THE PROPHECY

Therefore, I will raise up one from among those you despise. And I will awaken his eyes to the mysteries which I have hidden from men since the foundations of the world. His feet will I make to tread upon the paths of destruction and his hands to make war. He will uproot the seeds of corruption which you have sown throughout the earth. And then you will know that I am the Lord and my justice is everlasting.

—The Writings of Ebnisha

C HAPTER 1

THE BORDERLANDS OF THE ETERNAL REALM

Adair held his breath. Jagged rocks and coarse soil dug into his skin, pressing in on all sides as though he were in a coffin that had finally lost its battle with the elements. Even beneath the suffocating camouflage, he dared not make a sound. He knew what was hunting them. He’d seen their revolting forms sniffing the air with gnarled snouts only moments before the Shaper had opened up the earth to create this hiding place.

The ground began to rumble, and Adair instantly recognized the sensation produced by yet another of the hideous creatures passing through the blackened skies above, scanning the terrain for any sign of the intruders. The rumbling subsided and Tarsaeel’s fingers tightened around his arm—the signal that it was time to rise. Adair pushed against the soil but was too weak to oppose its crushing force. His lungs cried out for air. He allowed them a minuscule breath, but dust rushed inward and collected at the back of his throat. The possibility of choking to death beneath the soil caused him to shake with panic.

Tarsaeel’s hand tightened further in response and began to pull.

The abrasive environment finally yielded, parting one grain at a time until Adair broke through. A cloud of dust swirled into the air and Adair coughed violently, trying to clear his lungs without taking in more debris. Beneath him, as he kneeled and gasped, dry and lifeless soil had already rushed in to fill the void that he had occupied.

When he finally gained control of his breathing, Adair looked around to see Tarsaeel and the other angels crouching behind a low ridge of stones, looking westward across the plains. Their luminescent bodies were dulled by the layers of dust still clinging to their naked skin.

Adair followed their gaze. A desolate landscape stretched to the horizon, melding seamlessly with gray skies that slowly transitioned to black directly overhead. The only creatures who called the Borderlands of the Eternal Realm home had now moved out of the immediate vicinity, hunting for the enemies they were sure had recently crossed into their territory. Adair could still see the dark blotches moving swiftly over the ground on all fours—a pack of demonic scouts searching for him and his protectors. Above the pack, a smear of darkness trailed through the sky behind a pulsating red light, revealing the exhaust system of another aerial hunter. Though the details could not be seen at this distance, Adair knew it was a grotesque creature that looked like an accidental merging of animal and machine parts. He shivered at the sight, remembering their flashing red eyes and the cruel weapons they carried.

“We’re downwind. They can’t see us at this distance,” Tarsaeel said. “But we’ll wait a moment longer just to be sure.” His hawk-like features and large, intelligent eyes that had once been intimidating were now a source of comfort as the angelic soldier turned his attention back to the enemy. On either side of him, his fellow soldiers were crouched and surveying the plains that stretched to the west.

The Shaper, who had come along on this trip for the express purpose of sending Adair back to the Temporal Realm, was still kneeling in the slight depression that would be the only evidence of the group’s passage through this area. “We’re almost there,” he said in a fatherly tone.

Adair didn’t mind being the child in this situation. Despite his training as a soldier, it was a valid comparison given the drastic difference in size and experience between himself and his escorts. He turned and looked north to their destination. Several miles away—Adair was unsure of how they measured distance in this place—a swirling vortex of blue and purple light stood on end, casting arcs of color across the gray backdrop. It was Kael’s spirit. Even though Adair’s son had no knowledge or control of this part of his existence, the display of light was intimidating to the demons who kept their distance. Their fear created a perimeter of open space that worked in Tarsaeel’s favor.

“Are you ready?” the angel asked, crawling across the dirt as he unfolded his powerful wings.

Adair took a steadying breath and nodded. Tarsaeel’s right forewing spread over him like a canopy, and his arm slid around Adair’s waist. There was a quick burst of air before the ground dropped out from under their feet and became a blur of motion.

The brilliant swirl of colors to the north grew until it overwhelmed Adair’s eyes. As he winced at the brightness, he noticed a deep humming that emanated from it and felt the warning of danger that was keeping the demons away. At the core of this sensory display was a burning white, man-shaped object. Like the filament of a light bulb in the Temporal Realm, Adair couldn’t comprehend its shape unless he averted his eyes or closed them altogether.

Tarsaeel carried him to the foot of the vortex until it loomed overhead like a colossal eyeball. As Adair’s eyes adjusted to the sight, he began to notice lesser lights suspended in the air, gathered around the core of Kael’s spirit. Then, faint, rectangular outlines of a building could be made out, finally anchoring the sight within a logical framework.

He’s in a building with other people!

Tarsaeel angled downward, descending beneath the gathering of spirits. Outlines of the building’s walls slid past as though made of mist. They moved through floors and ceilings as if they were nothing but suggested barriers, insubstantial planes that had little existence beyond a subtle visual representation.

The angel came to a gentle landing upon the earth, whose surface sat just below the floor of a room within the building’s lower levels. When Adair touched the ground, he moved cautiously forward while staring at his feet, partially obscured by a surface from another reality.

“There you are,” Tarsaeel said quietly.

Adair looked up and saw a gray, nebulous human form suspended horizontally above the floor. It was his physical body. “What do I do?”

“Stand in it,” the Shaper replied.

Adair walked forward a few paces, stopping for a moment to prepare himself for what was about to take place. He realized quickly that there was no way for him to prepare for something he didn’t understand. So with tense resignation, he waded into the apparition and watched it engulf him without any detectable change.

“Lie back,” Tarsaeel instructed, holding his arms out for support. His soldiers came near and did the same.

“The closer you are to matching your temporal body’s position, the easier it will be for me to send you back to it,” the Shaper clarified.

Adair must have looked as confused as he felt at the request, but he understood now. Easing gently backward into their arms, he allowed himself to be laid out flat.

“Now, Adair,” the Shaper began, “I’m going to shift you across the boundary between realms. You will feel disoriented as you transition—”

“We need to hurry,” Tarsaeel interrupted, squinting as he looked up through the building’s floors and ceilings.

The Shaper’s usually calm face suddenly looked worried. “Adair, close your eyes.”

Adair did as instructed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. A moment of silence followed, and he wondered how long the shifting would take and whether or not he would feel it. Then he noticed the faintest of sounds—a single quiet note that slowly grew in volume. He took another deep breath to combat the uneasiness in his gut.

The note grew steadily until it was uncomfortable to his ears. Adair wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he realized that it wasn’t just one note. It had fractured into many. The tones were complementary, working together to produce a layered sound that made Adair’s heart pound inside his chest. Though his eyes were closed, he could feel the darkness behind his eyelids swirl into shades of brown and gray that at once moved away from him and toward him. The sound that had been so all-consuming only seconds ago, stuttered and faded before recovering strength with no apparent reason other than to mimic what Adair was now feeling. Whispers flew past his head, through his mind, and out again like tiny insects that couldn’t decide which way they wanted to move. At the center of the confusion, a tiny light appeared, chasing away the dull, swirling colors as if it were the judge of this bizarre display and was finally dictating a specific direction that everything must flow. The sounds also obeyed, fleeing away from the light that grew like the dilation of an iris. Inside the light were colors of greater intensity, coalescing into shapes that seemed vaguely familiar. The shapes moved with a rhythm that eventually became predictable, like the swelling of ocean waves. At their darkest points, the shapes were black. But there were hints of greens and blues on the mottled surfaces, reflecting light as they shifted and swayed in their mesmerizing dance. From the center of the chaotic mass, two points of red light emerged, rising and approaching with a steady and predatory gait. Adair suddenly noticed that the lights were being driven and supported by something else—long, angled columns of black that tapered to a point.

Eight of them.

Rising and falling.

Stabbing into the chaotic shadows beneath them.

Propelling the lights forward.

Lights that no longer seemed like floating apparitions.

Eyes!

Adair tried to scream, but nothing came out. He had no way to express the fear that was now engulfing him.

The spiderous demon continued to crawl forward, crushing smaller versions of itself under each barbed leg as it stalked its new prey.

Adair shook with fear and immediately realized that his limbs were restricted. He looked down and saw that he’d somehow fallen into a web. Translucent threads stretched away in all directions, crisscrossing in random places, littered with the corpses of other humans. Each pale and decomposing form had long ago been drained of blood.

The sticky tendrils began to vibrate with each approaching step.

Faster and faster.

Nearer and nearer.

Adair lashed out with all his might, desperate to free himself from the grasp of his sticky prison. His legs kicked without any reservation of strength. He punched wildly and twisted his body into contorted shapes in an effort to get away.

The steps of the demon became more pronounced. The red lights neared. They were so close that Adair could now make out dozens of lesser eyes scattered across the hideous face of the creature. Some were blinking, while others seemed to pulse or move in lateral waves. But the largest ones were staring right at him, boring into his soul as if they were estimating how much blood was in his body and what type of feast the creature would soon enjoy.

Adair screamed and punched at the mangled demonic face that was now splitting apart into a disordered tangle of fangs and dripping fluids. Sticky tendrils of web trailed behind his fist as it broke free and flew forward, stopping abruptly short of hitting the demon. The webbing, still adhered to the top of his hand, kept him from defending himself. He opened his fist and tried to claw at the face of the monster, but another tendril, extending from the tip of his index finger, pulled backward and prevented him from making contact.

The demon’s red eyes now flashed with anger, and the open jaw lunged forward for the final blow of this hopeless confrontation.

~

Adair inhaled sharply. Where the demon’s eyes had been, red lights blinked on the screen of a medical monitoring system. The sticky threads of webbing that had immobilized his defense were now an IV taped to the top of his hand and an oxygen monitor attached to his finger. He was lying on a bed with his upper body propped forward. The ceiling, walls, and floor were white. On the opposite side of the spacious room were multiple panels of milky glass. It looked similar to the facility he had left before ending up in the Eternal Realm, only without the haunting sense of death.

I made it!

The fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered with a yellow hue that slowly grew into steady white, as if they had just been turned on. An opaque glass door on the other end of the room suddenly flew open.

“Min Gud! Adair? You’re awake! Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Adair nodded.

The man was tall, with blond hair.

“Kael?” he mumbled.

The man walked briskly across the room, the bottom of his white lab coat swinging backward at the rush of air.

Adair looked carefully at the man’s eyes as he neared, hoping to recognize what would have changed the least since Bastul. “Kael?” he asked again.

The man reached the side of his bed and tilted his head, inspecting the monitoring system for a moment before glancing up at the ceiling and the lights that were now steadily illuminating the whole room. When he looked back at Adair, he was holding up a tiny flashlight. “How are you feeling?” he asked, clicking the end of the device and pointing the beam in Adair’s right eye.

“Fine,” Adair answered, suddenly realizing that the man was a doctor. “Where is Kael?”

“Hold on,” the man replied with a soothing tone, moving the flashlight to Adair’s left eye. “I have to make sure—”

Adair squinted and turned his head, batting away the doctor’s hand. “WHERE IS MY SON?”

The flashlight hit the floor and spun a few times before coming to a stop. The doctor had already stepped back from the bed. His forehead was creased with concern. “He’s upstairs in a conference room, but you must be patient. I need to make sure that you …”

The doctor’s words trailed off as Adair ignored his instruction, pulling off his oxygen monitor and tossing it aside. The IV on his hand was better secured. It took several seconds for him to peel away the tape.

“Please, don’t! Just be still …”

Adair slowly pulled the cannula out of his skin and watched blood trickle from the opening before he set the whole contraption down. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pushed himself up to a standing position.

The doctor’s eyes were now wide with shock, and his hand was reaching for a phone on the wall.

Adair stumbled forward on weak legs. It seemed as though he was fastened to the ground—like when he used to bury his feet in the shores of the western ocean as a child, letting each successive wave soften the sand and allow his toes to drive deeper. It may have been the fact that his muscles hadn’t been used for some time, or the sudden transition from a world of shadows and ghosts to one of form and structure, but whatever the cause, this realm was more difficult to move through.

He took a step. Then another. Slowly, he made his way to the door and pushed against its polished surface. It opened to reveal a well-lit hallway with glass panels running down either side. To his left, at the end of the hall, was a metal door with a narrow window.

A stairwell!

It seemed so far away, but nothing was going to stop him now. His son was upstairs, and he was going to see him if it took every last shred of strength left in his body. As Adair lurched through the doorway, he heard the doctor’s voice behind him.

“Sir. This is Svenson in medical. Adair is responsive.”

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

Jim Helmsley looked up from the intercom.

His mouth parted, but Kael didn’t wait for his response to the doctor’s announcement. He pushed past Jensen and flung open the door of the conference room. Taking the north stairwell, Kael descended several floors in seconds, his feet blurring with the concrete steps while TAC 1 struggled to keep up with him. The world around Kael seemed to fade into the background as the words repeated in his head.

Adair is responsive. Adair is responsive.

Was it possible? Could it be that he was really about to meet his father again?

Twenty-two years!

It was almost too much to hope for. Something inside Kael, a part of him that was damaged beyond repair, was screaming that this opportunity would vanish without being realized. It would dissipate, like smoke that looks real but can’t be grasped. Adair’s disappearance had been the single most defining moment in his life, and everything that had taken place after that had just been one long string of consequences.

The stairwell door swung open and slammed into the wall, bringing Kael’s thoughts abruptly into the present as he realized he had reached the medical level. To his right, a hallway of glass panels stretched into the distance. Twenty yards away, a man in a white lab coat stood in the middle of the hall, in front of an open doorway. He recognized Svenson, the doctor who had been caring for Adair since they brought his comatose body back from Helsinki.

Svenson was holding his hands out, palms upward. “He just left! I tried to tell him—”

“Where did he go?” Kael yelled as he approached.

Svenson pointed farther down the hall. “He took the south stairwell.”

Kael sidestepped the doctor and sped up to a full sprint. Seconds later, he threw his weight against the crash bar of another door and spilled into the stairwell on the opposite side of the building from the one he’d descended, nearly tripping headfirst down the stairs.

“FATHER!” His voice echoed off the concrete surfaces above and below.

Greer and Thompson were only seconds behind, shoving the door aside and entering the stairwell just as Martinez and Jensen caught up to them.

“FATHER!” he yelled again, leaning over the metal railing to look up through the open space between the spiraling stairs.

A faint sound could be heard in reply. Then, a head popped into view over the railing, three levels up.

“Kael?” The voice was winded.

“Stay there! I’m coming up.”

“Kael? Is that you?”

“Just stay there!” he yelled, taking three stairs with each bound. His heart was already thudding loudly in his chest, but somehow still picked up its pace significantly as Kael pushed his muscles to their limits. One after another floor passed by, but the seconds seemed to stretch out into agonizing moments that refused to become the past. And then he was there. It was so sudden that it took Kael by surprise, despite all the effort that had been required to reach this point in time.

Kael abruptly halted. His father now stood before his very eyes. It was almost too much to believe.

Adair smiled. His thin body, leaning against the wall, was no longer that of the powerful leader from Kael’s childhood. Beads of sweat stood out on his pale forehead. His eyes were sunken into their sockets. Speckles of blood were splattered on his white hospital gown. But his smile was unmistakable.

“My son,” he said feebly, reaching out with one hand while the other remained firmly pressed against the wall.

Kael walked up the last few steps and embraced his father. They held each other for a long moment without speaking. Kael’s heart was still beating rapidly from the exertion, but Adair’s whole body was shaking. His skin was moist, and he felt so fragile that Kael had to hold back to keep from injuring him.

“Let me look at you,” Adair said, pulling away so he could make eye contact.

Kael smiled. “I’m not a child anymore.” Suddenly, it struck him that his father didn’t look surprised by their age difference, which was significantly less than the last time they had seen each other. “You’ve been gone far longer than you realized.”

Adair’s eyes, already wet with tears, faltered with some unknown emotion. “I know. They warned me.”

“Who?”

His expression shifted to one of relief. “It’s so good to see you,” he replied without answering the question.

“Who warned you?” Kael repeated.

“We need to get you back down to medical,” Greer announced as he came up the stairs.

Adair glanced over Kael’s shoulder and smiled.

Kael turned around to see the four remaining members of TAC 1 wearing grins.

“You look terrible, man,” Martinez said.

“What’s the use of waking up from a coma if you’re just gonna die on us,” Thompson added.

Adair was still smiling. “It’s good to see you guys again. Where’s Zylski?”

Thompson came up the last few steps and slung Adair’s free hand over his shoulder. “We’ll talk later. Come on. I got you.”

Greer grabbed Adair’s other hand and the two propped him upright.

“You guys have an elevator in this place?” Adair grunted.

Everyone laughed.

Kael stood back and watched their expressions, trying to remember whether or not his father had a sense of humor back in Bastul.

“What were you doing up here, anyway?” Thompson asked.

“Well, the doctor said Kael was upstairs in a conference room …”

After Adair trailed off, Martinez chimed in again. “Ever heard of a phone?”

Adair laughed under his breath, causing a momentary coughing fit.

As the team helped him through the doorway and down the hall toward the elevator, Kael couldn’t help but feel like an outsider again. In reality, these men knew his own father better than he did. They had spent a year and a half with Adair, and it seemed as though they were slipping easily back into whatever relationship they had developed. For Kael, there wasn’t much of a relationship to start with. His memories of his father were old and clouded by the illusions of a child’s perspective. This was all very new for him.

It took several minutes to reach the elevator, descend three floors, and walk Adair back to the medical room. Svenson was visibly relieved to see Adair again, but his relief quickly transitioned to frustrated concern for his patient. “Set him down on the bed. Easy. Easy,” he ordered.

Greer and Thompson lowered Adair into to a sitting position on the bed before backing away.

Svenson immediately pulled out a flashlight and inspected Adair’s eyes. “Do you feel okay? Headache? Blurred vision?”

“No. I’m fine,” Adair replied.

Kael stood close to the bed, watching his father comply with every one of the doctor’s requests. Though he was near in proximity, he felt terribly distant. It had been the same when he had been reunited with his mother. When he saw her on the docks of Orud that day, after being separated from her for so many years, she seemed like a stranger. This present reunion was another significant moment in his life, and for some reason, he felt numb.

What’s wrong with me?

“Take a deep breath,” Svenson said, holding a stethoscope to Adair’s back. “Any shortness of breath?”

“After three flights of stairs …?” Adair laughed, then started coughing again.

“Shh,” Svenson scolded. “No more joking. I’m going to put your oxygen monitor back on. You need to keep it in place. I’m concerned about your lungs.”

Adair nodded as he got his breathing under control again.

“Other than that, how is he?” Thompson asked.

“Well, he looks fine. He just needs to rebuild his strength and then—”

“He needs some real food, doc,” Martinez said. “An IV won’t cut it for a growing boy like him.”

Adair smiled.

“Of course,” Svenson replied. “We will work up to that, but we must—”

Greer put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Let’s give them some privacy. Why don’t we go get Adair something to eat?”

“A nice big steak,” Martinez said with a mischievous grin.

“No,” Svenson objected.

Greer pulled on the doctor’s shoulder and steered him toward the door.

“Medium rare, with a nice dry rub,” Martinez continued.

Svenson scowled at the soldier as Jensen opened the door for them.

Thompson turned back to Kael. “Take all the time you need,” he said, backing out the door before shutting it.

“Soup!” yelled Svenson from the hallway. “We must start with soup …” His voice faded into the distance.

Kael smiled and turned to face his father. The room was completely quiet now. Kael’s heart was still beating fast, and he realized that he was more nervous than relieved that they were finally together. Nervousness wasn’t something he was used to, so he quickly started talking to make it go away.

“You said someone warned you about how long you had been gone?”

Adair’s face softened into an unreadable expression. “I have so many things to tell you. So many things that you will need to know. But here I am looking at my son, who is now almost as old as I am.” Adair’s voice cracked and tears began to spill down his face. He let them linger, hanging from his jawline, without bothering to wipe them away. “I have missed everything.” He closed his eyes and gently put his fist against his lips.

The moment was so uncomfortable that Kael could think of nothing to do except reach out and put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Not everything,” he heard himself say.

Adair looked up suddenly with a pained smile and patted Kael’s hand. “Thank you for that.”

Kael didn’t know what else to say and just stared back at his father.

“Kael. First and foremost, I want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to grow up without me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t share those years with you. And even more than that, I regret that when I was there with you and your mother, I was distracted by my duties. If I could go back and live that life again, I would take you and Maeryn far away to some place where they’ve never heard of Orud.”

Kael nodded, knowing that though these words only barely managed to pierce his numbness at the present time, they would probably mean a great deal to him over the coming months and years.

“But I can’t do that,” Adair continued. “I can’t go back. For me, it has only been a short time that I’ve been away. But for you, it has been many, many years. So I don’t want to talk yet. I want to hear what you have to say. I want you to tell me all the things you never got to say. Even if you think I won’t like it. Even if you just want to yell and tell me how much of a failure I am. I don’t care.”

With his father’s words echoing in his ears, Kael could finally feel an emotion breaking through. But it wasn’t regret or anger. You have a daughter! he wanted to scream. Your wife sits on the High Council in Orud! There were so many things he wanted to say all at once, but they were parts of a larger story—jewels of surprise scattered throughout years of heartache. He couldn’t just blurt them out. He had to tell the whole story, from the beginning, and take his father back to those moments that he had missed so he could experience the impact of them for himself.

No. There was no bitterness toward his father. There was only excitement for the things that he was about to discover.

Kael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I remember the day you disappeared. I was in the garden with Saba, and Mother came out to ask if he knew where you were. I can still see the look on her face.”

C HAPTER 2

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

The conference room fell into a deafening silence after TAC 1 followed Kael out the door. Helmsley scanned the room, looking from one stunned person to another. His mind was reeling with the implications of everything that had occurred in the last few minutes. Problems of all sorts were clamoring for attention, but he forced them into a rigid priority list.

“Sir?” came Svenson’s voice from the intercom, breaking the silence.

“What’s his condition? Is he coherent?” Helmsley replied, addressing the most immediate issue.

“Uh. Yes, but he pulled out his IV and left the room. He wouldn’t listen to me or sit still for an exam, so …”

“Okay. TAC One is on its way down to you. Just point them in the right direction when they get there.”

“Yes, sir,” Svenson replied.

Helmsley punched the intercom button and hung up. Then he looked up at the screens on the wall. The audiovisual channel to Bogotá was still blank, severed by Armaros only seconds after he revealed himself as the one responsible for the takedown of Null’s South and Central Americas office. The other channel to the Central Operations Division in the UK was still open. The look on Director Rhiannon Marshall’s face was evidence that she’d also witnessed what had happened in Bogotá.

“You’ll have the full cooperation of my team,” she assured.

“Thank you, Ms. Marshall. I have some loose ends to tie up. I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded and the screen went dark.

“How can we help?” Alan Chisholm asked from across the table.

Helmsley turned his attention to the deputy director and his team gathering around him. Though security had already confirmed that the sporadic loss of lights throughout the building had been a power outage, Helmsley had a nagging suspicion that it might be something more sinister. “Let’s make absolutely sure that we’re not under attack.”

Chisholm nodded.

Suncio, head of field operations for the Bogotá office, was already on his feet and walking around the conference table toward the Stockholm team. “Do you manage your power systems and security from the same place?”

“Yes,” Suncio’s European counterpart replied. “We’ll show you to the Command Room.”

The Stockholm and Bogotá teams left the conference table and began heading for the door.

Matthews stood up and tucked his laptop under his arm before turning to Helmsley. “What are you going to do?”

Helmsley exhaled slowly before answering. “With Bogotá down, all of Western Operations is compromised.”

Matthews’ forehead creased. From the start of the Bogotá attack, the head of intelligence looked a bit more worried than everyone else in the room. With his recent promotion, he’d probably never been this close to the physical realities of Null’s work. “What about Barrett?” Matthews finally asked.

“We won’t see him again,” Helmsley replied. The cyanide capsule under Barrett’s molar would ensure that the deputy director’s knowledge would die with him, but Helmsley didn’t bother to elaborate.

Without another word, Matthews went to join the others. When the door shut, the room was quiet again.

Helmsley pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up the application for issuing directives. His thumbprint scan was confirmed with a temperature measurement. A retinal scan followed, utilizing motion detection to unlock the second safeguard. Finally, voice authentication ensured that his deceased body wasn’t being manipulated by someone to penetrate Null’s communications. An audible ping signaled that the application was ready for his message.

“Bogotá office compromised,” Helmsley said. “Shut down Western Operations. Protocol Zero.” He looked at the screen on his phone and verified that the text was accurate before pressing send.

In seconds, everyone in Null’s Western Operations Division, from North to South America, would follow the most comprehensive of their multi-tiered shutdown procedures. All incomplete INTEL reports would be transmitted to Command for storage. Physical evidence, from paperwork and computers to vehicles and weapons, would be destroyed. All personnel would be evacuated and all forms of upstream and lateral communication between members would cease. Jim Helmsley’s part of the organization—which he’d built over the best years of his life with his actual blood, sweat, and tears—would cease to exist.

Ciarán Hayes, the head of field operations for this office, led the multinational procession through the halls and into the Command Room, where the layout was almost an exact copy of the one in Bogotá. Matthews caught up to the group and got the attention of Ian Petran, Stockholm’s head of intelligence.

“Where can I plug in?”

Petran glanced quickly around the room. “There’s an open terminal there,” he said, pointing to one of the workstations halfway across the room before he and the rest of the group headed in the direction of the security leader.

Matthews broke away and walked briskly toward the terminal. As he sat down at the workstation, a few members of the Stockholm INTEL team working nearby glanced up at him, but quickly returned to their work.

Matthews kept his face blank, but inside he was panicking. Shutdown Protocol Zero had never been implemented before, but he knew the drill times well enough to know that he only had another six minutes before remote access to the Bogotá system would be severed completely. His window of opportunity was rapidly closing. He plugged a network cable into his laptop and logged on to the Stockholm system, bringing up their inter-division firewall settings. Fortunately, they were configured just like they should be, operating to Command’s specifications without any deviation.

Matthews inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

A few keystrokes opened up a hidden synchronization stream used by Command for system improvements. He fired up a routine that would strip away all his time and location tags before typing in a remote access request for his team’s directory in Bogotá. He swallowed hard and hit the return key.

Seconds ticked by.

Matthews looked up from his screen and scanned the room. He was convinced that someone would be watching, but everyone seemed to be occupied with their work.

Suncio and the others were talking with the security leader. So far, no one was missing him.

His screen suddenly flashed, displaying the requested information. It looked like most of his team’s workstations in Bogotá were still open, but none were active. A few were missing, indicating that they’d already been taken offline or damaged. As he surveyed the list, two workstations suddenly disappeared.

Armaros’ men are taking them down right now!

His own workstation was already gone, but he quickly selected another and typed in his override password. With full access to the Bogotá system, he opened up the shutdown procedure in code form, scrolled down to the appropriate line, and began typing as fast as his fingers could move. It took roughly thirty seconds to embed his new instructions before he closed the procedure and initiated it.

The phone at the workstation beeped.

Matthews twitched with surprise before picking up the receiver.

“What are you doing?” It was Suncio’s voice.

Matthews looked up and saw his colleague across the room with a phone to his ear. “Uh. Damage control,” he replied.

“In Bogotá? Are you crazy? If you access that system, it’ll point right back here.”

“No it won’t. Not the way I did it,” Matthews protested.

“Helmsley’s gonna skin you alive.”

“He’ll thank me. In a few seconds, every device logged in to the system over there will go blank. They’ll lose everything they thought they had.”

“Well, finish up and get over here,” Suncio replied. “I think these guys could use your help.”

“Be right there,” he said, hanging up and breathing a sigh of relief. What he had told Suncio wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. Remotely destroying evidence was only a cover for what he was really doing. Inside the shutdown procedure was a complex section of code intended to siphon off the data he wanted and upload it to a secure online storage area that he could access later. In particular, Matthews was interested in Bogotá’s security footage. Ever since Armaros had appeared on Barrett’s screen, Matthews could think of little else except for Andrea. Had Armaros captured her? Was she still alive? He had to know. Explaining the breach in protocol to Helmsley would be an uncomfortable conversation, but right now, that wasn’t a strong enough deterrent. His judgment was clouded, and though he recognized the fact, he apparently didn’t care. It was both odd and exciting to be surprised by the depth of his emotions.

Suncio hung up the receiver and stepped back to his position behind the chair of a surveillance specialist. Hayes stood beside the man, pointing at various nodes across the facility’s camera network. Each time the specialist brought up a full-screen image, the result was the same—nothing out of the ordinary.

“Did you run a personnel status?” Suncio asked.

Hayes looked back. “Yes; everyone is accounted for.”

“What about the rooftop?”

The specialist nodded and selected another group of cameras. The tiled display of feeds on his screen updated to show dozens of rooftop positions and simultaneously output the data to the massive display on the wall, big enough for everyone in the room to see.

Hayes leaned forward with his hands on the table. “Nothing,” he replied after a few seconds. “Karl, show us the sensor network now.”

The specialist nodded again.

The camera feeds disappeared, replaced by a network diagram that looked like an electrical schematic. Hundreds of intersecting lines and symbols were grouped into shades of green by the type of sensors displayed—temperature, motion, pressure, and IR beams. They were monitoring every drainage pipe, air duct, and utility plenum throughout the building, including the soil around the perimeter of the property. If any of the sensors had detected a condition outside of their programmed limits, the whole Command Room would be seeing shades of red.

“Hmm,” Suncio mumbled, eyes scanning the diagram.

“Nothing here either,” Hayes said.

“Do you have a monitor log for incoming power from the city?” another voice asked.

Suncio turned to see Matthews standing next to him. “Nice of you to join us.”

Matthews ignored the comment and kept his eyes on the screen while it updated to show a list of thousands of text entries.

“Don’t you have it graphed?” Suncio asked.

“No. Sorry,” the specialist replied.

“It’s okay,” Matthews offered. “It doesn’t look like there are any major fluctuations.”

Suncio scanned the list and wondered how Matthews could draw such a conclusion so fast.

“What about the diagnostic output on the redundant system?” Matthews probed further.

“The what?” the specialist replied, suddenly turning around in his chair. The look on his face was halfway between confusion and annoyance.

“The system has to generate a text file as an output for … never mind. Can I sit down?”

The officer looked up to Hayes, who just nodded.

“Thanks,” Matthews replied, settling into the chair as soon as the specialist vacated it.

Suncio watched as Matthews took over and his fingers began flying over the keyboard. In a matter of seconds, the Head of Bogotá’s Intelligence team had another text file open—this one even more difficult to understand than the last. But as soon as Suncio noticed the recurring timestamps, he realized what Matthews was doing.

“You’re plotting the origin point.”

“That’s right,” Matthews replied as his fingers continued their rapid assault of the keyboard. “I’m just writing a script to grab all the timestamps and associated power grid locations. Then I’ll drop them into a table so I can generate a visual.”

“So we can see when and where the redundant system kicked in,” Suncio finished the thought.

“Right,” Matthews replied.

“That will tell us where the outage started,” Hayes offered, but his statement sounded on the verge of being a question.

“Here we go,” Matthews said as he ran the script. Seconds later, all of the needed data was extracted and organized into a simple row-and-column structure. “And then the graph,” he mumbled, pecking a few more keys. Shortly after, a color-coded version of the building’s power grid popped up on the screen. This time, concentric rings of color pinpointed the location where the secondary system began applying power to make up for the deficit.

“Where is that?” Petran asked. “Karl. Pull up the building layout.”

The specialist stepped over to a different workstation and a moment later, another window appeared on the large screen, showing the architectural drawings for the building next to Matthews’ graph.

“It’s the medical floor,” Hayes pointed out. “Adair’s room.”

Suncio locked eyes with Matthews, who only raised his eyebrows in return. “Bring up the security footage for that room just before the outage,” he said to the rest of the group.

The graph and drawings disappeared, replaced by a black and white feed showing Adair lying in his bed, lights on the medical equipment pulsing softly next to him. As the time display in the corner of the screen advanced, the feed suddenly turned to snow as power was lost. Then the screen went dark, but quickly recovered as the backup system turned on. Two seconds elapsed before the feed returned, by which time Adair’s head was already moving. He appeared to be looking at his hands, then up at the ceiling.

Suncio felt his eyebrows scrunch as he realized that the power outage coordinated perfectly with Adair’s waking.

Adair flinched.

Kael, sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly stopped talking.

They both turned to look at the phone on the wall. The ringing seemed incredibly loud—a violation of the peacefulness that had descended upon the room.

Kael turned back and looked at Adair again without getting up, indicating that he wasn’t going to answer it. “Anyway. That’s when I went for Lemus. I wanted to shove that pitchfork right through his evil heart, but he turned at the last second. I only got him in the leg.”

Adair’s mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t realize it until he put his hand over it in surprise. “What about Ajani? Is he okay?”

Kael looked down at the bed for a moment. “I didn’t get the opportunity to find out until much later. I was so stunned by what I’d just done that I didn’t notice Lemus pulling the pitchfork out of his leg until he hit me with it. I just remember seeing the handle. When I woke up, I was in prison.”

“Bastul’s prison?”

“Yes.”

“But you were just a ch—” Adair gritted his teeth. “I wish I could have been there. I would have had him tied to a horse and dragged through the city streets.”

Kael was silent for a moment and his eyes were grave. “That would have saved everyone much heartache.”

Adair shook his head, baffled by the inadequacy of his replacement and the impact that it had on his family and the whole city of Bastul. It was obvious that Kael’s story was only just beginning to reveal the terrible things that had transpired. “How did you get out?”

“Well, I didn’t for several days. Lemus kept me without food or water. Then he came to see me one day, just to scare me. He told me that you used to have criminals interrogated. You promised to release them if they told you everything, but afterwards you didn’t release them. You had them executed.”

“I’ve never done anything of the sort,” Adair objected.

Kael nodded.

“No. I mean it. The previous governor had a reputation for doing things like that, but it all ended when I took up the position.”

Kael smiled. “I never believed him anyway.”

Adair took a deep breath, relieved that maybe Lemus hadn’t succeeded in ruining his reputation with Kael.

“After hearing about the execution process, you can image how I felt when a man came into my cell a while later carrying a hood.”

“He didn’t—”

The door to the medical room opened suddenly, and Adair turned to see yet another friendly face. Jim Helmsley was grinning as he moved into the room with his usual rigid gait. Behind him were Svenson and the members of TAC 1.

“Adair, it’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you, Jim. It’s good to be among friends again.”

Helmsley’s grin disappeared. “I have to apologize to you. If I had known what we were really up against, I never would have let you out of my sight. I’m sorry for … the whole ordeal—everything you had to endure.”

Adair couldn’t bring himself to verbalize forgiveness, or even to smile. He just nodded, one soldier to another. It was a silent communication that conveyed, among men who understood such things, that the world could be a horrible place and they were both doing the best job they could under the circumstances.

Helmsley seemed satisfied, and eventually turned his attention elsewhere. “Kael, I’m sorry to interrupt. I know this is an important reunion, but we were in the middle of something, and it’s critical that I get the rest of your story. I have some decisions to make, and all our lives may depend on how this plays out.”

Adair didn’t know his son well enough yet to predict his response, but the look on Kael’s face gave a clear answer as to what he thought of Helmsley’s interruption. “It’s okay,” Adair quickly offered. “I’ll be fine. The doctor probably needs to run some more tests, so I’ll be busy anyway.”

Kael’s expression quickly softened. All traces of anger disappeared when Thompson patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Adair smiled.

Kael still looked hesitant.

“Don’t worry. I can handle a senile old man,” Thompson added. “—keep him from wandering down the halls again.”

This time Kael couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. Just make sure he does what Svenson tells him to do.”

“You got it,” Thompson replied.

C HAPTER 3

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

Kael followed Helmsley into the conference room where Chisholm was sitting on the edge of the table with his arms crossed. The rest of his team was seated near him, while the other half of the room was filled with the Bogotá team. Everyone wore expressions of concern that seemed to go beyond what had just occurred in Colombia. Something else was wrong.

“We will need to discuss this with—oh, here he is now,” Marshall said from the screen on the wall as Helmsley arrived. “I’ll fill him in on the details and we’ll get back to you.”

“Very good,” an unknown male voice replied from the conference phone.

Chisholm unfolded his arms and hit a button to end the call.

“What’s going on?” Helmsley asked.

Everyone turned to look at Marshall.

“Command just informed us that the CIA is claiming to have successfully taken down a suspected terrorist facility in Bogotá,” she replied.

“What?” Helmsley exclaimed. “The CIA?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t we get an advanced warning from our operatives inside?”

“Apparently, the operation was very hush-hush and was managed by someone quite far up the chain of command.”

Helmsley stood with one hand in his pocket, the other massaging his forehead. “So, first we find out he has control of law enforcement, and now you’re telling me that Armaros controls the CIA? Who else is under his thumb?”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t know, yet. Obviously, this is a major development. Command said they’d keep us well informed as details arise.”

Helmsley stopped massaging his forehead to loosen his tie. “Alright, Kael. I think it’s time you finish your story. Who are these people?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Kael as he slowly took a seat.

LOCATION UNKNOWN

Daud was lying on an MRI table, fastened in place so his movements wouldn’t ruin the imaging. But the doctors weren’t able to hold him completely still without tranquilizers, which would alter the data they were hoping to collect. It was a game of cat and mouse that they’d been playing for the last few hours, and Daud was winning. This most recent attempt by the doctors to study his body’s construction would be the last before they resorted to other restraint methods, but it didn’t matter. Daud was only buying time.

Even though his access to Armaros’ geographical network had been severed by Kael days ago, rendering him lost and disoriented, he could still feel the network looking down on him like an all-seeing eye. Armaros knew where he was. And because he knew, it was only a matter of time until the inevitable occurred. Daud’s self-destruct mechanism had somehow been disabled by the only one to have ever defeated him—a human. It was the only reason these doctors still had anything left to study. And in that final moment of his fight with The Awakened, Daud’s whole world had changed. He had gone from being a useful soldier to nothing more than a liability. Armaros wouldn’t tolerate a walking, breathing, talking piece of evidence. This realization pointed to the logical conclusion that Daud should be expecting visitors any minute now.

How will I respond?

The question, by itself, was something of a novelty for the soldier. When it came to orders and operational directives, there was no questioning. At least, not before he had met Kael. Afterwards, an order had become less of a compulsion than it was an idea to be considered—a choice. Somehow, Kael had changed him. That fragile, weak, purely biological human had looked straight through Daud, assessed who and what he was, and attacked accordingly. No other enemy had ever done such a thing, let alone with such effectiveness. And while that event had produced a number of questions in Daud’s mind, there was one that stood out far more than the rest.

What am I?

If an attack could suddenly change his desire to follow orders, what did that say about who he had been before the attack? Was it a coincidence that the wound that severed his communication to Armaros’ network had occurred simultaneously with the change in his desires? Or were the two events different sides of the same coin?

Daud had been thinking along these lines continually since the confrontation in Helsinki. It was new territory for him, but he was slowly drawing some conclusions. It was clear now that he was nothing more than a tool, an extension of someone else’s agenda. All of his training—the experiences that he’d amassed, the skills that he’d honed through countless missions—had been designed. It was just programming, and he was just a machine.

Daud looked down to his arm, clamped to the table, and watched the muscles in his forearm bulge as he made a fist.

He was encased in biological matter, and even relied somewhat on the function of his human organs for the life he now had, but on a deeper level, one where questions of motivation and willpower lived, he was just a machine. And machines are built by someone. Built, and then programmed for a purpose.

A low humming noise suddenly filled the room.

The two doctors, who were inspecting the blurred imaging results on the other side of the room, quickly looked up in confusion.

Daud almost smiled. The time had come.

A muffled yell came from somewhere outside the room, followed by the sound of many footsteps. The only door in and out of the room abruptly swung open.

The doctors inhaled sharply with fright.

“We’re under attack,” a dark-clad soldier announced. He came into the room carrying an assault rifle and was followed by five similarly-armed men. They shut the door behind them and the security team quickly took up defensive positions around the room.

“We need to secure this prisoner for transport,” the soldier ordered.

The doctors looked at each other and nodded, understanding instantly what the order meant. In addition to their work as doctors, they had also clearly been trained in emergency evacuation procedures and hostage containment. These men knew exactly what they were doing and their roles in the larger conflict. They had planned for this moment. It was now time for them to sedate the prisoner to prevent his escape, and then wheel him out of the room on the rolling table which served dual medical and restraint functions.

“As soon as he’s—” the soldier began, but the room went dark.

Daud remained still, seeing for the first time an assault from the perspective of the defending forces. It was fascinating.

Red security lights came on, casting just enough illumination to allow personnel to find an exit. Then, the overhead sprinkler system turned on.

Create chaos, Daud noted.

Another humming sound penetrated the room, audible below the higher whistling of the sprinklers and the splash of thousands of water droplets hitting the hard flooring. The source of the noise was obviously getting closer.

From his horizontal position on the table, Daud glanced to the side to see one of the doctors holding a syringe upright, flicking it to dislodge any bubbles inside the solution so that they would rise toward the needle where they would be expelled.

“Cancel that!” the soldier yelled to the doctor. He took one hand off his rifle and pressed his fingers against something near his throat. “All teams. All teams. This is SEC Alpha. Cancel protocol Echo. Switch to protocol Romeo. I repeat. Switch to protocol Romeo.”

Daud and other soldiers like him no longer used coded battle plans, but he understood the security officer’s message anyway. The man had just changed his force’s objective from exfiltration to resistance.

The soldier then reached down and pulled a pistol from the holster at his hip.

The doctor lowered the syringe and backed away slowly.

The soldier stepped over to the table and pointed the gun at Daud’s forehead.

Through the water droplets pounding against his face, Daud looked up into the man’s cold eyes. Like a machine, he thought.

The soldier laid the tip of the barrel between Daud’s eyes. His index finger moved from its position along the slide to rest gently against the trigger.

Boom!

The door flew off its hinges and into the room, landing with a splash on the inch of standing water.

The soldier quickly pulled the pistol away from Daud’s head. “Breach!” someone yelled as he turned to face the door.

The red lighting, reflecting off the water on the floor as well as every droplet spraying from the nozzles in the ceiling, produced a dizzying array of movement and distraction. But the shadow that flew across the doorway outside was still just visible enough to be effective.

“Ready!” the soldier advised his men.

The shadow returned from the other direction and paused in front of the door, now clearly a man-shaped silhouette.

The sound of automatic gunfire erupted, immediately drowning out all other noises. Flashes of light burst from the weapons of the security team as they pumped the enemy full of lead.

The silhouette stumbled backward and hit the wall, sliding down to a seated position even as the bullets continued to rip into his flesh.

Identify the enemy positions and line of fire, Daud observed, noting the second step of the assault. Having used the body of a prisoner to draw enemy fire, the invading force now understood exactly where each soldier was positioned based on the trajectory of their responsive firing. Of course, the measurement and plotting of such rapidly occurring data was nearly impossible for lesser soldiers. But the attacking force was the most sophisticated in the world, and Daud was the only one inside the room who realized this.

The humming noise returned.

The walls of the medical room seemed to come alive with movement as energized rounds punched through its delicate construction. The once formidable-looking security force quickly devolved into five staggering, slumping outlines of men.

