridge.

Calla raised her hands. Too heavy to lift, a sturdy arm pulled her on board and circled her midriff. “Nash.”

Her body shook, half with fatigue and fear and half with anger at herself.

“Jack, crank up the engine,” Nash said. “She’s convulsing.”