The humming ended.

The soldiers dropped to the floor, their rifles crashing against the wet tile.

Daud couldn’t see the doctors anymore and assumed that they were cowering in fear behind the MRI machine.

The sprinkler system shut off and the lights came back on, replacing the shadowed redness with a soft, white glow. The sound of water dripping was accompanied by the fear-stricken breaths of the doctors from somewhere behind Daud. Where the soldiers had taken up their positions, splatters of red were smeared across the white walls, running down in rivulets to join the bodies they had just exited and the growing pools of darkness staining the floors.

Splashing footsteps preceded the arrival of three tall figures dressed in black combat uniforms. The trio moved casually into the room. The leader walked straight in Daud’s direction, while one of his subordinates lifted his weapon. A purple glow emanated from the electromagnetic rifle, followed by grunts from both doctors as they were quickly eliminated.

Lying on his back, Daud looked up into a face that could have been his own. In fact, it was his own, as the other lieutenant was his exact genetic equivalent. Though he had experienced this phenomenon many times before, with each and every mission where he and his team had coordinated with another group, the significance of it didn’t hit him until now. All the lieutenants were precisely the same, designed for a purpose.

Built for common roles.

Without the faintest trace of emotion, the other lieutenant lifted his weapon.

“You’re about to destroy a valuable resource,” Daud said plainly.

The lieutenant took aim at the center of Daud’s chest.

“I’ve met The Awakened,” Daud clarified.

The lieutenant hesitated.

“I know what he looks like. I’ve fought him. I’ve studied how he thinks and moves. I can find him.”

The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed just a bit. “Then you must turn over this information before you are decommissioned.”

The voice was flat, almost robotic. Decommissioned. It sounded bizarre now that Daud was on this side of things. How many times had he said those same words before?

The lieutenant lowered his weapon, reached out his hand, and took hold of Daud’s arm. Immediately, Daud felt the rushing sensation of his internal sensors coming alive as the information probe moved through his body to locate his memory files.

Outwardly, Daud kept still and allowed the intrusion as all soldiers like himself were supposed to do. Obedience. It was a word that had repeatedly presented itself for his consideration over the last few days. Machines are controlled by their programming, obligated to carry out the wishes of the programmer. An obligation that Daud no longer felt compelled to fulfill but one he understood in a very intimate, personal way. So personal, in fact, that he had begun to explore his own programming, searching for information just the like the doctors had been doing. Only, he had found answers. Answers that led to still more questions he wouldn’t have even thought to ask before.

But now …

The lieutenant’s information probe arrived at its destination—Daud’s short-term memory logs. But instead of the sensory experiences that he sought, the lieutenant found a darkness. An emptiness. A nothingness that was so engaging it quickly became a paralyzing fascination.

Programs, Daud mused.

With his opponent stunned, Daud launched a pre-written attack program—the second step of his plan. His own information probe crawled across the arm/hand interface and through the sensor network of the lieutenant. In just a few seconds, he located the soldier’s memory logs and behavioral code and deleted them. Then, as if transferring files from one computer to another, Daud appropriated the soldier’s identification, authority structure, and network access, merging the code modules with his own memory logs that had been hidden in another location. Instantly, his sense of disorientation evaporated. His access to Armaros’ network had been restored.

The third step of his plan was a burst of electrical energy, which triggered the lieutenant’s self-destruct mechanism, followed by a simple muscle contraction, which forced his opponent to release his grip on Daud’s arm.

A green glow emanated from the lieutenant, who stumbled backward just before his skin darkened to ash. He collapsed into a heap on the floor and his remains slowly leached into the water that had flooded the room.

The last step was to sever particular nodes of upstream communication with Armaros’ network, which he did with a simple thought command. He wanted full access to the resources he was accustomed to using, but he’d rather not have anyone else know where he was. What he did keep intact, however, was the lieutenant’s authority structure over his subordinates. He had lost his own men in the confrontation with Null’s forces in Helsinki and could use a few extra hands to accomplish his new directive—this one of his own choosing.

One of the two soldiers who now reported to him raised his weapon and fired, shredding the electrical cable that controlled the shackles binding his arms and legs to the table. Immediately, the safety default engaged and the shackles opened.

Daud sat up and rubbed his wrists, not because they hurt, but because the sensation of freedom was a new experience for him.

His two subordinates glanced coldly at the pile of ash on the floor, believing it to be Daud’s executed body. “What is our next mission?” they asked in unison.

Daud swung his legs off the table and stood on the wet floor, slick with the blood and ash of defeated enemies. “Follow me,” he said, stepping confidently toward the door and a new way of life.

The soldiers, programmed to obey, followed without question.

C HAPTER 4

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

Helmsley seemed satisfied with the information Kael had provided. To his credit, he had listened without expressing disbelief, even as Kael told him of the Wandering Stars, the fracturing of the Temporal Realm into three worlds, and the prophecy of The Awakened. Granted, Helmsley seemed experienced at dealing with difficult information. But it wasn’t every day that you met someone with secondhand information about events that occurred thousands of years ago. Perhaps it was the similarities between Kael’s story and the mythologies already present in this world, or the fact that Helmsley had already seen proof of the existence of another world, but whatever the reason, he handled it quite well.

I only hope it does some good, Kael thought, as he paused outside the door leading into his father’s room. He felt nervous again. Even after reuniting with Adair and spending some time talking with his father, it was almost as if none of it had occurred. Kael felt right back where he started.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned the doorknob.

Svenson was standing to the side of the room, reviewing some charts. He quickly put a finger to his lips.

Thompson looked up from a chair next to the bed and gave a thumbs up.

Adair was lying on the bed with his eyes closed.

“I gave him something to help him sleep,” Svenson whispered. “He is out for the night.”

Kael nodded.

“I’m leaving now, but if he needs anything, just dial four,” Svenson said, picking up a folder of papers before walking toward the door.

“Thank you,” Kael whispered as he passed the doctor on his way to Adair’s bedside.

“How did it go?” Thompson asked quietly.

Kael shrugged. “Well enough.”

“You’ll have to fill me in later,” Thompson replied. “I’m the only one who doesn’t know all the gritty details now.”

Kael smiled and patted Thompson’s shoulder. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’ll take over.”

Thompson rose from the chair and stretched. “Alright. Don’t stay up too late,” he warned with a motherly voice and wagging finger. Then he left the room and eased the door shut.

Kael turned back and stepped closer to Adair’s bed, burying his hands in his pockets. The room was completely silent, and Kael was left with nothing but his sleeping father and his own thoughts to keep him company.

Adair was breathing steadily. The dark stubble on his head seemed to be growing faster than the stubble on his face, slowly covering up the stitched incisions that were reminders of his time in captivity. Eventually, they would heal enough that no one would ever know. But there were two reminders that would never go away. With Adair’s head turned to one side, Kael could see one of the metallic receptacles now, embedded in his father’s temple like a defensive spider. Ugly as it was, it was now a part of him.

Kael lowered himself quietly onto the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. At once, his thoughts returned to his childhood in Bastul. The city, with all of its bustling activity—merchants and sailors, crowds of citizens and slaves, horses and wagons—was like a giant machine. And Adair used to be its pilot. The citizens needed their governor as much as the soldiers needed their colonel.

Kael could see him now, standing in the courtyard. His polished cuirass glinted in the sun. His cloak, fastened at the shoulder with a golden torc, swayed in the breeze. A contingent of guards stood at attention before him while he pointed to something beyond the walls of their hilltop mansion. Adair’s muscled arm, extending toward the horizon, was tanned from the bright sun. The skin of his clean-shaven face was taut. Dark hair hung in loose curls over his forehead and ears. His eyes were bright and he spoke with confidence. The men under his command voiced their agreement, but it wasn’t strictly out of duty. Kael could see it in their eyes. They respected him. He was their leader, and they would give their lives to protect him, because they knew that he would do the same for them.

Kael opened his eyes and was confronted by the vision of a frail, vulnerable man who had been thrust unexpectedly into this world. He needed healing and protection. And he needed to get home just as soon as possible.

But what then?

Besides the obvious barriers of being halfway across the world from the portal and having no key to access it, Kael was still challenged by the thought that he may not be able to put his family back together again. The fact that Adair was now only a few years older than Kael himself made the concept of him and Maeryn together all the more awkward. She was now almost old enough to be Adair’s mother.

What is mother going to think when I bring him back?

Was a relationship between them even possible anymore? A woman who used to be subject to the will of men was now making policies that affected the course of an Empire. A man who used to control a city with his warrior spirit and keen insight was now trapped inside a body that had been beaten into submission. With the reversal of their leadership roles, would they be able to find a new equilibrium?

Kael rubbed at his tired eyes and sat back in the chair. Even though Rameel was dead, and his followers with him, the damage remained like a lingering sickness. There was no way to truly recover from what Rameel had done. Nothing would ever be the same again. The only consolation Kael had was the hope that he could prevent this from happening to others. He would do whatever he could to keep others from experiencing the pain that had already torn his family apart.

Sleep pulled at Kael’s eyes, but he refused to give in—there was work to do. To get his father home, he needed a key. But such an endeavor was impossible with Adair in his current condition.

Alright, father. Let’s have another look at you. Perhaps there is something else I can help with.

Kael closed his eyes and pushed his sense outward to Adair. Just as he had done in Orud when his own body had been paralyzed, and again with the members of TAC 1 in Helsinki, he focused his sense into a fine point and continued the lengthy task of healing the damage that his father had sustained while in captivity.

BASTUL OUTPOST

FORMERLY, THE HIGH TEMPLE OF THE KALIEL

Inside the cavernous central chamber of the former temple, the midnight change of guard was taking place. A lone soldier stood at attention beside one of only two passages into the area. Across the interior from where he stood, stairs had been carved into the stone, gradually sweeping upward and to the left, where they disappeared into the spherical wall of this ancient place. Any minute now, he would climb through that passage and wind his way to the peak of the dormant, submerged volcano. Once there, he would take up his next guard position of the night and relieve the soldier who had been standing up there for the last hour.

Beside him, the utter darkness of the second passage began to flicker with orange light as his replacement approached. He noted this from the corner of his eye because he wouldn’t turn his head. As any disciplined Orudan guard, he was resolved to remain at attention, without moving, and keep his eyes forward until he was relieved of his post. The orange flicker grew into a dance of yellow light, but the soldier was no longer paying attention to it. His eyes were suddenly transfixed on something at the center of his jurisdiction. Like the dark surface of the moat surrounding it, the perfectly smooth dais could only be seen when one stood near enough to observe the reflected stars or, on rare occasions, the moon. But at this moment, even from a distance, there seemed to be a blue aura hanging in the air above it.

The steady padding of leather boots on stone changed to a sandy crunch as the new guard entered the central chamber. But instead of the usual quick exchange of observations passed from one guard to the next, there was silence. Both men were now quite aware that this night was different from all the previous ones.

The blue aura, which began as a soft, waving apparition, transitioned to brilliant shafts of light that stabbed upward. As the beams slanted from vertical to horizontal, mysterious and wonderful shapes danced along the rock ceiling, swirling and writhing, slowly making their way down the walls. Faster and faster the shapes moved, until the shafts of light that produced them disappeared. Despite the torches burning along the walls, the sudden loss of the intense light seemed to plunge the cavern into complete darkness.

The soldiers looked at each other and recognized a mixture of fear and curiosity on the face of the other. The newcomer, still carrying his torch, lifted it out before him and squinted into the darkness. “What happened?”

The first guard shook his head before turning and grabbing his own torch from its sconce on the wall. Together, they moved away from the wall and across the expanse of sand toward the dais.

All of sudden, a metallic shriek cried out, followed by several clanking sounds that quickly changed to muted thumping noises.

The soldiers stopped advancing and changed the position of their spears from a vertical marching rest to a forward attack.

“Who goes there?” the newcomer called out.

There was no answer.

They looked at each other again, nodded, and then continued moving forward. There were no more shrieks or thumps, only the slow and steady padding of their own boots against the sand. Step by step, they made their way across the temple floor until they arrived at the edge of the moat, where a footbridge extended across the water to the dais.

Each guard waved his torch from side to side, peering into the night, looking for whatever had produced the light and sounds that marked the only significant event to have occurred since the Empire seized control of this place so many months ago. Finding nothing to satisfy their curiosity, they split up and circled the moat, eventually rejoining each other at the footbridge opposite from where they had started.

“What is that?” the newcomer asked, looking at the ground in front of them.

The first guard pulled his torch to the side and looked carefully. In the sand were three circular impressions, each as big around as a man’s wrist. If he were to connect them with lines, they would have formed a triangle. Then he noticed a fourth impression, this one farther away than the others. The four points formed a sort of elongated diamond shape, and the entire pattern was half the length of a grown man.

“There’s another one,” the newcomer observed, walking forward.

The first guard followed him, finding just what the other had pointed out—another pattern of impressions. It was just over five paces from the previous one, away from the dais. The two patterns were also slightly offset from each other, running parallel rather than inline. “What do you suppose made them?” he asked his replacement.

The newcomer shrugged.

The first guard continued forward, finding another pattern of impressions at the same distance, this one shifted slightly to the right. He turned and looked back, suddenly seeing a larger pattern. “Right, left, right,” he mumbled.

“Here’s another one,” the newcomer announced, still moving forward. “No, two of them,” he corrected himself. “Side by side

The first guard walked forward to join the other and knelt down to plant his torch in the sand.

“What are you doing?” the second guard asked.

The first guard ignored the other, grabbing his spear with two hands and extending it toward the patterns on the floor.

Clank!

His spear hit against something hard in the air before it even reached the impressions.

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

Four more patterns suddenly appeared in the sand, moving away from the guards in a different direction. Just as before, the first three were equally spaced from the next and alternated from right to left and back again, with the last one appearing parallel to the third.

They almost seemed like … footprints? he wondered. But that was impossible. There was nothing present to make the footprints. They had just appeared without any cause.

The newcomer set down his spear, untied a leather strap, and lifted a signal trumpet in front of his face. “We need to alert the others,” he said, then inhaled, placing the instrument against his lips.

A bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the entire cavern. A wet, popping noise immediately followed, then a shower of something more substantial than liquid splashed against the first soldier. It was only after the lightning was gone that he realized what his eyes had just witnessed. The bolt had shot sideways through the cavern. One end of it had hit his fellow soldier a moment before the man burst apart, pieces of him flying in all directions. The origin of the bolt had been directly over where the footprints had stopped. No sooner had these observations crossed his mind than another bolt appeared, attaching itself to his own body.

The cavern settled back into darkness and its voluminous space once again swallowed any faint noise from the flickering torches along its perimeter. Several seconds passed before a soft whining noise grew to a growl. The sound was accompanied by a column of red fire that appeared from nowhere and shot downward to blow the sand away. As millions of tiny grains fled before the awesome display of power, they formed swirling clouds that beat against a structure that was solid, yet invisible. As the growl increased in volume and the column of fire burned hotter, the object lifted through the swirling sand, levitating for a moment before speeding toward the ceiling and disappearing through the cylindrical void that led to the open sky. It was a mysterious and miraculous sight, but there were no longer any Orudan guards present to observe it.

C HAPTER 5

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

Adair’s eyes flew open as he inhaled sharply.

Above him, smooth white panels created a surface that was checkered with rectangles of glass. It took a moment for him to realize that it was the ceiling of the medical room.

“Are you okay?” came a whispered voice.

Adair turned his head toward the voice and saw a man curled into an uncomfortable position in the chair beside his bed. He was just beginning to sit forward. In the soft light from a lamp, he recognized Kael’s face.

“Did you sleep in that chair?” Adair asked.

Kael shrugged his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

Adair looked around the room, relieved that the environment he’d just experienced was only a bad dream. He stretched his back and was surprised at how much stronger he felt now than he had yesterday. “I’m well. What time is it?”

Kael glanced around the room, but there was no clock. “Probably time for breakfast. You slept through the night.”

Adair yawned and stretched one more time before asking the question that had been on his mind since yesterday. “What was your meeting with Helmsley all about?”

Kael crossed his arms. “He wanted some information that I have about the people who captured you.”

“How much do you know?”

Kael’s forehead wrinkled. “That’s an odd question.”

“Well …?” Adair asked simply.

Kael unfolded his arms and stood up. “Plenty. It’s all part of the story, so why don’t we go get cleaned up and we can talk over breakfast? I have lots more to tell you.”

“Great.” Adair smiled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was eager to share what he’d learned in the Eternal Realm, but knew it was better if he allowed his son to speak first.

Helmsley accepted a fresh cup of coffee from one of the analysts and set it down on the conference table next to his tie. As he once again rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt, the voice on the speakerphone continued relaying the latest bad news.

“Apparently it was the FBI who made first contact. Because of Western Operations’ proximity to Langley, the CIA was informed and it became a joint effort. And they moved fast on it.”

Helmsley dug his fingers into his tired eyes and massaged them for a moment. “The shutdown didn’t help,” he concluded.

The man on the phone, known only to Null’s directors as Mr. Carter, replied, “They have their hands on less information now than they would have had otherwise.”

“I suppose,” Helmsley admitted through clenched teeth before taking a sip of his coffee. It had been a long, sleepless night. And now, the morning was off to a terrible start. His office in Virginia, the headquarters for all of Null’s Western Operations, had been located and seized with the involvement of another US government entity.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Marshall said from one of the screens on the wall.

“Thank you,” Helmsley replied, instantly regretting his cold, soldierly tone.

“The takedown occurred at 3:26 a.m., eastern time,” Carter continued. “By 5:00 a.m., the connection to Bogotá had been established and internal intelligence agencies around the world were being warned of a global terrorist organization. A half hour later, Interpol had the news and was in the process of disseminating the warning to law enforcement agencies everywhere.”

“So, it’s a global witch-hunt,” Marshall observed. “Now they’re going to be looking for anything that even vaguely fits their profile, and with everything that happened in Helsinki, it’s only a matter of time before they find our Stockholm office. And then Central Operations will be the next to fall.”

“Unbelievable,” Helmsley replied. “Do we know how well Armaros is embedded?”

“Command believes that, given the speed at which this information is traveling across agencies and countries, it’s unlikely that it’s a simple tip-off,” Carter replied.

Helmsley could feel his temper getting the best of him and inhaled deeply to smooth over his emotions. “Okay. Okay. What does this tell us? We knew Armaros was dangerous. We knew he had facilities all over the world and standing armies that governments didn’t even know about. There was never any doubt that he was in a position to do a lot of damage. Then, a few days ago, we learned that he was in possession of weapons technology that would be a threat to anyone—government or individual alike. And now we find that he’s somehow sitting at the top of every intelligence agency in the world, and most law enforcement as well.”

“What does Command want to do?” Marshall asked bluntly.

“Well, the key is what Mr. Helmsley just said. Most law enforcement. Command agrees with your assessment, Ms. Marshall. The trajectory of this problem is certainly headed toward Central Operations, but the fact that all law enforcement agencies aren’t intimately involved with the offensive gives us a clue to Armaros’ … organizational chart, so to speak. Command believes that his control over the intelligence community is from a directives level only. In fact, our sources inside these agencies have reported only downstream communication, nothing lateral.”

“Meaning,” Helmsley said, picking up the thought, “these agencies only know that they’re looking for a global terrorist organization?”

“Exactly,” Carter replied.

“Ahh …” Marshall said with a smile. “So, we’ll give them one.”

“That’s right, Ms. Marshall. If we’re going to lose Stockholm and COD anyway, let’s put them to good use. We have plenty of information on Armaros and what he’s doing throughout the world. We just need to modify it to make it look like Null assets are an extension of his organization and leave it where it can be found.”

“Brilliant,” Marshall exclaimed.

Helmsley couldn’t help but smile. This was the closest he’d felt to a positive emotion all night. “Leave a scent trail and let the hunting dogs follow it back to their master.”

“Okay, Jim. Let’s get moving on this,” Marshall said, obviously eager to start the counterattack. “I’ll make arrangements to get you and your team out of Sweden.”

Helmsley nodded. “And I’ll work with Chisholm to get the data on Armaros converted and start shutting things down here.”

“I’ll contact you both in one hour for a status update,” Carter said.

“Very good,” Marshall replied before ending her connection.

“Thank you,” Helmsley said before hanging up the call. When he looked up, Chisholm, Hayes, and Petran were staring at him. “Alan, I want everyone in the Command Room in five minutes. Ian, have your team dig up all the information on Armaros and get it organized so we can decide how to spin it. Ciaran, go round up as many people as you can find. We have evidence to get rid of, and then we need to shut this place down.”

LOCATION UNKNOWN

His assistant walked along the curving, glass exterior of the lounge, stopping outside the double doors.

Armaros set down his brandy and waved the man forward. From his comfortable and expensive chair, he turned to look across a polished wood table and several meters of plush carpet to where small windows were arranged in a neat, horizontal line along the wall. Blue sky and clouds were all that could be seen.

We haven’t reached cruising altitude yet and already a development?

“Sir,” the assistant spoke softly. “There has been a problem with the team that you dispatched to take care of the … liability.”

“Oh?” Armaros replied, pulling the cigar away from his mouth and leaving behind a trail of white smoke.

“They are no longer on the system.”

Armaros glanced out the windows again as he mulled over the information. First the failure in Helsinki, now three more are dead. “What of the liability?”

“He’s no longer on the system either.”

Retaliation? Unlikely. What then? Did they stumble on something larger than expected? More defense forces? Perhaps a facility of greater importance than the last two? “Send in five more teams and advise them to use caution in their approach.”

“Yes, sir,” the assistant replied.

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

The day passed far too quickly for Adair as he listened to Kael recount the years of events that he had missed in the lives of his family. The only pause in the continuous stream of information was a physical therapy session from Svenson’s team, during which Adair looked over to find Kael asleep in a chair across the room. Otherwise, whether they shared a meal or strolled down the hallway to exercise Adair’s legs, he had listened with rapt attention to Maeryn’s experiences with Lemus, the birth of Aelia, and Kael’s time at the monastery. The years aboard Gryllus’ trade ship and the fortress city slowly gave way to the political struggles facing the Empire and Magnus’ treachery. By the time the sun had set, Kael was describing the battle for Orud, Rameel’s death, and Maeryn’s appointment to the High Council. Adair experienced the rise and fall of each emotion as if he had been there. Anger and betrayal were followed by laughter and sighs of peaceful reminiscence. As exhausting as it was to live Kael’s experiences vicariously, he couldn’t bring himself to stop his son from speaking. There was too much he’d missed. And just when he thought he’d heard it all, Kael spoke of his recovery in Orud and the magnificent, yet horrific, tales that Saba had shared. He began to hear explanations of things he’d seen and experienced in the Eternal Realm, and Kael’s words stoked the fire for knowledge that burned within him. Throughout the day, as pieces of Kael’s story meshed with his, he bit his tongue, waiting for the opportunity to share his own experience with Kael.

“And that’s when I came running up the stairs,” Kael finished. “I still haven’t fully accepted the fact that we’re here together. It seems like a dream.”

Adair smiled. Many of the things he would soon share with Kael would also sound like a dream. There was wisdom in how Kael had approached the retelling of his life. It would have been too easy to get sidetracked, or share information outside of the context that would help make it understandable. It was best to simply recount everything in the order in which it had been experienced.

“Now that you have finished your story, I must tell you mine. The night before I disappeared from Bastul, the guards woke me. There was an injured man being cared for at the Temple of Adussk.”

Kael held up his hand. “It’s late, and you need a full night’s sleep.”

Adair laughed at Kael’s fatherly tone. “I feel great. Besides, you can’t expect me to stop now. I at least have to tell you about that night.”

Kael hesitated. “Thirty minutes?”

“Agreed. As I was saying, I went into the city that night to visit the man at the Temple …”

C HAPTER 6

NULL, SCANDINAVIA AND EASTERN EUROPE OFFICE

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

The phone woke Helmsley from a much-needed sleep. He rolled over and grabbed the receiver without turning on the light. “Helmsley.”

“Sir. You’re needed in the Command Room. We have multiple assault teams moving toward our location.”

Helmsley glanced at the clock then hung up the phone without a reply. Rolling out of bed to turn on the light, he went immediately for his clothes, which he’d draped over the back of a chair less than two hours ago. In under a minute, he was clothed and heading out the door of his room.

The barracks were situated one floor below the Command Room. For the sake of time, Helmsley took the stairs and ran down the hall until he burst through the doors of the regional office’s nerve center.

The screens on the wall showed video footage of multiple armored personnel carriers parked along the curb outside of a stone building. Police officers in black tactical gear were waving to each other and pointing at something. Others were clustered in small groups at the back of their vehicles and looked to be reviewing last-minute details.

“What do we have?” Helmsley blurted out.

Chisholm, who was already standing at the workstations behind the night crew personnel, pointed to one of the screens. “This is just a few blocks away. We’ve seen three UNDK agents so far. They’re probably heading up the operation, but most of the forces are definitely Säpo.”

Helmsley rubbed his eyes. “Ground only?”

“No,” Chisholm replied.

The double doors opened again as Petran and Hayes entered. Petran was fully dressed, but Hayes was only wearing an undershirt with his dress pants. Both were alert, their eyes scanning the room and taking in the current situation.

“There is a surveillance helicopter hanging back in a holding pattern,” Chisholm continued. “Standard procedure will be to use it for observing our movements and coordinating their assault.”

“Okay,” Helmsley replied, thinking through the multiple plans that had been prearranged and the slight alterations that would be necessary given the configuration of the assault forces. “Go ahead and sound the evacuation. Have your security teams move all the personnel to the ground-level exit on the east side. They’ll EXFIL through the forest and head for the train station.”

“What about the helicopter? They’ll spot the evacuation,” Chisholm asked.

Helmsley nodded. “Do you have any long-range weaponry on site?”

Chisholm considered the question, but it was Hayes who answered, “We lost almost everything in Helsinki.”

“What’s going on?” another voice sounded from behind.

Helmsley glanced over his shoulder just as Matthews and Suncio came into the room. He ignored Suncio’s question and looked back to Chisholm and Hayes. “Someone phone down to Greer in the barracks and have him assemble TAC One.”

Greer walked quickly down the hall and pounded on the three doors next to his own room. Within seconds, Thompson, Martinez, and Jensen were peeking out of their doors.

“Thirty seconds to get dressed—CUs.”

The men nodded and their faces disappeared. Twenty seconds later, all three were in their combat uniforms standing in the hall. Without another word, Greer turned and headed down the corridor, pushing through the door of the armory.

“What’s up TL?” Martinez asked. His voice sounded groggy, but Greer knew the man’s senses were already operating at full alert.

“Säpo is en route. They have a spotter helo that needs its eyes poked out.”

Martinez nodded.

“So they’re going with the ground EXFIL?” Thompson asked.

“Yeah,” Greer answered as he glanced around the room, disappointed with the findings. Most of the rifle racks were empty. There were a handful of submachine guns and only two bolt-action rifles.

“Hey TL,” Jensen called out. The soldier was systematically opening and closing the drawers beneath each rifle rack. “Clips and ammo are gone.”

Greer pulled down one of the rifles and checked the magazine. At least it was loaded, per standard procedure. “Alright, boys. What you see is what you get. Grab what you need and let’s get to the roof.” Greer pulled down the other single-shot rifle and handed it to Thompson, the second best shooter on the team—although his assistant team leader argued that point every time he verbalized it. “It’s you and me. We only have standard rounds, so first priority is the camera. After that, we can put a few rounds in the fuselage and try to scare him off.”

Thompson grabbed the rifle and ejected the magazine, verifying out of habit that it was loaded. Then he looked up and nodded.

The evacuation siren was blaring. Kael stood at the open door of Adair’s room, looking up and down the hallway to see if there was any other indication of what was happening.

Adair was sitting up on his bed, lines of concern etched across his face.

The phone rang and Kael spun around to lift the receiver off the wall. “Yes?”

“You and Adair need to get down to the basement level and go to the north end of the building. Wait there and the rest of us will join you in a few minutes.” It was Suncio’s voice.

“What’s happening?”

“We’re under attack.”

“Already?” Kael asked.

“Yeah. Hurry up!” Suncio answered before hanging up.

Kael placed the receiver back on the wall and met his father’s eyes. “We need to leave.”

Adair got out of bed without saying a word and went to the closet to change out of his hospital gown. It was apparent that he had done this often enough in the past that he knew what was happening.

Kael turned to look out the door again, keeping an eye on both ends of the hallway. He didn’t say anything, but his irritation was mounting. Couldn’t his father even have a few days to recuperate? He knew this was a war, but sometimes it was the little reminders of the enemy’s aggression that made the biggest impact.

“I’m ready.”

Kael turned back.

Adair was dressed in loose, comfortable clothing and soft-soled shoes. It wouldn’t do much to protect him from the elements, but it would serve him better than his gown.

“Let’s go,” Kael said, offering his arm.

Adair held up a hand in protest and walked forward on steady legs.

The two turned down the hall and entered the north stairwell, descending to the bottom level of the building. They threaded their way through hallways lined with countless louvered doors. Kael thought it resembled the basement of the building in Helsinki where Adair had been a prisoner. Indeed, when he glanced at his father, Adair seemed uncomfortable just being in the area.

As they arrived at the north end of the building, Sean and Nikolaus were already waiting beside an inlaid electronic keypad to the side of a large cargo door. Like Kael, both men were dressed in clean pairs of the black CUs they had worn during their recent mission. Nikolaus’ left arm was still in the sling that kept it immobilized and secured against his abdomen. Each man was wearing a sidearm, and Kael suddenly felt the absence of a gun of his own.

“Where is everyone?” Sean asked.

“Suncio said they’d be down in a few minutes,” Kael replied, as he moved to place himself between his father and the hall they had just come through.

Security camera footage showed a convoy of black armored personnel carriers speeding down the main entry road of Null’s property, followed by dozens of blue and white police cruisers with their lights flashing.

“Barricades up,” Helmsley ordered.

On the screens, four sequential black and yellow striped vehicle barricades rose from the pavement, like doors opening into the earth. They locked into position at a forty-five-degree angle just seconds before the first APC reached the area. Whether the driver didn’t have enough time to react or thought he could muscle through with his tank-like vehicle, it didn’t go well for the man or his passengers. The APC hit the barricade at full speed and nearly folded in half as the front end came to an abrupt halt and the back end had nowhere to go but up.

They didn’t have audio coverage of the area, but Helmsley could imagine the terrible sound the collision must have produced.

Just as the back wheels of the crumpled vehicle came to rest on the pavement, the second APC threw on its brakes and skidded off the road. When it hit the steep and narrow shoulder, the twenty-five-ton behemoth tilted then rolled over into the marsh beside the road.

“That will slow them down for a few minutes,” Chisholm said.

The remaining APCs came to a stop without incident then proceeded cautiously off the road and into the marshes, making use of their amphibious capabilities and massive tires. Several police cruisers tried, unsuccessfully, to ease around the first barricade before sliding down the loose gravel of the shoulder and ending up stuck in the mud. It only took a minute or two before the Swedish Police Service abandoned their hatchback sedans and continued on foot. By the time they were assembled on the other side, the APCs had skirted the barricades and were slowly crawling up the banks toward the pavement, like massive crocodiles leaving their swamps.

“Their helicopter has been cleared to move ahead, sir,” one of Chisholm’s security members said from a nearby workstation.

“What’s our EXFIL status?” Suncio asked.

“Seventy percent,” Petran replied.

Suncio looked at Hayes and nodded.

Hayes touched a button and opened his COMM. “SEC Alpha. TAC One is cleared to engage.”

The security leader closed his COMM and waved in Greer’s direction. “You’re clear.”

Greer gave him a thumbs up and turned to Thompson, who was sitting a few meters away with his back against the concrete exterior wall of the roof, rifle propped on his knee. “Ready?”

Thompson nodded.

Greer, crouching at the foot of a radar dish, sighted the helicopter through his scope. There was barely enough contrast between it and the night sky to detect it, let alone fire on it. “Martinez. What do you have for us?”

“He’s eight hundred meters out and flying low at sixty-one meters,” Martinez replied.

“Jensen?”

“We’re eighteen meters off the ground, so that’s forty-three of elevation gain,” Jensen replied. “And you have a five mile-an-hour wind, steady out of the southeast.”

“Copy that,” Greer and Thompson said in unison.

“Six hundred meters out,” Martinez updated.

“Get ready with the lights,” Greer told the security team.

“Five hundred meters,” Martinez corrected. Then a few seconds later, “Four hundred.”

“Turn ‘em on!” Greer yelled.

Loud popping noises sounded from multiple locations along the rooftop as the Swedes engaged the searchlights.

Greer kept his eyes on the target that suddenly began glowing like a comet against the black sky. As he had suspected, they were using a twin-engine Eurocopter with an IR-capable camera mounted under the nose, just forward of the landing skids. Greer took aim and waited for the right moment.

“Four hundred meters,” Martinez called out.

“Fire in three, two, one,” Greer ordered, pulling the trigger.

Two loud reports sounded across the rooftop as Greer and Thompson fired simultaneously.

In the distance, sparks dropped from the helicopter. The gun’s recoil had knocked Greer’s eyes off the target, so he couldn’t verify the hit. “Status?” he yelled as he slid the bolt back, ejected the shell, then shoved the bolt forward to chamber another round.

“Someone hit it!” Martinez confirmed.

“Probably me,” Thompson teased.

Greer grinned as he located the chopper and took aim again. The entire camera housing was gone, and the chopper had changed course slightly, but the pilot wasn’t retreating. “Let’s make him wet his pants. Martinez?”

“Two-fifty,” Martinez replied.

“Fire at will,” Greer called out before pulling the trigger. His rifle jerked a split second after Thompson’s shot, and he immediately ejected the spent cartridge and chambered another. By the time he sighted the chopper again, smoke was spilling out from underneath the rotors and it was veering back to the south. “Alright, boys. Kill the lights. Let’s get out of here!”

The security team turned off the searchlights and TAC 1 followed them across the gravel roof to the stairwell door.

Beneath the crunching footsteps of the retreating soldiers, Greer could now make out the deep, growling sound of massive diesel engines. He knew the sound of an APC when he heard one. This sounded like several, and they were already pulling up to the front of the building.

“GO, GO, GO!” he yelled as the last of the security team entered the stairwell, followed by his own men.

A loud boom shook the building as Helmsley stumbled out of the elevator and reached out to break his fall.

“What was that?” Matthews asked.

“They just blew the front doors,” Suncio replied, offering a hand.

Helmsley grabbed it and got back to his feet. “We need to hurry!”

Hayes pushed past the group. “This way,” he said, jogging down the hallway.

Petran and Chisholm ran after him, while the Bogotá team took up the rear.

Less than a minute later, they entered a large room at the north end of the basement and found Kael, Adair, Sean, and Nikolaus waiting for them.

“What’s going on?” Sean called out.

“The Swedish Security Service showed up with the police,” Matthews replied.

Petran sidestepped Kael and Adair and began punching numbers into the keypad beside the steel doors.

“What about all the others in the building?” Adair asked.

Helmsley couldn’t help but smile at the man’s honest concern. “Our security team evacuated them through the forest on the east side of the building. They have a couple miles of rough terrain to hike, but they’ll be fine. By the time the police realize what happened, all our support personnel will be spread out over a dozen trains heading in multiple directions.”

A clank echoed through the room as the security doors slid sideways. The dark opening flickered as row upon row of lights came on, illuminating a semicircular tunnel that was wider and longer than Helmsley had expected. The foreground was a parking lot of sorts. There were roughly twenty electric transports parked in two rows, looking like glorified golf carts. Each could carry a driver and five passengers. In the background, the passage stretched to the north, with another tunnel branching off to the west about a hundred meters away.

The sound of marching footsteps brought everyone’s attention back to the hallway they had just come from.

Sean and Nikolaus brought their pistols up and took aim.

The Stockholm security team came through the doorway, followed quickly by TAC 1.

“Stand down!” Greer yelled.

Sean and Nikolaus slowly lowered their weapons.

The arriving soldiers split into two groups with the Swedes heading toward Chisholm and his team while TAC 1 gathered around Helmsley. Both groups encircled their superiors with their weapons covering their retreat.

“What’s the plan?” Martinez asked, looking from one person to the next.

“Good luck, Mr. Helmsley,” Chisholm called out.

Helmsley lifted his head to peer over the top of his team and meet eyes with the Stockholm office’s deputy director. He and his team were already loaded up on carts and about to leave. “Thanks for everything, Alan,” he replied.

Chisholm nodded, and four carts carrying the last of the Stockholm personnel left the parking area and sped down the corridor, turning west at the nearest intersection.

“Where are they going?” Sean asked.

“They have a marina disguised as a drainage outlet about a mile from here,” Helmsley answered.

“What about us? Are we leaving by boat?” Martinez asked, his eyes scanning the room they had just left.

“No, helicopter,” Helmsley answered, climbing into the front seat of the nearest cart.

“Let’s go!” Suncio yelled, climbing into the driver’s seat next to Helmsley.

“Matthews, can we close this thing from the inside—” Greer began to say as automatic gunfire rang out and sparks cascaded from the concrete wall opposite their position.

Suncio turned toward Helmsley and lunged, pushing him sideways out of the cart.

Helmsley hit the pavement on his elbow while Suncio landed awkwardly on top of him, knocking the wind from his lungs.

More gunshots erupted from close by as TAC 1 began returning fire.

Helmsley, struggling for breath, pushed against Suncio’s weight. But the man wouldn’t budge. That’s when he felt the pain in his stomach and realized what had happened.

As soon as he heard the first gunshot, Kael grabbed his father by the waist and lifted him off his feet, shuffling them both behind the partially retracted security door with his own body acting as a shield. He didn’t stop moving until they had safely reached the inside corner where the door slid into the concrete wall. Shoving his father into the corner, Kael grabbed Adair’s face in both hands. “Are you hit? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Adair yelled back, his face scrunched into a scowl.

Kael didn’t have the time to think through his father’s reaction. He was already angry at himself for listening to the group’s conversation and failing to detect the attack before it arrived. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see TAC 1 fanning out and returning fire.

Thompson and Martinez moved inside the security door opposite from Kael and Adair. Jensen started firing as he moved backward and took cover behind the nearest cart. Sean and Nikolaus were moving for a cart behind Jensen’s position. Greer ran across the passage firing continuously as he moved toward Helmsley and Suncio, who were now on the ground behind their cart.

Bullets pelted the partially-open security doors with rapid, metallic shrieks.

TAC 1’s reply appeared as bursts of flame scattered across the parking area in random flashes.

Kael reached out with his sense and felt the presence and position of four men in the hall they had just left. Two were on the ground on opposite sides of the passage, and two were standing. Each had partial cover behind the corners of the concrete walls. They all had a good line of sight into the parking area and had everyone pinned down.

Across the passage, Thompson and Martinez released their magazines and were verifying that they were empty.

“Kael?” Greer called out.

Kael looked back to the carts, but didn’t see anyone. “Yeah?”

“I only have six left. Take my pistol?”

“Okay,” he replied.

A second later, a black object came sliding out from underneath Helmsley’s cart and across the slick pavement. Kael crawled forward and grabbed it before jumping back as bullets chewed into the ground nearby and ricocheted into the distant passage with a whistle.

Kael slumped against the door beside Adair and held up Greer’s forty-caliber pistol.

“Give ‘em hell!” Greer yelled, still hidden from sight.

Kael glanced at his father. “Don’t move,” he ordered, sounding sterner than he intended. Then he switched off the safety and rose to his feet. Inching along the thick metal door, he approached the opening with his sense now locked on the enemy. He could feel them watching, waiting for anyone to step out from behind cover. Time was on their side now. They had a dominant position and controlled their opponents’ ability to move. Kael could feel the presence of other teams throughout the building, moving rapidly from floor to floor. This particular team had gotten lucky by starting their search in the basement and locating the few remaining people in the building. They had likely already notified their fellow officers of the engagement and could now simply wait for reinforcements to arrive. If that happened, TAC 1 would be finished.

Kael stuck only his arm and the pistol around the edge of the door.

One of the enemy officers saw the movement and leaned out to fire off a shot.

Kael aimed without the benefit of sight, using the pistol as an extension of his own body. He felt the path between his weapon and the enemy, and pulled the trigger. The pistol jerked in his hand.

The officer collapsed to the floor.

The one standing on the other side of the passage looked down in confusion at his fellow officer.

Kael targeted him and fired, feeling another enemy drop.

The two remaining men rose from their positions on the floor, pushing back on hands and knees now that confidence in their body armor and strategic advantage was gone.

Kael seized the opportunity and fired two more rounds in rapid succession. Then he pulled his arm back. “Clear!”

Greer’s head popped up from behind the cart.

Kael switched on the safety. “You still have two—” he started to say, ready to toss the gun back.

But Greer wasn’t looking; he had his head down and was holding up his index finger. “Thompson!” he yelled, calling for the most experience medic on their team.

The other members of TAC 1, who were scattered across the parking area, quickly converged on Greer’s position. Kael and Adair were the last to join the group, and they walked around the cart to see what Greer had been looking at. Blood was everywhere. Suncio was lying face down with his arms tucked underneath him. A line of bullet holes traced up his back from his left hip to his right shoulder. His unblinking eyes stared vacantly at the pavement.

Martinez’s hands were shaking with rage and his lips were pressed together in disgust, as if the words held on his tongue had a bitter taste. The other members were stone-faced.

Helmsley was on his back and pinned beneath Suncio’s legs. He was breathing in long, methodical breaths as he clutched his stomach where his dress shirt was soaked with blood.

Thompson, with one hand under Helmsley’s head, looked up at Greer, and they locked eyes for a moment.

Kael knew instantly what it meant—the wound was a fatal one. Helmsley would also be dead soon.

“Help me get him up on the cart,” Greer said, bending down to move Suncio’s body and grab Helmsley’s legs. A few others joined in and hefted their boss onto the backseat of the cart. “Does anyone know where the hangar is?” Greer asked.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Matthews replied.

Greer pointed at him. “You lead the way.”

Matthews pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and climbed into the front seat of a cart.

“Everybody load up!” Greer ordered. Then he spun around and grabbed the arm of Kael’s shirt, pulling him in close. “You healed us. Is there anything you can do for him?”

Kael glanced at his father, who looked less stable than he had a few minutes ago. He was sweating and his skin was a few shades paler. His instinct told him told him to save his energy for his father, but when he turned back to Greer, he was gripped by the intensity in the soldier’s eyes. “I’ll try.”

Greer let go of Kael’s shirt. “Ride with him. Do what you can.”

The others were already loaded in two carts and pulling out of their parking spaces with Matthews in the lead.

Kael climbed into the seat beside Helmsley’s limp form. Adair sat in the front seat next to Greer, and they sped off to catch up with the rest of the group.

The lighted tunnel stretched to the north with half a dozen passages branching off at various points. The group stayed on the main thoroughfare for a mile before it veered slightly east. Another half mile passed before they exited the tunnel into a hangar. It was small by most standards, but still large enough to house three commercial-grade helicopters on separate helipads. Two of the choppers already had their rotors turning, and the pilots were finishing up their preflight checks. Matthews headed straight for the nearest helicopter and skidded to a stop just outside the safety zone.

Greer reached the helipad last and threw on the brakes before turning around. “Helmsley. Where are we going?”

Kael looked up and shook his head. Helmsley had already lost consciousness.

Without another word, Greer slid out of the driver’s seat and ran across the helipad. He tapped on the glass of the cockpit before walking back along the fuselage and leaning in through the side door. “Do you know where we’re headed?” he yelled over the whine of the engines.

Through the glass, Kael watched the pilot turn and say something that he couldn’t hear.

“Good. Let’s get out of here as fast as possible.”

The pilot nodded.

Greer turned around and headed back to the cart, yelling as he went. “Thompson, Kael, Adair, and Helmsley are going with me. The rest of you get in the other chopper.”

Thompson came over to help get Helmsley out of the cart. They all grabbed a limb and hefted the tall man across the helipad and into their escape vehicle. When everyone was aboard and strapped in, Greer gave the pilot a thumbs up.

Kael scanned the walls for some sign of an exit when a crack appeared in the center of the metal rafters above them, quickly widening enough to see a few wispy clouds reflecting the moon’s light against a black sky. The two halves of the ceiling continued to roll back on rails and soon became open sky.

The rotors were now at full speed. The pilot lifted the aircraft from the ground and headed through the opening with the second helicopter following. The hangar dropped away, revealing a landscape of forests and waterways spreading out into the distance, where the lights of Stockholm lit the horizon. As Kael’s eyes returned to the interior of the chopper, they settled on the two senior members of TAC 1. Greer was slumped forward, staring at the floor with his head in his hands. Thompson was leaning against the padded backrest with his eyes closed. It was already evident that the momentum of this conflict had shifted in Armaros’ favor, but their body language seemed to emphasize the fact.

C HAPTER 7

SANDÖN, SWEDEN

Flying east from Stockholm, the Bogotá team reached the island of Sandön in just under twenty minutes. One of thousands that formed the Stockholm Archipelago, the island was home to the community of Sandhamn, the last sign of civilization before the open Baltic Sea to the east.

The choppers flew low over the water and approached the mostly uninhabited western shore of the island. A large, white motor yacht was moored to a dock that jutted out into the ocean. Just north of where the dock anchored to the shoreline, a large helipad stood a meter above the sand and rock surroundings.

“Captain Frisk will handle your transport for the next leg,” the pilot announced.

Matthews leaned forward. “What’s the next leg? Where are we going?”

“Sorry, sir. We were only instructed to bring you here.”

Matthews sat back and watched through the window as the pilot eased the helicopter down on the concrete square. Jensen and Martinez opened the door and were the first ones out. Sean held the door for Nikolaus, and Matthews was the last to exit, noting a drastic temperature decline as he stepped into the night air. As soon as they had all made their way to the helipad’s perimeter, the helicopter lifted off again and pivoted to the west. The second pilot wasted no time, dropping swiftly to the landing pad. Adair jumped out and held the door for Greer, Thompson, and Kael, who were carrying Helmsley’s limp body, his midsection now wrapped in gauze.

“How’s he doing?” Matthews yelled through his chattering teeth, competing with the sound of the rotors.

Greer just shook his head as they all stopped to lower Helmsley to the ground.

It was then Matthews noted that Kael was following them closely and had his eyes closed for some reason. In what little illumination was available from the moon and the indicator lights at the corners of the helipad, Matthews could also see that Helmsley was a few shades paler than normal.

The second helicopter ascended into the sky and followed the first. As they both slowly receded into the distance, the thrumming sound dissipated, leaving only the gentle crashing of waves and a light wind in everyone’s ears.

Greer walked past with a sense of urgency, and Matthews turned to notice someone coming out from the trees and down the paved path toward the dock.

“Captain Frisk?” Greer called.

The man waved as he turned along a path that connected the helipad to the dock. “Please, call me David,” he replied as he got closer.

Matthews could make out limp, gray hair that hung down over a tall forehead. The man’s oval face was bordered by rosy cheeks and a prominent chin, which was covered with a short beard.

Greer shook his hand. “Do you have medical supplies aboard? We have an injured man.”

“Oh my, yes,” the captain exclaimed, looking over at Helmsley as TAC 1 carried him forward. “Yes, please, come aboard. There are beds, and I have a kit … but I don’t know if it will be enough.”

“Are we ready to cast off?” Greer asked.

David walked quickly toward the yacht, talking over his shoulder. “Well, yes. Almost. I had to move my helicopter and bring my boat around from the harbor. I haven’t loaded the food yet. And I don’t have any clothing for you.”

Matthews followed the captain’s gaze toward Adair, who looked like he’d thrown on his pajamas and left the house in slippers to get the paper.

“Clothing. Why? Where are we headed?” Greer asked.

David laughed under his breath, as if it was a joke. When he realized no one else was laughing, he added, “You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Russia,” he answered.

Greer suddenly stopped walking. “Thompson. Kael. Get Helmsley aboard and make him comfortable. Jensen, you’re with me. David, do you have a vehicle we can borrow?”

The captain’s thick eyebrows came together. “Yes. In the garage. You can go through the side door,” he said, pointing up the shore and into the trees. “The keys are in the glove compartment, but everything in town is closed until morning.”

Greer nodded without addressing the man’s concerns. “We’ll be back in an hour. The rest of you guys, help get Helmsley settled and then get the food loaded.” He and Jensen turned and headed up the path toward the trees.

Matthews followed the others onto the yacht, which appeared to fall somewhere along the middle of the luxury scale. He hung back as David showed them to a comfortable room with a bed, where they laid Helmsley down. David retrieved a first-aid kit and left Thompson and Kael with Helmsley before starting back toward his house with the rest of the team. Following along, Matthews noticed the concrete dock transition to a paved path that led up the beach and into a thick forest. Set back from the shore a few hundred feet, Captain Frisk’s house was surprisingly simple for a man who owned a helicopter and a yacht. The single-story building had a tiled roof, wood siding, and trim painted in contrasting colors that gave it a storybook sort of feel.

David escorted the rest of the team through the main entrance and across the living room to the back of the house. Between his walk-in pantry and refrigerator, there were several boxes of dry goods, water, and perishable supplies.

“I have a cold storage room on my yacht for the perishable food. Everything else can be put on the counter in the galley for now.”

One by one, Martinez, Sean, Nikolaus, and Adair chose something to carry and headed toward the front door.

Matthews had opened up his laptop and set it on the counter. “You don’t have a signal here. Is there an internet café in town?” he asked as soon as he was alone with David.

The captain came out of the pantry holding another box. “Ha! In Sandhamn?”

“There must be a Wi-Fi hub somewhere on the island,” Matthews mumbled, opening a short-range signal location program.

“Hmm,” the captain grunted, setting his box on top of the one in front of Matthews, before lifting both of them off the table. His large forearms rippled with muscles that had seen plenty of hard work in his lifetime.

Failing to find anything useful, Matthews closed his computer and looked up. The captain was already heading out of the kitchen. “Do you have another vehicle?” he asked, walking after David.

“There’s a motorcycle in the garage,” the man replied gruffly before exiting the front door.

Matthews followed him out before heading east on his own toward the separate garage structure. Greer and Jensen had left the main door open. When Matthews walked through, he found an old, single-stroke motorbike leaning against the back wall. He snickered at the thought of himself on such a ridiculous vehicle, but he didn’t have another option.

~

It took longer than expected, but Matthews eventually found a strong signal outside an unmarked building near the harbor. Hundreds of sailing vessels were moored to an extensive network of wooden docks that comprised the center of the town. Sandhamn itself was mostly quiet in the early morning hours, but the windows of a few taverns were still lit, and loud music and laughter could be heard coming from them. Even this late in the season, the local population was still outnumbered by the tourists who migrated here during the summer months.

Parked in the darkest corner of an alley where no one could approach him from any direction except straight ahead, Matthews logged onto his secure web storage location and began opening the security footage files from Bogotá. Starting with the exterior cameras, he moved backward from the time of the attack in hourly increments. His first approach was the most direct—to visually locate Andrea, who had been part of the operation sent to Nevada as a diversion while the real assault was being carried out in Helsinki. Tracking the returning team would have been the simplest way for Armaros to have located their Bogotá facility. Failing to find any useful footage, Matthews went back to the time of the attack and changed locations to George Barrett’s office, finding a different perspective on the footage they’d all witnessed from the conference room in Stockholm. His heart immediately began to race when he saw the invaders rush into George’s office and strike him across the face.

Okay, Andrea. Where are you?

Matthews switched to one of the Command Room cameras at the same time as George was being attacked. The room was empty. He scrolled the footage in reverse and began seeing activity. People ran backward into the room from all directions. Men in dark clothing appeared in the crowds, waving their weapons toward the ceiling before disappearing off the side of the screen. But Andrea was nowhere to be found.

If you’re not in the Command Room, where did you go?

Matthews began jumping randomly from location to location, seeing alternating periods of activity and inactivity—men running down the halls holding weapons, and rooms of people lying still on the ground. He also found several minutes of footage from the parking garage showing fellow Null agents being walked from the elevators and into the back of a row of vans.

What if you didn’t come back from Nevada?

A distant laugh suddenly brought Matthews’ attention to the alley. He peered through the darkness, watching the corner of the building and a small section of pavement illuminated by a streetlight. Seconds went by without any signs of movement or other sounds. Matthews slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.

When he looked back to the screen, an idea popped into his mind. He quickly brought up the file directory, organized by location and timestamp, and found the earliest footage from the Command Room. The time coincided with the start of the operation in Helsinki, which should have been approximately the same time as the diversion in Nevada would have been abandoned. He brought up the camera perspective that gave him the best view of the screens on the wall and was immediately relieved to see a tracking diagram for personnel in the field. Green dots were scattered across the desert landscape, representing the location of each individual they had in the area. As Matthews leaned closer to the screen, he could just make out the alphanumeric designators that helped distinguish field operators from other personnel.

Okay, Andrea. Which one are you?

Matthews’ screen suddenly dimmed and another low-battery alert popped up. He clenched his jaw and hit the escape key, resuming his search. There was a cluster of dots at a higher elevation to the northeast of the majority of the others.

The COMM field coordinator team …

Matthews scrolled the footage forward, and the cluster remained in place for eighty-six more minutes before it started moving. From the looks on people’s faces in the Command Room, something was going wrong with the operation.

They’re retreating!

One of the dots fell behind the rest of the group and stopped moving altogether. The others continued descending through the mountains heading north.

Matthews paused the footage and backed it up a few seconds. Then he hit the play button and tried to watch the lips of the analyst in the Command Room coordinating the operation’s movements. The man appeared to be saying something over and over again.

He backed up the footage and played it again.

The man opened his mouth and his jaw fluttered as he spoke a quick string of syllables.

Ahh.

He played it again slowly.

Ahhnn.

He played it again.

Andrea, the man mouthed.

The screen went black.

Matthews flinched, then realized that he’d just run out of battery. He had the sudden urge to throw his laptop across the alley, and it took everything he had to restrain himself.

Adair adjusted his new shirt and turned around, holding out his arms.

“Just like a local,” Martinez said.

“That should work for just about anywhere we go,” Greer added.

Adair looked down at his soft-soled boots and loose-fitting pants. All were dark and functional, yet nondescript. Aside from the metal receptacles in his head, he looked just like the rest of the team, who had also changed out of their combat uniforms. Everyone would pass for civilians as long as they weren’t inspected too closely. Laid out on the couch were a few more outfits and a dark trench coat for each person. On the table in the middle of the room was an assortment of thin-bladed knives that looked more appropriate for cleaning fish than for survival.

Martinez picked one off the table and held it up to the light. “It’s not exactly a Ka-Bar, but I guess it’ll have to do.”

“Where did you get all of this?” Adair asked.

Greer smiled. “Don’t ask.”

A closing door brought everyone’s attention aft to where Thompson had just entered the room. He had blood on his shirt and hands, and was cleaning himself with a strip of gauze.

“How is he?” Greer asked.

“Stable. But he lost a lot of blood. Kael’s still working on him.” Thompson’s face looked grim, but his words were an obvious relief to everyone.

“Good. We have a change of clothes for you when you’re done.”

Thompson nodded and turned in the direction of the head.

The intercom beeped, followed by Captain Frisk’s voice. “He’s back.”

Greer walked over to the speaker on the wall and pushed a button. “Go ahead and push off as soon as he’s aboard.”

The room went silent as everyone looked to Greer, whose face was just as calm as ever. But Adair could tell from everyone’s body language that they were expecting some sort of confrontation.

A moment later, Matthews burst into the cabin from the foredeck. He slammed the door and crossed the room without seeming to notice anyone.

“Thanks for joining us.”

“Shut up, Martinez!” Matthews snapped.

Jensen opened his mouth in surprise.

The attempt to smooth over the tension with humor had failed in one sense, but Adair almost burst out laughing at the surprised look on Martinez’s face. The situation was made more ridiculous when Adair pictured the two pairing off in hand-to-hand combat—Martinez’s muscled body, trained to kill with or without weapons, against Matthew’s scrawny form. The fight wouldn’t have lasted more than a second.

Matthews set down his laptop and slumped into a chair. He quickly opened up a rectangular bag and began digging through its contents.

“Where the hell is my …” He suddenly stopped and buried his face in his hands. “I left it in my office.”

Martinez now had a smile on his face at the absurdity of the scene.

Greer walked over calmly and stood beside Matthews, waiting for him to recognize his presence.

Matthews rubbed his eye sockets and as his hands slid down his face, his eyes glanced upward.

Greer’s face was stern. “Don’t ever talk to one of my men like that.” His voice was low and calm.

Matthews was silent and still.

“You’re twenty minutes late. In case you forgot, we’re on the run. If you ever put my men in danger again, I’ll cut your throat. You understand me?”

Matthews nodded slowly.

Greer lingered for a moment and kept his fierce eyes locked on Matthews. It seemed like an eternity before he turned and walked across the room, disappearing down the hallway.

The boat lurched under their feet as the forward motor kicked in.

Adair turned back to look at the rest of the team. All wore expressions of surprise except for Martinez, who had his fist in front of his mouth, trying to suppress a laugh.

C HAPTER 8

THE ROYAL PALACE, ORUD

Tell them the story that you told me. Then they’ll understand, Kael had said. Saba had been following through on the advice over the last few days, but it wasn’t turning out as he had hoped. Aelia was often speechless with surprise. Dacien had looked as though he was finding the key to a hundred riddles. But it was Maeryn’s expression that had moved him on the deepest level—her furrowed brow, the lines of tension beside her lips, her questioning eyes fighting back tears. And this morning, there was still one critical piece of information left to disclose. Saba was hesitant, wondering whether it would give her hope or undermine everything she’d worked to accomplish over the years.

“But,” Maeryn replied, “I still don’t understand why he had to leave.”

Saba leaned forward in his chair and reached across the dining table to hand her a stack of parchments.

Maeryn accepted them tentatively, holding Saba’s gaze for a brief moment before continuing to examine the documents.

Saba exhaled and glanced out the second-story windows of the Palace at the channel connecting the east and west bays of Orud. The merchants were already setting sail for the day, eager to make the most of the morning light.

“What are they?” Dacien asked.

“Shipping manifests and activity logs from the Temple. The Kaliel were meticulous about details.”

“Oh my,” Maeryn exclaimed, suddenly looking up. “These are from …”

Saba nodded.

“What is it, Mother?” Aelia asked, rising from the chair next to Dacien to sit down beside Maeryn.

The Empress of Orud was now crying in silence. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she read the documents carefully, putting each on the bottom of the stack as it was completed. When she was finished, she simply closed her eyes.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Colonel Adair Lorus was captured by the Kaliel,” Saba replied. “The day the Bastul activity logs recorded his going to sea, those at the temple describe the same type of vessel and number of crewmen being captured by a patrol. The crew was executed and the captain was brought in for questioning, but he escaped once inside the Temple walls. They chased him into the central chamber, but when they finally caught up with him, he ran onto the dais … and then he disappeared.”

Dacien leaned on the arm of his chair. “He wasn’t killed?”

“Not by the Kaliel,” Saba clarified.

“He went into the portal, which means he may still be alive.”

“Yes, that’s a possibility.”

“Alive in another world?” Dacien asked just to be clear.

“Yes. And given that possibility on top of everything else, Kael couldn’t turn away.”

“Indeed. How could he?” Dacien said, more to himself than anyone.

Saba turned back to Maeryn, who now seemed a bit more composed. Aelia had her arms around her mother, and it seemed to be doing some good. A long moment of silence passed before Maeryn finally spoke.

“If my … husband,” Maeryn said, barely managing to get the word out before faltering. When she started again, her voice was more stable. “If my husband and my son can leave this world through that portal, then something else can enter this world through it.”

“I suppose …” Saba replied.

“If what you told us is true, and there are enemy-controlled worlds on the other side of that … thing, then we are at risk.” Her words were now coming without hesitation. Instead of crumbling under the weight of this news, she was trying to think through the implications.

“Well, as I said, one must have a key—”

“You said yourself that Rameel announced the arrival of The Awakened just before his death!”

“Yes?” Saba replied.

“Then it follows that the others would know this world is no longer controlled. And if that is indeed the case, what is to stop them from claiming this place as their own?”

Saba was about to object, but he couldn’t. Maeryn’s reasoning was sound.

“Their agreement to stay in separate worlds would have been nullified,” Dacien added.

Saba placed a hand on his chin as he carefully considered the possibilities. He had been so caught up in how his story affected Kael and his family that he had missed the larger implications.

“Dacien, when were you leaving for Leoran?” Maeryn asked.

“Two days’ time.”

“Can you leave sooner?”

He looked at Aelia and then back at Maeryn. “Of course. Shall I include Bastul on the itinerary?”

“Yes. The Temple security is far too thin for this new development. When we’re done here, please check with the Captain of the Guard and see how many can be spared to sail with you.”

Dacien nodded. “And what are we to prepare for? What can we expect from these other worlds?”

Dacien and Maeryn both turned to Saba.

“I can’t say for certain; it has been so long. But as I told Kael, you can expect their technology to be more advanced—their weapons more effective than our own. These gods have had unrestrained rule for thousands of years.”

Dacien crossed his arms and stared hard at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Saba offered. “I hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might come here. But as I think about it, your concern is warranted. If such a thing were possible, Ezekiyel could find a way around the issue of keys. And if he did so, it would not only be plausible, but likely that they would come here. I just didn’t see it. I suppose I’m just not the same man I used to be.”

“Don’t apologize,” Maeryn said. “If I’m able to choose between the man before me and the man of your past, I gladly choose you, my friend.”

Saba smiled at Maeryn’s compassion.

Dacien stood up. “I agree. We’ve taken this as far as we can for now. I must go at once and meet with the Captain of the Guard. Please excuse me,” he said with a bow.

SANDHAMN, SWEDEN

The pint of beer sat on the bar, mostly untouched. Daud had only ordered it to fit in with the crowd, which appeared to be primarily tourists and only a few locals. While his new subordinates were investigating all of the island’s known helipad locations for physical evidence, Daud had decided to try a different approach. The gathering of human intelligence was outside of his area of expertise, but then again, the prey he was chasing was also a deviation from standard procedure, requiring him to consider tactics outside of his programming.

After examining the facts of the Säpo raid in Stockholm and finding little to go on, Daud had tried to imagine himself as Kael. It was a bizarre exercise and one that he had almost given up on when he finally stumbled across several residential complaints that had been filed with Stockholm police on the night of the raid. Apparently, two helicopters and three boats had been spotted moving fast enough to attract unwanted attention. The helicopters fit Daud’s profile for high-level personnel evacuation. The time and location of each complaint gave him a heading, and from there it was a process of elimination to find probable landing sites. This was the reason Daud found himself in an obscure town, sitting at the bar of a restaurant, and pretending to take in the local charm of the wood-paneled ceiling and decorative columns, while listening intently to the conversations taking place around the room.

A man in his mid-fifties approached from behind and leaned on the bar, setting down an empty pint glass. He slid it forward and motioned with his head before the bartender grabbed it and went to work refilling it from a tap nearby.

The man in front of the counter glanced over at Daud and back to the bartender. “Long season this year.”

“Ja. Noisy, too,” the bartender replied.

Daud turned to inspect the man beside him. He was fair-skinned, with gray hair and rosy cheeks.

“What about you?” the man asked. “What do you think of our sleepy village?”

Daud looked up from the man’s shoes and into his light blue eyes that seemed to be having trouble focusing anywhere specific. From the corner of his vision, he selected Swedish from his list of languages and then applied a Finnish accent. “Peaceful,” he replied, taking a sip from his glass.

“It used to be. Now you tourists are staying longer, making more noise, and breaking things.”

“Lars!” the bartender exclaimed with a scowl.

Lars just turned his rosy face toward the window and smiled.

The bartender set down a full pint. “I’m sorry, my friend. Lars has a loose mouth when he’s drunk.”

Daud nodded silently.

“I’m not drunk,” Lars protested.

“Ja. Well maybe that’s the problem,” the bartender replied, sliding the glass closer to his regular patron, who snatched it up as soon as it was within arm’s reach. Then, as Lars moved away with his glass, the bartender leaned forward on the bar and looked at Daud. “Helsinki?”

Daud eyed the man, quickly fabricating a believable story. “Yes. I’ve been working too hard and missed the summer altogether. I have another project starting in a few days and figured I should make the most of the short break.”

The bartender smiled.

“What did he mean about the tourists breaking things?” Daud asked, nodding in the direction of Lars, who was now leaning against an ornate wooden column and looking across the restaurant with a half-empty glass.

“Well, our visitors always like to party, but we’ve never had a burglary before.”

“Burglary? When did this happen?”

“Two nights ago,” the bartender replied.

“Here?” Daud asked.

“No. It was a store a few blocks down.”

Daud nodded and took another sip. “Money?”

Lars pivoted back toward the conversation with a clumsy swagger. “These rich bastards don’t need money. They just want some excitement.”

Daud turned to the bartender and forced his eyebrows together into a questioning look.

“Oh … boots. Jackets. They just stole some clothes and a few knives.”

“Strange.”

The bartender nodded before tilting his head. “Come to think of it, that was the same night that Mrs. Ackerson heard all the ruckus over at David’s place.”

“What ruckus?”

“The captain was using all of his vehicles in one night.” Lars’ voice was muted as he spoke the last few words with his glass in front of his mouth.

“How many does he have?”

“Well, he has a helicopter,” the bartended added. “And she thought she heard him drive his car into town, but his old motorcycle is what she complained about the most. She said that’s what finally got her out of bed.”

Daud lifted his glass, while in his mind he prepared a message to be sent to his subordinates.

[New search location: _ ]

When he set down his glass, he tried a new facial expression of surprise. “I kept hearing about how quiet it was here; that’s why I came. It’s a wonder everyone in town didn’t hear it.”

“Oh. Captain Frisk lives over on the point,” Lars explained, waving an uncontrolled hand in a vaguely southwestern direction. “Not many people over there except Mrs. Ackerman.”

Daud took a large gulp of his beer while he filled in the rest of the information and sent the message.

[New search location: residence of Captain David Frisk, southwest point of island.]

“There are so many boats around here, everyone must be a captain,” Daud mused aloud.

“Oh, no. Frisk is an experienced seaman. He’s retired now, but he used to work for the Maritime Administration,” the bartender replied.

Daud made the corners of his mouth turn upward. “Interesting.”

C HAPTER 9

THE GULF OF FINLAND

INSIDE THE RUSSIAN BORDER

The afternoon sun peeked through the silhouettes of pine trees as a hazy, orange disk, and cast long shadows across the sluggish water. The late autumn air was cold, but the water was still clear of ice. Captain Frisk navigated the maze of waterways that cut through hundreds of uninhabited islands, having slowed to fifteen knots since he left the open water. He kept glancing down at the digital display on his depth sounder, inching them closer to shore until he could go no farther without risking the hull.

As the captain pulled back on the throttle, Greer left the bridge and entered the lounge area where everyone else was waiting. “We’re going ashore. The raft only seats eight, so Kael and Thompson, you guys hang back and keep Helmsley as comfortable as possible.”

A few minutes later, the captain’s yacht was anchored in the bay, and the first of Greer’s team was speeding across the shallow water in the inflatable motor raft. As they neared the shoreline, the forest towered over them like a warning of things to come. Greer wasn’t normally superstitious, but something about the ever-darkening sky, the cold water, and the silence put him on alert.

The captain was unfazed by the scenery and simply steered the raft toward a rocky beach where a man was standing motionless, clothed in a dark green coat that hung to his knees.

Greer could tell he had an automatic rifle under his coat just by the man’s posture. “Who is that?” he asked, turning to David at the back of the raft.

David squinted. “I don’t know his name, but he is supposed to drive you the rest of the way.” He throttled down just as the raft hit the shore, grinding to a stop on the smooth stones.

Greer jumped over the gunwale and walked up the beach ahead of his team, aware of the knife resting in a sheath at the small of his back. “Privet,” he called out to the man.

“Welcome,” the man replied in English. “There are ten, no?”

Greer glanced back to the others. Sean and Jensen were pushing the raft back into the water, while the rest of the team made their way up the beach. David pulled on the rudder and turned the raft back toward the yacht. “Three more are coming,” Greer replied.

The man’s eyes drifted toward the yacht, but his body remained still without otherwise acknowledging the comment. Although his build was hidden by the thick clothing he wore, Greer could tell the man knew how to handle himself in a fight. If he had to guess, he’d say the man was part of a security team for Null’s Eastern Operations.

“Where are we headed?” Martinez asked.

The man glanced lazily toward Martinez. “We will wait for the others.”

Martinez raised his eyebrows at Greer before turning back to face the water. The rest of the group remained silent, and Greer noted that Sean was now scanning the tree line for signs of danger. Inwardly, he smiled at the boy’s alertness.

Several awkward minutes later, Captain Frisk returned to the shore with his remaining passengers. Helmsley was moving slowly, but some of the color had returned to his skin over the last ten hours, and he was now conscious more often than not. Thompson slung the older man’s arm over his shoulders while Kael lent a steadying hand as they moved up the beach.

Greer leaned over the gunwale and extended his hand toward David. “Thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure,” the man replied with a shake. “And good luck.”

Greer nodded and pushed the raft back out into the water, watching the captain turn and head back out toward his yacht.

“Follow me,” the Russian called out from farther up the beach before turning and disappearing into a narrow break in the trees.

One after another, each team member left the rocky beach to follow their new escort. Greer hung back for a moment, glancing around for signs of pursuit before joining his team. As he entered the shadowy interior of the forest, the wind grew still and all other sounds were hushed. Moss and bright-green grasses covered the forest floor, looking vibrant against the muted tones of the fallen pine needles. They walked in silence, moving single-file for a few hundred yards before the trees opened upon a dirt road.

Three mud-splattered, black SUVs were parked on the shoulder. They looked to be of a late seventies or early eighties vintage, with raised suspension, steel grill guards, and cargo racks on top. The lead vehicle’s driver’s seat was empty, presumably reserved for the man now leading them out of the forest. Through the window of the front passenger seat, another alert face was visible.

A driver and a shooter, Greer observed.

As expected, the front seats of both other vehicles were already occupied.

“Split up as you wish,” the Russian said, waving a finger at the three vehicles. “Make yourselves comfortable. We have a long drive.”

Kael’s eyes blinked open. The sudden transition from paved to dirt roads had woken him. He pulled his face away from the dirty window he had been leaning on and noted that the sun was already high above the eastern horizon.

Late morning.

Aside from the black vehicles in front and behind, and the dirt road stretching into the distance, nothing but a thick forest of pines could be seen. Adair and Thompson were sitting on the bench seat in front of him, staring out their respective windows. Kael turned to his left and found Helmsley awake and sitting upright. His bare upper body was now covered in a thick, wool jacket. For anyone who didn’t already know, there was no indication that he’d been injured.

“Where are we going?”

Helmsley turned. “Anatoly Rugov has agreed to take us in. He’s the director of our Eastern Operations Division.”

Thompson and Adair looked back, and Adair smiled. “Good morning.”

Kael yawned and stretched.

“Thompson says you’ve been working on me nonstop since Stockholm,” Helmsley said. “I owe you.”

Thompson had been keeping Helmsley medicated with painkillers while Kael worked on him from the inside out. Sometime in the early morning hours, he’d finally reached a point where he could safely stop and allow Helmsley’s body to complete the rest of the healing on its own. Only then did Kael stop to get some rest. “I’m just glad to see you’re doing better,” he replied.

The caravan drove on for another thirty minutes, mostly on dirt roads, making several turns but always in a northerly direction. The forest finally opened to a wide meadow with several buildings on its northeast side.

Kael pushed his sense outward and located several guards scattered along the tree line, hidden from sight.

The caravan crossed the meadow along the groomed dirt road and pulled to a stop in front of a simple, rectangular wooden building with a metal roof. A guard, dressed in a long wool coat and carrying an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder, stepped out from the doorway. The men in the front seat exited the vehicle and began conversing with the guard without giving any instructions to their passengers.

Adair turned back to Kael with a worried expression.

Through the windshield, Kael could see Greer, Jensen, and Martinez exiting their vehicle.

“I think we can get out now,” Helmsley said, pushing his door open.

Kael opened his door and stepped out, stretching his legs.

Across the road were several other buildings of various sizes. Dull, weathered wood and rusted metal exteriors indicated they had been built long ago, but the largest was better maintained. It had skylights along its roof, modern windows, and a black finish on the wood siding, which looked almost new.

As Kael’s eyes scanned the main building, the front door opened and a group of people came out and began making their way toward the road. He recognized Rhiannon Marshall almost immediately. Most of the others were clearly security personnel, carrying weapons and dressed in the same dark boots, pants, and long coats as everyone else. But one man stood out from the rest. He moved within the perimeter of armed guards with an unconscious ease. His black coat looked more expensive than his guards’, and Kael could see the white collar of a dress shirt sticking out behind the lapel. As he neared, Kael could make out greying dark hair, an oval face with a wide chin, and serious eyebrows. The man was thick through the midsection, but moved with the confidence of someone who had been more fit in his earlier days.

“Anatoly,” Helmsley said, walking forward to greet the man.

The director of Null’s Eastern Operations Division extended his hand, and his eyebrows relaxed into a friendly expression. “Welcome.”

“Thanks for taking us in on such short notice,” Helmsley added, looking over the man’s shoulder to nod at the Central Operations Director standing behind him. “Rhiannon.”

“Jim,” she replied with a smile.

“Please come inside and make yourselves comfortable,” Anatoly said. “Lunch is being prepared now.”

Helmsley joined the other directors inside the armed escort perimeter and they headed toward the main building. Kael and Adair joined the remainder of the Bogotá team moving toward the house while Rugov’s drivers and other guards stayed with the vehicles.

~

The interior of the main building was a blend of modern conveniences and rustic charm. Animal hides covered a rough-hewn plank floor, surrounded by white, plastered walls. Thick, exposed beams supported a wooden ceiling adorned with strategically placed metallic light fixtures. It reminded Kael of a merchant he had met during his time with Captain Gryllus. The man liked to wear golden rings and other treasures he’d acquired, but otherwise dressed like a lowly shipmate.

From the entrance, a short hallway opened into a gathering area that spanned the width of the building and contained a massive stone fireplace that could be enjoyed from every angle. From there, a bar separated the great room from the kitchen, followed by a long hallway at the back of the building that was flanked by bedrooms. After the brief tour, Anatoly instructed everyone to make themselves comfortable before lunch, and then disappeared with Helmsley and Marshall through a doorway off the kitchen, leaving his entourage of guards behind.

A moment of silence followed as the rest of the group stood in place or wandered around, inspecting the room. “Who’s in charge of security?” Greer finally asked.

A few of the guards looked to the other side of the room, where another dark-clad solider stepped away from the west-facing windows. “I am.”

“I’d like you to bring me up to speed on your defense and evacuation plans, and your state of readiness.”

“You are safe here,” the man replied with a blank expression.

Greer squinted. “We’ve lost some team members in the last few days. I need you to prove it.”

The security leader stared back at Greer for a moment, lazily blinking his eyes before lifting a hand to his throat and pressing a button to open his COMM. He uttered a few instructions in Russian, then turned and walked toward the front door, followed by his team.

Greer’s soldiers gathered around him as he followed the guards out the door.

“Shall we?” Adair asked Kael. “I’ve been sitting for too long anyway.”

Kael nodded and both moved to follow the group out of the room.

Rugov closed the door behind Helmsley and Marshall as they walked farther into the room. It was a large space, dominated by a glass-top desk and multiple computer monitors, all alive with security footage on rotation and other programs that appeared to be diagnostic in nature.

“You’re not connected to Null’s systems, are you?” Helmsley asked.

Rugov came into the center of the room and stood in front of his desk. “Of course not. The entire network has been shut down. This is just my local surveillance. Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing with his open hand toward several stuffed chairs on a bearskin rug facing inward toward a coffee table.

Marshall took a chair, while Rugov leaned back against his desk.

Helmsley settled himself into the expensive leather chair with cautious movements. “Looks to me like this is a bit more than a summer cabin.”

Rugov smiled. “Yes, well … if possible, I try to make my surroundings as comfortable as they are secure.”

“Is it … secure?” Helmsley asked.

“This property has not existed on paper since the fall of the Soviet Union, and I have made sure that it will stay that way.”

“Good,” Helmsley replied.

“Tell me, my friend,” Rugov continued, “you are moving slower than usual. Did you have trouble in Stockholm?”

“You could say that,” Helmsley answered. “We were able to get the data on Armaros converted, but the Säpo showed up sooner than we wanted. The evacuation was rushed.”

Marshall tilted her head. “Chisholm reported everything went as planned.”

“He and his group got out just before an assault team caught up with the rest of us. We lost Suncio and I took a few rounds myself.”

“Oh my God, Jim. Are you alright? Do you need to see a doctor?”

Helmsley smiled at Marshall’s concern. “I’ll be fine. My men took care of me.”

Rugov nodded. The respect behind the acknowledgement was visible. Like Helmsley, he too had been a field officer in his early days. Though it had likely been years since he’d seen a firefight, it wasn’t something easily forgotten.

“What do we know about Stockholm?” Helmsley asked.

Marshall shrugged. “I shut down all of Central Operations at the same time, so I’m in the dark as well.”

Both directors looked to their eastern counterpart.

“Command contacted me less than an hour ago. They are already hearing whispers of a larger assault in the UK, apparently in the planning stages. It is possible that the connection to Central Operations has already been made.”

“What about the information we planted about Armaros?” Marshall asked.

Rugov stood up and began to pace over to the windows. “The US investigations have dramatically slowed down after uncovering his ties to the base in Nevada, so there is some indication that our plan is working there. So far, investigations are still moving quickly throughout Europe.”

“Okay,” Helmsley replied, adjusting his position to relieve the pain that was building in his ribs. “What’s the status of Eastern Operations?”

Rugov stopped by the windows with his arms crossed. “We have not completely shut down yet, but Command ordered us to cease all activity and maintain communications silence until this chess match plays out. I can only receive downstream messages from them.”

Marshall rose from her chair. “I suppose that doesn’t leave us much to do.”

“Except to review your security plan,” Helmsley said, directing his comment to Rugov.

“Of course,” Rugov replied with a smile. “I will show you,” he said, walking around his desk to sit down in front of the monitors.

As the security team led TAC 1 around the exterior of the buildings, pointing and explaining things to Greer, Kael hung back. With all of the recent events, he hadn’t had a moment alone with his father since Stockholm. There always seemed to be some pressing matter that demanded his attention. Kael well understood the tyranny of the urgent, but he refused to lose sight of his goals—to protect his father and to get him back home. And, if it was at all possible along the way, to reconnect with the most important stranger in his life.

“How much of your time in Helsinki do you remember?”

“Most of it, I think,” Adair replied. “I don’t remember how I got there, but that is the least important thing to remember.”

Kael looked up from the grass beneath his feet at the ominous words.

Adair stopped walking and allowed some distance to develop between them and the rest of the group. As the security leader’s voice receded into the distance, replaced by the buzzing of insects and the swishing of long blades of grass swaying in the breeze, Adair turned. “I met a young girl there. She was the product of some terrible experiments …” he said, his voice growing suddenly quiet with grief. “Fortunately, Kokabiel’s mistake proved to be my salvation.”

“What do you mean?” Kael whispered suddenly.

Adair smiled. “Kael. Ever since you ran up to me in that stairwell, I’ve wanted to tell you the things I’ve seen. I’ve learned so much. But I’ve kept my mouth shut, because as much as I have to share, I wanted to hear your story. And you needed to tell it. All this time you’ve been without a father—the one who’s supposed to be there and listen to you. I have so much to make up for.”

“I didn’t need to …” Kael began before changing his mind about the words. “What does that have to do with Kokabiel?”

Adair started walking slowly after the group, which was now headed toward an older building that was separated from the rest.

Kael followed, and even at this distance he could smell that it was a stable.

“The girl I met. She was strange. Her appearance … the way she talked—I thought she was crazy. But she had allowed someone else to take control of her body.”

Kael shivered at the thought, remembering Magnus’ dying body and what it felt like to experience the All-Powerful reaching toward him through a human surrogate. “Was it Kokabiel?” he asked.

“No. Tarsaeel.”

Kael’s face went slack with surprise.

“Yes, the same one you told me about from Sariel’s past. He was trying to reach me through her.”

Kael looked down to the grass and chose a few quick steps. “Why you?”

“Well, as the father of The Awakened, I had to be rescued. If I had died in that room, it would have changed the outcome of your destiny.”

Kael stopped walking and glared at his father. “The Awakened? So you believe …?”

“Look, Kael. I wanted to start at the beginning and work my way up to this, but I met him. I met Tarsaeel. When they put me under for the procedure, Tarsaeel and his team pulled me into the Eternal Realm. I don’t know how they did it, but it happened.”

Kael looked across the meadow at the stable. A door stood ajar, and TAC 1 and the security team were out of sight. “The Eternal Realm?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the building.

“Yes. Everything Saba told you was true. Beyond these physical worlds where our feet have walked, there is another realm. I’ve been there. I’ve seen such terrible and wondrous things that I could talk until I’m old and still not be able to explain it all.”

“How did you learn about Kokabiel?” Kael asked as they started moving again.

“Tarsaeel told me. He’s part of a branch of the angelic army—”

“The Viytur?” Kael interjected.

“That’s right. The Viytur. They are the eyes and ears of the army, like Matthews and his team.”

Kael rubbed his forehead with disbelief. It was one thing to hear Saba tell stories of an age long ago and the things that existed then. It was quite another to hear your father confirming that these beings and places were still in existence today.

“Kael. All of this … running. This conflict with Armaros that has brought us here,” Adair said, motioning with his hands to indicate the wide meadow surrounded by dark forests, “this is just one part of a larger war.”

Kael nodded. “That’s what Saba said.”

“Well, it’s even worse than he knew. It has progressed significantly over the years since he lost contact with the Eternal Realm.”

Kael stepped out of the grass and onto a patch of bare earth in front of the stable door. He peeked inside and could see the rest of the group standing at the far end of the structure. “So they told you about the prophecy—about who I’m supposed to be?” he asked, staying just outside the door. A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.

“Who you are, Kael. That’s what you don’t understand. The Awakened isn’t something you are going to become. It is who you are right now!”

Kael turned and looked into his father’s eyes. They were on the verge of tears and full of hope—the same look he’d seen in Saba’s eyes many times.

“Kael, these Myndarym are working with the demons … and they’re winning. Do you know what I saw there? Vast multitudes of demons—soldiers of the Marotru designed for war and birthed into the ranks of the enemy. These are new creations whose only purpose is to crush the Amatru. I can’t even describe to you the atrocities I’ve witnessed. And do you know where they came from? Kokabiel. He built them. Somewhere in this temporal world are millions of beings he has created. They’re not human and they’re not animal. They’re something in-between. And when their physical bodies came into existence here, their eternal bodies were born there. The Marotru can’t multiply, and for ages this has been their greatest weakness. But together with the Myndarym, they’ve found a way around that problem. And this is only one of the projects they’re working on.”

Kael held up his hand to quiet his father, whose voice had been getting steadily louder over the course of the conversation. “So why are you telling me all of this? Saba already laid this unbearable burden on my shoulders months ago. What good does it do to tell me how impossible it is?”

Adair’s hand dropped from Kael’s shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again and began to speak his voice was quieter, yet more emotionally charged. “Son. I don’t know how these things work, but the Viytur talked as if your victory over the Myndarym was assured. Tarsaeel said many times, ‘It has been spoken and so it will come to pass.’ You are The Awakened. And though I deeply regret being separated from you when you were a child, I can think of no other way that you would have ended up here and now as the man you are. I’m not telling you this to discourage you. I’m telling you because I want to help. I missed your childhood, but I have glimpsed your destiny, and I don’t want to miss that as well.”

Kael took a deep breath, then turned and stepped through the door. The security team and TAC 1 were gone. Only the horses were present and gave no indication of being bothered by the strangers or their conversation. Kael looked down the wide center path between the stalls and thought of the Monastery and the solace that could sometimes be found among the magnificent and powerful animals that seemed capable of listening, perhaps even understanding, but were unable to respond.

“Kael? What are you thinking right now? Talk to me,” Adair said from behind.

Kael turned and looked at his father, realizing that Adair was several inches shorter than he had always pictured him. His once muscular build had withered while Kael’s had developed. In that moment, the disparity between their physical capabilities was almost tangible. It was an odd feeling to sum up your father in such a way, to know that you were capable of overpowering him. For most, the experience came much earlier in life, if ever. For Kael, this was just one more example of how he was different from everyone else. “You want to help me?”

“Yes.”

“Father, when I found you, you could hardly stand up on your own.”

Adair closed his eyes.

Kael immediately regretted his words, not because they weren’t true, but because they didn’t quite convey what he meant. He took a breath and tried again. “If the Viytur told you about The Awakened, then you must realize some of the challenges that lie ahead for me.”

“Yes,” Adair whispered.

“I can’t involve you in this. You’ll die, and you’ll probably get me killed trying to protect you. But if I somehow manage to survive and you don’t, what would I tell mother then? I came here to find you and take you home. I’m not going to look her in the eyes again until you’re standing right beside me.”

A moment of awkward silence passed before Kael turned and wandered over to a stall, resting his elbows on the chest-high door that contained a dark-brown mare.

Adair joined him a few seconds later, leaning on the door next to him. “I don’t want to go home yet … not anymore,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’ve caused Maeryn enough pain for several lifetimes. And what do I have to offer her except more pain? She’s made a life for herself. What good is it if you take me back, only to leave again because you have a destiny to fulfill? And if you do, I will have missed perhaps my only opportunity to know my son.”

It was plain to see that Adair was just trying to be a father. Kael didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t need one anymore. He was all grown up, and more capable than most. You’re too late, he thought, but he kept his mouth shut. It was all pointless anyway—arguing about whether or not to go home. Kael still needed a key. Armaros now had two of them, and Kael had no idea where he was. On top of that, he and his friends had lost the resources necessary to find him. And if they were somehow able to overcome that obstacle, Kael would still have to figure out how to simultaneously protect his father while going on the attack. Pointless!

“You know,” Adair said quietly, “all of these trucks and helicopters are great, but I miss riding a horse.”

Kael smiled and turned to his father. Finally, something they could agree on. “Indeed.”

Adair smiled back and then looked at the mare. “Faster, for certain, but it’s not the same.”

“This whole world seems that way. Everything is so fast and efficient, but there’s something missing,” Kael replied.

Adair nodded. “I wonder if Rugov would let us take his horses out for a ride.”

Kael turned and looked down the rows of stalls. “I guess we’d better catch up with the others, or we’ll never find out.”

C HAPTER 10

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

Lunch was served in the early afternoon, but before they ate, Rugov officially welcomed the whole group to his home and toasted them with glasses of a clear liquid that was stronger than any drink Adair had ever tasted. Most of the guests sipped politely. Matthews drained his glass immediately. Sean slid his glass over to Nikolaus without drinking any of it.

“As long as we’re toasting,” Greer interjected, “TAC One has a tradition … before we get too far along.” He raised his glass and looked to Helmsley and Rugov who both nodded for him to continue. “To Suncio. Our leader. Our friend. Our brother.” Greer’s voice cracked and he paused before continuing with a smile on his face. “He was a hard-ass and we all knew it. But really, it just boiled down to discipline. He believed in following rules because it saves lives. He drilled that idea into our heads. We’re all better soldiers because of him, and the world is a worse place without him.”

The other Team members pounded their chests with fists before taking another swig of the clear liquid.

Adair turned to see that Kael had followed along with the ritual as though he knew what to expect. Everyone else in the room just looked as though they were intruding on a private ceremony, which is exactly how Adair felt.

After an awkward silence, Rugov waved for his cook to bring the food to the table, which was a braised meat of some kind, sitting in a dark broth. This was accompanied by a dish of multicolored vegetables chopped into small cubes. For dessert, small pieces of bread dough had been fried and topped with a fruit spread. Though it was an unusual meal, Adair was grateful for the food, which seemed to coincide perfectly with his returning appetite.

~

The temperature outside started to plummet as the afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon. The group retired to the great room, gradually splitting up into smaller conversations as Rugov stoked the central fireplace. Adair wandered slowly around the room, inspecting the old photographs and other decorations hanging on the walls. There were several pictures of a younger Rugov accompanied by other men, all dressed in thick furs, displaying the results of their hunting efforts. On the east side of the great room, an open doorway led into a small room with two couches facing each other atop a rug. Three of the walls were lined with bookshelves, completely full. The fourth wall was covered by mounted animal heads and stuffed fowl—Rugov’s trophy display.

As he wandered around their new and temporary home, enjoying the lack of an enforced schedule, Adair passively listened to the conversations around him. It was something he did when he had the time to reflect on life—a habit that had been formed long ago. There was much to be observed in the words that people used, in the way they phrased their sentences and the responses they gave. The sudden peacefulness of a full stomach and warm home, immediately following their travails, had put him in a meditative mood.

When I found you, you could hardly stand up on your own.

Kael’s words echoed in his mind. They were harsh, but true. Fathers were supposed to protect their sons, but Adair hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, capable of that. And Kael didn’t need it now anyway. In fact, was there really anything Adair possessed that he could offer his son? Was there a weakness or anything lacking from Kael’s formidable talents that Adair could help provide? After seeing Kael shoot those officers in Stockholm without even using his eyes, Adair wasn’t hopeful. He glanced up from the bookshelf and through the doorway.

Kael was sitting forward on the couch, staring into the yellow and orange flames that danced inside the fireplace. His eyes were distant, and it was apparent that he was lost in thought.

Adair studied him for a moment, searching for the boy that he used to know. The long, blond hair that used to remind him of Maeryn was now darker and short. The soft, rounded features of the childhood face that had projected innocence were now chiseled and covered with several days of stubble. And his eyes, still blue like Maeryn’s, held a wisdom and intensity that was even stronger than before. But there was also sadness in his gaze—the look of someone who’d seen too many horrible things. Someone who’d grown up too fast.

Adair had known such men when he was a young foot soldier—men who were fearless and honorable, yet wounded. They weren’t like other men, but it was difficult to explain why. Around a campfire one evening, Adair’s friend had put words to the shared observation.

It’s like a part of them has already lived a full life and gone on to the next.

That description came the closest to any Adair had yet heard. And now that the thought occurred to him, he realized something else. Walking out of the library, he slowly looked around the room.

Helmsley was still sitting at the dinner table, facing away from Adair and leaning to one side to take the pressure off his ribs. The light of the fire reflected off his jawline as he spoke quietly. The grin on Rugov’s face told him that they were sharing a common experience from their past. Marshall was leaning into the conversation with both elbows on the table. A bottle of strong drink and three small glasses were on the table next to them. But it wasn’t just the alcohol and reminiscing that was keeping the smile on her face. Her attention was being held by something deeper.

Across the room, toward the entrance, Sean and Nikolaus sat on either side of a small table. Sean was holding a handful of playing cards in one hand and pointing at the pile on the table. Nikolaus, whose arm was still in a sling, kept looking at the cards in his other hand and shaking his head. After a moment, Sean laughed, set down his cards, and motioned for Nikolaus to relinquish his own.

Matthews was gone again. Perhaps he was using the bathroom. Or perhaps he’d wandered off on his own like he had when they were waiting to leave the island, and again this morning when the rest of the group had been touring the estate.

In the center of the room, on the other side of the fireplace, the remaining members of TAC 1 were clustered around a couch. Greer and Thompson were reclining on opposite ends. Jensen was standing with his back to the fire. Martinez was lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. He had both hands opened flat and raised in the air, with one behind the other. He was mimicking aiming a rifle and was apparently describing some maneuver. Greer suddenly sat forward and motioned with one hand, curving around Martinez’s arms. Jensen laughed at the movement, which was apparently a joke of some kind.

Excluding himself, everyone was either talking or listening to someone else—everyone except Kael. Was it by choice? Was he just isolating himself so that he could think through a problem? Or was it something more than that? Was he not comfortable relating to others? That was a strength of Adair’s. Perhaps there was an opportunity there to help him in some way. It was a small chance, but it was all he could think of.

If not a weakness of his, or a strength of mine, what else is there?

The idea of motivations suddenly came to mind. If he couldn’t give Kael anything, because Kael didn’t need anything, was there at least something that Kael wanted? Thinking back through their short time together, his mind settled on Kael throwing him into a corner and shielding him when the assault team attacked them in Stockholm. He remembered his own frustration at being treated like a child, but now something else occurred to him about that moment.

You want to protect me.

Adair couldn’t help smiling at the thought. He’d seen plenty of combat in his life—gruesome battles that few were capable of withstanding. He could protect himself. Of that he was sure, but Kael obviously didn’t believe it. To make matters worse, he may never get another chance to prove it. If the opportunity presented itself again, Rugov’s guards and the soldiers of TAC 1 were nearby. And before they could do anything, Kael would act; Adair had learned from Tarsaeel what The Awakened was capable of. It was another dead end.

What else do you want, then … besides taking me home?

As the thought crossed his mind, he remembered what Tarsaeel had told him about needing keys for the portal. Kael would need to get his back from Armaros, or steal Armaros’ key, in order to take Adair home.

You want to go on the attack, he realized. You can’t, because you’re on the run and have no resources to find Armaros. And even if you did, you’d put your father at risk by going after your prey.

Adair couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was an opportunity in there somewhere. Kael was motivated. He wanted things. Adair just needed to figure out how to help Kael get what he wanted.

I will find a way, he told himself, continuing to wander around the great room and inspect Rugov’s home.

Greer sat at the dining table, sipping strong coffee and looking out through the windows to see the morning fog floating across the meadow and dissipating into the trees. Behind him, a fire crackled in the fireplace and kept the great room a comfortable temperature. Kael and Adair were sitting on the couches near the fireplace talking with the rest of his team.

Shuffling footsteps announced Matthews’ presence seconds before he stumbled into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the other end of the table. When he finally looked over in Greer’s direction, Greer noticed his bloodshot eyes.

“Where were you last night?”

Matthews slowly took a sip before answering. “Out.”

“You know, there were three bottles of vodka in that liquor cabinet yesterday. Last night, the directors finished off the bottle we all started at lunch. And now there’s only one left.”

“What’s your point?” Matthews said, blinking his tired eyes and keeping them closed for longer than usual.

Greer set down his mug and took a deep breath. In all the years he’d known Matthews, he’d never seen him like this. The man had never been the best at dealing with people, but he was a levelheaded guy and had never lost his temper, until recently. “None of us can afford any mistakes right now, and getting drunk isn’t gonna help our cause.”

“Maybe … if you’re a soldier,” Matthews replied with his gaze still focused out the windows. “But I’m just an analyst with nothing to—”

The door to Rugov’s office opened suddenly and Helmsley came out. He headed straight for the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee.

Matthews grew silent and stared out the windows.

Greer decided not to pursue the issue and turned to Helmsley instead. “How’s it going this morning?”

Helmsley came over and stopped in front of the table, taking a sip. “Good and bad, depending on how you look at it. Central Operations was raided last night.”

The other guys, scattered around the room, took notice of Helmsley’s reply and immediately began to make their way over to the dining table.

“The evidence we planted about Armaros seems to be working, though,” Helmsley continued. “Command was monitoring the communications channels of the agencies involved. Right after the raid, the expected alerts to other organizations didn’t happen. So far, Armaros’ efforts to bring down Null have been one coordinated witch-hunt. But last night, the flow of information between agencies just stopped—hopefully because they found something that changed the scope of their investigations.”

“If it works,” Greer said, “and Armaros’ attack is stalled, then what? We still can’t go back.”

“For now,” Helmsley agreed.

Martinez leaned forward to rest his hands on the table. “What are we supposed to tell our families in the meantime?” Like Greer, he hadn’t talked to his wife and children since the team had left Bogotá.

Helmsley was just about to answer when Kael’s voice cut through the conversation. “This is all wrong!”

Greer turned to look at Kael, who was standing behind him with a determined look on his face.

“We’re wasting our time talking about the best way to run. I didn’t come all the way to this world to hide from the enemy. What we need to do is change the momentum of this conflict. We need to find Armaros and go on the attack.”

Helmsley’s eyebrows slowly came together as he searched for the right response.

“Get me in front of a computer with access to some decent resources, and I’ll find him for you.” Matthews’ voice was calm, but Greer could see his white-knuckled fist shaking slightly as it gripped the handle of his coffee mug.

“Yeah,” Martinez chimed in. “What about Rugov’s system in there?” he said, nodding toward the door Helmsley exited only seconds ago.

“No. That’s just his local surveillance system,” Helmsley replied.

“What about Division? EOD’s still active,” Jensen offered.

“No good either,” Helmsley said. “Null has gone silent. All operations have been suspended, even in this part of the world.”

“But not Command,” Greer pointed out. “They’re still tracking everything, right?”

Helmsley shook his head. “We haven’t had any upstream communication with them since about three o’clock this morning. Now, they’re just sending hourly updates. That’s what Marshall, Rugov, and myself have been going over.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Martinez asked.

Helmsley’s expression softened. “Look, guys. The reality is … we’re in lockdown. This is a long-term game we’re playing. We don’t have the intelligence resources or the firepower to go after Armaros right now. But the plan that we set into motion will eventually put an end to his investigations. It just might take some time. All of us need to accept the fact that we could be here for years before Null goes active again. Instead of worrying about how to find Armaros, we should be thinking about how we’re going to integrate ourselves into a normal, civilian life. And Martinez, I don’t know what to tell you about your family. I think everyone was made aware of the potential risks and sacrifices when we signed up for this cause. I’m sorry.”

Adair turned to get a good look at Kael to gauge his reaction, but before he could read his son’s face, Kael turned and walked away from the table. When he passed the couches and fireplace without stopping, Adair knew that his son hadn’t taken Helmsley’s message well.

Kael left the great room and headed down the hallway. When he reached the front door, Rugov’s security leader stepped in front of the door and placed his hand on Kael’s chest. “We need to stay here for now.”

Quickening his pace, Adair strode down the hall, hoping that Kael wouldn’t hurt the guard.

Kael calmly glanced down at the man’s hand, then up into his eyes.

Adair was almost running now. “Kael. Don’t!”

“It’s okay!” Helmsley yelled to the guard. “Let him go.”

The guard stepped to the side and Kael brushed past him, pushing his way out the door and into the hazy morning light.

Adair ran through the closing door and out into the cold shade on the front side of the building. He followed Kael around the east corner, where the morning sunlight was starting to warm the frosted ground. “Kael. Where are you going?”

His son’s steps were long and swift in the direction of the stable.

With each step, the long grass swished at Adair’s shins, soaking his pant legs with thawed frost. In the distance, several birds were chirping, announcing the morning. He finally caught up with Kael as they reached the wide, double doors into the building.

“What are you doing?”

Kael pulled open the doors and headed across the dirt floor before turning into the tack room. “Helmsley’s plan might work for him and his people, but it doesn’t work for us.”

Adair exhaled a laugh. “So you’re going to ride a horse across the world and go after Armaros?”

Kael grabbed a bridle from a hook on the wall and bent down to heft a saddle and blanket off a shelf with both arms. He turned back in the direction of the stalls and when he found the one he was looking for, he set the saddle down on the ground and pulled on the bolt that secured the door. “When I fought Rameel, he almost killed me. I had no idea what he was capable of. It was stupid of me to walk into that fight unprepared.”

Adair held out both of his hands. “And how are you going to prepare for Armaros?

“I don’t know yet,” he answered, opening the stall. Moving toward the brown and black stallion with a gentle, unhurried pace, he bridled the horse and set a pad and blanket on its back before turning around to pick up the saddle again. An awkward silence descended while Kael moved through a routine that had become a habit while he was still a child. Finally, as he began tightening the cinch, he looked up at Adair. “I can’t think while I’m here, listening to everyone else’s opinions.”

“What opinions, Kael? You haven’t participated in any conversations since we’ve been here.”

Kael cinched down the strap and double-checked the stability of the saddle before leading the horse out of the stall. With one quick movement, he swung up onto its back. The stallion shifted sideways a few steps to maintain its balance, but was otherwise calm. It was clearly accustomed to various riders, which was probably why Kael had chosen it. “Just stay close to TAC One, and make sure Greer knows where you are at all times.”

“Kael, listen,” Adair pleaded, grabbing hold of the reins near the horse’s bit. “I understand you’re frustrated by sitting here, waiting. But it doesn’t have to be wasted time. There’s more than one way to defeat an enemy. We just need to combine what we know and we can—”

“I’m sorry, but I have to be alone right now.” Kael nudged the horse and it walked out of the stable and into the sunlight beyond the barn doors.

“Kael, wait! Would you just—” give me a chance to be your father? He couldn’t bring himself to speak the actual words. And before he could think of something else to say, Kael was gone.

C HAPTER 11

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

Kael headed northward past a few outbuildings before picking up the pace to a trot. The stallion was a well-trained animal, steady and confident in its gait. As it moved over the meadow’s grasses, it began angling to the northeast. Kael allowed it to follow its instinct, and in less than a minute, they came upon a narrow path that headed into the forest on the east side of the clearing.

Taking the worn trail, he closed his eyes and pushed his sense outward, locating one of Rugov’s guards behind him. The man was on foot and already too far behind to keep an eye on Kael’s location, so Kael dismissed him. A few other guards were stirring along the road at the south end of the meadow, but they were also too far away to require him to divert his attention.

Kael took a deep breath of the cool morning air and smiled at the warmth of the sun on his face. The fog had almost completely dissipated, and inside the forest, the sounds of chirping birds and the smell of damp soil brought back memories of a simpler time in his life. He rode at a slow pace, angling northward for several minutes before he detected movement at the north end of the meadow. Focusing his attention there, he could feel two men moving quickly on foot across the clearing. If they maintained their current course, they would intercept him just after the trail left the trees that bounded the eastern side of the meadow. Kael smiled and leaned forward in the saddle, resting his cheek against the neck of the powerful animal under him.

“Are you ready, boy?” he asked softly in Orudan. He patted the horse, then sat up straight. “HA!”

The horse sprang forward into a gallop.

The wind raced by his face. The morning light flashed in his eyes, alternating with the shadows of the trees like a strobe light as he passed through the forest. The stallion’s hooves chewed up the damp earth, sending clods of soil into the air behind them. A few minutes later, Kael broke out of the trees into another meadow that stretched northward for a few hundred yards before it disappeared between the peaks of two hills.

Rugov’s guards were still moving east, trying to reacquire visual contact with him, but as Kael felt their speed and direction in relation to his, it was obvious to him that their efforts were in vain. It took less than half a minute to cross the clearing and enter the canyon between the hills where sparse stands of brush and trees dotted the landscape.

“Good boy,” Kael said with a smile, easing the horse’s pace to a trot. “I don’t know about you, but that felt good,” he said in Orudan.

The stallion snorted in reply.

“MI5 has been particularly silent, it seems,” Rugov stated, scrolling through the latest decrypted report from Command.

“Externally,” Marshall clarified, looking over her printed copy. “However, there was a hastily-assembled meeting this morning of the Joint Intelligence Committee. Shortly after, our sources intercepted a phone call to the director general from which the word Haslingden was flagged.”

“It’s working,” Helmsley said, pleased at the way their counterintelligence efforts were crippling Armaros’ attacks. “US operations have ground to a halt. The deputy director of the FBI and most of his higher-ups in the National Security Branch have been unreachable.”

“Unreachable. Where did we hear that term before?” Rugov asked.

“Further down in the report,” Helmsley said, flipping through a few pages to find the information. “There it is, at the bottom of page twenty-two. The same thing was observed at the CIA. ‘The director is unreachable and all communications coming out of the Clandestine Service have stopped.’ I’ll bet you there’s a big meeting going on somewhere with a bunch of these guys yelling at each other.” Helmsley looked up to see Rugov smiling as he read the report from his screen. Suddenly, a faint beep sounded and Rugov’s smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”

“Zhdat,” Rugov mumbled as he moved his mouse and clicked on something.

Helmsley rose from his chair and walked around the desk, leaning forward on the work surface. On one of Rugov’s screens was a photo of a professionally dressed woman looking over her shoulder while talking on a cell phone. Another showed a dark van parked beside a curb. The faint outline of a telephoto lens was visible in the driver’s side window. “What is this?”

“FSB, probably.”

Marshall joined them behind the desk, standing back a few steps. “Where were those taken?”

Rugov scrolled down and read some of the text. “Outside one of our safe houses in St. Petersburg.”

Helmsley turned his head. “I thought you said this was only local surveillance.”

Rugov nodded. “Yes, that is only about a hundred and thirty kilometers away.”

Helmsley looked back at Marshall, who was smiling. “I guess your interpretation of local is a bit broader than mine. Anyway, do we need to be concerned?”

“No,” Rugov said quickly. “The safe house was cleaned several days ago. And even if they have a list of Null facilities, the next one would point them toward Moscow. There are no ties between Null and this place. No one knows we are here.”

“And what if a neighbor drives past and sees one of your guards with a gun?”

Rugov turned around in his chair. “Ms. Marshall, my men are professionals, just like yours. They don’t make such mistakes. But if it would make you feel better, I will tell them to stay back from the road.”

“Please do,” Marshall insisted.

Rugov looked surprised, as though he had expected her to decline out of professional courtesy. After a pause, his hand went to the intercom button on his phone. “Pyotr. Ubedit’sya, chto vash muzhchina …”

Helmsley stood up and winced a little but tried not to let Marshall see it. When he turned around, she was looking at the floor. “It’s probably just standard surveillance. I doubt anything will come of it,” he said reassuringly.

Marshall looked up. “Let us hope so.”

Rugov pressed a button and ended the call. “It is done. Do you have any other requests?”

“No. Thank you,” Marshall replied.

“I do,” Helmsley interjected. “When is lunch?” He pulled back his sleeve and checked his watch, disappointed to find that it was only 10:45 a.m.

Rugov laughed a hearty bellow. “Your stomach lives in a different time zone, my friend.”

Helmsley smiled. “I’ll blame it on jet lag.”

“Of course,” Rugov agreed. “Lunch will not be ready for another ninety minutes, but I have plenty of vodka, if you wish?”

Helmsley’s face involuntarily scrunched into a mask of disgust. “No thank you, Anatoly. At the risk of offending you, I have to admit that I won’t be drinking any more vodka … ever.”

Rugov smiled. “Ah. Your weak American stomach?”

Helmsley nodded in surrender. “You can think of it how you wish, but from now on, I’m sticking to things that won’t melt my intestines from the inside out.”

Kael slid his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. Draping the reins over a branch, he walked out into the open space at the top of a hill and took a deep breath. The sun was just before its zenith and the air was getting warm. All around him were patches of bright green grasses growing between crumbling mounds of gray rock. There were a few individual evergreens and thin stands of deciduous trees clinging to the hilltop, but it was otherwise bare. It reminded him of the cliffs near the monastery where he grew up. Though it looked different, it had the same lonely, peaceful feeling. He could see for miles in every direction.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let the sound of the light breeze clear his mind. Just as when he was a child, he felt a calming presence come over him. When he opened his eyes again, his thoughts were more ordered, and the first thing that came to mind was Rameel.

The All-Powerful.

He remembered the crushing force that Rameel had exuded and the weight that suddenly came down upon his body inside the Temple. If he had to face him again, how would he do it differently?

Well, I wouldn’t just stand there, for one thing.

But how could one move fast and far enough to avoid the power that Rameel had been capable of? How does one move at all?

My legs push against the ground. The ground can’t move, so I am moved instead.

Kael crouched and stood, feeling the muscles in his legs push against the earth. He remembered the sensation of falling through the air after jumping from the cliffs of the Monastery. It was the first time—in a moment of panic—that he had used his sense to push against something. At the time, it was the surface of the ocean. And though it wasn’t a solid surface, it did slow his fall enough to keep him from dying on impact.

I wonder …

Kael focused his sense downward, into his legs, channeling it with his body until he could feel its potential in his feet. He crouched slightly, readying himself, and jumped at the same time as he pushed his sense against the earth. A subtle vibration shook his feet, and he tipped to one side before coming back to the ground, stumbling a bit by the shift in balance. Aside from the sensation in his feet, the jump had been otherwise normal.

Kael looked at the ground where his feet had been only seconds ago. The grass was pushed downward into a narrow crevice of disturbed soil, like a stab wound. He thought of the fall from the Monastery cliffs and remembered the pushing sensation that had slowed him. In that moment, he had imagined himself using both arms, hands extended, to push broadly against the sea.

A wide, blunt force …

Crouching, Kael repeated the process, but he let his sense spread outward underneath him, defocused so that it occupied a wider, flatter area than that just below his feet. He jumped again and pushed downward at the same time. The force propelled him from the ground, but was stronger on his right leg, causing him to launch into the air at an angle. He hit the ground, tucking into a sideways roll to absorb the impact before coming back to a standing position. His back was throbbing from rolling across a rock, but the experiment had been successful.

He tried again and again, playing with the amount of force that was needed, feeling the way he distributed his sense across the ground and the way it affected his trajectory. With each attempt his control increased, and the height of his jumps grew accordingly. Then he transitioned into lateral movements and quickly learned that he had to allow the weight of his body and the pull of gravity to provide a counter balance to each burst. As he leaned over to one side, he supplemented his natural movements with small, controlled thrusts of his sense. These propelled him several additional feet at first, and then several yards as he learned to anticipate what his body would encounter. As the distance of each burst of movement grew, he found that his legs weren’t strong enough to stop his momentum, necessitating the use of his sense for both the propelling force and the stopping force.

As the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, time seemed to slip through his fingers. He was aware that the rest of the group, especially his father, would be increasingly concerned by his absence. But he was having too much fun. Once again, he was a child at the Monastery, developing his own techniques in the secrecy of his room. There was an underlying sense of fear that someone might discover him, but an even stronger sense of joy at his discoveries.

With panting breath and sweat standing on his skin, Kael paused to reacquaint himself with the solitude of his surroundings. He smiled as he looked out for miles in every direction, taking in the fragrant air of this place. The fog was completely gone, and there were only a few clouds lazily drifting through the crisp, blue sky. If he could forget about all of the recent events that had led him to this world, he might have been tricked into believing that he was standing in the forests of Leoran. To his natural senses, it was nearly identical.

Okay. Assuming I can avoid an attack, what about defense and counterattack?

Glancing down at his feet, he realized that he was standing near the spot where he had first attempted to jump. The impression was still there in the soil, as if someone had attempted to dig with a shovel but hadn’t gotten very far. Staring at the impression, several memories flashed through his mind. Wounding Rameel’s eye as the All-Powerful was trying to crush him to death in the Temple. The protective barrier of sand that he’d thrown up in front of Rameel’s fire attack. The shield that he’d formed around himself to divert the bullets while fighting Armaros’ new breed of soldier. The focused attack that he had used to disable the soldier’s self-defense mechanism. There was a correlation between all of them.

Kael looked at his hand, opening and closing his fingers. He realized now what should have been obvious to him before. Though he could control the shape and size of his other sense just by thinking about it, it seemed easier when accompanied by physical movements. Were they somehow linked? Or was it just easier when his mind believed that it was controlling a part of his body? He couldn’t be sure, but there was certainly a connection.

Kael turned and looked across the hilltop at a nearby tree. The smooth and pale bark of its trunk stood fifteen feet away. It was only a sapling, a hand’s breadth in diameter. He moved into an attack posture, legs shifting into a stable stance. He brought his arms up, ready to simultaneously defend and attack. His fingers curled into a fist. He leaned forward, feeling the slight momentum of his body grow like a wave that spread through his legs, his torso, then into his arm, and finally his fist. He thrust his sense outward in a blunt attack.

Crash!

The tree shook, swaying wildly at its top. Leaves came loose from the branches and drifted to the ground. Birds took to flight from one of the pines nearby. And the horse, which had been grazing at the edge of the hilltop, whinnied before bursting into a run that took it out of sight.

Kael quickly walked forward to inspect the result.

At eye level, the bark of the trunk had been pushed inward by the impact. The marking was just larger than a fist, and the perimeter of the shallow crater exhibited a frayed, fibrous appearance where the bark had been sheared away.

“Interesting,” Kael said aloud. He looked back at his fist, slowly uncurling his fingers until he saw an open-faced hand, flat and rigid.

Like a blade.

He smiled at the implication before walking back to his starting place and turning to face the tree once more.

Adair stood at the windows near the dining table, leaning on the sill. The shadows cast by the outbuildings, which had been shrinking on the west sides throughout the morning, had now begun growing on the eastern sides and were lengthening with each passing minute. It was now an hour past noon and there was still no sign of Kael.

Adair suddenly became aware of his finger tapping the windowsill with a quick, steady rhythm. It was an unconscious act that signaled his inward impatience. Was Kael injured? Was he lost? Had his horse broken its leg? He couldn’t stand it any longer. Leaving the window, Adair crossed the great room and entered the library. From the hunting trophy wall, he removed one of two shotguns that made up the center of the display. Then he retrieved the box of shells he had located the previous night behind some books on the lower shelf of the eastern wall, and emptied it into the pocket of his coat.

As he walked through the library door and headed toward the front entrance, his eyes settled on Rugov.

“There are a number of professions that your team …” The director stopped talking and his eyes followed Adair’s progress across the room. Sitting on the couch near him, Marshall and Helmsley both turned in Adair’s direction.

“What are you doing?” Helmsley asked.

Adair continued walking. “He’s been gone for too long. I need to bring him back.”

The directors rose to their feet and the Bogotá team members quickly began making their way toward Adair from various directions.

“He’ll be back,” Martinez assured them.

Adair approached the hallway leading to the front entrance but stopped as the silhouette of the security leader filled the space. “It’s not a good idea to leave right now.”

Adair turned to look back at Rugov. “He’s my son. And we’re not prisoners here.”

Rugov’s concerned expression softened. “He evaded my security. We don’t know where he is.”

“I can track him,” Adair replied confidently.

Rugov looked to Helmsley, who just tilted his head. “Allow me to send two of my men with you?” he asked, looking back to Adair.

“As long as they can ride.”

Rugov nodded.

“Where did you last see him?” Adair asked, turning to the security leader.

“Come with me,” the guard said, turning toward the front door. They exited the building and headed left toward the stable. When they had crossed half the distance, the solider stopped and pointed to the northeast. “Do you see those hills there?” he asked.

Adair followed his outstretched arm to the treed mounds that protruded slightly above the forest. “Yes.”

“He rode up the ravine between them,” the guard added.

“Good. That will do.”

“My men will call me if there is any trouble.”

“Thank you,” Adair said, pausing as he considered the man’s choice of words. Was it an assurance or a warning? He dismissed it as an error in translation and continued across the meadow to where another guard had appeared by the doors of the stable. A second guard could be seen making his way over from the building by the road.

Even though he would be tracking Kael, which would require some careful attention, Adair hoped these men could keep up with him. He wasn’t about to slow down on their account.

C HAPTER 12

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

Adair rode out in front, following the path through the woods and into the meadow that Kael had passed through earlier in the morning. With two of Rugov’s guards behind him, he maintained a quick gallop over terrain where he didn’t need to search for tracks. As the forested hilltops loomed on either side of the ravine, Adair slowed to a trot. He noted hoof prints in the damp soil after only a few minutes and didn’t need to dismount in order to follow them.

Half a mile into the ravine, grass became more dominant, and Adair climbed down from his horse to get a closer look. Leading the animal by the reins, he angled to the west, where the riding would have been easier for Kael. After several minutes, he found a section of moss that had been sheared from a rock where a hoof had landed. He smiled and lifted his gaze, seeing the path that his son must have taken.

Just as he turned to climb back into the saddle, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He stopped, squinted, and took a few more steps to the west. His heart began to race. Letting go of the reins, he ran to where another patch of moss grew across the top of a boulder. A fresh scuff mark ran down its side, and at the bottom of the two-foot drop was a deep impression of someone’s boot in the dirt. Whoever had produced it had apparently taken a wrong step and slipped from the rock. It was not a track that could have been made by Kael.

“Chto eto?” one of the guards called.

Adair looked up from the boulder, backward along the trajectory of the foreign track, and saw a wider section of bare soil. It was uphill and fifty feet away, but even at this distance, he could see that the soil had been recently disturbed.

“What did you find?” the other guard asked in English.

Adair ran up the hill, stopping short of the trail of evidence. There were multiple boot impressions, much clearer than the one below. His trained eyes, adept at identifying animal tracks, began to make sense of the human information. The shape of the treads allowed him to distinguish between right and left steps. The distance between strides gave him an approximate idea of their speed. And through the confusion of intersecting paths, he slowly began to count how many different people had been here.

“Please tell us, what is the matter?” the guard repeated. Both of them had dismounted and walked up the hill.

Adair held up his hand, finally recognizing their presence enough to keep them from walking across the bare soil and destroying the evidence. “Six men came through here. Their tracks are only an hour or two old. They came down from the hilltop and they were in a hurry.” He looked up from the soil and turned to see that the path clearly intersected Kael’s, as if they had recently gone in pursuit. When Adair locked eyes with the guards, they seemed as disturbed as he was.

The two men quickly began to converse in Russian.

Adair didn’t wait for them to reach an understanding. He turned and jogged down the hill, quickly mounting his horse.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I need to catch up to them before they reach Kael,” he said. “You can come with me or stay. I don’t care which.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he kicked the horse into action and resumed his northern trek as fast as the animal would move.

“Go with Adair!” Lev told his fellow guard. He put it forcefully so the conversation would end as quickly as possible. “I’ll notify Pyotr of what we have found and investigate it further.”

The other man reluctantly turned back toward his horse.

Lev brought his rifle around and switched off the safety, and then opened his COMM to notify his commanding officer of their location and the tracks that Adair had discovered. As the sound of his comrade’s horse faded into the distance, Lev moved slowly up the hill to the west, leaving his own animal behind. Stepping carefully around trees and over blankets of pine needles, he found more evidence of enemy passage, and began to wonder how long these men had been here and who they were. As his gaze rose to the top of the hill another hundred feet above him, he realized that it was the highest location in the immediate area—the perfect vantage point for surveillance.

As the thought dawned on him, he also knew that no worthy soldier would abandon such a location without cause, even to pursue an enemy. There was a good chance that someone was still up there. And if that were the case, whoever it was would also be aware that another trio of men had just entered the ravine. If they were cautious, they would certainly consider the possibility that the trio might find the tracks and follow them back to their point of origin.

Lev abandoned the idea of reporting the new information in favor of silence, reconsidering his approach as he moved across the hillside to the north to resume his climb. As he chose his steps carefully, picking the quietest points of moss or bare soil, he noticed a crumbling section of rock on the hillside. It gave him an idea and he bent down to pick up a fist-sized stone. Easing forward, Lev identified his next path over a moss-covered area behind a cluster of pines. Then, he looked back to the southeast and noted the general area where he would have crested the hill if he hadn’t diverted from his original path.

Reaching back, he launched the rock in a low trajectory, keeping it just below the crest of the hill. It landed with a thud, followed by several crunches as it rolled down through areas of pine needles. Without waiting, Lev brought his rifle up to low-ready, dropped to the ground, and crawled forward. He crested the hill behind the trunks of several trees, eyes scanning for any movement, color difference, or silhouette that looked out of place. The trees were thick on the hilltop and visibility was restricted, but he knew that the only place to conduct surveillance of Rugov’s property and buildings was toward the southern end of the crest. He moved another five meters to the south before he sighted the profile of a rifle barrel inside a thicket. It was pointing northeast—where he had thrown the rock. Having changed his approach, he was now positioned far enough to the side of the shooter to be beyond the person’s peripheral vision.

Without moving his head, Lev glanced to either side of himself and noted his escape routes. If there was more than one enemy up here, he’d know it as soon as he fired his first shots, and by then it would be too late to start looking for an escape. Once his surroundings were firmly pictured in his mind, Lev slowly inched to the left, estimating where the enemy soldier’s body would be in relation to the muzzle of the weapon protruding from the brush. With multiple tree trunks obstructing his view, Lev aimed his weapon down the narrow slit of visibility toward the enemy.

Greer had his head tilted to one side as he moved along the shelves of books. All of the titles in Rugov’s library were Russian, but Greer still managed to recognize a few names from a literature class he’d taken years ago—Solzhenitsyn, Tolstoy, and Dostoyevsky to name a few. There was certainly some overlap in the philosophical ideas represented in those three alone, but also areas of division. Greer wondered whether this told him anything about their gracious host, or if he was simply a fan of Russian literature. Given the quantity of books in what wasn’t even Rugov’s main home, he thought it might be the latter.

Suddenly, a faint sound vibrated the window across the room with a familiar ringing resonance. Greer stood upright and immediately marched out of the room. His team members were all hanging around the kitchen talking with one another. Unsurprisingly, Matthews was at the dining table by himself. The door to Rugov’s office was closed, as the directors were presumably reviewing reports.

Rugov’s security leader came into the great room from the front of the house. He was looking down at his feet as one does when listening to someone else over the COMM.

“What’s going on?” Greer asked.

The members of TAC 1 stopped talking and looked up.

“Pyotr,” Greer tried again, using the name he’d heard others use several times now. “I heard gunfire.”

Pyotr held up his finger to silence Greer, while his other hand pressed the button near his throat. He spoke in rapid sentences before pausing to listen again.

“TL?” Martinez called from across the room. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Greer replied, glancing back to Pyotr. “Well?”

Pyotr nodded, said something in Russian, then closed his COMM. “My men with Adair found some footprints heading north in pursuit of Kael. They separated, and one followed the prints back to a surveillance post on a hill to the north of us.”

“How many men?”

Pyotr’s eyes narrowed.

“Who fired?” Greer asked.

“Lev encountered an FSB agent.”

“Was there only one? Did he kill him?”

Pyotr frowned at the string of questions. “Yes,” he answered simply.

Greer felt his jaw tighten. “How long ago did they find the tracks? Ten minutes? More? Why are we just now hearing about this?”

Pyotr kept silent.

“Unbelievable. What kind of weaponry did he have on him?”

“Long-range, bolt-action rifle and a submachine gun.”

Greer shook his head at the incompetency. “I don’t know where you got your training, but in the real world, we don’t keep secrets from people on our own side!” Greer strode across the great room and stopped in front of Rugov’s office. He pounded his fist on the door. “Helmsley?”

There was movement and the sound of muffled voices on the other side of the door.

Greer pounded again. “Helmsley?”

The door opened. Rugov’s face was stern. Over his shoulder, Helmsley peered around the corner of the door with a furrowed brow.

“They found us,” Greer announced.

Rugov looked out into the kitchen, then back to Greer. “No. It’s not possible!”

Helmsley pushed past Rugov and came out into the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”

“Rugov’s men encountered FSB agents on the property a few minutes ago. Some were in pursuit of Kael, and another was doing surveillance and carrying firepower.”

Rugov turned to Pyotr, and if it was possible, his face hardened even more. “Pyotr! Eto Pravda?”

“We just confirmed it a few seconds ago,” he replied, contradicting Greer. “My men are doing a sweep of the tree line and higher elevations now.”

Rugov’s mouth opened with surprise.

“Pyotr, where is the safest room in the house?” Greer asked, setting his frustration aside and focusing on the immediate threat.

“The basement.”

“Okay. We need to get the directors down there. And then I need weapons for my men.”

“Yes, of course,” the security leader replied, looking to Rugov for a nod of confirmation before walking past him and into the office. Marshall stepped aside as Pyotr reached under Rugov’s desk and triggered a button. A hiss of air escaped through the crevices between the plank flooring as a three-by-five-foot section dropped several inches and slid back to reveal an opening and a metal staircase. The newly created passage flickered as the lights came on.

Rugov moved back into his office and took the first steps down the staircase. “Come,” he said.

Marshall looked hesitant, but followed anyway. Helmsley waited until she was down before planting his foot on the stairs. He stopped and turned back to Greer. “Be safe …”

“We will, sir.” He could tell that Helmsley wanted to say something else, but he didn’t give him the chance. “And don’t worry. This is gettin’ old for us too. We’ll take ‘em out.”

Helmsley smiled and continued down the steps. When he was out of sight, Pyotr returned the flooring to its previous condition.

“Where do you keep the weapons?” Greer asked.

“We’re also going to need tactical gear,” Thompson pointed out.

Pyotr nodded. “In the guards’ quarters by the road. But we can’t leave until my men finish the sweep and secure the area.”

“Fair enough,” Greer replied. If the FSB still had a few surveillance posts, it would look very unnatural for everyone to suddenly exit the main building. “Tell them not to engage if they find anyone. Just identify their locations and line of sight.”

Pyotr nodded.

“Okay boys,” Greer said to his team. “Let’s be ready to move as soon we get the all-clear.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Helmsley found himself in a room that seemed to be a replica of the one above it, minus the windows. Rugov’s desk was in the same location, with multiple monitors running mirrored programs. The only other difference was a door at the far end of the room.

“Escape tunnel?” he asked.

Rugov looked to the door and back at Helmsley. “No. Pantry with refrigerator. You never know what will happen,” he replied, walking over and extending his hands. “Here. Hopefully we won’t need these.”

Helmsley and Marshall each took the offered semi-auto pistols, checking the chambers and magazines as a matter of habit. Rugov returned to his desk and pulled out another for himself from a small lockbox, stuffing it into the back waist of his pants.

“How did they find us?” Marshall asked to no one in particular.

“They didn’t,” Rugov replied. “There was no possible way they could have found us.”

Helmsley stopped his inspection of the room and turned to Rugov as soon as the words sank in. “You’re suggesting I have a security leak?”

“Yes.”

Helmsley shook his head. “No. We haven’t had access to Null’s systems or any others since Stockholm. We’ve been on the run. Plus, even if the opportunity had presented itself, my men know better. We’re professionals too.”

Rugov nodded slowly, acknowledging the rebuke. “Of course. But if you are right and your men didn’t inadvertently reveal our location, then I am forced to the next obvious conclusion that—”

“It was intentional,” Marshall finished the thought.

The room went momentarily silent as Helmsley glanced back and forth between his colleagues. “No,” he said finally. “I can’t accept that.”

Marshall’s eyes looked sympathetic, but her words were still forceful. “Jim, you can’t just dismiss it. It’s a valid explanation.”

Rugov shrugged. “I know everything there is to know about each member of my security teams. I have done my research. Can you say you’ve done the same?”

The first word that came to Helmsley’s mind was no. He hadn’t done the same. He didn’t operate that way. Despite the nature of this business and their organization, he still found a way to make room for trust. But he wasn’t about to admit it here, in front of people whose lives depended on mistrust. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the ground and considered each person he had brought to this place.

Actually, they brought me here, he soon realized, which only made his task more difficult.

“The guys on TAC One have been fully onboard since day one,” he mumbled. “They’ve repeatedly put their lives on the line for our cause. They have lost several good men, and I can’t think of a single incident where their words or actions were anything but trustworthy.”

Marshall smiled and Rugov kept silent. Both were allowing Helmsley to work through the roster on his own.

“It’s not Matthews. He was the one who found Adair in the first place. His work has been top-notch, and almost everything we’ve uncovered about Armaros has been built on his contributions.”

Rugov leaned back on his desktop and folded his arms.

“Kael and Adair are obviously somewhat of a mystery. I know the least about them, mainly because they come from another world. They both have their own motivations for doing what they do, and Kael especially knows a lot about the enemy. But he gave me a plausible story that explains where his knowledge has come from. I don’t know that I fully trust either one of them, but they’ve both made significant contributions to our efforts, and while our interests are aligned, they are valuable allies.”

Helmsley paced around the room.

“We all share a certain level of discomfort over the idea of working with such unknowns, but that’s nothing new. Their presence in this world changed the trajectory of our entire organization. I think we’re closer to the truth now than we ever have been, so it seems to me that we either have to trust them, or reject them entirely.”

Marshall and Rugov nodded their agreement. Without expressing it in words, the obvious group consensus was that they had already decided to trust Kael and Adair. In fact, every action they had taken in the last eighteen months had been a demonstration of that decision.

“That leaves Sean and Nikolaus,” Rugov pointed out.

“Nikolaus is clean,” Marshall assured.

“Is he?” Rugov questioned. “Why did he come here with Helmsley instead of leaving with the rest of your Stockholm team?”

Marshall opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly turned to Helmsley instead.

“Because I requested it,” Helmsley added. “TAC One was down a member. Hayes’ teams were all killed in Helsinki, and the EXFIL plan for Chisholm’s group didn’t require tactical support anyway. I was pretty sure we’d need the help, so I asked Marshall if she was willing to temporarily reassign him.”

Rugov turned his suspicious gaze to Marshall.

“He’s clean,” she restated.

Rugov nodded and then turned back to Helmsley. “Then what about Sean? He wasn’t part of your tactical operations.”

“No, he was a transporter,” Helmsley answered. “He had a low-level security clearance at the time his brother was killed. I brought him further into the organization because I thought he’d be a good addition—”

“And you felt sorry for him,” Rugov added.

Helmsley stopped for a moment. He knew what Rugov was implying, but he waited for the man to say it outright.

“A good mole would sacrifice anything to get close to a target.”

There it is, Helmsley thought. “Maybe,” he said aloud. “But your own brother? The last surviving member of your family? The relationship between those two boys was one of the reasons they were recruited in the first place. I don’t buy it.”

Rugov shrugged before standing up and walking away from his desk. “I don’t know what to tell you. But I know that Marshall arrived here without incident. I know that my men and I are not responsible for the security leak. And it seems that you have a bad habit of taking in stray dogs.”

Despite the accusation, Helmsley couldn’t help but smile at Rugov’s direct approach. It was one of the qualities that made him effective at his job and one the things Helmsley had come to appreciate over the years. “Not a habit,” he corrected. “Standard operating procedure. And not bad, either. Taking in the outcasts of the military and intelligence communities is what has made our organization successful to this point.”

Marshall grinned and looked to Rugov for his response.

The director of Eastern Operations tilted his head in reluctant consent, but kept silent.

C HAPTER 13

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

“Da,” Pyotr mumbled as he leaned over Rugov’s office desk. One finger was pressed to his ear as he listened to the results of the security sweep. Evidently, the person on the other end of the COMM was whispering. “Kak daleko?” he asked. A moment later, his other hand slid across the topographical map laid out on the table and stopped over a point that indicated the northwest corner of the meadow. His finger came to rest fifteen meters inside the tree line.

Matthews leaned forward and marked the location with a red X.

“How many?” Greer asked.

“Just one man at each surveillance position,” Pyotr replied.

“Why aren’t they moving in?” Thompson asked. “They have to know that their northern location is compromised.”

“They’re waiting for nightfall,” Jensen observed, looking out the windows at the long shadows of the afternoon sun.

“Well, they’re definitely waiting for something,” Matthews said. He was sitting in Rugov’s chair and his attention was now directed at the computer screens.

Greer squinted. The footage from the security cameras scattered around the property was mostly useless, but two shots from the main paved highway to the south showed partial visuals of several dark SUVs parked beside the road. In the last few minutes, they had only seen one person get out and walk up to the driver’s side window of another vehicle. At this distance, and being partially obscured by the foliage of the bend in the road, it was impossible to see exactly the number and scope of the threat. But, assuming one person for each vehicle seat, there were possibly twenty-four FSB agents waiting within a half-mile of the main dirt road leading into Rugov’s property. And though there were no cameras to show it, there was another group of four vehicles stationed six miles directly west of the property on another dirt road. One of Pyotr’s teams was currently maintaining visual contact on that location and waiting for further orders.

Greer pushed himself away from the table. “Alright Matthews, you’re coordinating COMMs. Sean and Nik, wait for my orders, then get on the roof without being seen. Pyotr, as soon as my team takes out their surveillance, be ready for them to rush in.”

Pyotr’s face almost softened into a smile. “We’ll be ready.”

“Alright, boys,” Greer announced. “Let’s go get dressed for the party.”

TAC 1 exited the main building through a window in the study. Moving in a low crawl, they made their way to the north end of the building and then turned west across the road to the building that served as the guards’ quarters. Three of Pyotr’s men were there to receive them and show them to a lower level containing the barracks and their armory.

“Merry Christmas to all,” Martinez said as soon as he laid eyes on the racks of automatic rifles.

“And to all, a good night,” Thompson added, pulling down a long-range semi-automatic.

Greer caught his assistant team leader’s gaze and winked. Thompson was old-school; he preferred a bolt-action. But typical of many Null offices, this security force wasn’t equipped like a tactical team, so there were none to be had.

Thompson frowned in reply, indicating that he could still get the job done with the firepower available.

“How about tactical gear?” Jensen asked.

“Through there,” the guard said, pointing to another door across the room.

“Night vision?” Greer asked.

The man nodded.

“Okay, boys. Grab your weapons and get suited up. We’re going back to the north end of the main building, then across toward the stable. As long as we keep our heads down, the northwestern surveillance position won’t have enough elevation to spot us. We’ll go east into the forest, then split up and circle around. It’ll probably take us the rest of the afternoon to get into position, but we need to take out their surveillance before nightfall. The rest of their forces might start moving right away, but it also may not happen until dark. So, make sure you grab NVDs and be ready to hump it back to the tree line and get set up to provide cover fire for Pyotr and his teams.”

Thompson, Martinez, and Jensen pounded their fists against their chests.

Greer was suddenly hit by a pang of grief, immediately feeling the loss of Zylski and Suncio. And from there, his concern went to Kael. We could really use your spider sense right now, he thought, wishing that he could project his thoughts like Kael could. Even though he lacked the ability, it didn’t stop him from trying.

You’ve got enemies at your six. Take ‘em out and get back here as quick as you can!

Kael rode south at a slow trot. With the sun disappearing over the western horizon, the air temperature was dropping rapidly. Though it was still early in the autumn season, portions of the forest were already beginning to take on yellow and orange hues. It seemed like such a long time since he’d lived in Leoran, but in similar surroundings like these it was easy to imagine that he was returning to the white city instead of Rugov’s estate. The horse beneath him. The crisp autumn air. Somewhere ahead, the forest would pull back like a curtain and reveal the shores of the lake. And inside those safe walls, gleaming in the afternoon sun, a warm hearth and a hot meal awaited him.

He opened his eyes and was immediately struck by the realization that such imaginings were childish. But that’s what the city had done to him. Even though he had been an adult when he lived there, it made him feel as safe as a child. Or, as safe as some children have probably felt. Perhaps that is why Leoran had made such an impression on him—it gave him a small piece of what he should have experienced earlier in his life.

As he had done regularly throughout the day, Kael pushed his sense outward and explored his surroundings. But this time, as he felt the presence of birds flying from tree to tree and the occasional deer bounding effortlessly through the forests, he also imagined that there was something else he could sense beyond the rolling hills—a city of white stone upon waters deep and cool. One that he had come to think of as home. He wished that his sense were capable of even more—of turning dreams into reality. If only he could make Leoran appear just by willing it. If only he could take his father in hand and step across that limitless void between the worlds. When he pictured his family together again, it was in such a place—

Something suddenly caught Kael’s attention, forcing him out of the comfort of his imagination and back into reality. Three miles ahead was a barren plateau surrounded by forest. Sitting at the north end of a long and low canyon, it was his reference point for returning to Rugov’s estate. He had detected the northward movement of six objects across the plateau when they had suddenly dispersed into the surrounding forest and held position.

Animals don’t move like that.

Were they Rugov’s security? Were they tracking him? As the explanations came to mind, he felt one object in the rear position turn and head back to the south.

Why?

Kael pushed his sense farther south until he detected another object. This one was larger and moving quickly up the side of the canyon.

“Whoa,” he said softly, pulling back on the reins. When his horse came to a stop, Kael closed his eyes and concentrated. At this distance, details were difficult to read, but he focused his sense on the larger object as much as he could and thought he could feel a horse.

Who would …? Father!

Kael quickly moved his sense to the nearest of the other objects and concentrated his efforts there, feeling his whole body grow tense. There was a human outline, but bulkier with squared edges.

Body armor! A gun!

Suddenly, everything made sense. It wasn’t Rugov’s men who were tracking him. It was someone else. And they all took cover when the one in the rear position was alerted to Adair’s approach.

FATHER! Kael screamed in his mind. You’re riding into an ambush! he projected as loud as he could. FATHER! He kicked his heels into the horse’s sides. “Ha!” he yelled, leaning forward in the saddle as his horse burst into motion.

Adair’s horse moved up from the lower terrain at a gallop, staying to one side of a water runoff path that had probably helped create the canyon below. The sun was now behind the trees on the left, and the south face of the canyon was engulfed in shadow. He hadn’t seen Kael’s tracks in a while, but he knew that his son must have come through this area. Once he crested the hill, he would be able to slow down and find some evidence that would assure him he was moving in the right direction.

Suddenly, his body went rigid and his eyes began scanning the forest above, looking for signs of danger. Nothing was immediately apparent. He pulled back on the reins and his horse slowed to a stop. Over the sounds of heavy breathing from the animal, Adair tried to listen for anything that didn’t fit with the sounds of the forest, but there was nothing. He looked down to the forest floor and scanned the area, wondering if he might have noted another footprint. There was nothing.

What alerted me?

Behind him, in the canyon below, he could hear the gallop of one of Rugov’s guards trying to catch up. Adair looked back uphill. Slowly, he draped the reins over the pommel of his saddle and slid the shotgun from its holster. If he had learned anything in his years as a soldier, it was to trust his instincts. Swinging his leg over the saddle, he dropped to the ground with a crunch of dry pine needles. He chambered a round before smacking the horse on its rump to send it trotting farther uphill.

With the sound of approaching hoof beats from the south, Adair headed east across the face of the hill, putting some distance between him and the path he had been following. When he found a cluster of trees whose trunks all grew from the same area of the soil, he took up a position below it, lying on the ground with his shotgun aiming uphill.

Less than a minute later, Rugov’s security guard came racing up the hill. He couldn’t signal the man without giving up his own position, so Adair kept still and watched him spur his horse quickly up the incline, disappearing into the trees above.

In the silence that followed, the only sounds that he could detect were some birds in the distance and his own heartbeat in his ears. Several minutes passed before Adair heard the snapping of a twig. He immediately went on alert, moving his finger over the trigger of the shotgun.

It seemed like an eternity before a silhouette emerged from the trees uphill and to the right. His green camouflage combat uniform was broken up by splotches of tan and dark brown. He wore body armor and a helmet, like the members of TAC 1. Through his clear safety glasses, his eyes scanned the hillside to the west as he moved cautiously forward in a hunched posture, his rifle held at low-ready.

From the protection of the trees, Adair watched the man traverse the hillside and close in on the rain runoff area. His own position offered the cover of multiple thick trunks, as well as concealment that broke up his outline. It was one of many things he’d learned from Greer during their time together. But now that he had successfully avoided an ambush and had the upper hand, the forest seemed incredibly silent. Adair pivoted his weapon and kept it aimed at the man but was hesitant to pull the trigger. He’d never fired a shotgun before, but he knew that it projected a pattern of tiny bullets, or something of the kind. He couldn’t remember the proper term at the moment.

What is the range of this weapon? How far will it spread out?

He wasn’t sure of these things and wished that he had more experience in a variety of weapons, instead of just the pistol and automatic rifle that Greer had let him use in Virginia. He was also aware that the man uphill from him was protected by armor. Would one shot be sufficient, or would it take several?

The soldier took another couple steps forward, and the crunch of needles under his feet seemed to emphasize the tranquility of the forest.

There are five others out there. How close are they? If Adair pulled the trigger, how long would it take before he had more enemies on top of him?

Suddenly, two bursts of automatic gunfire erupted in the distance. They came from the top of the plateau. Adair cringed at the thought of Rugov’s guard being ambushed. The enemy soldier turned his gaze uphill and let his finger off the trigger, reaching for the communication device on his chest, near the shoulder.

Adair saw the opportunity and quickly aimed for the man’s exposed face and throat. He pulled the trigger and the shotgun kicked hard, sending up a puff of dust and pine needles.

The soldier flinched and ducked to the ground, tucking his face behind his upper arm.

Adair immediately ejected the shell and chambered another round. As he took aim again, he could see the soldier’s training overcoming his initial reaction.

The man’s weapon was coming up, and he was turning in Adair’s direction.

Just as the dark outline of the automatic rifle reached the man’s face, Adair fired again and saw the fabric on the soldier’s forearms flatten just before he dropped his weapon and stumbled backward. Adair pushed himself to standing and lunged out from the cover of the trees, ejecting the spent cartridge as he moved. Surging forward, he took aim at a run.

The soldier was still upright, but in a crouched posture, his head weaving from side to side as if he was searching for the weapon that was somewhere near his feet. A second later, his hand instinctively went for the pistol strapped to his leg.

Adair fired a third shot as he closed the distance, hitting the soldier’s right knee and taking his leg out from under him.

The man fell forward to the ground with flailing arms, unable to remove his sidearm.

As he pushed himself up and lifted his head, Adair flipped the shotgun around and grabbed the barrel, swinging it like a club. The wooden stock slammed into the unprotected opening in the front of the helmet, snapping the soldier’s head backward like it was attached to a spring.

The soldier’s body collapsed face down in the dirt.

Adair dropped the shotgun and bent forward with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He obviously still wasn’t fully recovered from his captivity. After a few precious seconds of air to his strained lungs, he stooped low and removed the helmet from the soldier’s body and tossed it near the man’s rifle, which lay a few feet away. Then, he grabbed the body by the shoulders and heaved it over to the base of the nearest tree. After arranging the soldier’s arms and legs, he retrieved the shotgun and propped it under the soldier’s face to make it look like he was lying down and taking aim. Standing up, he removed his own trench coat and laid it across the man’s body to cover his uniform.

At last, Adair walked over and picked up the helmet. Doing his best to ignore the blood splatters, he slid it over his own head and proceeded to check the soldier’s weapon to verify that it hadn’t been damaged. There were only two minor scratches from the shotgun blast, but it was otherwise unblemished. The safety was still off. Adair moved farther downhill and found a suitable place behind an embankment where the soil had eroded. He was positioned in the same general direction as he had made the soldier’s body to aim. Lowering himself behind the embankment, he propped the automatic weapon on the soil so that only his helmet and gun were visible to the north and northwest directions.

Then he waited.

The forest had gone silent again. The sun had dropped behind the plateau, and night was quickly approaching. It took several minutes before Adair saw any movement. Another soldier was approaching directly from the north, coming downhill with the same cautious advance.

Adair slid to the right to get his attention.

The soldier stopped and brought his weapon up.

Adair raised an open hand and motioned in the direction of the previous soldier’s body.

The man glanced to the west, ducked to one side, then gave a thumbs up before moving slowly in that direction.

Adair kept his own weapon pointed west, pretending to be pinned down.

The soldier took another five steps forward and stopped beside a tree. He raised his weapon and took aim.

Adair inhaled and held his breath.

The soldier fired a three-round burst at the dark silhouette taking cover on the ground behind a tree.

Adair exhaled, pivoted, and aimed at the man’s exposed side. He pulled the trigger and the weapon jolted in his hands, sending a volley of bullets crashing through the man’s ribcage. He dropped instantly.

Adair glanced from side to side, checking for other soldiers before climbing over the embankment and approaching the second man. With one hand on the trigger, he reached down and checked the man’s pulse, verifying that he was dead.

Two down. Four to go. What next? Think, he told himself.

If the others had been spread out in pursuit of Kael, he would expect them to continue arriving individually. If not, Adair might encounter pairs or even one large group. He would need to be able to make a stand somewhere.

Where?

His gaze settled on the rain runoff ditch that zigzagged its way down the hill from the plateau. It was several feet deep and would offer concealment. But to survive, he’d need all the firepower he could get and the opportunity to get the jump on his enemies. The diversion of using the dead soldiers seemed to work, so he decided to stay with it.

Pulling the second man up to a sitting position, he removed the rifle from his grip and propped him against the tree that the man had been using as cover. Then, he bent his knees and posed him to look as though he had been injured and was nursing his wounds.

Slinging both rifles around his shoulder by their straps, Adair returned to the first man, removed the trench coat and shotgun, and propped him against another tree. Then, he ran to the runoff ditch and jumped in, crawling downhill to put some distance between him and the trap to ensure that the other soldiers wouldn’t arrive at the scene from behind him. When he found an area where the ditch exposed a cluster of rocks, he took up a position that offered concealment from all directions except a narrow field of view upslope. Setting down both automatic rifles, he ejected the spent shotgun shell and loaded three more from the cache in the coat pocket before setting it down and picking up one of the automatics.

Night was falling and the forest was growing darker with every second. Adair settled down behind the rocks and aimed upslope. All that was left to do was to wait. A light breeze had picked up and was whistling through the trees, causing the trunks to sway in a slow and gentle motion that seemed like the peaceful giants’ disapproval of the violence that was taking place below. As unnatural as the situation appeared, Adair felt at home. War was his natural environment. The only difference with this battle was the weaponry. He understood it with an instinct that had always baffled his fellow soldiers. His uncanny ability to predict enemy movements and put himself in the right places at the right times had been the primary reason he’d ascended through Orud’s ranks. His capture at the hands of Armaros’ soldiers had been the one and only time he’d suffered such a devastating defeat. But it had also taught him a very important lesson—though the accuracy and range of the weapons in this world broadened the battlefield to a larger terrain, the principles of warfare were still the same. And few understood the principles better than Adair. Misdirection. Ambush. When to dodge. When to rush in. Adair had been playing this deadly game since he was little older than a child.

With the last pale remains of daylight visible through the forest above him, Adair watched as one and then another silhouette passed from west to east over the ditch, fifty yards upslope. Estimating the speed of their movement, he waited until they would be within yards of the first dead soldier before he rose up from his hiding place.

The holographic sights of his weapon swung eastward and settled on one of the two retreating forms. As Greer had taught him, he aimed at the bottom of the man’s torso and pulled the trigger, letting the recoil of the weapon adjust his aim upward. The short burst of automatic fire knocked the soldier to the ground while his partner immediately spun upslope and began to run for cover.

Adair pivoted and held back the trigger, releasing a stream of bullets as he tracked the second soldier. Puffs of dirt were thrown up around him, and the pale flesh of trees was exposed as bark was torn off in chunks. Adair exhausted the magazine and quickly dropped the weapon to grab the next. As he brought the next rifle up, he squeezed off a few more rounds in the direction of the fallen soldier, then ducked back into the ditch.

No sooner had his body dropped from view than the soil above his head erupted into a cloud of debris.

Adair waited for the initial onslaught to subside before reaching his weapon over the bank of the ditch and firing two shots.

As he pulled his hand back, the area around him again burst into a frenzy of returned fire.

Keep pulling the trigger, Adair told the man. He quickly crawled downslope for a few meters and fired another couple shots over the rim of the ditch.

The soldier’s response was the same.

Adair smiled as the debris rained down. He moved downslope again and fired off one more shot. As soon as he pulled his hand back, he started crawling as fast as he could upslope. His pattern of retreat and decreasing amounts of return fire had hopefully implanted a false impression in his enemy’s mind that would cause him to lower his guard.

The soldier fired another long burst at Adair’s last position, but it came to an abrupt end when he presumably ran out of rounds. Adair imagined him taking his eyes off his prey as he looked down to change out his magazine.

At that moment, Adair sprang from the ditch with his automatic rifle in one hand firing in full auto. Bursting into a run, he advanced upon his enemy and emptied the clip before dropping the weapon and bringing the shotgun to bear.

The soldier, taking cover behind a cluster of tree trunks, fumbled with a new magazine.

Adair continued forward at a run, blasting away at the trees with the shotgun until he ran out of ammo. With only a few strides left to reach his enemy, he adjusted his grip.

Beside the leftmost tree trunk, the dark and angular outline of an automatic weapon could be seen pivoting around the edge, followed by a man’s shoulder and head.

Adair released the shotgun in a two-handed throw as if it were an axe. It hit the soldier’s weapon with a glancing blow, providing a split-second diversion until he was upon the man. Seizing the muzzle and the soldier’s exposed forearm, Adair wrenched both to the side, pulling the man out from behind the tree and throwing his weight behind the movement to knock him from his feet.

Both men crashed to the ground and rolled downslope.

Adair flipped over and came up on his feet, below the enemy.

The soldier was on his side. His helmet was gone, and he was unholstering the pistol strapped to his leg.

Adair quickly reversed direction and ran uphill.

The soldier’s gun was free and swinging in Adair’s direction.

Adair spun to keep ahead of the arc of the weapon while lashing out with his right foot. He kicked the gun aside just as it discharged into the air beside his chest. His momentum threw him to the ground beside the soldier, who immediately rolled onto his hands and knees and pounced on top of him.

On instinct, Adair grabbed the man’s vest with both hands and pulled as he rolled left, causing his enemy to overshoot his goal and end up tumbling farther downslope.

Adair rolled to his feet and advanced down the hill.

The soldier slid to a stop and came up on his feet with his hands out to either side, anticipating another attack. When he saw that Adair was still two strides away, he quickly pulled a knife from a sheath hanging upside down near his opposite shoulder.

Adair halted.

The soldier smiled and grunted something in his native language while slowly waving the tip of the knife back and forth in front of him.

Adair grinned. “A blade? You’re in my territory now,” he said in Orudan. Without hesitation, he began moving forward at a walking pace.

The soldier’s confident expression disappeared. He backed up a step before striking out with a stabbing thrust.

Adair quickly bent forward, thrusting his abdomen backward and out of harm’s way. At the same moment he spun to the side and captured the soldier’s arm, dropping the full weight of his body on the man’s elbow as he pulled upward on the wrist. As he hit the ground with the soldier’s arm pinned beneath him, he felt and heard a sharp popping noise.

The enemy cried out in pain.

Adair wrenched the knife from the man’s hand and rolled over, burying the blade into the soldier’s upper back above his Kevlar vest.

“FATHER!” Kael yelled, leaning forward in the saddle as his horse sprinted up the incline. As soon as he crested the plateau, the forest gave way to patches of low shrubbery clinging to a flat, rocky expanse. He raced his horse south across the clearing, keeping his sense spread out into the surrounding forest. On the west side of the plateau, two saddled horses lingered near a patch of long grass. They raised their heads as Kael approached, but otherwise kept still. Twenty meters to the south, a man’s body lay face down on the rocks.

One of Rugov’s men, he concluded from the clothing.

Down the eastern slope, Kael also sensed another two men moving south with weapons ready. These were dressed in combat armor and were clearly not Rugov’s guards.

Pulling left on the reins, Kael entered the forest once more and descended to put himself directly north of the two enemies. Traversing the slope at a gallop, he came upon the men seconds later.

Both had already heard the hoof beats and had taken cover behind large pine trunks.

Not wanting Rugov’s horse to get shot in the process, Kael pulled back on the reins and slid off the saddle, continuing forward on foot.

The soldiers started firing as soon as they could see their target.

Kael surged forward, darting back and forth between trees, using the propulsion of his sense to advance in a rapid, chaotic line. When he had closed the distance to fifty meters, he pulled his sense upward and formed a barrier in front of himself. Then he launched into a full run.

The soldiers began firing wildly, excited by the prospect of an easy target and confused by the difficulty of hitting it. As one reloaded and continued firing, the other exhausted his magazine and reached for another.

Now inside of his effective range, Kael pushed his sense outward with a thrusting fist. He felt it move as a wave, collapsing in upon itself and changing shape from a defensive shield to a blunt instrument of attack. His newfound weapon slammed into the nearest soldier, knocking his gun into his chest before breaking his ribs and sending him backward several feet to slam into a tree.

The counterforce stopped all of Kael’s forward momentum. From this position, he pivoted toward the other enemy.

The soldier remained behind the cover of a tree, inserting a new magazine into his rifle.

Kael’s hand opened into a flat blade as he brought it across his body in a forehand strike, feeling his sense sharpen into an invisible weapon stretched out before him.

The tree jolted from the impact, and a loud cracking noise rang out like a gunshot. The soldier crumpled forward. His severed left arm bounced on the bed of dry pine needles just before his lifeless body hit the ground. His torso, with ribs exposed, had been opened up like a book. Green needles and pine cones began raining down seconds before the trunk of the tree bent backward on itself at the same height as where the soldier had been struck. Its slow-motion lean gradually began to gain speed until it struck the ground with a thunderous crash, finally separating itself from the chest-high stump.

Kael looked back to the other soldier and confirmed that he was dead before dispersing his sense into the surrounding forest. A hundred meters to the southwest, on the southern slope of the plateau, there was one more living being. Kael started running. The clarity of his sense increased with proximity and his panic lessened as he began detecting a lack of weaponry and body armor. Finally, coming around the curving slope, he caught sight of a dark-haired man.

“Father?”

Adair looked up. He was perched like a hawk on the back of a soldier lying face down in the dirt. As he slowly rose to a standing position, he jerked a knife out of the soldier’s back. The small blade and Adair’s clenched fist were both covered in blood.

“Are you okay?” Kael asked.

Adair glanced down at his feet, then up again at Kael. His chest was heaving. “You shouldn’t have left,” he said calmly.

Kael looked around the immediate area and noted two dead men sitting propped against trees, another lying several meters away still holding his rifle, and the fourth prone at his father’s feet. “You did all this?”

“They found us again,” Adair replied. “We need to get back to help the others.”

Kael stood motionless and silent for a moment. He had vague memories of hearing stories of his father’s wartime exploits, but his fragmented personal experience had been limited to watching the colonel and governor of Bastul as a leader. This was different. He was seeing his father as a fellow soldier for the first time in his life.

“Did you pass my horse on the way here?” Adair asked.

Kael shook his head to clear away the deeper thoughts that threatened to consume his attention. “Uh … Yes.”

“Why don’t you gather the horses and the weapons from the other two men? I assume you took care of them?”

Kael nodded.

“Good. I’ll see if there’s anything else useful around here. And then we need to get back as fast as possible. I hope the others are still alive.”

Kael nodded again and turned back in the direction he’d come.

C HAPTER 14

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

“Range?” Greer asked.

“Three hundred fifteen meters,” Jensen replied.

They were inside the tree line on the north end, looking across the meadow through their scopes. Inside the trees on the south side, near the main road, an FSB agent was conducting surveillance. His position was partially concealed, sufficient to escape the eyes of anyone not paying attention, but it was obvious to Greer that the man wasn’t a disciplined sniper.

Greer made a slight adjustment to the elevation dial on his scope.

“No, no, no,” Jensen whispered.

“What?”

“He’s moving,” Jensen replied.

Greer ducked down and peered through his scope.

The agent, who had been in a prone position, was now carrying his equipment east through the trees.

“What is he doing?” Greer whispered back.

“Our target is on the move,” came Thompson’s voice over the COMM. He and Martinez were positioned on the east side of the meadow and were targeting another agent at the northwest corner.

“Ours too. Matthews, what’s going on?” Greer asked.

“Uh. I’m seeing a convoy of six more vehicles approaching westbound on A129. They’re slowing down. Hang on.” He paused for a few seconds. “Yep. They’re turning onto Rugov’s driveway, and it looks like the other three vehicles are pulling in behind them.”

Jensen looked up from his scope. “They weren’t waiting for nightfall. They were waiting for reinforcements.”

“This is SEC One,” came Pyotr’s voice over the COMM. “What do you want us to do?” He and most of his guards were positioned on either side of the dirt road, just before it left the forest and entered the meadow.

“Wait until they’re almost at the meadow before you plug up the driveway,” Greer replied.

“TL. We’re about to lose line of sight on our target. Are we going to engage?” Thompson asked.

Greer looked through his scope again. In the foreground, halfway across the meadow, the stable and other buildings dominated the left side of his vision. In the distance, his and Jensen’s target was moving in that direction, and in another thirty seconds they also would lose their line of sight. “They’re repositioning to provide cover for the convoy. Give it another ten seconds to see if he stops moving.”

“Copy that,” Thompson replied.

“Pyotr, how’s it looking?” Greer asked.

Pyotr squinted through the dusk. The dirt road of Rugov’s drive stretched for hundreds of meters before disappearing around a bend. “I don’t have a visual, but I can hear the convoy.”

“Be advised, the agents on the road west of the property have left their vehicles and are approaching on foot through the trees,” Matthews said over the COMM.

“Copy that,” Pyotr replied. “SEC Three. Engage the agents on foot when they reach your position.

“Da,” Lev replied. After killing the first of the surveillance agents, Pyotr had ordered him to rejoin the other eight members of his security team at the western boundary of Rugov’s property to keep eyes on the cluster of vehicles there. The last member of SEC 3 was still out with Adair and no longer responding by COMM.

The roar of vehicles was growing louder, and Pyotr exchanged glances with the men around him, receiving nods of readiness. “Stand by to engage,” he said over the COMM. The rest of his men were scattered through the trees and invisible in the fading dusk.

Around the bend to the south he spotted a dark SUV, then another. He counted nine in total, just as Matthews had said. A cloud of dust was flying up behind them. Their headlights were off and they were moving at roughly eighty kilometers per hour.

“Ready grenades,” he said, pulling the pin on the one in his own hand.

Over the COMM, he heard Thompson’s voice again. “TL, the target is still on the move.”

“Copy that. TAC One, fire at will,” Greer replied.

Pyotr looked up at the few trees between himself and the road before looking back to the approaching vehicles. Having identified a clear throwing path, he estimated the timing to detonation. “Engage,” he said over the COMM before throwing his grenade onto the road.

Through the shadows and dim light of dusk, a dozen other black objects arced out of the trees and bounced on the dirt as the first two vehicles reached the area.

A series of explosions lit up the road, the sound ripping through the forest. The first vehicle lurched forward on its nose as the back end was launched into the air. The second truck flipped over on its left side and slid into the first. Behind, the convoy ground to a halt and splintered as each vehicle hit its brakes and skidded in every direction.

A deep and rapid pounding noise boomed from somewhere to the south as several of Pyotr’s men attacked the back of the convoy with fifty-caliber machine guns. Unable to move forward or backward, the convoy was pinned between the walls of the forest. Pyotr stepped out from the trees and fired his submachine gun at the windows of a vehicle in the center of the traffic jam. Within seconds, the forest was engulfed in a cacophony of automatic gunfire, from low booming noises to high-pitched cracking sounds. Windows exploded. Glass shards flew through the air, mixed with sparks coming off the vehicles’ doors and hoods. Silhouettes moved inside the SUVs. Doors flung open. Return fire joined the deafening chaos. Agents came out shooting, only to collapse to the dirt seconds later.

Though it seemed like a prolonged battle, it took less than a minute before the gunfire faded to a few rapid pops, then disappeared altogether.

“SEC One, clear!” Pyotr yelled.

“SEC Two, clear!” came another voice.

“SEC Four, clear!” said another.

“Injuries?” Pyotr asked.

“Leg wound,” someone replied.

“Hand,” said another.

“Did we lose anyone?” he asked.

“Negative,” the other two team leaders replied.

Though his ears were still ringing, Pyotr could hear distant gunfire coming from the western side of the property. “SEC Three?” he asked over the COMM. “SEC Three?”

There was no reply.

“TL, the target is still on the move,” Thompson said.

Greer and Jensen were both pivoting their rifles, matching the movement of their crosshairs to the speed of their target and leading him to account for the delay to impact. “Copy that. TAC One, fire at will,” Greer replied.

Jensen’s rifle boomed.

With the last shreds of daylight, Greer could barely make out the vapor trail left in the air behind the shot. It extended in a low arc across the meadow, distorting the light waves just enough to define a path. A sapling behind their target burst into splinters.

The agent suddenly stopped and ducked.

“Inch and a half high,” Greer said, pulling his trigger. The recoil knocked his eyes off the target.

“Two inches left,” Jensen said.

Greer reacquired the target through his scope and watched Jensen’s next round fly through the air a foot behind the agent, who was now running due east.

“A foot right,” Greer said, tracking the man.

“Dammit. These rifles aren’t sighted in!” Jensen replied.

Greer’s reticle was out in front of the man, who was now running and dodging through the trees.

“Target has been reduced,” Thompson said over the COMM. Evidently, he and Martinez had an easier time with the agent they were assigned to.

Greer eased his rifle leftward and pulled the trigger just as something large and brown obscured his view. He pulled back from the scope and looked up quickly, seeing the southwest corner of the stable in the middle of the field. He glanced over to Jensen, who was peering through his scope.

“You got him in the leg. He’s down and crawling.”

Greer exhaled in frustration. “Sean, Nikolaus, we’ve lost line of sight. Can you take care of it?”

“Copy that,” Sean replied.

A moment later, a loud report echoed across the meadow, originating from the roof of the main building. “Target has been reduced,” Nikolaus replied over the COMM.

Greer looked through his scope and couldn’t see the pair of shooters, even though he knew they were up there somewhere. “Thanks, guys.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a series of explosions flashed red, then orange, between the trees to the south. A chorus of gunfire came quickly on its heels as three of Pyotr’s four security teams attacked the convoy coming along the dirt road.

Suddenly, an echo of gunfire burst out from the west side of the property. Greer and Jensen turned and listened for a moment, realizing that Pyotr’s fourth team was engaging the enemy coming on foot from that direction.

“TAC One, eyes open for runners,” Greer advised.

“Copy that,” Thompson and Sean both replied.

The gunfire coming from the road halted, and Greer heard SEC 1, 2, and 4 give their clear signals. Sporadic gunfire was still coming from the west. Individual shots rang out, followed by short bursts from submachine guns.

“SEC Three?” Pyotr called out over the COMM. A second later, he repeated the call.

Greer grabbed his assault rifle and jumped to his feet, followed by Jensen. “Sean and Nikolaus, keep eyes on the trees. Thompson and Martinez, move west, now!” Greer broke out of the trees at a full run and turned right, sprinting across the rolling terrain and through the knee-high grass of the meadow. Jensen was only a step behind. He was faster than Greer, but was holding back to stay in formation. They had been positioned three quarters of the way across the clearing, which left them just over two hundred yards to reach the western tree line. Greer was sucking air in deep gulps by the time they were fifty meters away. He noticed movement in the trees two seconds before puffs of dirt began sprouting from the field around them.

“Incoming!” Jensen shouted.

They had just reached the rim of a shallow depression and dove headfirst into the grass.

Greer rolled over painfully on his shoulder before coming to a stop on his stomach. When he looked over, Jensen had one hand against the side of his face. As he pulled it away, a thick trail of red ran sideways across his cheek, and the top portion of his ear was gone.

“Cover fire!” Greer yelled. A second later, when nothing happened, he reached up to his neck and realized that he must have landed on the button to his COMM. Turning it on again, he repeated the order.

“We can’t see anything,” Nikolaus replied.

Greer looked up at the sky and realized that it was still too light for NVDs and too dark for the naked eye. Jensen was now looking back at him with anger in his eyes. His ear was bleeding down his neck and onto the grass below him. “Just start shooting,” Greer replied to Nikolaus.

Single reports began echoing across the meadow.

“Thompson?” Greer called.

“We’re in the trees at your four o’clock. Ready to move when you are.”

Greer locked eyes with Jensen and nodded. “Three, two, one,” he said before pushing himself up to a sitting position. Both men fired a few bursts into the trees at the fleeting silhouettes—barely distinguishable from all the other shapes of the forest—then dropped back to the ground.

“Did you get a good look?” Greer asked.

“Yeah,” Jensen replied. “If we keep to the low spots, we can hopscotch the whole way.”

“Exactly. Thompson and Martinez. Hopscotch advance in rank order on three,” Greer said. A moment later, Jensen pushed up and began firing in unison with the others of TAC 1.

Greer lunged forward, took several steps, and dove into the next depression in the meadow. He waited three seconds, then popped up and fired with Jensen and Martinez as Thompson advanced to another position in the trees. It took several minutes and multiple magazines for TAC 1 to reach the western tree line. By the time they arrived, the sun had completely set, and they pulled their NVDs down in front of their eyes.

The forest was suddenly awash in hues of green. A handful of men were lying on the ground, hit by his team’s cover fire or shots from Sean and Nikolaus. Bright flashes of gunfire lit up the forest from several directions, but Greer could plainly see that the agents weren’t prepared to fight in the dark. They were firing either blindly or by sound. He raised his weapon and took out the nearest agent, then dodged to the left behind a tree. Every few seconds his team took out another until there were none left.

“Clear!” Thompson called out. Jensen and Martinez echoed the call.

Greer scanned the forest one last time before adding his assessment. “All clear. Pyotr, where are you?”

“SEC One, Two, and Four moving across the meadow,” he replied. His voice was stuttered, and it was obvious that he was running.

“TAC One is moving west into the trees. We’ll try to locate SEC Three.”

“Copy that,” Pyotr replied with a grunt.

“Alright boys. Spread out and stay alert,” Greer told his men.

C HAPTER 15

LOCATION UNKNOWN

Armaros stepped off the last stair onto the tarmac and crossed the short distance to the black, armored limousine. Around him, holding a perimeter of fifty meters, were dozens of tall soldiers staring outward toward the horizon. Ahead, the driver stood at the back of the vehicle beside an open door. Armaros stooped and climbed into the back seat.

A few seconds later, his assistant climbed in and took the rear-facing seat opposite. His eyes were focused on the panel of glass in his hands.

When the door shut, the assistant looked up. “Sir, we have a problem.”

Armaros nodded.

“I just received a report. The other teams you dispatched to follow up on the one that disappeared, they didn’t find what we hoped for.”

“How so?”

“Apparently, it was just a minor medical facility with a few security teams—not their central command station. The captain says the building showed signs of assault from our first team and plenty of dead security. But the team wasn’t there, and neither was the liability.”

Armaros placed a hand on his chin and looked out the window. The aftereffects of Helsinki were not only lingering, but they seemed to be growing into something vaguely menacing. So far, he’d lost four of his personal guards. All of them, including the one who had been captured by Null, had suddenly disappeared from the network. These weren’t ordinary soldiers. They didn’t have their own desires. They weren’t capable of going rogue or escaping from Armaros’ control. They were special creatures whose very reason for existence was to protect and serve him.

“The captain is requesting the next objective.”

Armaros exhaled and turned to his assistant. “Have them move to St. Petersburg and await further orders.”

“Yes, sir,” the assistant replied, tapping the screen in his hands.

Armaros turned to look out the window as the car sped away from the private airport. “Give me a status on our Null operations.” Without looking, Armaros could feel the momentary panic from his assistant.

To his credit, the young man swallowed his emotions and answered obediently. “American operations have halted. They found your estate in Costa Rica, but we’ve heard nothing yet on Brazil.”

Null had probably decided, wisely, to leave the portal out of the evidence they had planted, which meant they were hoping to make use of it at some point.

“European operations are also done.”

“Russia?” Armaros asked.

The assistant shook his head. “Winding down.”

“What about Asia?”

“Sorry, sir. Our investigations never got off the ground there.”

Armaros took a deep breath and smiled. As demented as the thought might be, he was rather enjoying this little game of chess. After all, he was a warrior at heart, and it had been far too many ages since his last meaningful conflict.

Where are you? Where is the center of the spider web? he wondered.

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

“Command? When?” Rugov questioned.

“This morning,” Helmsley replied.

“Who asked about it?” Marshall added, now sounding very concerned. She was leaning against Rugov’s desk with her arms crossed.

Helmsley continued pacing across the room. “Actually, I think Greer mentioned it.”

Rugov was pacing on the other side of the room. “It’s obvious now, isn’t it? Tell me, how did the subject come up?”

Helmsley stopped pacing and rubbed at his eyes. “Let’s see, Greer asked about how our counterintelligence was working. Then Kael said we needed to go after Armaros instead of running from him. I think someone said we don’t know where Armaros is, and that’s when Matthews said he could find him if he had access to Null’s systems. Someone else suggested going to EOD, and I told them that all of Null’s systems had been shut down. That’s when Greer brought up the fact that Command is still operational.”

“Who asked about EOD? Was it Sean?”

“I can’t remember,” Helmsley answered.

“I think Matthews’ comment sounds more suspicious,” Marshall added.

Helmsley shook his head. “I disagree, given the context of Kael’s statement and the fact that Matthews’ job is to find things. I don’t really see any specific person steering the conversation toward Command.”

“Jim, what did you tell them?” Rugov said, his voice sounding calmer than his previous words.

“Well, I just told them what we all know but don’t want to admit—that we have to wrap our heads around the idea of waiting it out. We have to think about blending in and becoming normal people for a while, maybe years, before we’re activated again.”

“Ahh. Of course,” Rugov said, looking at the ground as he worked through the scenario in his mind. “And this came immediately after I assured you that the agents in St. Petersburg couldn’t have known about our location. Don’t you see it?”

Helmsley nodded. “I know where you’re going with this, but my men weren’t part of that conversation.”

“Even without that, Anatoly still has a point,” Marshall pushed. “If there is a mole—”

“There is!” Rugov interrupted.

Marshall paused and gave Rugov a stern look. “If there is a mole in your group,” she continued, “then he had just listened to you put an end to any hope of locating Command in the short term. As long as we’re moving—in any direction—the mole has at least a small influence over where we decide to go. And just hours after you made it clear that we weren’t going anywhere, the FSB suddenly appears.”

“Yes!” Rugov agreed. “The mole had to force the issue, so he gave up our location.”

Helmsley held up his hand. “I hear you. I just have a hard time accepting that it’s one of my men.”

The room went silent for a moment, until Marshall spoke quietly. “It’s brilliant, really. Armaros is playing multiple angles.”

Rugov nodded. “He has every intelligence and law-enforcement agency on the planet attacking Null from the outside, looking for Command, while he simultaneously chases us from place to place, steering us there as well.”

“The question is,” Marshall added, “what are we to do about it?”

The room fell silent again. Almost a full minute passed before Rugov grunted. Helmsley looked up from the spot on the floor where he’d been staring.

“I think I have an idea,” the EOD director mumbled. “Yes. It can work,” he assured himself. “Armaros doesn’t know what Command looks like.”

Helmsley squinted. “A diversion? First of all, we’d need Command’s involvement to pull off something like that, and we don’t have a way to contact them. Secondly, what would be the point?”

Rugov looked up with a sly grin. “To force Armaros’ hand, just like he’s trying to do with us. After what happened in Helsinki, it is clear that he has resources of his own. Why then is he choosing to use the CIA and MI5?” he asked, motioning to Helmsley and Marshall respectively.

“Because he hasn’t found Command yet,” Marshall concluded.

“Yes. And what will he do when he finds it, but no longer has these agencies doing his work?”

“Hold on,” Helmsley objected. “There’s no guarantee that it’ll force him out of hiding. What if he just sends a couple squads of those super-soldiers?”

“I suspect it will be a bigger attack than that,” Rugov argued. “Either way, Command knows what to look for now.”

“That won’t necessarily reveal his location,” Helmsley said. “He could call in an attack from anywhere.”

“Let’s hope he does,” Rugov countered. “Then we can focus all of our resources on backtracking communications from the origin of the attack.”

Marshall was nodding with approval. “It will reveal the mole as soon as he tries to make contact, and we can also track his communication as a cross reference to narrow down the search.”

“What about my first question? How are we going to run this by Command?” Helmsley asked.

Rugov’s eyes narrowed. “I might have a primitive way to contact them. Human communication lines. Message drops and such. EOD hasn’t made use of them in years. It would take some time, but I think it could—”

The beep of the intercom interrupted them. Rugov walked over to his desk and punched a button. “Yes?”

“Sir,” Pyotr replied. “We sustained multiple casualties, but the threat has been neutralized.”

Marshall quickly glanced over to Helmsley, but held her tongue.

“Good work,” Rugov replied. “Now let us out of here, please.”

“Yes, sir.” A moment later, a muffled clanking sound was followed by the hissing of pneumatic cylinders as the ceiling at the top of the stairs opened.

Rugov turned off the intercom and looked in Helmsley’s direction. “Are we agreed?”

Helmsley nodded.

Marshall nodded and took a few steps closer to Helmsley. “I hope we didn’t lose any of your men.”

“But it would improve our chances at finding the mole,” Helmsley whispered back, finishing the thought that she had tried not to verbalize.

Marshall suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“After you,” Helmsley added, motioning for the stairs.

Kael’s horse charged ahead, galloping through the darkness under the direction of its own instincts and with only minor corrections from its rider’s sensory awareness. After nudging the animal slightly to the east, Kael pushed his sense outward again, as he had been doing for the last hour, alternating between choosing the best path through the immediate terrain and scanning their surroundings for enemies. Adair was following close behind, leading the third horse with the body of Rugov’s guard.

As his sense expanded, Kael recognized the opening of the ravine to the south. “Whoa,” he said, pulling back on the reins.

Adair came up alongside him and slowed to a trot, matching his speed. “What is it?” His breath drifted away from his mouth in a puff of white against the cold air.

“We’re almost there,” he replied.

“Are the others still alive?”

Kael directed his sense to the southwest, where the thick forest opened into a familiar meadow. Inside the trees on the western side were dozens of dead bodies. To the south, smoking vehicles were piled up along the dirt road and more bodies were littered throughout the wreckage. On the eastern side of the meadow, inside the main building, living people were clustered in the great room while a few more were standing at attention around the perimeter. Others were milling about in the guards’ quarters across the road. “It looks like there was an attack, but they fended it off.”

“Are you sure you’re not sensing the enemy?” Adair questioned.

“I don’t think so. I’m too far away to pick out individual people, but they’re not rummaging through the main building. It feels like they’re talking in the great room.”

“Good,” Adair replied. “Now, before we get there, I just want to say that I think there is something much larger going on with this conflict.”

Kael smiled, knowing that his father couldn’t see it in the pervasive darkness of the forest. Adair couldn’t help giving advice. While his fatherly instinct had seemed frustrating before this evening, now it seemed endearing to Kael. “What do you mean?”

“It’s difficult to explain, but there is something not immediately obvious about this attack.”

“It seems plain to me. Armaros found where we were hiding. But then, strategy was never my strength,” Kael said, remembering how Soren repeatedly bested him in strategy games when they competed against each other at the Monastery.

“Why is that?”

The question caught Kael off guard, and he had to think about it for a moment. “No reason in particular. I suppose it just didn’t come naturally to me like it did for some of the others.”

“At the monastery?” Adair pushed.

“Yes.”

“But you are a gifted warrior.”

“Thank you, but that’s different,” Kael objected.

“Not really. Perhaps the reason it didn’t come naturally is because it wasn’t taught properly.”

Kael smiled again. It felt good to hear his father speak defensively on his behalf, even if Ukiru was no longer alive to hear it. “I’d like to think so, but …”

“Well, you obviously understand hand-to-hand combat very well. So, I would challenge you to consider that strategy is just an extension of it.”

Kael frowned, but his interest was piqued. “Go on.”

“In combat, when you face an enemy, you have resources at your disposal. Your right hand, and your left. Your legs, knees, and elbows. The weight of your body and how you use it. Sometimes you hold a spear, other times a sword or shield. These are all just tools that you can use in a variety of ways. Sometimes they are all coordinated in attack. Other times your feet may move your body backward in defense while your hands attack. On some occasions, one may be used as a diversion while another lies in wait. It is the same with strategy or leading groups of men into battle. The key is to think of your resources as extensions of your own body. And the challenge is to use them effectively against your enemy.”

“Interesting. Ukiru didn’t teach it that way,” Kael observed.

“Of course he didn’t,” Adair replied. “That wasn’t how he saw the world. You told me yourself that his people were unconcerned about the outside world. They chose, purposefully, to separate themselves from others. Their strength was a sophisticated method of personal combat. And that is the context under which you might understand Ukiru’s approach. However talented he may have been in combat, he didn’t have the historical or cultural background to be an effective strategist. Magnus, however, would have been another matter. He would have been a more appropriate instructor of strategy. But then, to truly teach you students about strategy would have been counterproductive. If you are trying to manipulate someone, you will tend to discourage higher-level thinking.”

Kael’s mouth fell open. He had never considered these things about his past or the people who had shaped his childhood. He had shared with his father a simple chronological story of what he had gone through, and with that basic information, Adair had drawn conclusions that were deeper and far more accurate than anything Kael had come up with in all the years he’d been meditating on it. “I … uh … I never thought of it like that,” was all that came out of his mouth.

“Well, understanding yourself and your own resources is only half of the conflict. The other half is to understand your enemy. The more information you have, the better. It is one thing to know what resources he has at his disposal, but I believe it is far more crucial to understand his motives. What drives him? What is the overarching perspective that directs how he uses his resources? Understand this and you can predict what he will do, instead of only reacting to it. This is what my mind is stuck on at the moment.”

Kael was nodding his head, even though his father couldn’t see his agreement. There was an indescribable feeling of truth in what Adair was saying, the polar opposite of the vague, nagging feeling of being lied to that he’d experienced while at the Monastery. Kael was suddenly struck with guilt at his previous feelings about his father’s weakness and inability to contribute. “How does this apply to our current situation? What do you think is really going on?”

“I don’t know yet, but together we have the information to figure it out. Between what Saba shared with you about the Myndarym and what I learned from the Viytur, we know many things. And it has always been my approach to use what I know to figure out what I don’t. That is one of the reasons I asked you not to leave this morning. I know you want to go after Armaros, and I understand that you cannot stomach running from an enemy because you are a warrior. But I also know that there is more than one way to defeat an enemy. Going on the attack can sometimes get you killed. We have limited resources in the traditional sense, but we don’t need to find Armaros. He already wants to find you, and he is actively pursuing that goal.”

Though it went against his nature, Kael was forced to admit that the idea was sound. “So, we run?” he asked skeptically.

“Yes. But we do it with a purpose. Not because of fear, but because we want to study the enemy. There is a strategy being employed against us, and we’re too caught up in the moment to see it. The worst thing we can do right now is to try and control the situation. It will only slow down our progress. Instead, we need to allow the strategy to play out while we observe—while we consider what we already know. And then, when we understand the enemy, we will anticipate his movements and know how to strike in an effective manner.”

“You know,” Kael mused aloud, “one of the first lessons Ukiru taught us was how to use an opponent’s weight and momentum against him. When he pushes, you don’t have to push back. You might want to pull and twist instead.”

“Exactly,” Adair replied.

Kael suddenly detected movement in the trees ahead. He and Adair had exited the canyon and crossed a field during the course of their conversation. Now that they were re-entering the forest on the east side of Rugov’s meadow, their proximity to Rugov’s guards had become a concern.

Adair must have recognized the sudden silence or change in Kael’s posture. “Is someone out there?” he whispered.

“The guards,” Kael replied quietly. “I’ll alert Greer so we don’t get shot.” Kael closed his eyes and reached out with his sense, probing the figures inside the main building. Only the men of TAC 1 felt familiar to him and were therefore distinguishable from the rest. With careful inspection, he located Greer’s presence.

Greer looked up from the map on the dining table. “Hold on,” he announced.

Rugov stopped in mid-sentence and looked briefly at Helmsley before responding. “What’s wrong?”

“Kael and Adair are back. Pyotr,” Greer called across the room.

The security leader lifted his head slightly.

“Kael and Adair are approaching along the path through the forest on the northeast side. Tell your men to hold their fire.”

Pyotr nodded then spoke quickly into his COMM.

“Sir, can we pause this conversation?” Greer asked.

Helmsley glanced at his watch. “Make it quick. We need to vacate in less than twenty minutes.”

“Thank you,” Greer replied, pushing back his chair and heading for the front door. The rest of TAC 1 backed away from the table and followed.

As they crossed the great room, Pyotr closed his COMM and looked at Greer. “We have confirmation. They are riding fast and are almost through the trees. How did you know that they were coming?”

Greer smiled. “Kael told me,” he said as he walked past the guard. From the corner of his eye, he caught Pyotr’s confused look and Thompson’s knowing grin.

The frigid night air was an abrupt change from the warmth inside. Greer’s breath streamed from his nostrils and mouth in great white puffs that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. Crossing his arms against the cold, he stepped off the gravel path and stood in the thin grass that rose up on either side. In the distance, he could hear hoof beats fast approaching.

The rest of his team came outside and waited with him.

A moment later, three horses came around the eastern side of the building and slowed to a stop. Kael and Adair immediately dismounted from the first two. The horse in the rear position stamped its hoofs and shifted sideways. On its back was draped the body of one of Pyotr’s men.

“Are you guys okay? Did the agents catch up with you?” Greer asked.

“We’re fine,” Kael said, walking forward to stop in front of Greer. He tilted his head toward Adair. “Father took out four of them on his own. I got the last two.”

“I’m sorry, Pyotr,” Adair said as he came up behind Kael. His eyes were focused over Greer’s shoulder. “They ambushed us and one of your men didn’t make it.”

Greer turned to see Pyotr standing in the open doorway.

“Thank you,” the security leader replied. “The other man didn’t make it either. He died in a firefight across the meadow.”

Kael looked at Greer. “I noticed the vehicles on the road, too. What happened here?”

“FSB started moving in just before sunset and came at us from two directions. We got the jump on them, but we lost everyone on SEC Three and had a couple injuries as well.”

Kael’s eyes drifted to the patches on Jensen’s face and ear. “What’s the plan now?” he asked.

“We were just discussing the details. Come on inside.”

Kael moved past and Adair followed. Greer fell into step behind them and added, “We almost left without you guys. Glad you made it back in one piece.”

Adair smiled over his shoulder.

Pyotr stepped aside as the small crowd filed back into the building and spilled into the great room. Sean, Matthews, and Nikolaus were standing near the fireplace. The directors were still seated around the kitchen table. “Welcome back,” Helmsley called across the room. “You missed all the excitement.”

“Not all of it,” Kael replied as he strode across the room. He stopped in front of the table and looked down at the topographical map rolled out across its surface. “What’s the plan?”

Helmsley’s eyebrows rose a bit more than usual, and he glanced briefly at Adair before turning his head. “Anatoly?”

Rugov looked up. “Yes. As I was explaining to your team, EOD can no longer offer you all protection. Obviously, this location is now compromised and we have to evacuate before more agents arrive. I will leave to contact Command and see if they are willing to take you in. It will take approximately three days to get a response. In the meantime, all of you will travel on horseback to this location here,” he said, planting a finger next to an X on the map. “It is an old airstrip my uncle used to bring in supplies for hunting excursions before he built the roads.”

“Won’t that be the next place the FSB will look for us?” Greer pointed out.

“No,” Rugov said flatly. “The cabin is not visible from the air, and the landing strip is just a dry riverbed when viewed from a satellite. On the ground you will see that it is quite flat and smooth. I will meet you there, and if Command is willing, I will have a plane waiting for you.”

“And if they’re not?” Greer asked.

“Then I will deliver the bad news in person and we will have to figure out what else can be done.”

Greer nodded, pleased with the blunt response.

Kael suddenly turned and glanced across the room behind him. “There are eleven of us.”

Rugov looked up from the map. “I have fourteen horses, so you will have three of my men to accompany you. And of course, you may take whatever food and supplies you need.”

Kael reached up and rubbed his chin. “With a group this size, we’ll need the extra horses as pack animals.”

“Of course. Use them however you would like,” Rugov said before standing up. “Are there any questions?” he asked, looking out across the room.

After a moment of silence, Kael looked over at Adair. “My father and I will saddle up the horses.”

“TAC One,” Greer said. “Let’s grab whatever food can be transported without spoiling. And water.”

“We’ll need blankets too,” Adair added. “And jackets. It’s cold out there.”

“We’ll grab that stuff,” Sean said, looking to Nikolaus and Matthews for confirmation.

“Alright. Anatoly, you’d better get out of here,” Helmsley said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “They’ll be watching the roads.”

Rugov grinned. “There are several ways off this property that don’t involve roads … if you know where to look.” He extended his hand to Helmsley. “My friend, be safe. I will see you in three days.”

Helmsley shook his colleague’s hand with a determined look in his eyes.

Marshall leaned forward and did the same.

Rugov gave a general nod to the rest of the group then looked over Greer’s shoulder toward the front door. “Pyotr?”

“Da, my gotovy,” the security leader replied.

Rugov stepped around the table and headed across the room. The handful of guards around the perimeter fell in behind their director. As they exited the front door, Greer could make out additional guards standing in the road out front, alongside a motorcade of black SUVs of the same type that had brought them all to this place.

With the sound of tires peeling out on gravel, Rugov and his security teams continued along the road for another hundred meters before turning west into the meadow. Within seconds, their shapes were lost to the night.

“Alright boys, let’s move,” Greer ordered.

C HAPTER 16

35 MILES EAST OF RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

Kael pulled back on the reins and his horse came to a stop, immediately lowering its head to nibble on a clump of grass sticking up from the rocks. Adair rode up along his right side and stopped, looking out over the bluff and across the rolling terrain to the east. Along the horizon, a pale yellow sliver was growing, turning the land into clear divisions of shadow and light.

Kael closed his eyes and felt the morning rays on his face. A yawn came to his mouth and he didn’t bother to hide it. It had been a tiring evening of constantly alternating his sense from broad to focused, scanning for enemies and choosing the best path in the dark.

Greer pulled up along Kael’s left side. The sounds of more horses behind them indicated that the group was gathering to watch the sunrise.

“It’s beautiful,” came Marshall’s voice.

Kael looked to Greer. “Would you mind taking point, now that the sun is up?”

Greer met his gaze. “Sure, but—”

“I’ll still keep scanning for enemies,” Kael quickly added.

“Okay.”

Kael looked back to the horizon. “I’m going to drop back with my father.”

“No problem,” Greer replied. “How far do you want to go today?”

“We can stop in a few hours for breakfast, but then we should really keep going until just before sunset.”

The group stayed another ten minutes on the top of the bluff, watching the first rays of morning, before following Greer’s lead along the ridge. Kael and Adair let everyone go ahead of them, including the packhorses, before falling into line and riding beside each other. As the group descended into the valley, Kael noted that Helmsley and Thompson both handled their horses well. Greer and Jensen were a distant second, while the rest seemed to be uncomfortable with this mode of transportation. Matthews, in particular, seemed to struggle with the unpredictable movements of the animal, making worried facial expressions every few seconds.

Kael smiled and turned, noticing that his father was also amused at the situation.

“You should have seen me when they tried to put me in a helicopter for the first time,” Adair said quietly.

Kael laughed under his breath. After a moment of silence, he looked over to his father. “I liked what you said last night about understanding your enemy. If I can’t go on the attack, then I want to know as soon as possible how to defeat Armaros another way.”

Adair smiled, perhaps still from amusement, but Kael hoped it was pride. “Excellent. Why don’t you tell me more about what Saba knew of Armaros?”

“Well,” Kael started, “obviously, he began as a Shaper like the others. Saba didn’t tell me anything about him before all of their physical forms became fixed. He did say that Armaros was wearing a human form when it happened.”

“Even that is worth noting,” Adair interjected.

“True,” Kael replied. “Saba said that Armaros’ approach to controlling humans was more subtle than some of the others. He chose a human form because he found it to be more effective to inspire men’s loyalty than to confront them initially with fear.”

“Like Rameel did,” Adair observed.

“Yes,” Kael said, feeling a hint of bitterness at just the mention of the All-Powerful’s real name. “Rameel relied on intimidation, whereas Armaros began building his kingdom from the inside out, as a warrior who earned the respect of his fellow men … even though he wasn’t truly one of them. Over time, he gained the reputation of being a brutal soldier and a brilliant strategist. Fear grew side by side with respect among his followers. Saba described this fear as being far more invasive than the other kind.”

“Interesting. What about Kokabiel?” Adair asked.

“In some ways, he was Armaros’ opposite,” Kael observed. “He wasn’t concerned about inspiring men. In fact, he rejected them altogether. He just wanted to be left alone to continue shaping the world as he had done before the Eternal and Temporal were separated from each other. He was in the process of shaping himself when their forms were fixed. Saba said that was the moment he lost his base form. From that moment on, he had to exert effort to take any shape. But what initially appeared as a weakness was later revealed as a strength. Of all the Myndarym, he alone retained the ability to shape himself, even though he had lost the ability to shape others. Saba didn’t realize who Kokabiel was or what he’d been doing until later, when the product of his efforts became a key factor in the wars between the gods and humans. The Father of Abominations is what they called him. His animal offspring became one of the largest segments of the Nephiylim.”

“Nephiylim? I haven’t heard that term before,” Adair admitted.

“The children of the Wandering Stars.”

“Ah, yes. The Viytur did mention that.”

Kael glanced at the sunrise for a moment before continuing. “Even though Kokabiel lost his ability to shape the physical world, he was still intimately connected with it in ways that the others couldn’t understand. He never lost his desire to improve, or at least experiment, with the world.”

“Fascinating,” Adair concluded. “And let us not forget that there is another enemy out there.”

Kael nodded. “Satarel. He also took a human form. But Saba didn’t seem to know much about him. He was always somewhat of a mystery, but Saba remembered when the Myndarym started working with the demons. Satarel went along with it, but he didn’t like it. It was one of the few times he spoke up, and only then to express what many of the others felt but didn’t say. Satarel said the whole point of coming to the Temporal Realm was to rule over it and become gods. To work with the demons, no matter how desperate they were, was to yield a portion of their ownership, which defeated the whole idea.”

Adair was already nodding before Kael finished his recounting of Saba’s information. “Yes. That coincides perfectly with what I learned from the Viytur. They said a long time ago—I don’t know how many years that equates to in this place—a long time ago, these three ruled together over this world. They each took responsibility for a third of the earth, but Satarel began secretly undermining the others and making plans to seize their territory. When Armaros and Kokabiel discovered it, they immediately attacked. Satarel’s resources were destroyed and he lost his territory. But they were unable to kill him. He had already become a master of deception and went into hiding. To this day, even the Viytur don’t know where he is. Apparently, that is quite an accomplishment. They told me it is nearly impossible to hide in the Eternal Realm. In the Borderlands, there are essentially only two cultures in existence.”

“The Amatru and Marotru?” Kael guessed.

“Exactly. He wouldn’t be able to hide among the angels, and it would be counterproductive for the demons to hide his spirit from the other two. So no one really knows what happened to him in either of the realms.”

Kael looked down at the lines and spots in the leather of his saddle as he mulled over the information.

“Alright, here is what I’d like you to do.”

Kael looked up at his father, who was now holding one finger straight up in front of himself like Saba used to do when he was working through a mental problem. He smiled, realizing that not all of his childhood memories were negative. The times he had shared with Saba were special, and he would always cherish them.

“Put yourself in the mind of your enemies,” Adair continued. “Imagine that you are them. See the world through their eyes. Feel their motivations.”

Kael nodded and closed his eyes.

“Now, consider the state of events before you entered this world.”

“Me, or them?” Kael asked, still with his eyes closed.

“You know what I mean,” Adair corrected. “There used to be three of you ruling this world. Now there are two, and the one who opposed you is in hiding. Suddenly, you hear one of your own kind proclaim from another world that The Awakened has come—the one prophesied to bring an end to you, the rest of your kind, and everything you’ve worked for. A moment after the proclamation, almost as a guarantee of its authenticity, Rameel dies. What would you do?”

Kael opened his eyes. “If I’m Armaros, I would get ready to attack, which is exactly what he did. He amassed troops at the portal in Brazil to kill me as soon as I came here.”

“What if you were Kokabiel?”

“If I were …” Kael mused. “I would help Armaros, obviously. I can’t continue my work if The Awakened kills me. But wait. I remember Helmsley saying they intercepted a message between Armaros and someone else. I assume now it was Kokabiel. Part of the message implied that Kokabiel was working on something important and that it was Armaros’ responsibility to deal with me.”

“Yes, that would make sense. Remember what I told you about him building an army for the Marotru?”

“So, if I’m Kokabiel,” Kael continued with the role-playing approach, “then I would certainly be willing to help, but I wouldn’t feel obligated. And now that I mention it, that’s what happened to you. Armaros captured you, but when he couldn’t get the information he needed, he transferred you to Kokabiel.” Kael remembered Suncio wondering about the logic behind moving his father to a medical facility.

“Yes, that seems right. But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We need to go one step at a time. Going back to the moment of the proclamation, how would you respond if you were Satarel?”

“Hmm. I would also want The Awakened dead.”

“But you’re in hiding, remember?”

Kael nodded. “I would want him dead, but I already have more enemies than I can handle. They’re not hidden like me, so why shouldn’t The Awakened kill them off first? To a point, that would help me achieve my goals.”

Adair’s eyebrows went up.

“In fact,” Kael continued, “why shouldn’t I help him do it … as long as he doesn’t know that I’m helping him?”

Adair’s eyebrows plunged into a scowl and his mouth hung open.

The realization hit Kael with such force that he felt it the same as a physical impact against his head. He turned his gaze away from his father and felt it sweep forward across his traveling companions, as though time itself was grinding to a halt. The single-file column of horses winding through the valley began to blur into a brown smear among deep green blotches. The pain in his head that was blurring his vision moved downward into his stomach, manifesting itself as a wave of nausea. When the pain began to subside, the smear of colors gained clarity until individual people could be seen again. Greer. Thompson. Martinez. Jensen. Helmsley. Marshall. Sean. Nikolaus. Matthews.

Kael turned to look at his father once again. Adair had one hand covering his mouth. Whether the gesture was one of surprise or he was just trying to hold in the words that felt wrong to speak, Kael wasn’t sure. But he swallowed his own fear with the sickness in his throat, venturing forward with verbal courage. “Null is Satarel’s organization,” he whispered.

Adair’s hand slid away from his mouth, but he remained silent.

Kael breathed deeply and tried to forge ahead. “But they …” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the statement.

Adair shook his head. “No. They wouldn’t necessarily know. Remember, you served Rameel for many years of your life without realizing it.”

Kael was suddenly aware of a cramp in his hand. He looked down to realize that his right hand was balled into a fist, shaking even as it held the reins. He relaxed his fingers and watched the red blotches slowly fade into the pale-colored flesh of his palm. When the cramp was gone, Kael found himself hesitant to look up again. It was as if the truth was standing in front of him and to look up would be to face it in a literal sense. Instead, he closed his eyes and felt the rhythmic lurching of the horse beneath him. He felt the warmth of the sun on his forehead and right cheek. He breathed in the cool morning air and imagined that all his problems and concerns were carried away as he exhaled them from his body.

But they didn’t leave. Instead, the momentary break in conversation allowed them to coalesce into implications and conclusions. After a long moment of silence, Kael opened his eyes and spoke again.

“Armaros and Kokabiel have been in this world for so long—since the beginning. Their control is so complete … and their approach so subtle,” Kael said, taking long pauses between each statement, “that we see the myriad of choices before us as freedom. But it’s an illusion. We can join an army, or refuse to participate in a war, but it doesn’t make any difference. All of our options are controlled by them. It’s just like Magnus all over again. I should have seen it before. Why else would Armaros be threatened by Null? So what if they are an anti-global-conspiracy organization? Who cares? They’re just humans, after all. Who cares … unless the leader is actually one of your own kind, someone capable of opposing you? Perhaps even of destroying you?”

Adair nodded slowly. “That’s why Armaros is coming after Null so aggressively.”

Kael exhaled quickly and kept verbalizing his realizations, speaking them before they had the chance to dissipate into the fog of his emotions. “It’s aggressive because Null is helping me. Satarel is using me,” he corrected himself. “Right from the moment I stepped into this world, his people were there to protect me, train me, and then … turn me loose, I suppose?”

“Kael, I’m as disturbed about this as you are, but don’t let your emotions cloud over something very important. Pay attention to what you just said. They protected you and trained you. This can work to your advantage. Satarel is trying to play you against his enemies, but as long as your goals are mutual, go along with it. Use him and his resources to get what you want. Satarel wants to find Armaros and then turn you loose on him. So be it. That’s what you want anyway.”

Kael gritted his teeth and nodded, realizing that his father was right. As he looked forward again, he noticed Greer at the front of the column looking back. The team leader of TAC 1 was pointing to the east, indicating that he was steering everyone around the south end of a low mesa. Kael gave him the thumbs up.

Greer returned the gesture and then focused his attention on the terrain in front of his horse.

The team might be just another tool of Satarel’s, but they weren’t to blame. Kael smiled, feeling relieved that at least he could trust his feelings as far as friendships were concerned.

Very well, Satarel. Think of me as a weapon. Use me. Just know that the weapon will turn back on you. It has been spoken, and so it will come to pass.

Nikolaus looked up from the eroded sand in the dry creek bed just in time to flinch at a branch coming toward his face. With only one useable hand, he instinctively let go of the reins and grabbed the pommel to keep from falling out of the saddle. When he righted himself, he heard approaching hoof beats.

Sean moved alongside him. “You’re even more of a city boy than I am.”

Nikolaus smiled through his irritation. “How about I shoot you in the arm and then we’ll see how well you ride?”

Sean laughed. “To make it fair, you’d have to detonate some C-4 on my shoulder.”

“Whatever you wish,” Nikolaus shot back.

“Seriously, though, do you need a hand?”

“I’ll be fine. It should only be another hour before we stop for the night.”

Sean nodded. “Man, I can’t see how cowboys used to do this all the time. My legs went numb a couple hours ago and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have children now.”

Nikolaus couldn’t help but smile. After a short pause, he asked the question that had been on his mind all day. “How did you come to be part of this group? You don’t have tactical experience.”

Sean’s eyebrows went up and his head moved backward into his neck as though someone were pushing on it. “Oh really? I can outshoot you any day of the week.”

He was a decent shot, but Nikolaus knew there was no comparison. “No. I’m being serious,” he protested.

Sean squinted at the setting sun. “You really don’t know?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward.

“No, I don’t.”

Sean took a deep breath. “My brother and I were transporters. We were moving Adair across the US when Armaros’ guys ambushed us. Fort Stockton, Texas,” he said, suddenly transitioning into a voice that resembled that of a radio announcer. “They killed Ryan and took Adair prisoner.”

“I’m sorry,” Nikolaus replied. “Did you see it happen?”

“Hell, no!” Sean replied quickly, turning to make eye contact. “If I had been there, those guys would’ve had to empty their clips into me to keep me from ripping their heads off!”

Nikolaus looked down at his saddle for a moment. Sean’s display of raw emotion was both understandable and foreign to Nikolaus, who had grown up in a strict and serious home. Asking people about themselves was foreign territory for him, but was part of his ongoing effort to rehabilitate himself. “Were you separated from him, then?”

Sean’s face softened. “Yeah. One minute, I’m popping off rounds at a sheriff, and the next thing I know, our truck is airborne. When we hit the ground, I blacked out. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a ditch in the middle of the desert. I got a pistol, some water bottles, and a melted Snickers lying next to me … and cops crawling all over the place.”

“How did you make it out of there?”

Sean grinned. “You mean … without any tactical experience?”

“No, I meant—”

“I have plenty of experience! I grew up the real world. You think a desert and a few cops are a problem? Try breaking down in Southie—that’s a problem.”

“I’m sorry,” Nikolaus said.

A long moment of silence passed before Sean spoke up again, this time with a less-animated voice. “I had to wait it out until they sent a local operative to pick me up.”

Nikolaus nodded, searching for words that wouldn’t set Sean off again. “How did you end up in Helsinki?” he tried.

“Oh, I think Helmsley felt sorry for me. When they located Adair, he gave me a second shot.”

“And then he put you on a plane and shipped you to this part of the world. How did you explain the job change to your family?” Nikolaus asked.

“No, man. That’s it. Ryan was the last of ‘em. I got nobody left.”

“What about your—”

“Nik, stop with the questions!” Sean blurted out. “You’re gonna drive me to drink again. Hey Matthews,” he said, turning around suddenly. “Get up here.”

Nikolaus looked back to see Matthews bend forward with a few quick leaning motions. His horse didn’t get the hint.

Sean laughed and pulled back on the reins, slowing down until Matthews was beside him. “So, what’s your story? You seem pissed off lately.”

Matthews frowned at him.

“Come on. You did me a favor by beating me to that bottle of vodka. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you lost someone too.”

Matthews locked eyes with Nikolaus for a moment before looking back to Sean. “It’s just … I spent so many years focused on work.”

Sean’s face grew serious. When Matthew’s limited explanation stopped altogether, Sean completed the thought. “And when you finally found someone more important than your work, Armaros took her from you.”

Matthews looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

Sean shook his head. “We’re gonna get that son of a—”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Matthews suddenly pleaded.

“Why not?” Nikolaus asked.

“I’m not dealing with it very well,” Matthews admitted.

“So? It’s okay to show emotion.”

“Look who’s talking,” Sean snapped.

Nikolaus gave his friend a dirty look.

“For you, maybe,” Matthews said. “Not for me. It just ruins my credibility. I’m not a soldier. All I have to contribute is this,” he said, tapping the side of his head.

Sean shrugged. “Well, your devious secret is safe with us.”

Nikolaus frowned. He wasn’t sure if Sean was trying to mock Matthews or make him feel better. Regardless, Sean had avoided giving complete answers to Nikolaus’ questions, and had successfully diverted the attention to Matthews. Looking back to the sun nearing the western horizon, Nikolaus was glad to see that their first grueling day of travel would soon come to an end.

C HAPTER 17

79 MILES EAST OF RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

Helmsley reached up and felt the tender skin just below his hairline. It was their second day of travel, and though the sun was a welcomed presence after last night’s frigid temperatures, it was taking a toll on his skin. From the corner of his eye, Helmsley caught Marshall looking at him. When he turned, she had a smile on her face. “What?”

“You’re comfortable on a horse,” she observed.

Helmsley glanced down at the beast underneath him. “I guess it’s like riding a bicycle …”

“You grew up with them?”

“My grandfather bred them on his farm in Virginia. After he died in World War II, my grandmother kept it, and my dad grew up there. He helped her run it for years before he joined the Army. By the time I was born, we were already being shipped all over the world, but I did get to spend a couple summers there when I was young.”

Marshall grabbed a strand of her auburn hair and tried to tuck it back into the tight bun behind her head. She usually looked so polished and uptight; it was entertaining to see her in such a rugged environment. “Well, it sounds like you come from a lineage of soldiers. I’m sure your family would be proud if you were able to tell them what we do.”

Helmsley shook his head. “Not really. My dad always hated spooks. Some of my earliest memories are of him being shipped off to Vietnam. I used to watch the news reports at night with my mom just to keep her company. I was way too young to see that stuff, but she didn’t have anyone else. Somehow my dad made it through that hell and came back. He was so angry. He used to get on these rants about how the spooks were screwing up the world and how ordinary people were the ones forced to fix things. I was too young to remember him before, but my mom said he didn’t use to be like that. So, most of my childhood was defined by the fear of what was coming next in the world. As I got older, the memory of those news reports became more and more influential to me. My dad was always focused on the duties of the individual, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the prospect of fighting in a war without understanding the reasons behind it.”

Marshall looked forward to the horizon. “That was a hard time for everyone.”

Helmsley nodded, seeing random scenes from his childhood drift through his imagination.

“Are you close to him now?” Marshall asked.

“He passed away a few years ago. We weren’t close, but at least it had gotten to the point of being cordial.”

Marshall nodded as her forehead creased with lines of concern.

“When I was accepted at West Point, he was proud and worried at the same time. He wanted me to be some great military leader, but he knew I was already leaning in a different direction. I tried not to talk about it, but he picked up enough information on his own. After graduation, the CIA recruited me and he was furious. That was really the breaking point for him.”

“How did you end up working for Null?”

“Well. I spent the early years of my career doing fieldwork. It was exciting, but somewhere along the way it started to feel like I was a soldier in a jungle, not knowing where the next bullet would come from, who had fired it, or why. When I joined, I thought I would get answers. But it always seemed like there was some bigger secret that I wasn’t cleared to know. I put all my effort into playing the political games so I could rise through the chain of command, but the further I went, the more complicated it got. Every secret led to another lie. It got so bad that I eventually just wanted out, and that’s when Null found me.”

Helmsley paused for a moment and saw that Marshall’s eyes seemed distant. “What about you? How did you acquire your riding expertise?”

Marshall smiled. “I’ve never so much as touched a horse until yesterday. But that must be quite obvious.”

Helmsley kept silent.

After a few awkward seconds, Marshall must have gotten the hint that it was her turn. “Null found me after I stepped down from MI5. I was working in their Industrial Activities Division.”

Helmsley squinted.

“We monitored international financial institutions,” she explained.

“For?” Helmsley pressed.

“Correlation to domestic terrorist activities. It was so effective, the Joint Intelligence Committee broadened our responsibility to foreign concerns, and we absorbed MI6’s work in that area.”

“What made you step down?”

Marshall adjusted her position in the saddle.

“Come on. Technically speaking, we’re all criminals here,” Helmsley pointed out.

“Of course. It’s just a long story.”

Helmsley grinned as he suddenly realized the irony of the situation. Here he was trying to get information out of a woman reluctant to speak, yet only seconds ago, he’d shared more than he had with anyone in years. In this instance, he was the Chatty Cathy. “I heard your HUMINT scores were off the charts,” he added, trying a different approach.

“Oh?” she said with raised eyebrows.

“I have my sources,” Helmsley assured.

Marshall stayed silent.

“You seem like a very determined person. Let me guess … straightA student? Sandhurst?”

“No. Manchester Business School,” she finally replied.

Helmsley frowned. “Come on. Now you have to draw the connection for me. You can’t leave me in suspense.”

“Oh, alright.” Marshall smiled and her eyes lit up. “I grew up in Belfast, and I was anything but determined.”

Helmsley was conscious of keeping his face from betraying his surprise. He felt like a National Geographic photographer trying to capture a picture of a rare and timid animal.

“It was my boys who really changed my life.”

Boys! Helmsley thought, but kept his mouth shut.

“Liam was only fourteen months old when my boyfriend left for good. I remember that day, just sitting on the floor. It was raining hard. I had been crying for a while, and I just remember stopping and looking down. Liam was lying in my lap and Brendan was standing by the window, staring at me. It was as if someone flipped a switch in my head. I was young, poor, drunk, and incredibly stupid. I realized right then how my life was going to end. It was like seeing the future. And then my boys’ faces were there and I could see this complete trust, even then. So, I sobered up, and the very next day, I went downtown to see a very dangerous man that my boyfriend had some dealings with. I gave him everything I had …” her voice cracked and she paused for a moment.

Given that she had been poor, Helmsley’s imagination filled in the rest.

“He gave me and my boys new papers and a fresh start. I took the last name Marshall and a few months later, we were in Liverpool. I was working as a maid during the day and a waitress at night just to save enough to go to school. It was hard, but a completely different kind of hard than what I had been living through. I eventually got into Manchester Business School and graduated with a degree in International Business. By the time my boys were grown, I was working at one of the country’s largest international banking firms and managing billions of pounds in transactions.”

“That’s incredible,” Helmsley said.

Marshall just smiled.

“No, really. It’s fantastic. You decided how you wanted your life to be and you made it that way. I’m … impressed.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “It’s difficult to talk about.”

“You’re doing great,” Helmsley assured her.

Marshall lifted her head and looked toward Greer at the front of the procession, then glanced behind her as she had done many times throughout the past day and a half. Helmsley realized that what appeared to be a habit of staying aware of her surroundings might actually be a mother’s instinct to keep track of everyone in the group.

“My life was stable for a while. Then I discovered something that troubled me. I had developed a fairly large network of client relationships over the years, some of whom I considered friends. There was a subtle shift in their demeanor, as if they were scared of something. It took me a while to see the connection, but I eventually realized the mood swings coincided with large deposits moving through Europe toward the Middle East. I did some digging and found a few vague connections to the Soviet Union, but nothing solid. It was worrisome enough that I thought it might be worth talking to someone about it. Now, mind you, this was during the Cold War. Even though the intelligence community was struggling to get their arms around the Soviet threat, MI5 welcomed the information. They didn’t have the resources to handle its implications, but they were hungry. I began working covertly with them to funnel information which turned out to be crucial to many of their successes. After a few years, when the banking firm was finally shut down, MI5 pulled me in to head up their Industrial Activities Division.”

“Well, that’s not something you hear every day,” Helmsley noted. “You must have been exceptional at your work. For a bunch of good ol’ boys to take in an outsider is no small feat.”

“Yes, well … it was good while it lasted. Unfortunately, the British government was still fumbling around with the situation in Ireland at the same time. When they took a certain criminal into custody, he played the only card he had. Apparently, after providing me with a new identity, he’d kept tabs on me. He tried to offer them the whereabouts of an IRA spy in exchange for his own freedom.”

“No …”

Marshall nodded. “Fortunately, the information made its way quickly to my boss. He was a good man and knew that the accusation wasn’t true, but he also had enough experience to know that it didn’t really matter. He gave me an ultimatum—leave MI5 or he’d be forced to pursue the lead. I knew I would never survive the witch-hunt, so I stepped down.”

“And that’s when Null found you?”

“Yes.”

Helmsley nodded, satisfied at finally getting the full story.

“He never made it to trial though,” Marshall added. “About a year after I started with Null, I heard that he had been attacked by someone in his cell in the middle of the night. He didn’t survive.”

“Prison is a rough place,” Helmsley replied.

“It is,” she agreed. “What ever happened to your mother?”

Helmsley looked up with a smile. “She still lives in Virginia. She sold the farm years ago, and now she lives in a little retirement community on a golf course. I see her a few times a year, mostly at holidays.”

Marshall smiled. “That’s good. Don’t ever stop visiting her.”

“I won’t. What about your boys?” Helmsley asked.

“They’re doing well. Brendan went into international business. Liam is an artist. He’s married with three children and they live in London. They’re both happy, as far as I can tell. But they don’t tell their mother everything.”

“Of course not,” Helmsley replied.

“Then again,” Marshall added, “their mother doesn’t tell them everything either.”

Greer’s whistle was just shrill enough to be heard from the head of the procession.

Kael looked up and saw him waving. He waved back. “Hold on a minute,” he told his father before urging his horse into a trot. Kael rode up alongside the team, passing one after another.

“Something wrong?” Matthews called out.

“No,” he replied as he passed by.

“What’s the matter?” Marshall asked.

“Nothing,” Kael assured her, trotting up to the front of the column.

When he pulled up alongside Greer, the team leader had his map out. “We have two ways we can go here,” he began. “We can swing south around this hill, or we can follow this stream.”

Kael looked down at the map before gazing out to the eastern horizon. The sun was getting low behind them, and it would soon be time to stop for the evening. “The stream is a bad idea. It joins another up ahead and the terrain will be difficult for the horses. We could go south around the hill, but we’ll hit a ravine and end up having to cut north again. The quickest way will be to swing north through the forest here,” Kael said, pointing to the map. “It’ll take the rest of our time today, but we can camp under the trees and have a fire tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll be in a much better position starting out.”

Greer nodded.

“That’s a pretty cool trick, bro,” Martinez said. “I wish I could do that.”

Jensen nodded. “Can you see that far?”

“No. It’s more like I can feel it,” Kael corrected.

“How’s it going back there with your dad?” Thompson asked.

Kael turned around in the saddle and looked back. “It’s going well.”

“I haven’t heard any shouting, so you guys must be getting along,” Martinez added.

Kael smiled. “So far, so good.”

Greer glanced around at the team and waited for any more comments. “Alright, we’ll head north. Just holler when you think we should stop for the night. And uh … are you picking up anything we should be concerned about?”

“Nothing,” Kael assured him. “There are deer all over the place, but nothing human. This would be a great hunting trip if we weren’t running for our lives.”

Greer nodded.

Martinez had a big smile on his face. “You better get back to your dad. He looks worried.”

Kael turned around again. Adair was staring at the western horizon with a serious look on his face. “He just misses Bastul,” Kael mumbled, before clicking his tongue and pulling the reins to the right.

Riding back along the column, he passed his father and turned around before coming alongside him. “Try to look like you’re having a little more fun. The guys are getting suspicious.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Adair replied.

“That’s okay. I covered for you. So, you were saying …?”

Adair looked down while his horse chose stable footing down a small decline. “I overheard Rugov say that his land didn’t have any ties to Null. Did you notice any of the pictures on the wall around the great room and in the study?”

“A few,” Kael replied.

“They were all old pictures of family hunting trips. All of this,” Adair said, “is private property. That’s why we were brought here. That’s why Rugov was so confident that we were safe from Armaros. There’s no connection here to Null.”

“Aside from Rugov himself,” Kael added.

“Yes. But I would assume that someone of his position would know how to keep his identity hidden when he wanted to.”

Kael nodded. “Then how did Armaros find us?”

“That’s what I was thinking about last night. I thought maybe it had something to do with you. When I was in the Eternal Realm, I saw you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“What did I look like?”

“Different. The Borderlands are a place of lights and shadows. Most of the environment is dull and gray. It is difficult to find your way around because there are traces of the three physical worlds there also.”

“Wait. Saba said the physical worlds were separate from the Eternal. He said they were the form and substance that was taken out of the Borderlands, and that’s why it was left with only colors and sounds.”

“Hmm,” Adair mumbled. “Well, when I was there, I could see faint outlines of all three temporal worlds. In some places, it matched up with the terrain in the Eternal, but most of the time they overlapped one another. It was very confusing to look at.”

Kael tugged the reins to the left as he wondered if things had changed since the last time Saba was there.

“Anyway, the spirits of people in the temporal worlds are also visible there. Most have some quality of light to them.”

“Do you think Armaros could have tracked me that way?”

Adair frowned. “That’s what I wondered. Your spirit was quite large and very bright. It was visible for miles.”

Kael tried to imagine it while his father continued. “But Saba told you that the Myndarym no longer have a direct connection to the Eternal Realm.”

“No, the connection is still there,” Kael clarified. “They are still influenced by the demons, but over time, they slowly lost their awareness of existing in that realm as well as this one.”

Adair lifted his head. “Ah. So they wouldn’t necessarily be able to look into the Eternal Realm and see you?”

“Right,” Kael agreed. “If Armaros was able to do that, he would have found me in Brazil, or Colombia, or Finland for that matter. So, if he doesn’t have direct or indirect knowledge of my whereabouts from the Eternal Realm, his information had to have come from the Temporal Realm, which leaves us where?”

Adair looked over and met Kael’s eyes. “Somebody gave away our location, accidentally or intentionally.”

Kael’s eyebrows went up at the thought. A moment later, he felt them come down again as he realized something. “We’ve been on the run this whole time. Null shut down all communications. There hasn’t been an opportunity to accidentally reveal our location.”

“For most of us,” Adair said. “But Matthews has gone missing several times in the past few days. Who knows what he’s been doing or what mistakes he might have made?”

Kael tilted his head. “I detect a strong sense of loss with him. He’s grieving somebody. Plus, he’s an expert at what he does. I don’t think it’s possible for him to give away our location accidentally.”

Adair shrugged. “Even experts make mistakes.”

“Alright. What if it was intentional? That would mean someone on our team is working for Armaros.”

“Again, my thinking goes straight to Matthews,” Adair said.

Kael thought about the possibility again then dismissed it. “Matthews knows the location of every Null facility. If Armaros had access to that knowledge, he would have attacked everything … all at once. But that’s not how it happened. Helmsley said they found our diversion OP in Nevada and used those folks to infiltrate Bogotá. Then, they used what they found there to uncover the Western Operations Division, which led to the European investigations. Armaros’ attacks have been sequential.”

Adair was nodding. “Okay, so … Yes. Then that would also exclude Helmsley and Marshall. It would have to be someone lower down the chain.”

“Well, you can leave out TAC One. Those guys are loyal. I’d bet my life on it.”

“I agree, but don’t say things like that,” Adair cautioned. “I don’t want to end up literally having to bet our lives on it.”

Kael grinned. “I didn’t realize you were superstitious.”

“Normally, I’m not. I guess the Orudan in me is showing.”

“Okay, that leaves Sean and Nikolaus.”

“It’s not Sean,” Adair said confidently.

“How do you know?”

“I just do. He’s a troubled kid, but he has a good heart.”

“So, it’s Nikolaus then?” Kael concluded.

Adair’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t look any surer than Kael felt.

“I don’t know,” Kael mumbled. “It just doesn’t feel right. I wish I could read everyone’s thoughts.”

Adair turned suddenly. “Can’t you? You said a moment ago that you detected Matthews was grieving someone.”

Kael shook his head. “That’s just emotion. It’s not the same thing.”

“Well, have you ever tried? Here, I’m thinking of a number. See if you can guess it.”

Kael closed his eyes and let his sense drift to his father, enveloping him until he could feel the tiny, rhythmic pulsing inside each vein and artery as they reacted to his heartbeat. He reached out and felt the activity coursing through his father’s brain and let it communicate to him.

“Three?”

Adair slumped forward. “Nine.”

“See? I can’t read thoughts. The only time I’ve come close was …” Kael stopped.

“Was when?”

Kael remembered the experience of kneeling over Magnus’ dying body. The arrow that was embedded in his chest waved like a signal flag with each breath. He remembered experiencing Magnus’ thoughts as though they were his own—his regret at losing Maeryn and other feelings.

Kael suddenly looked down at his hand. “I was touching his arm.”

“Who?”

“Magnus. Just before he died, I read his thoughts. But I had my hand on his arm the whole time.”

Adair reached over and offered his arm. “Try it again.”

Kael grabbed his father’s arm and closed his eyes, but it didn’t feel any different from the last time.

“Does it have to be bare skin?” Adair asked.

Kael opened his eyes and moved his grip down to his father’s wrist. Immediately, there was a change in Kael’s environment, as if things suddenly existed that didn’t before. Adair’s body, instead of being just an animated shape on the terrain around him, felt like a container of meaning. Emotions and sensations swirled through and around it, forming into words that had yet to be spoken. “You’re thinking of the number four, but only because it reminds you of a happy time. You remember all of us at the dinner table—Me, Mother, and Saba. You’re testing me to see if I can guess more than a number, something deeper.” Kael opened his eyes.

Adair’s face, slack with disbelief, slowly tightened into a grin.

C HAPTER 18

THE CITY OF BASTUL

“General,” the man approaching along the docks called out.

Dacien helped Aelia across the gangplank before grabbing Tabia’s hand to lead her across. The Orud-appointed nanny held Suline tightly against her body as she stepped away from the ship. When the women were safely on the docks, Dacien turned to get a better look at the man he hadn’t seen in two years. “Oranius,” he replied with open arms.

The lieutenant smiled back and spread his arms.

Dacien embraced him before pulling back. “It’s been too long,” he concluded.

“Indeed.”

“I believe you know my wife, Aelia?”

The lieutenant gently took her hand and bowed his head. “My Lady. I remember when you were only this big,” he said, holding his hand out to the side. “We were all very worried when you and your mother went missing.”

Dacien quickly looked over to Aelia. “Oranius was under my command when I was Captain of the Guard. After we fought off the Syvaku, I left him in charge of the city while I traveled to Nucotu to seek help.”

Aelia smiled. “A lot has changed since then.”

“It has, my Lady,” Oranius replied. “My captain is now a general. He married the governess’ daughter. And the governess has become the Empire’s first empress.”

Dacien smiled at the lieutenant’s summary, which sounded unbelievable when compressed from years into a few short statements. He motioned to the bundle in Tabia’s arms. “This is our daughter, Suline, and—”

“You look far too old to be their daughter,” Oranius interjected with a wink.

Tabia giggled.

“And Tabia,” Dacien finished. “We’d be lost without her help.”

Oranius turned around and swept his arm to the side. “Welcome back to Bastul. As you can see, we are still in the process of rebuilding.”

Dacien glanced across the cove, which used to be the governor’s private port. The ramp carved into the side of the cliffs was still there, its narrow path zigzagging upwards toward the mansion. But the defensive wall that had stretched across the mouth of the cove, forming the other half of the enclosure, had yet to be rebuilt after the Syvaku invasion. A few soldiers in uniform waited at the base of the cliffs, but the cove was otherwise deserted. Beyond the cove to the south, Dacien could just barely see movement along the shores where the citizens’ merchant docks used to be. It appeared that Oranius had been focusing on redeveloping the commercial interests of the city over its military needs—the right course of action given the low probability of another invasion.

“I want to thank you for the supplies you sent from Leoran the past two years,” Oranius added.

Dacien nodded. “Far less than what you have needed, I’m afraid.”

“So far, you are the only one to offer aid to Bastul, so we are grateful.”

Dacien’s face slid into a frown. “I know it has been difficult. The Empire has been assaulted from many directions, and its attention has been diverted to other matters. But the Empress sent me to assure you that Orud remains committed to the rebuilding of this great city. It will be a critical defensive point for the future of the Empire and must regain its reputation if we are to strengthen the trade relationship with Nijambu.”

Oranius looked over Dacien’s shoulder. “Is this why you bring soldiers?”

Dacien turned to see the reinforcements from Orud unloading their weapons and a few horses from the remaining ships. “Well … sort of.”

Oranius’ eyes narrowed. “Why don’t the women retire to the mansion while I show you around the city?”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lieutenant,” Aelia quickly replied.

“I must warn you, my Lady. We’ve prepared it for you as best we could, but the mansion will not be as you remember it. The Syvaku burned down some of the outbuildings and ransacked the inside, and I’m afraid our restoration efforts have been focused elsewhere. We haven’t had much use for it; I stay down in the city with my men.”

“I understand, Lieutenant.”

“Although … it is still the best residence in Bastul.”

“I’m sure it will do just fine,” she assured him.

“We’ll only be a few hours,” Dacien said quietly to his wife.

“Take your time,” she replied. “Tabia and I will get us settled in.”

~

As the guards escorted the women to the mansion above, Oranius requested two horses and led Dacien throughout the city, showing him the successes and challenges of rebuilding. Surprisingly, very little had been improved since the invasion. The stone buildings that had survived were still standing, but were mostly vacant. All of the wooden structures that had been burned on that terrible night were still nothing more than black scars on the soil. Of the many thousands of citizens who used to populate the city once known as the Southern Jewel, less than two hundred could be seen milling about. Most of the activity and improvement was seen at the docks, where Oranius’ men worked side by side with citizens to rebuild this vital part of the city’s infrastructure. The branching construction spread out across the shallow water of the bay with a neat and orderly pattern capable of accommodating ships large and small. In a few places, hastily constructed docks were still being torn down. It appeared that the workers had transitioned from survival to long-term thinking, which was a good sign.

South of the docks, a wide and dark field opened up, stretching all the way to the tip of the peninsula. What had once been the housing district, with its shacks, tents, and wooden structures, was now completely deserted. Clumps of beach grasses were growing from the piles of ash, as if nature had decided to move in where man was no longer interested in living. Dacien could only shake his head as they passed quickly through this part of the city.

Moving northeast, the pair entered the market district, and Dacien saw that the few citizens who had survived had moved inland from the housing district and taken up residence there, where the vacant stone structures offered immediate relief from the elements.

“There’s no point enforcing the district codes at a time like this,” Oranius said.

“Of course,” Dacien replied. “It’s not much of a city at this point anyway.”

Oranius nodded. “We’re just a village now.”

They continued in silence until they reached the farmlands northeast of the city. There, a few citizens were working smaller plots of land, harvesting what had been planted earlier in the year.

“The grain and other seeds you provided have become our primary source of food,” Oranius pointed out. “The amount of land now outpaces our population, so our citizens have scaled back their efforts to what can be managed. The good news is that the soil is more fertile than ever.”

Dacien peered toward the mountains to the north, remembering what it was like to see the Syvaku hordes swarming over the farmlands, setting fire to crops and houses alike. “If only it had not required such a heavy price.”

~

As the sun set to the west over the ocean, Dacien and Oranius returned to the hilltop mansion. By the time they found the women in the dining room, a dinner of vegetable soup and roasted fish was only minutes from being ready. The guards, used to cooking only for themselves and not for visiting authority figures, had gratefully accepted Tabia’s help. When they brought the food to the table, Dacien could see the surprise on the guards’ faces. It seemed that no matter where they were, Tabia proved she was able to accomplish more with fewer resources than others thought possible. They all enjoyed relaxed conversation and reminisced about the good memories they had of the old city. Near the end of the meal, Tabia tried to suppress a yawn.

“Tabia, why don’t you retire for the evening?” Aelia asked.

“Suline will be awake for some time yet, miss.”

Aelia looked down and brushed a finger across her daughter’s cheek. Suline opened her mouth and turned her head, chasing the elusive finger. “I’ll put her down. You get some sleep.”

Tabia looked silently around the room, hesitating before she replied. “Thank you, miss.”

After she excused herself from the table, Aelia looked up at Dacien. “Did you men get the details sorted out?”

Dacien turned to Oranius. “I’m sorry. I was so overwhelmed by the condition of the city that I forgot.”

“Yes, the soldiers. I take it they’re not here to help rebuild?” the lieutenant asked.

Dacien slid his bowl away and sat back in his chair. “Not this time. The Empress assigned them to the Temple.”

Oranius’ forehead creased. “The Temple? We’re making great progress there; that’s not where we need the help.”

“I understand,” Dacien replied. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the reasons with you, but the Empress feels there is a need for greater security.”

“So, they’re …” Oranius trailed off. It was clear he wanted to ask questions, but he was also an obedient soldier. After a moment’s pause, he reached a compromise with himself. “Does this have anything to do with the missing guards?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dacien replied.

“The two guards who went missing?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Dacien said.

Oranius lifted his head a bit and inhaled. “Well, I say missing, but it looks more like …” he trailed off again as his gaze shifted to Aelia.

Dacien glanced at his wife, then back at the lieutenant. “She can hear anything you have to say.”

“It’s not that. It’s just a bit … gruesome, my Lady.”

Aelia’s face didn’t cringe in the slightest. “I’m not squeamish.”

“Well, we found a lot of blood in the main cavern, but there were no bodies,” he said, cautiously glancing between Dacien and his wife. “We still don’t know what happened, but some of the men believe there is a wild animal lurking in the bowels of the Temple. The place is so large and there are still so many rooms yet to be inventoried, but I don’t know how an animal would have gotten in there. You do know the whole place is actually beneath the water?”

“Yes. When did this happen?”

Oranius looked up at the ceiling. “I suppose it would be almost a week ago, now.”

Dacien quickly looked at his wife, whose serious expression held a mixture of warnings and unspoken pleas. “I have to,” he replied.

“What?” Oranius asked, glancing nervously between the two.

“We will go with the reinforcements to the Temple at first light. I want you to show me where this happened.”

“Of course,” he responded, clearly confused by the situation. “It is troubling, but I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it,” he added for Aelia’s benefit. There was a long, awkward silence before the lieutenant spoke again. “In the meantime, might I be so bold as to ask a favor of you, my Lady?”

Aelia looked up from the baby in her arms.

“The women of this city … the few that are left,” Oranius continued, “have been working very hard. Most of them have lost their men as well as their homes. To have the Empress’ daughter herself deliver news of Orud’s commitment to us … Well, it would mean so much more from you than it would from me. It would lift their spirits to hear from a fellow citizen of Bastul.”

Aelia’s smile was clouded with concern. “Are you sure it wouldn’t make their situation worse, seeing that my life turned out so differently from theirs?”

“No, my Lady. These are honest, hard-working people. There just isn’t room in their lives for jealousy.”

Most of the concern seemed to drain from her face, leaving only her bright countenance. “Very well. If you think it would help, I would be honored.”

“Excellent,” Oranius replied.

Dacien sat back and observed the exchange between the two, but a few choice words from Oranius’ request were still echoing in his ears—the part about the women having lost their men. He knew the effect those words were having on Aelia’s thinking as well, but she was doing a much better job of pretending she hadn’t heard them.

120 MILES EAST OF RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

The sheer walls of the canyon rose sixty-five feet on either side. It was early afternoon on the third day of travel, and the flat, sandy bottom of the dry riverbed was already cold and cloaked in shadow. Kael was riding in front again. Helmsley was with Marshall at the center of the pack, along with Matthews, Sean, and Nikolaus. The men of TAC 1 were spread out around the group, maintaining a perimeter.

It had been an hour and a half since they had left the forest, turning north to follow the naturally created path that would lead them to their destination. It snaked up a gradual incline and entered rougher terrain, leading them through the hills rather than over them.

The sound of a bird echoed through the canyon.

Helmsley turned to his left, realizing that it had come from Greer.

Up ahead, Kael shook his head and waved the group forward.

The canyon swung around to the east and bent back to the north before doubling in width. Helmsley could now see down the length of the canyon for what seemed like a mile.

This is it, he realized.

It was just like Rugov had described it. The canyon floor was perfectly flat and covered in soft, pale sand. The sheer cliffs were now sixty yards from wall to wall, wide enough for the wingspan of any aircraft. It was the perfect natural landing strip. And it was deathly quiet.

Another liquid chirping sound moved through the desolate terrain.

Helmsley looked back in Greer’s direction and could see him aiming his rifle to the east side of the canyon. There, a narrow cleft divided the rock face and was choked with tall pines that reached up to the canyon rim and beyond. Hidden among the tangle of ancient trunks was a rustic cabin.

Helmsley smiled as he looked up at the crisp, blue sky. Even if someone knew their location and was looking down from a satellite, this whole place would be invisible. Just another terrain feature among a multitude of others.

Kael suddenly held up his fist.

Helmsley pulled back on the reins and his horse stopped. The group came to a halt and the horses shifted nervously in place.

In the relative silence, shadows began detaching themselves from the surrounding walls. Though it took only seconds for Helmsley to recognize Rugov’s men approaching, his heart was racing nonetheless.

“It’s good to see you again,” Pyotr called out. He spoke quietly into his COMM as he walked closer.

Greer shook the security leader’s hand while Helmsley immediately began the painful process of dismounting. As comfortable as he was in a saddle, three straight days of travel were too much for almost anyone, let alone someone of his age. With stiff knees, he hobbled across the sand and handed the reins to the nearest guard.

“You’re early,” called a voice from the right.

Helmsley looked up to see the door of the cabin propped open and Rugov walking toward him. “We have a few in our group who know what they’re doing,” he replied.

Rugov smiled and muttered something to Pyotr in Russian.

Marshall handed her reins to one of the guards and came near.

The rest of the group began making their way to where the directors were standing.

“Come. Come,” Rugov said, waving his hands while waiting for the group to assemble. “Command has agreed to take you in, but the plane will not be here for another seventy-five minutes,” he said, looking at his watch. “You made better time than I expected.”

“That’s good news,” Helmsley replied. “Do you have somewhere we can wash up?”

“Of course. There is only one bathroom, but I have food and water as well. Pyotr, show them inside, please.”

The security leader nodded and turned toward the cabin.

As the group began moving, Helmsley and Marshall hung back. It took almost a minute before they were alone with their colleague and felt comfortable that they could talk without being overheard.

Rugov wasted no time. “We got lucky. Command got the message sooner than I hoped and knew immediately how to carry it out.”

“What location did they choose?” Marshall asked.

“One of their COMM relay stations. It’s on the Kazakhstan border. It is very well hidden, and they felt that it would easily pass as a command center.”

“Isn’t that too big of a risk? What if Armaros destroys it?” Helmsley pointed out.

Rugov nodded. “I asked the same thing. It is a sensitive installation for us, but Command feels that its defensive capabilities are significant, which only makes it more believable.”

“Alright. Who’s going to play the part of Commander?” Helmsley asked.

“Carter.”

“Carter?” Marshall repeated.

Rugov grinned. “I thought you would find that interesting. He coordinates all of our communications with Command, so he already understands what is happening. No one has ever seen him, and the only time people in your group have heard his voice has been in the context of relaying Command’s instructions.”

“That’s good,” Helmsley said. “Let’s just hope he looks as professional as he sounds. He’s got to look the part.”

“One more thing,” Rugov added. “Command wants Kael brought into the plan as soon as possible without raising suspicion.”

Helmsley crossed his arms.

“As soon as the mole is convinced that he has found Command, he will notify Armaros. If we are right about this, Armaros will attack quickly and there won’t be any time to pull Kael aside. As soon as Armaros is exposed, Kael will have Null’s full resources to go after him. He has to know the plan before we reach that point. Jim, since you are friends, I’ll leave that task to you.”

“I doubt Kael thinks of me as a friend yet, but I’ll take care of it.”

“Are we really ready to do this?” Marshall asked. “Or are we just going to have another intelligence agency coming after us?”

“Command didn’t have a full report ready for us, but they said that the terrorist investigations against us have been completely shut down worldwide. In fact, the FSB operation at my estate was the last approved action in this region. Command is confident that Armaros will no longer be able to carry out his efforts through those agencies. He’ll have to do his own dirty work from now on.”

C HAPTER 19

RUGOV’S HUNTING CABIN

WESTERN RUSSIA

The distant growling grew louder and dropped in pitch until Adair could finally make out a white object against the sky as it caught the sunlight. Once it dropped into the shadows of the canyon, he noticed its twin propellers and dual rudders. The wings extended from the top of the fuselage like a dragonfly, making the windows of its snub-nosed cockpit appear as giant eyes.

The aircraft touched down on the canyon floor in front of a swirling cloud of dust. By the time it had reached the southern end of the secluded runway, it was moving at the pace of a horse’s trot. It spun around on three wheels and came back in front of the cabin before lurching to a complete stop.

“Let’s move!” Greer yelled.

The group, standing ready with weapons in hand, started across the canyon and headed for the door that had opened up beneath the wing, just behind the propeller.

Adair climbed the steps and followed Kael through the door, looking back in time to see Helmsley shaking Rugov’s hand.

Moving along the central aisle, Kael passed Greer’s team and took up a seat at the front of the plane. As Adair slid into the seat next to his son, he quickly inspected their surroundings. The floor had a thin layer of gray carpeting, and the walls were made of a textured plastic, with small rectangular windows every few feet. The seats—two on each side of the aisle—were synthetic leather. Comfortable, but worn.

Helmsley and Marshall came through the door and took up seats at the rear of the plane. The copilot pulled the steps inward and closed the door. Once the exit was secured, he jogged up the aisle and disappeared into the cockpit. The engines continued running the whole time, and the vibration from the propellers shook the aircraft. There was a sense of urgency hanging in the air.

As the engines throttled up to full power, Adair leaned back in his seat and looked out of the window. The wall of the canyon, just visible through a cloud of dust, began sliding by. Adair felt his body forced backward with increasing pressure. The aircraft rumbled violently despite the smooth appearance of the sand beneath it. Suddenly, the rumbling disappeared and the walls of the canyon dropped from view. Gentle hills and thick forests stretched to the horizon as the plane rolled to the right, inviting the afternoon sun to blaze through the windows and light up the cabin. The blinding light lasted only a few seconds until the plane swung to the southeast and took up the heading that it would maintain for the duration of their five-hour flight.

Adair leaned over to comment about the plane, but the determined look in Kael’s eyes changed his mind. “Is something wrong?” Adair asked just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engines.

Kael leaned on his armrest and glanced down the aisle. “Did you see Helmsley pull me aside?”

“No. When?”

“About twenty minutes ago, when Rugov got the call about the plane arriving. He waited until everyone was distracted.”

“What did he say?” Adair asked.

“Well, the first thing he said was not to tell anyone what we were going to discuss.”

“And …?”

“The directors think there’s a mole in the group.”

Adair raised his eyebrows. “That answers that question.”

Kael’s face remained serious. “They didn’t contact Command to find us another place to hide. They contacted Command to coordinate an ambush, so they could draw out the mole and expose Armaros at the same time.”

“We’re not going to Command, then?”

“No,” Kael confirmed. “But it’s going to appear that way. And when the mole believes that he’s found Command, he’ll contact Armaros. We’ll need to keep our eyes open for that moment—”

“Not just Command,” Adair interrupted. “He’ll be looking for Satarel, too.”

Kael nodded. “They’re going to have someone posing as Command’s leader.”

Adair smiled then quickly looked forward at the metal panels that separated the cabin from the cockpit. He pointed to the rivets and pretended to be discussing the plane for the benefit of anyone in the group who might be watching out of curiosity.

Kael picked up on it instantly, and pointed at one of the windows.

“Clever,” Adair continued. “Armaros thinks he has the situation covered from two angles, but he’s walking right into a trap.” After a pause, he tried to look at the situation from Satarel’s perspective and immediately came to a question. “I see how this will reveal the mole, but how will it expose Armaros?”

“Helmsley said that the intelligence agencies have been called off. After they began uncovering Armaros’ facilities along with Null’s, he put a stop to it. So now, the only resources he has should be his own private army.”

Adair raised his head slightly. “So when Armaros attacks, it will reveal his location.”

“That’s what the directors are hoping for,” Kael added.

Adair rubbed his chin and thought through the scenario. “What is the counterattack plan?”

“It is three-fold. Command is still active and monitoring … everything. As soon as Armaros sends his armies, they’ll launch a counterattack. Helmsley also knows how strongly I feel about going after Armaros instead of running. The directors brought me into the plan because they are going to help me get to Armaros as soon as they know where he is. He actually said, ‘you’ll have all of Null’s resources at your disposal.’”

“Of course,” Adair replied. “It works on many levels. Satarel needs you working for him to defeat the others, so he can’t afford to have you believing your goals are different from Null’s. He needs to maintain your trust. But it also works if Armaros sends his armies without personally getting involved, which is likely how he’ll do it. That way, Null’s forces will address the attack, and it will provide a diversion while you go after Armaros himself.”

Kael nodded.

“What’s the third part of the counterattack?” Adair asked.

“Helmsley said this facility has some advanced weaponry at its disposal. If Armaros’ attack actually makes it that far, his armies will still lose.”

Adair sat back and looked at the ceiling of the cabin. The roar of the engines had dropped slightly and settled into a deep humming sound that was still loud enough to obscure their words. “This could work in your favor as well. We always need to think about both sides of this confrontation. The real Command is still out there, somewhere, fully operational. Which means Satarel is also out there. While he’s looking for Armaros to expose his location, we need to be looking for Satarel to expose his. Whether he manages to destroy Armaros, or you accomplish it, Satarel will be more inclined to drop his guard once Armaros is dead … as long as he’s confident that The Awakened is unknowingly working for him. If you’re on his side, looking out at the world for your next enemy, he’ll be standing behind you, feeling more relaxed that his plan is working.”

Kael leaned back in his chair. “Then I’ll need your help with that. If I go after Armaros, I have to focus on that task and nothing else, so keep your eyes open for any information that we can use in the future.”

“Of course,” Adair offered. His calm expression hid the absolute joy he felt inside at hearing Kael say I’ll need your help. This was what he’d been working to accomplish since they’d been reunited. Not only did he have something to offer—a way to be a father to Kael—but Kael finally recognized it enough to express the need in words.

This is a good day!

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Adair was struck by the oddity of it. After everything he’d gone through—accidentally falling into another world, being moved from one location to another to stay alive, being captured and tortured, escaping into the Eternal Realm, then coming back again to reunite with his son only to learn that he had missed years of his family’s life—something as simple as feeling like a father again made all the obstacles he’d overcome suddenly disappear.

A good day, indeed! And it’ll be even better when I can share these things with Maeryn again.

That day was coming; he was sure of it now.

280 MILES NORTH OF THE KAZAKHSTAN BORDER

SOUTHERN RUSSIA

The plane lurched to a halt, and Greer immediately unlatched the door and pushed it open, allowing the short staircase to fold down and fall into place. The dim interior lights barely managed to illuminate the dirt below the plane. Outside, there was only a slight difference between the blackness below the horizon and the blackness above it. A dozen meters away, the headlights of three vehicles were the only other features visible.

“Martinez. Jensen. You’re up.”

The two security members of his team, already standing in the aisle, brought their weapons to low-ready and headed out the door. At the bottom of the stairs, they split apart and took up defensive positions.

Greer looked back inside the plane. “Alright. Line up in this order—Sean, Nikolaus, Matthews, Helmsley, Marshall, Adair, and Kael. Thompson, you cover the rear.”

Each member of the group obeyed Greer’s instruction and formed a line in the aisle with the directors at its center. It took only seconds.

“Sean, you follow me. We’re going toward the headlights. Everyone else, hold on to the person in front of you. Let’s go!”

Greer brought his weapon up and went through the door, walking down the short stairs quickly, but without running. One by one, each person filed out of the plane behind him. When the directors stepped off the plane, Martinez and Jensen came in from both sides as human shields, moving with the group. As one, they all crossed the dusty expanse of terrain between the plane and the vehicles. As Greer got closer, the ambient light from the headlights barely illuminated several armed soldiers standing around what looked like the Russian equivalent of three Humvees. Double doors at the back of each truck were open, revealing flat cargo areas.

“Pile in,” Greer ordered, quickly splitting the group into three as evenly as he could, spreading out Null’s military and intelligence personnel to minimize losses in the event of an attack.

While each person was patted down and loaded into the vehicles, TAC 1 remained outside, providing cover until everyone was situated.

“Your weapons,” came a gruff voice from a shadow nearby.

“What?” Greer replied.

“Hand over your weapons,” the man said in thickly accented Russian.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Greer assured him.

The man stepped forward into the beam of a headlight. “I am the security leader and this is my territory. You will hand over your weapons, or all of you can turn around and get back on the plane. Your choice.”

Thompson shrugged. Martinez and Jensen were both squinting through the darkness with weapons raised.

“Alright, boys. Stand down and hand ‘em over,” Greer conceded.

TAC 1 obeyed immediately.

Greer flipped the safety switch and handed his rifle to the nearest guard.

The security leader came a few steps closer. “Arms out.”

Greer reluctantly submitted to a frisking.

When the leader was finished, he stood up with a grin on his face. “Get in and try to get some sleep if you can. It will be a bumpy ride.”

Greer moved to the back of the nearest vehicle, stopping before the open doors. There were no seats, just a flat, metal cargo area where Helmsley was already uncomfortably sprawled out.

“Well, the hospitality is lacking, but at least the accommodations are top-notch,” Martinez quipped.

Greer couldn’t help but smile. “After you,” he offered with an open hand.

RUGOV’S ESTATE

WESTERN RUSSIA

Daud stood in the field between the stable and the main building, looking down at the grass near his feet. With the aid of his enhanced vision and Armaros’ satellite network, the blades of vegetation appeared to fluoresce against the nighttime surroundings. As he lifted his head, the path of multicolored scent particles extended north across the meadow and veered east, disappearing into the trees.

On one side of his vision, a window was open, showing his subordinate’s view of the stable. The scout was walking through the building, systematically checking the space for useful information.

[There are fourteen stalls, Lieutenant. All of them appear to be recently used.]

That would explain the massive scent trail, Daud thought.

On the other side of his vision, another window showed blades of grass bent over, creating a distinct pattern of tire tracks through the meadow, heading west.

[Six vehicles, Lieutenant,] the other scout concluded. [Are we following the vehicles, or the horses?]

Daud considered the question carefully. Based on the wreckage of the motorcade along the main road, and the entry angles of the bullet holes, it was obvious that a security force had ambushed the FSB agents. They were protecting something valuable here, and whoever that was certainly didn’t come to this place on horseback. The vehicle tracks leaving the property definitely pointed to the security team and whoever they were protecting. But Daud wasn’t interested in just anyone. He was searching for Kael … and Kael didn’t need protecting.

The scent trail from the horses was far more interesting. Horses implied a destination that was relatively close. And fourteen of them? It would account for a group roughly the same size as the one that left Stockholm. But why would so many leave on horseback and separate from the security team that had apparently played an important role in their survival? The picture began to form in Daud’s mind as each individual observation became a piece of a puzzle, falling slowly into place.

They retreated to another hiding place, while the others left to make arrangements for them, he concluded.

“Lieutenant?” his scout said audibly, now that he had come close enough to communicate with words.

Daud peered across the dark meadow and looked once more at the luminescent smear of microscopic particles that were invisible to lesser beings. Slowly, he lifted his weapon over his shoulder and slid it into his ammo pack with a metallic clank, signaling that it was locked in place. “We will follow the horses,” he answered simply.

“What about our vehicle?” his other scout asked.

“Leave it here, but bring your weapons and lock them down. They’re several days ahead of us, so we have to move fast. Full run the whole way.”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied, locking their weapons into their packs.

“Move out,” Daud ordered, jogging forward and speeding up to a sprint as he followed the scent trail. Fortunately, he and his soldiers weren’t like other, weaker men. They wouldn’t have to rest or slow down, even if it took days. Their enlarged hearts were more than capable of handling the minor inconvenience of additional blood flow necessary for the muscle usage required to move their mechanically-assisted limbs.

As Daud entered the trees and followed the worn path that coincided with the scent trail, he felt something foreign, but pleasurable. An emotion? It was excitement. He was closing in on his prey … and he was enjoying the chase.

C HAPTER 20

110 MILES NORTH OF THE KAZAKHSTAN BORDER

SOUTHERN RUSSIA

The truck veered to the left and Greer felt his back pushed harder against the side of the cargo area. A moment later, the truck began to bounce and shake even more violently than it had been doing all night.

Helmsley’s eyes popped open and he looked up from the floor with confusion on his face.

Greer slid to his knees from his sitting position and glanced out the rear windows. “We left the road.”

“Oh, is that what they call it?” Martinez replied.

Helmsley sat up and rubbed his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“About two hours,” Greer estimated.

Helmsley nodded. A moment later, he looked back at Greer. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Not a wink. But Martinez nodded off for a few minutes.”

Martinez grinned before his eyes locked onto something out the front windshield. “Whoa. Check it out.”

Greer bent down and crawled across the truck bed to join the other two closer to the cab. Beyond the soldiers sitting in the driver and passenger seats, the dusty land stretched for several miles in a flat plane, dotted with rocks and lowlying clumps of brush. On the other side of the valley, jagged mountains rose up from the plains like the walls of a giant fortress. Their lower elevations were covered in a pale yellow that Greer assumed was grass of some kind. Splotches of dark green were scattered here and there, split by long trails of brownish-gray as the bare earth showed through where melting snow had eroded the vegetation. A few more clumps of greenery were scattered across the peaks, but most of the higher elevations were white with snow.

“How much farther is it?” Greer called up front.

“Close,” the driver replied.

The truck continued bouncing across the rough terrain for several more minutes as everyone remained quiet and stared out the windows. Greer looked back at the other two trucks then out to the hills behind them where they had left the road. The land was flat and desolate for miles in every direction, and he couldn’t help but imagine a sniper out there just waiting for them to step out of their vehicles. He felt naked without a weapon, but at this range, an assault rifle wouldn’t make a difference anyway. He would just have to trust that Command’s security was up to the task of protecting them. He was no longer calling the shots, but he’d have to get used to that. There was no telling how long they’d have to live here before …

Greer’s thoughts trailed off as he saw something unusual. One of the trees on a rocky point at the base of the mountains looked strange. He stared at it, and as they continued driving closer, he finally realized what it was. Now only thirty meters away, he could see that it wasn’t a tree at all. It was an antenna. As the truck began veering to the south and running parallel to the base of the mountains, Greer slid closer to the left side windows. “No way!”

“What?” Martinez asked.

“Come here and look at this,” Greer replied.

Helmsley and Martinez both crawled to the windows.

“You see all the trees?”

“Yeah?” Helmsley grunted.

“They’re not all trees.”

There was a long pause before Martinez repeated, “No way!”

“They’re everywhere,” Helmsley observed, pressing his face against the window so he could look up and see the peaks of the range. “I’d say half of them aren’t real. It reminds me of NORAD.”

“Reminds me of when they put a cell tower in a forest and then paint it brown and green,” Martinez added.

“Except these actually look like trees,” Greer pointed out.

Antennae of all sizes and shapes were clustered together within stands of trees and brush. Their placement followed the natural, sparse vegetation that had managed to survive in this harsh landscape. It was invisible unless you were up close to it.

“So the whole mountain is Command?” Martinez asked.

Helmsley stayed quiet and kept looking out the windows.

“Or the whole range,” Greer replied. “Who knows?”

Shadows suddenly darkened their vehicle as they drove into the shelter of a thin stand of pines. The low sunrise was intermittently blocked out, creating a strobe-light effect. A minute later, they began passing massive piles of scree and larger boulders that had spilled down from the heights above. Like a river delta, the avalanche of stone had created long walls and channels inside the forest, blocking out the morning light altogether.

The driver turned east around one of these walls and followed the narrow channel inward toward the mountain.

Greer pulled away from the side windows to look out the windshield.

The truck appeared to be heading straight for a sheer cliff face where the dirt road ended. The driver slowed and rolled down his window, coming to a stop thirty meters before the vertical base of the mountain.

Martinez was looking out the opposite side of the truck. “Do you see anything?”

“Nothing over here,” Helmsley replied.

“Look at the rocks,” Greer said, craning his neck to look toward the front of the truck.

Outside the driver’s window, hidden in the shadows of the rubble, were three round camera lenses in a triangle pattern, roughly a foot apart.

“Otkryt,” said the driver.

A whining electronic noise emanated from the mountain, accompanied by the grinding of stone upon stone. A horizontal crack appeared in the cliff face, twenty feet off the ground. Growing wider on its bottom side, it soon became apparent that it was essentially a gigantic garage door, fifty feet across. With an overhang above it and walls of loose rock on either side, it could only be seen from the road they were on.

Helmsley looked over at Greer. “Facial recognition and voice command.”

“Pretty slick,” Martinez observed.

The truck rumbled forward again and Greer watched through the window as the fist-sized electro-mechanical eyes slid past, menacing beneath the shadows of their rock lids. The massive garage door slid down to the level of the road, followed by a metal grate that pivoted forward and slammed into place. It was an upside-down, futuristic version of a moat, drawbridge, and portcullis.

“How do they know we’re not just bad guys holding up the dead body of a guard?” Martinez asked. He was nervous, just like Greer, obviously assessing how safe they would actually be in this place.

“They have their ways,” Helmsley replied. “IR temperature readings of the driver’s skin. Measurement of eye movement to detect stress levels. I’m sure Matthews could explain it if you want to ask him.”

What had been shadow now became total darkness as the trucks entered the mouth of the mountain. Greer squinted, then opened his eyes wide, trying to force his pupils to adjust as quickly as possible. Through the back windows, he could see the headlights of the other trucks as they turned on. The silhouettes of the vehicles grew more intense as the mouth of the cave shrank into a blinding white rectangle. Seconds passed before Greer could make out faint light coming from above. Pressing his face against the window, he peered through the darkness, unable to comprehend what his eyes were telling him.

The truck slowed and turned to the right before coming to a stop. As the other trucks parked beside theirs, Greer, Helmsley, and Martinez began moving to the back. The man in the front passenger seat jumped out and headed for the rear of the truck, unlocking and pulling open the back doors.

Greer was the first to jump out onto a smooth, polished concrete floor. In the distance, the garage door slammed shut with a deep thudding noise. As soon as the morning sunlight disappeared from his vision, a massive underground chamber appeared before his eyes. It had to be five hundred meters wide and just as deep, and a hundred vertical. Far overhead, rows of lights stretched in every direction. It looked like an industrial manufacturing facility, but without any people or machinery.

“Whoa,” Martinez breathed as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle.

Greer was speechless. He’d seen plenty of aircraft hangars and other large structures, but never underground and never so big.

“Gather here,” the security leader ordered.

As the rest of the group exited their vehicles and began huddling in front of the line of guards, Greer wandered over at his own pace. On the east side of the cavern, a wall of windows looked into lighted, carpeted rooms that had an office feel to them. The western wall was nothing but rock that bore the patterns of drill holes and blasting. Against the north wall, a few dozen garage doors of normal size must have led farther into the mountain. Only one stood open. Through it, a group of twenty-one men was approaching.

“Helmsley and Marshall,” the guard said. “He would like to have a word with you.”

Helmsley and Marshall separated from the group and began walking toward the approaching men, most of whom, Greer could now see, were dressed in black combat uniforms. They were in full battle gear and each held a large-caliber assault rifle at a low-ready position. The directors met the soldiers halfway across the hangar. As the dark-clad men parted slightly to allow them into their huddle, a silver-haired man dressed in a dark suit and tie extended his hand.

Helmsley shook it and nodded, replying to something the man said.

Greer leaned slowly to the side, trying to get a better look at the guarded man, but there were too many soldiers obscuring his line of sight.

“Is that the big guy?” Martinez whispered.

A few others in the group were craning their necks to get a better view, but the man at the center of the maelstrom of guns and armor remained nearly invisible.

“That is not your concern,” the security leader stated flatly. “I will show you to your quarters now. Come.” The line of guards that had brought them all here spread out and moved toward Greer and the others, putting yet another layer of obstruction between them and the distant meeting of Null’s highest leaders.

As they were being herded away toward the east wall of the cavern, Greer stole one more glance. Marshall had just released the mysterious man’s handshake and they were all moving toward the open garage door to the north.

The windows along the east wall turned out to be vacant offices. Like the hangar and its rust-stained patterns on the floor, the offices appeared to have been recently and hastily cleared of whatever they had normally been used for. Rectangles of clean desk space were surrounded by square patterns of dust, as if computers and other office equipment had been sitting there. Impressions left on the industrial carpeting suggested items that had rested in those places for a long time.

Kael took in as much information as he could as the security leader showed them around their new living quarters. Behind the offices were rooms of unknown original utility that had been set up with cots, office chairs, and rolling clothes racks that were empty. These were to be their bedrooms, and it looked as though their hosts hadn’t put much effort into making them comfortable. Kael wondered whether the temporary appearance would fail to convince the rest of the group of their supposed long-term stay. On the other hand, there was a spacious locker room with toilets and showers as well as a medium-sized kitchen stocked with food, drinks, and cooking supplies. The kitchen area extended into an adjacent space with office chairs and a few well-worn couches. It had the same polished concrete floor as the hangar, but it was obviously the Russians’ attempt to provide what they thought would be a comfortable lounge.

The security leader ended his brief tour in the kitchen. “You must stay on this level. Upstairs is off limits. If you need something, my men and I will be around.”

Martinez had a grin on his face as he looked around at the bare walls. “Do you have a TV?”

“No.”

“How about a soccer ball or a Ping-Pong table?”

The security leader scowled. “We have not had enough time to make all the arrangements for you.”

“Do you have any extra clothing?” Greer asked.

“Yes,” the guard answered. “If you don’t mind wearing security uniforms, I can have them brought to you within the hour. If you want something else, it will take until tomorrow to have it released from our warehouse.”

“You keep a warehouse of clothes?” Martinez asked.

“Other things as well,” the guard replied without explaining further.

“We’ll take uniforms for now and the other clothes tomorrow. Thank you,” Greer replied.

“Is there anything else for now?” the guard asked, his gaze lingering on the objects embedded in Adair’s temples. When no one spoke up, he turned and exited the kitchen, heading down the hallway toward the hangar with his team.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna grab a shower,” Martinez said, sniffing his clothing.

Greer glanced at Thompson. “Think you could whip up something for breakfast?”

“My thoughts, exactly,” Thompson replied. “The packaging is all in Russian, but I think I can figure something out.”

“I can help translate,” Matthews offered.

Jensen pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “Save me some. I’m going to take a nap.”

Nikolaus and Sean each stretched out on one of the couches in the lounge without a word.

Adair glanced at Kael before stepping into the hallway.

Kael waited a few seconds until everyone in the kitchen was occupied before slipping out of the room.

“Alright,” Adair whispered. “We can try to keep an eye on everyone, but sooner or later, we’ll need to choose.”

Kael glanced down the hallway in both directions before answering quietly. “I’m going with Sean.”

Adair tilted his head, looking skeptical. “Your choice. I’ll take Matthews.”

“Okay. If we get separated, I’ll check in with you every half hour or so.”

“How?” Adair asked.

… like this.

Adair’s eyes widened at Kael’s projected message. “How did you do that?”

Kael just smiled.

“I thought you couldn’t do that without touching someone.”

Kael shook his head. “It’s not reading thoughts. I have to make a conscious effort to form the words in my mind. And when I make contact with you, you can answer me that way as well.”

Really? Can you hear this?

“No. But I understood you just fine,” Kael replied audibly.

Adair smiled at the joke. “Okay. Let’s see what’s for breakfast.”

Kael nodded and followed his father back into the kitchen.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a gigantic circular room bustling with personnel. Hundreds of populated workstations filled the area. The walls were covered in large screens depicting color-coded geographical areas, radar displays, three-dimensional data compositions, audio graphs, building schematics, and hundreds of M-SPEC images tiled in arrays. It was a Command Room on steroids, and Helmsley was impressed.

“This way,” Carter said, leading them to the open door of a glass-walled conference room. His bodyguards assembled in rows on either side of the door and stood at attention with their weapons pointed to the ceiling.

Marshall followed Carter into the room and Helmsley closed the door behind himself. A slight hiss preceded the transition to utter silence as the activity of the Command Room disappeared altogether.

“You put on a good show,” Marshall assured the communications coordinator.

Carter loosened his tie. “That was the idea.” His monotone voice was something both directors had come to expect over the years.

Helmsley grabbed a seat at the conference table, which seemed small in comparison to everything else in the building. In fact, now that he was paying attention to it, he was surprised to see a laminate surface in front of him instead of polished wood. It dawned on him a few seconds later that this wasn’t a place for entertaining executives. The whole compound was impressive because of its size and utility, but not because it was trying to be anything other than what it was—a massive communications relay station. When Helmsley put it into that context, what he saw around him made perfect sense.

“How is this going to work?” Marshall asked, getting right down to business.

Carter turned in her direction. “We had all of you patted down when you got off the plane to remove weapons from the equation. But I had my security team ignore anything that might be a communication device. We had to make sure that the mole could actually contact Armaros when he was ready.”

“I assume your security doesn’t know the plan?” Marshall clarified.

“No. Only us.”

“What if a portable device isn’t his method of contacting Armaros?” Helmsley asked.

“Command considered the possibility of a tracking sensor, internal or even external. But given that you have been on the run this whole time, as well as the conversation you had with your team that resulted in the FSB raid, they felt that it had to be a portable, two-way communication device.”

Helmsley crossed his arms. “A cell phone isn’t going to work underneath a mountain. And neither will a SAT phone.”

Carter’s eyebrows rose slowly. “We have cleared out the offices above their temporary living quarters. There are telephone and network cables inside the walls, and enough functional electronics to be found in broken phones and computers to provide the mole with options. He could even hook into the electrical system and use it as an antenna if he were so inclined.”

“Subtle,” Marshall said under her breath.

“I assure you, Ms. Marshall, it presents enough of a challenge that your average technically-inclined individual would never be successful. The doors to the upstairs are locked and the halls patrolled. There are enough preventive measures to maintain a sufficient facade of security.”

“Well, this mole has managed to stay hidden within our group for a while, so I doubt he’s just average. Let’s hope Command struck the right balance for him to take the bait,” Helmsley replied.

“What if he’s not just a mole?” Marshall said quickly. “What if he’s simply an assassin waiting for the right moment?”

Carter’s face looked amused, even though he wasn’t smiling. “That’s why I greeted you away from the rest of your group. We calculated the blast radius for the amount of plastic explosive that could be carried on a person’s body in various discrete ways. And our greeting is the last time your group will see us all together anyway. Oftentimes, one’s own imagination is far more effective at constructing illusions than anything that can be applied from an outside source. We have provided him with an environment and actions to be observed; it’s up to him to draw the right conclusions.”

The room went silent for a moment as Marshall and Helmsley tried to think of any last-minute details. “Alright. Let’s move on,” Helmsley said finally. “Armaros.”

“Yes,” Carter replied. “You probably noticed on the way in that any sort of ground-based attack would be highly visible and far too slow to be effective. We have miles of visibility in every direction, not to mention our eyes in the sky.”

“What about an air-based attack or a remote missile launch?” Marshall wondered.

“Command is monitoring every civilian airport and landing strip on the planet. And though they don’t anticipate any further conventional military resources being employed, they’re tracking military bases as well, just in case. Everything leaving the earth’s surface is being monitored, and if anything moves in our direction, they’ll know about it.”

Helmsley frowned. “If Command is capable of that, why has it been such a challenge to get resources allocated to my operations over the last ten years?”

“Because, Mr. Helmsley, we’ve never faced a threat of this magnitude before. Our entire organization is under attack and only such a threat could garner all of Command’s attention.”

“What if they just launch a missile?” Marshall reiterated. “Can we can do something more than just track it?”

“Of course,” Carter replied. “Even a nuclear-level attack could not destroy this facility. It has always been one of Null’s most critical installations, and this place was designed with the worst possible scenarios in mind.”

“How long ago was that?” Helmsley pushed.

Now Carter did actually smile, and it was an awkward sight. “If I remember correctly, this whole plan was your idea in the first place.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Helmsley argued. “But don’t mistake our questions for cold feet. We’re not turning back on the plan; we just want to be assured that we’re not sitting ducks here.”

Marshall nodded her agreement.

“I see,” said Carter. “Well, just as you’ve never experienced the full application of Null’s Intelligence resources, you’ve also not seen the full weight of our Science and Technologies Division.”

“Has Command been holding out on us?” Marshall countered.

“Once again, Ms. Marshall, it is a question of threat versus resources.”

C HAPTER 21

NULL, EASTERN COMM RELAY STATION

ORENBURG OBLAST, RUSSIA

Kael flinched. He realized that his eyes had been closed for several seconds and he had started nodding off to sleep.

Focus! he told himself.

So far, no one had displayed any suspicious behavior. The day had passed much like their time at Rugov’s estate, with pockets of conversation, meals, and lots of laughter. It had now been several hours since the group had retired for the evening, and Kael was struggling to stay awake as he tried to maintain an awareness of the group. As he had been doing every few minutes, he pushed his sense outward again. Like another appendage, he used it to snake down the hallway and reach into the rooms of his companions. One by one, he checked for their presence, evaluated their heart rate to see if they were sleeping, and inspected their rooms for any other information that might reveal the mole’s identity.

But there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone was sleeping. The rooms were silent.

Exhaustion and hours of fruitless searching had finally worn him down. Kael allowed his weary eyes to blink, but this time, they didn’t open again. Without realizing what was happening, he surrendered to sleep.

Adair yawned and rolled over.

Something had woken him. It felt like the early morning hours, but he hadn’t slept well in the truck the previous night, so his ability to gauge the passage of time might not be accurate. He lay still, listening. In the silence, he noted that his heart was beating at a relaxed pace.

It wasn’t a nightmare.

A shuffling sounded from the hallway. It was so faint that he questioned whether he had heard anything at all. Rising quietly from his cot, he tiptoed across the thin carpeting and pressed his ear against the door. It sounded as if there were retreating footsteps, but he couldn’t determine which way they were going. He waited for a few seconds, then twisted the knob and opened his door. The hallway was empty in both directions.

Which way?

His intuition suggested that he go to the right. Adair stepped into the hallway and eased his door shut. He ran barefoot down the hallway, moving in long strides on the balls of his feet. Twenty-five meters brought him to a T-shaped intersection, where he stopped just before the corner. Listening through the sound of his own breath and thumping heartbeats, he managed to detect a soft click from the left hall.

Adair inhaled deeply and looked back toward his own room. Beside his door was that of Matthews’. He could try to open it—to confirm that Matthews was gone—but he was already falling behind whoever was sneaking around the halls in the middle of the night. And what if Matthews was there in his room? What then? How would he react to Adair storming in? Would he get angry? Would he wake up the rest of the group? It might ruin any chance of maintaining the secrecy of what he and Kael were trying to do.

Adair’s gaze settled on the door on the other side of his own. He needed to warn Kael, but there was no time. Whoever had gone down the hallway was getting farther away with every second.

Kael, can you hear me? he thought.

There was no response.

With another deep breath, Adair turned and eased his head around the left corner. The hallway was empty and he was suddenly reminded of how he had chased after the little girl in Helsinki when he was being held captive.

Eight fourteen.

The memory made him shiver, but he put it out of his mind and slipped around the corner. Running as fast as he could without making a sound, he came to a stop a dozen yards later in front of the locker rooms on the left-hand side. Small plaques differentiated the men’s and women’s doors with foreign lettering and silhouettes that wouldn’t have made sense in the Orudan Empire. Adair stood still and listened, but there weren’t any audible clues for him this time. His eyes took over the search, moving in glances around the immediate area. Across the hall were elevator doors with yellow and black caution tape stretched across them. Beside them was a door into a stairwell. Farther down on the right-hand side was a drinking fountain. At the end of the hallway, the passage turned right again. A second later, Adair’s gaze returned to the door beside the elevator. He tried the handle and it turned.

That used to be locked!

Adair pushed, and the latch clicked sharply as the door swung open. He winced at the sound as it filled the concrete stairwell. His heart immediately sped up in anticipation of conflict, but there didn’t appear to be anyone present to hear the noise. He waited several seconds to confirm it before quietly closing the door. Then he cautiously ascended the wide stairs, ready for an ambush. The short flight angled twice and ended at a landing in front of another door. There were no more stairs or other ways out of the area.

He grabbed the door handle and paused.

What if I catch up to him before he contacts Armaros? I should wait.

The seconds ticked by. Adair’s body felt as though it was going to war. His senses were heightened. He felt impatient, but he was also keenly aware of mistakes that could be made. Every other concern disappeared, and his thinking was clear and focused. A thin layer of perspiration stood out on his skin.

How long … ? Another minute?

He pressed his ear to the door. There was nothing.

Okay. It’s time.

With one hand, he slowly turned the knob and pulled on the door. With the other, he slid his fingers into the jam and held in the latch to keep it from popping out. When the door was open a few inches, he realized that there were no lights on the other side. If anyone was nearby, they would easily see the light from the stairwell.

Adair reacted on instinct, quickly opening the door and sliding through before pulling it shut behind him. When he let go of the handle, his hands were balled into fists, ready to strike out if necessary. But nothing happened.

He was alone.

From the light that had momentarily spilled out from the stairwell, he knew there were two wide carpeted hallways extending into the distance before him. But now that he was standing in darkness, he couldn’t be sure how long they were. One headed west and the other north, deeper into the mountain.

Which one?

His eyes were almost useless here, but he couldn’t turn on any lights without giving himself away, and his ears weren’t detecting anything. He resorted to feeling his way down the north hallway. In the first open room, there was a desk and a bulky computer with a layer of dust on both. He felt his way through several more empty rooms before reaching a wider section of the hall that contained large pieces of equipment which stood waist-high. They were made of plastic, yet quite heavy. Farther down the passage, another empty room had what felt like a phone hanging from the wall. A spiraled cord led down to the floor, where Adair could feel a plastic receiver that reminded him of the one in his medical room in Stockholm. Everything he touched felt as though he was the first person to disturb it in a long time.

Boom!

Adair’s body tensed.

Boom!

He let go of the receiver and crept toward the door. Peeking out into the hall, he could see light shining against the wall near the stairwell. It was over fifty meters away, and he was surprised that he’d come so far in the dark.

Boom!

There it was again—another dull impact noise from far away. Luckily, the sound wasn’t getting any nearer. Adair left the room and jogged down the hallway, keeping to the right side. When he reached the stairwell intersection, he stopped before the corner and listened.

This time, he heard a thin, metallic clanking noise, followed by a soft thud as something dropped on the carpet. Whatever was happening was taking place all the way down the hall. Adair crouched down and waited, confident that the mole was near and proceeding with his plan. All he had to do now was wait and stay out of sight.

Seconds turned into minutes before a scraping sound reached Adair’s ears. A click and pneumatic hiss suggested the opening of a heavy door, before Adair thought he heard someone’s voice. Suddenly, there were grunts and a few slapping noises before a larger thump. Then everything went quiet.

Adair rounded the corner and ran down the hall. He knew the sounds of hand-to-hand combat well, and regardless of the outcome, it was the perfect distraction for him to move closer without being noticed.

Twenty meters down, light spilled into the hallway from a room on the right-hand side.

At the door, he paused again and listened for movement, but the room was silent. Peeking quickly around the edge of the door, the room appeared empty. When he stepped in, with fists ready, he confirmed that there wasn’t anyone else in the room. It was a spacious office with a dead potted plant in one corner. A large desk sat askew near the opposite wall, but there were no chairs or other furniture.

Adair slid to the right and stayed against the wall as he made his way toward the desk. Crouching low, he could see under the desk and confirmed that no one was hiding on its other side. But where the desk had been pulled away from the wall, there was an electrical outlet. The metal cover was bent and looked like it had been forcefully removed. Wires of various sizes had been pulled out for inspection, and judging by the pattern of dust on the thin carpet, all of this had occurred recently.

Adair’s eyes followed the wires into the outlet and then along the conduit that was mounted against the outside of the wall. The conduit ran north until it disappeared into the wall on the other side of the room. Adair stood up and looked across the desk to see another closed door along the north wall.

What were you looking for?

Coming around the desk, Adair approached the door and saw that there were scratches around the keyhole. He steadied his breathing and laid his fingers on the horizontal handle. It lowered without any resistance.

He rotated it completely and pushed.

The door opened less than an inch before it stopped. Adair applied pressure and could feel the door bumping against something soft but immovable. Bending his knees, he lowered his body weight and propped his shoulder against the door. It was a position he and every other Orudan foot soldier had practiced since childhood—the posture an infantryman would use to push with shield and spear against the ranks of the enemy and trample them if needed, all the while shouting the battle cry of Orud. Only this time, Adair was trying to be as quiet as possible.

Leaning into the door, Adair flexed his legs and dug his feet into the carpet.

The door opened grudgingly and in small spurts. When there was just enough room to squeeze through, Adair stopped, noticing the arm and abdomen of a security guard lying on the floor. He stood up and slipped through the door, stumbling over the man’s body into a long and narrow utility corridor. The far wall was lined with horizontal pipes of various sizes, all supported by thick metal brackets and labeled in Russian. Electrical conduits covered the wall nearest him, running in patterns of ninety-degree angles and occasionally turning inward to disappear into the wall. At his feet, a large, dark-haired man lay on his back against the door.

Adair crouched and put his fingers to the man’s throat. His skin was still warm, but there was no pulse. In the dull, yellowed light of the passage, Adair leaned from side to side and inspected the guard’s body. There were no obvious signs of trauma and no indication of how he had died. Given the sounds of struggle he heard earlier, he was at least expecting to a see a bloody nose or some bruising. But the guard was unscathed. The only notable observations were his empty holster and a metal clip on his uniform that held a scrap of torn plastic. It was where the security guards carried their identification badges that doubled as keys to the electronic locks throughout the area.

Adair pivoted on his knees and peered down the utility corridor, seeing a maze of concrete drainage pipes and other unknown items crowding the open areas on either side of the walkway.

Where are you going?

C HAPTER 22

NULL, EASTERN COMM RELAY STATION

ORENBURG OBLAST, RUSSIA

At some point during his dream of being in the medical room in Stockholm, Kael realized that his left arm was encased in ice and was so numb that it couldn’t be moved. As the doctor argued with him about the experimental treatment, Kael woke to find himself on his stomach, with his left arm pinned beneath him. It was cold and numb from a lack of circulation, but as he moved, the tingling sensation told him that it would recover just fine.

As he sat up in his cot and tried to flex his forearm, he was suddenly struck with panic.

I fell asleep!

At once, he pushed his sense outward and filled the hallway and other bedrooms with it, but they were all empty. Forcing it farther west, he settled on the kitchen and lounge area, where numerous people were gathered. He began counting.

Six! Who’s missing?

Focusing, he identified each person and realized that other than Helmsley and Marshall, whom he hadn’t seen since yesterday, his father and Matthews were the only ones not present. His hands immediately went for his boots, pulling them on as he redirected his sense to other areas. By the time he exited the door of his room, he had also located most of the guards standing at attention out in the hangar, and one in the bathroom down the hall. But Adair was nowhere to be found.

Father!

Launching into a full run, Kael moved down the hallway and deeper into the mountain.

Adair leaned against a wall and squinted. Beside him was a window into an office area. Inside the window were vertical blinds that were closed, but one was bent just enough to create a sliver of visibility. Across the office area, Matthews sat at a computer, and his fingers were flying across the keyboard. From this angle, Adair couldn’t see the screen, but he could see the guard’s handgun lying on the work surface next to Matthews’ hand.

Okay. What should I do? I’m sure I could put him down. But that guard was pretty big, and Matthews took him down with no problems.

Adair shifted slightly to the left and wondered how a gangly analyst could do something like that. His arms seemed too thin to do any real damage, but obviously he knew how to use what little muscle he had to produce deadly force.

Father!

Kael’s voice came so suddenly into Adair’s head that he flinched before he realized what it was. As the words of his response took shape in his mind, he realized that Kael’s consciousness wasn’t the only one present. A searing pain exploded in his head. Adair lost his balance and slid to the floor, unable to control his legs. A second later, the pain disappeared. Adair inhaled sharply, realizing that he had also temporarily lost his ability to breathe.

Kael? What happened? Kael, are you there?

There was no response. It was as if he had lost the ability to hear Kael’s warnings, and the other consciousness was gone as well. Adair jumped to his feet and peered through the crack in the blinds.

Matthews was gone. Beside the keyboard was an empty work surface.

Oh no!

Adair spun around and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. His bare feet slapped hard against the concrete, burning with pain in just a few seconds. As he reached the metal staircase that led up to the utility corridor, he glanced backward and thought he saw movement near the doorway of the office.

He took the steps three at a time, barely feeling the studded metal lattice biting into his flesh. At the top, he dodged left into a narrow passage and sprinted. In his mind, the directions that he’d memorized on the way here began replaying.

Left. Two doors. Left. Green pipe. Right. Long hallway.

He retraced his owns steps without even the slightest pause until he arrived at the door where the guard was lying. The man’s face was now clearly pale. As Adair grabbed the handle and yanked open the door, he caught a glimpse of the empty utility corridor from his peripheral vision. He dove through the doorway and pulled it shut without stopping, knowing that he had to stay at least one turn ahead of Matthews to avoid being shot.

The carpeted hallway that had felt long the first time around now sped by in seconds as Adair reached the doorway to the stairwell. He didn’t have the strength to slow himself down and slammed into the door before turning the handle and pushing it inward. With one hand on the railing, he jumped down the twisting flight of stairs in just a few bounds. Pulling open the door, he tripped and fell across the threshold, catching a glimpse of someone before crashing against the polished concrete floor.

“ADAIR?” Greer shouted.

Adair rolled across the floor and came painfully to his hands and knees.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Adair pushed himself upward. “We need to get out of here, now!”

Greer’s face was scrunched into a confused scowl.

“Where is everyone else?” Adair demanded, moving quickly away from the door and past Greer.

“We’re eating breakfast. Where have you been? Where are Kael and Matthews?” Greer asked, following.

“Matthews is working for Armaros.”

Greer stopped in his tracks.

All of sudden, howling air-raid sirens filled the hallways with an ear-piercing warning. Greer looked up at the ceiling, then back at Adair.

“Come on!” Adair yelled. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

“What are those?” Carter yelled.

“Sir. They don’t match anything in our database,” the young man replied.

The Command Room was a choreographed dance of chaos. Lights flickered. People ran from workstation to workstation. Images were flying across the screens along the wall. Graphs were pulsing with data of all kinds, burning with a variety of neon colors as they updated in real time.

“Those have to be fighter jets,” Helmsley concluded. “But they aren’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

On one of the massive screens across the room, satellite footage was showing six dark, elongated triangles taxiing onto a runway.

“Where is that?” Marshall shouted over the rest of the commotion.

“Kapustin Yar, ma’am,” another young man replied.

Marshall glanced at Helmsley with wide eyes before replying to the young man. “Get a trace going on the COMM lines into the base.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helmsley glanced back to the satellite footage, now recognizing Russia’s equivalent to Area 51. The formation of unknown aircraft began moving quickly along the runway, taking to the air in groups of two only seconds behind each other. As they veered north-northeast, they pulled into a denser configuration.

“Heading zero-seven-zero, sir,” a middle-aged man reported from across the room. “Distance is seven hundred and twenty kilom …” his voice trailed off.

Where the formation had been, there was now only a high-altitude perspective of the terrain below.

“Sir. They’re gone,” a woman yelled from the other side of the room.

Carter leaned his head to one side. “I beg your pardon.”

“They disappeared from radar,” she clarified.

“We lost visibility as well,” the middle-aged man added, still staring at the satellite footage.

Marshall glanced at Helmsley with a concerned expression. “Selective stealth and visual cloaking? Is that even possible?”

Carter also looked worried.

Helmsley realized that though the communications coordinator was in charge of this facility, he was way out of his league. “Alright. Everyone start checking all the SAT feeds between here and there. See if we can reacquire visual contact. Who’s on M-SPEC?”

“We are, sir,” said a young man, halfway across the room to the left. Half a dozen hands were raised around him.

“Okay. Start looking for an IR or Schlieren signature. We need to get an ETA.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied and quickly sat down.

“Who’s on acoustics?” Helmsley asked.

“Here,” an older woman replied.

Helmsley locked eyes with her. “If they’ve gone supersonic, we should be able to identify that and tag it with a locator. Get on it.”

“Yes, sir!”

“How about RF?” Helmsley called out.

“Already in progress, sir,” another young man replied.

“Good,” Helmsley said before turning back to Carter. “Do we know who made contact with Armaros?”

He shook his head. “Whoever it was used a terminal in the utility area, but he disabled the webcam before he started.”

“How did he make contact?” Marshall asked.

“Upload. But the web routing is completely scattered. He covered his tracks well,” Carter replied.

Marshall frowned. “Upload? It wasn’t just a location?”

“No,” Carter said, pointing at images that were just showing up on another screen across the room. Building schematics, text files, and topographical maps were piling on top of each other in individual windows faster than anyone could possibly make sense of them. “He hacked through our internal security like it was nothing.”

Helmsley looked back to Marshall. “We’re not safe here.”

Carter picked up a phone and punched a button. “Move them to bunker nine,” he said, then waited for a few seconds. “Which ones?” There was another pause in the conversation. “If you find them, keep them separated from the rest of the group. Move everyone as soon as they’re accounted for,” he said, hanging up the phone.

“My group?” Helmsley asked.

“Yes. They will be escorted farther underground.”

“Who’s missing?”

Carter glanced at Marshall a moment before answering. “One of the guards. And Matthews and Kael are unaccounted for.”

“Matthews … I knew it!” Marshall hissed.

Helmsley couldn’t believe his ears. Matthews working for Armaros? How could that be?

“Sir, we have visual contact.”

Helmsley looked up at the screen, but all he saw were still frames of terrain. Each one had the same black smears running across them. “Do we have a live feed?”

“They’re moving too fast, sir.”

“Get a time and location stamp on each one of those and—”

“Already done,” the analyst interrupted. “Heading is still zero-seven-zero. Speed is Mach 3. ETA is thirteen minutes, eight seconds.”

Helmsley turned to Marshall. “Fighter jets can’t fly that fast.”

“Not many things can,” Carter added.

Marshall crossed her arms. “Are there any other threats heading our way?”

Carter looked up at a screen on his right side, displaying a long list of alphanumeric strings. Against a black background, only one was tagged with a red threat level. All the rest were green. “Nothing.”

The skin along Marshall’s pale jawline bulged with tension. “What is the status on tracing the COMM lines?”

“The program is breaking down their security measures now,” the young man replied. “We’ll have access in just over nineteen minutes.”

Marshall turned to Helmsley. “The jets will be here before then. We have nothing on Armaros’ location.”

Helmsley let his eyes drift around the room, noticing all the personnel and equipment that had been tasked to this effort, not to mention all of Null’s other resources around the world that weren’t immediately visible. All of it had been for nothing. The diversion had worked—Armaros apparently believed he’d found Command. Yet he had responded with only one attack, which meant he must have felt it was adequate to get the job done. And the attack was coming too fast to be turned into actionable intelligence. Despite the appearance of security around him in the Command Room, Helmsley couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hopelessly outmatched. “We have to get out of here. All of us.”

Carter turned with a confused look on his face. “Mr. Helmsley. This is the safest place for us to be at the moment.”

An answer formed in Helmsley’s mind, but he held his tongue. He knew it would be a waste of breath. “Where is this bunker that my team is being moved to?” he asked instead.

“From the hangar, they’ll take a shuttle three thousand meters north under the mountains, then an elevator down another eight hundred meters. That’s our bunker level. We’ve allocated number nine for them.”

“We’ll join them,” Helmsley said, nodding in Marshall’s direction. “They have no idea what’s going on. And if this is it for us, I want to be standing next to them when it happens.”

Marshall nodded her agreement.

“It won’t come to that,” Carter objected, “but … as you wish.” He motioned to the elevator.

Helmsley extended his hand. “Keep us safe, Mr. Carter.”

Carter looked down and grabbed Helmsley’s hand. “We will.”

Marshall was already at the open elevator doors, waiting.

Helmsley joined her, stepping into the chrome interior as the doors slid shut. He waited a few seconds until he felt the descent before looking over at Marshall.

“You didn’t have a sudden change of heart,” she observed.

Helmsley smiled. “No. We’re all leaving. Did you see those jets on the runway? They were shaped like fighters. It’s aerodynamically impossible for them to achieve Mach 3. So, either they can change shape on the fly, or they’re using some other method of propulsion unknown to modern aeronautics. Either way, if Armaros is capable of that, what else does he have up his sleeve?”

“I swear. I saw him sitting at a computer and he had the guard’s gun on the table right next to him,” Adair said.

“And they knew about this?” Greer asked.

“Yes.”

“Why would they let him into Command?” Martinez asked no one in particular.

“Because this isn’t Command,” Adair replied.

For a moment, the only sound that could be heard in the lounge was the blaring of sirens. In the kitchen, both security guards covering the door to the hallway reached up and touched their earpieces. One of the men replied, closed his COMM, and put his finger back on the trigger of his rifle.

“What is it?” Greer called across the room.

“They found Kael. They’re bringing him back now. And—”

Helmsley and Marshall suddenly appeared in the doorway with two more security guards. As they came into the kitchen, everyone in the group turned toward them.

“Matthews is a mole?” Greer asked immediately.

Helmsley frowned. “How did you know about that?”

Greer thumbed over his shoulder in Adair’s direction.

“Kael and I figured it out on our way here,” Adair added.

Marshall’s forehead wrinkled, but she kept silent.

“So Armaros is attacking?” Martinez asked, pointing up at the ceiling to indicate the sirens.

“Helmsley,” Greer said, locking eyes with his superior. “If this isn’t Command, can they even protect us here?”

“Who told you—?”

Another guard stopped at the doorway and crouched to take aim in the direction of the hangar. Kael came through the doorway at a jog, stepping into the kitchen just as another guard backed up to the doorway, his weapon raised in the direction of the elevators.

“Kael!” Adair shouted.

“Was it Matthews?” he asked.

“Yeah. Where were—”

“I went looking for you,” he replied without waiting for the whole question. “Are you okay?”

Adair nodded.

The security leader peeked his head inside the room. “Sir. We need to get all of you down to the bunker.”

“Where’s Matthews?” Helmsley asked.

“Four of my men are still looking for him,” he answered.

“You have my permission to shoot him as soon as you find him,” Helmsley added.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go,” Marshall said, stepping toward the door.

Sean and Nikolaus fell into line behind her.

Helmsley leaned over and whispered something to Greer.

Adair joined Kael behind the others, and turned back just in time to see Greer give a hand signal to his team.

The security leader spoke into his COMM in Russian before turning to the group. “We’re going to the northwest corner of the hangar. Let’s move.”

Two of the guards advanced down the hallway with weapons up, and the group followed at a brisk pace. Another two covered their retreat, and they reached the hangar within seconds. The cavernous interior stretched out before them, the reverberating sirens sounding distant in the massive space. The transport vehicles they had arrived in were still parked a hundred meters away to the west. The group picked up its pace to a fast jog to cover the distance.

Kael was just behind Helmsley and moved up to run alongside him. “A bunker isn’t going to work. We need to get out of here!”

“Matthews, three o’clock!” someone yelled.

The guards all spun to the right and began sidestepping, their weapons tracking across the hangar for a target. Several members of the group collided with the guards and everyone went sprawling to the concrete. Adair tripped over Kael and fell. When he came to his hands and knees, he realized that it was all just a diversion. TAC 1 was standing with the guards’ rifles in their hands. The dark-clad Russians were holding their hands up with angry expressions.

“Sorry about this,” Helmsley said to the security leader, “but we’re not going to your bunker. We have incoming aircraft and this place will be under attack in … six and a half minutes,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We’re leaving, and you can come with us if you want.”

Martinez moved from guard to guard, pulling the COMM speakers and thin cables from their ears before unclipping the units from their uniforms and stomping on them. When their ability to call for help had been disabled, Martinez confiscated their side arms to ensure that they couldn’t retaliate.

The leader looked Helmsley up and down from head to toe before returning his gaze with a disgusted look. “We have our orders. We will follow them as long as we are able.”

“You’re no longer able,” Helmsley replied calmly.

The leader just stared at him in silence.

“Have it your way,” Helmsley said before backing away. “Everyone in the same truck. Sean?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you drive like your brother could?”

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “Not even half as good.”

“That’ll do just fine. Take us south along the foothills as fast as you can drive.”

Most of the group was already running for the nearest truck. TAC 1 was backing away from the guards with their weapons still raised.

“Greer. Take the front passenger seat,” Helmsley ordered. “Everyone else get in the back.”

Adair followed Kael into the back of the truck and squeezed into the corner next to Marshall.

“That’s the difference between a TAC Team and a SEC Team,” Martinez pointed out, coming to the back of the vehicle. “We carry out our orders even when we’re not able.”

Thompson and Jensen both pounded their fists against their chests before climbing in.

The engine turned over with a growl and the whole truck began vibrating.

“Wait. How do we get through the door?” Adair asked, remembering the cameras he saw on the way in.

Marshall turned. “Jim and I were both given access throughout the facility; it was the first thing we did when we arrived.”

Adair looked out the window and saw Helmsley standing in front of three cameras against the south wall. A bright horizontal line appeared on the wall of the hangar, twenty feet above the ground. As the door lowered itself into the floor, the truck lurched into motion. Sean spun the truck to the left and headed for the door, stopping just long enough to let Helmsley climb in the back. By the time the director had found somewhere to sit inside the crowded interior, daylight was streaming into the hangar through the gigantic doorway and Adair could see the security guards running toward the doors that led farther into the mountain.

“Move out,” Helmsley called.

Sean stepped on the accelerator and they exited the safety of the facility the same way they had come in.

C HAPTER 23

NULL, EASTERN COMM RELAY STATION

ORENBURG OBLAST, RUSSIA

The air-raid sirens echoed through the vacant corridors, the urgency of the noise only adding to the eerie feeling of such a large space without anyone in it. Kael’s sense went before him, searching out every room as he ran down the halls. Failing to find anyone, he had resorted to using his eyes as a confirmation, just in case the unique ability that he’d cultivated since childhood had somehow become ineffective.

Ducking into the kitchen and lounge area, he was once again disappointed to see evidence of people’s presence, but not the people themselves.

“Where is everyone?” he asked aloud.

Another brief run down a hallway brought him to the vast hangar, which was also empty. He stopped to catch his breath and looked slowly around the gigantic space, many times larger than the inside of the Temple. Finally, his eyes settled on two of the vehicles they had arrived in, still parked where they had been left only yesterday. The third was gone.

Satarel and Kael are inside!

Kael heard the message in his mind, but it wasn’t directed at him.

I’m outside at a safe distance.

Whose voice was he hearing?

Blow it up and I’ll take care of the others!

Kael closed his eyes and forced his sense outward, through the mountain, seeking out the location of the voice. Like he’d done years ago when facing his fellow monastery students, he unfocused his sense, looking not for details but higher levels of consciousness. Everything turned black. He was lost in a sea of darkness, without anything substantial to use as a reference. In one direction—he couldn’t be sure which—the darkness had an orange hue, a place where the nothingness was something less. He focused only in that direction and the less-dark area slowly became an orange glow, and then a bright spot on the horizon, as he progressively zeroed in on it. Like approaching a campfire from a distance at night, Kael could almost feel the heat of its presence.

Gathering the defocused strands of his sense, he wove them back together and returned his awareness to its normal state of being. Details began to come alive. Rocks. Trees. A vehicle moving south through the rugged terrain. They were miles away. Two people were in the front seat. Another eight in the back.

They left! But they would only do that if they …

“… thought that I was with them,” he finished the thought aloud. Suddenly, everything fell into place. Like that dreadful moment under a moonlit sky when he finally saw Ukiru for what he really was, Kael now understood the enemy’s strategy.

Kokabiel is the mole!

The blaring sirens gradually forced their way back into Kael’s conscious mind, reminding him of his predicament. His heart began thudding heavily in his chest. His breathing quickened and grew shallow. He scanned the walls and ceiling with his eyes, but his sense led him toward the hangar door. He began running, eyes focused on the thinnest, weakest part of the door, still several feet thick.

His sense swirled around him now and he could feel its power as an electric tingling crawling over his skin. As his legs drove him across the concrete expanse, he gathered his strength in his hands and focused it into a sharpened point. Now moving at a sprint with the full weight of his body committed to the attack, Kael struck with both hands, thrusting his sense outward with all his might.

An explosion of dust and rocks erupted from the wall of the cavern, and Kael’s body was thrown backward from the force. He tumbled across the concrete and rolled onto his hands and knees. As the debris cleared from the air, Kael stood, focusing his attention on the crater that had just appeared on the wall. Clenching his fists, he ran forward again.

The vehicle was hidden in a stand of trees seventy meters away. Helmsley, looking at his watch the whole time, had ordered Sean to stop so they could verify the fate of Null’s Central Command station with their own eyes from a safe distance. After climbing to a north-facing vantage, the group had spread out across a clearing, shielding their eyes from the morning sun and watching the crisp blue skies for signs of the impending attack.

Kokabiel stood next to Adair, wearing Kael’s form.

The Orudan man seemed convinced by the illusion. He stood facing north, looking to where the mountains rose up from the plains over seven miles away, unaware that it wasn’t his son by his side.

Kokabiel carefully considered his next move. Only Greer, Thompson, Martinez, and Jensen were armed, so they were first on the priority list. Unfortunately, he’d never be able to take them all out before they turned their weapons on him. This would require a human shield. As a hostage, Marshall would elicit the greatest level of caution from TAC 1. Her sex and level of authority would give him at least another full second before someone would decide she wasn’t worth the body count. The biggest problem was her position relative to the others in the group. If he used her where she currently stood, Greer and Thompson would both be obstructed by someone else, which meant that he’d have to kill those two last … unless they were valiant enough to step out from behind the others to get a clear shot.

… or dumb enough!

A shockwave of compressed air molecules rolled across the land, orders of magnitude louder than thunder. The sonic boom signaled the arrival of Armaros’ assault, and Kokabiel lifted his eyes with anticipation.

Everyone else in the group frantically searched the skies, still looking for the cause of the noise.

“There,” Greer said, his trained eyes spotting the aircraft before his companions.

To the west, six black smudges materialized above the hilltops, morphing from their thin, elongated shapes into objects more suitable for subsonic flight.

Kokabiel grinned inside at seeing Armaros’ employment of his own technology for a military application. It was breathtaking and would have been even more enjoyable if there had been someone to share the moment with. But the human eyes around him weren’t capable of noticing such details at this distance. To them, it would simply appear that the jets were slowing down.

“Are those Russian?” Martinez asked Helmsley.

“No,” he answered. His response was distant and his eyes were focused on the aircraft.

“Here we go,” Jensen said.

From the mountain range to the north, trails of exhaust appeared, white against the dull brown and gray backdrop. The pale tendrils grew in length and rose in elevation, speeding toward their targets like an exponential curve on a graph. At first there was only a handful, and then there were dozens. Seconds later, over a hundred surface-to-air missiles were speeding over the valley. Across the western face of the mountain range, puffs of white smoke were gathered like cotton balls, signaling the location of each missile system hidden among clusters of trees and brush.

The tendrils lengthened into miles, moving at three times the speed of the aircraft with which they were about to collide. Suddenly, the air between the jets and the missiles warped into ripples of distortion.

Kokabiel glanced at Greer, knowing that his sniper eyes were used to watching the vapor trails of bullets over long distances. He would be able to appreciate what was happening.

The tendrils abruptly ended, pointing up in the sky like the fingers of so many empty hands begging for mercy. Below each finger, tiny, harmless objects fell from the sky, disabled of their lethal power. It wasn’t until they rained down upon the valley with small puffs of dirt to mark each of their locations that someone spoke.

“How is that possible?” Sean asked.

Kokabiel resisted a smile.

“Focused EMP?” Greer guessed.

“There’s no such thing,” Thompson replied.

The aircraft, now halfway across the valley, broke formation and began to peel off to the north and south.

Tracers of light jumped from the mountainside like electrified rain falling at an upward angle. A moment later, the sound of deep, percussive gunfire rolled across the valley, hitting the group like a wave. Command’s large-caliber defensive guns were pounding the air, targeting each plane by predicting their flight paths. Smaller-caliber guns were operating at higher rates of fire, blanketing the skies with swarms of projectiles. Black clouds of flak began appearing over the valley, darkening the air with bursts of shrapnel designed to shred anything nearby.

The convergence of firepower defined the flight path of each plane, appearing like dark tails behind multiple comets. At the head of each one, a black angular object formed the core of a spherical blue aura that could not be penetrated. The projectiles glanced off in all directions, falling to the earth like rain as their momentum was absorbed.

The three southbound jets continued diverging from each other as they flew along the valley. The most westward of them passed overhead with the sound of thunder mixed with an electric hum. Everyone turned to watch it pass, dumbfounded by what they were witnessing. As the noise receded into the distance, Thompson mumbled, “Those things have force fields.”

Once out of range, their blue auras disappeared, and all that remained were their alien forms coming about, readying themselves for a second pass.

“They know where all the defense systems are now,” Greer pointed out. His words vocalized the mounting tension that was felt throughout the group.

“The ones to the north are coming back too,” Helmsley observed, squinting into the distance. “They’re going to attack from both approaches.”

Kokabiel breathed deeply, anticipating the change from defense to offense among Armaros’ aircraft.

The blue auras reappeared.

More missiles were launched.

The guns resumed pounding the air.

The jets flew overhead again, their electric humming seeming more intense.

All of a sudden, pale-blue lightning appeared in the sky, connecting the aircraft with multiple places across the western face of the mountain range. It lasted only a fraction of a second, and when it disappeared, small explosions of yellow and orange dotted the landscape. It all happened so fast that understanding only came seconds later, when the phenomenon occurred again. An artificial lightning storm grew into being, approaching from north and south like dual weather systems. Forked tongues of electricity sparked between the planes and the Command Center’s defensive weapons. Whether it jumped from plane to missile system or the other way around, no one could tell. Flashes of light just appeared, then disappeared, leaving jagged images in the memory of each observer and a new crop of explosions across the mountainside. The north and south attacks merged into one, then passed by each other as the aircraft narrowly avoided head-on collisions.

“My God …” Marshall exclaimed.

In a matter of seconds, the once-majestic mountain range had been transformed into a wasteland. Where clusters of trees had grown, fires were now burning. Black smears of smoke rose into the sky.

The air rumbled as three jets passed overhead again and began climbing. Their outlines diminished as they gained altitude, going vertical until there was nothing left to see.

“Where are they going?” Jensen asked, staring up at the blue sky.

Kokabiel stepped to his left, carefully making his way behind Marshall. His eyes never left the sky as he continued to maintain appearances.

As Kael stepped to the left to get a better view, Adair strained to see anything in the blue expanse above. There were no sounds to guide his eyes to the right location. He searched back and forth until Greer pointed.

“There they are!”

Adair followed his finger and noticed a darker section of the sky in his peripheral vision. When he looked directly at it, it seemed to disappear. Slowly, he began to make out individual shapes. Six dark spots were falling straight down toward the peak of the mountain.

Not falling, Adair realized.

They were moving faster than gravity and they weren’t spinning out of control. They were in formation. While he watched, a column of blue light appeared beneath them, perfectly straight, extending to the mountaintop. Adair squinted and was able to make out six individual beams, one projected from each plane. Bright white pulses continually spiraled around each strand, appearing as a shimmer when seen as a whole.

“What is that?” Sean asked.

The distance between the jets and the mountaintop decreased.

No more words were spoken. The whole group watched in anxious silence. The air began to rumble with the sound of thunder. The jets continued rushing downward. The column of light intensified. The dirt beneath Adair’s feet shook. Then, as if time stretched out, the mountain seemed to move ever so slowly. Its profile appeared to change shape, growing as if it were a giant creature, slowly and steadily taking in its last breath. When the colossal beast had inhaled to its limit, it shuddered, sending out a massive convulsion that rippled down its sides and extended across the valley. Just as the sound and the force crashed into Adair and made him stumble, he saw the mountain begin to collapse. The ridges of its backbone fell. Its flanks grew sullen. It seemed to exhale and surrender to the attack, imploding upon itself just as the tiny black dots broke formation and flew down its western face, angling outward across the valley.

The enormity of what Adair was witnessing was too much for his eyes to take in. Never had he seen such a thing in all his life.

The beams of light went before the jets, digging into the earth in long trenches as they slowed to a hover, then pivoted and began tracing their way back to the base of the mountain. In their wakes, sunken channels were left behind, creating intricate designs across the landscape.

“They’re caving in the tunnels and bunkers,” Helmsley breathed. His words sounded hollow, exhausted.

“There’s nothing left,” Adair said.

Bang!

As soon as the words left his mouth, Adair flinched at the sound. In that instant, his eyes captured the sight of a shower of red exploding from Jensen’s forehead as his body suddenly bent forward with a violent force.

Adair pivoted to his left and dropped to a crouch at the same time.

Bang!

The next instant revealed Nikolaus’ face as he turned to look over his shoulder, wincing as something powerful slammed into his upper back and exited through his throat. Immediately, that intangible essence of life disappeared from his eyes, and his body went limp, falling forward without any control.

Adair continued turning until he saw Kael’s outstretched arm and the pistol in his fist. Marshall’s horrified face was the next thing he saw. It was pulled in close to Kael’s chest with his other hand across her mouth. Kael’s face was a mask of defiant insanity. His eyes held a mixture of pride and bloodlust that Adair had never seen before.

All of this happened before Adair could even feel an emotion or detect his own confusion. From the corner of his vision, he saw the group begin to disperse in every direction. The chaotic movements were a sudden frenzy of random activity. Through it all, Adair’s vision quickly focused on the only thing that wasn’t random. Dark objects were moving in a coordinated pattern. Rifle barrels were coming up, swinging into place within the arms of disciplined soldiers.

Kael’s arm was moving as well, pivoting left to target the next victim. The pistol suddenly stopped, then tilted downward. The crazed look in Kael’s eyes transitioned from surprise to panic. His body, once awash with power, solidified with paralysis.

Marshall noticed the change and immediately let her legs go slack, dropping her entire body weight to break Kael’s grasp.

Bursts of gunfire rang out. Flashes of orange light leapt from the barrels of the weapons held by Greer, Thompson, and Martinez.

There was a hint of movement to Kael’s left, but nothing happened to him. It was as if TAC 1 had missed.

“Hold your fire!” a familiar voice called out.

Adair turned.

Martinez spun toward the trees with his weapon tracking, while Greer and Thompson kept their weapons trained on Kael.

A silhouette stood at the edge of the clearing with his hand extended.

Martinez took aim and fired a long burst.

The blond man waved his other hand, and the branches beside him jumped and twitched at the passing of bullets.

“Hold your fire!” the man yelled again.

Time seemed to condense in this moment, returning to a normal speed. Silence descended, and with it confusion. Martinez had one knee on the ground. His weapon was up and aiming at another Kael, who stood on the edge of the clearing. This one had his hand extended toward the group. Adair turned back to see Greer and Thompson both in crouching positions with weapons pointed at the first Kael. This one was standing in an awkward posture, with one arm clutched to his chest and the other sticking out with a pistol drooping from his rigid fingers. Marshall crouched at his feet, afraid to move any farther.

“Kael?” Adair called out.

“That’s not me,” the one at the edge of the clearing stated.

Adair glanced back and forth between the two men who looked like twins, even down to their clothing.

“What’s going on?” Martinez yelled with gritted teeth.

“Hold your fire,” Greer said, his eyes still on his target.

“That’s not me!” the one at the edge of the clearing repeated.

“What the hell is going on?” Helmsley called out.

The roar of aircraft filled the skies as the jets reassembled into formation and passed overhead, veering to the southwest before disappearing over the horizon. When the commotion receded, an eerie silence took over. A light breeze blew through the thin stands of trees.

Adair looked back and forth between the two Kaels, before settling on the one at the edge of the trees. He knew which one was his son. “Kael, what is happening?”

“The mole wasn’t Matthews. It was Kokabiel posing as Matthews.”

Adair looked at the imposter, who was paralyzed by some unseen force.

“Helmsley, do you remember what I told you about Kokabiel?” Kael said carefully. His hand was still extended toward the group, but he was perfectly still.

“You said he was a shapeshifter.”

“That’s right. And you didn’t believe me, did you?” Kael asked.

“No.”

“I’m not sure I believed it either,” Kael added. “Until I heard—”

“Why are you protecting him?” Greer interjected. His weapon was still centered on the forehead of his target. It sounded like he was convinced of who was who, but angry that his shot hadn’t killed the enemy.

Kael glanced down at Martinez’s weapon, which was aimed at his own head. “I’m not done with him yet,” he replied. “He’s seen many things in his time, and I want to know what he knows before I let you put a bullet in his head.”

“How are you doing this?” Thompson asked quietly.

“I’m pinching his spinal cord. He doesn’t have control over his body, so you can stand down.”

“No thanks,” Thompson replied.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“May I come over?” Kael asked.

TAC 1 remained ready and didn’t give him an answer.

“We don’t have time for an interrogation,” Helmsley said.

“It won’t be an interrogation. And it won’t take much time. I’ll pull the memories right out of his head.”

Helmsley looked hesitant.

“I’m not the one holding a gun,” Kael pointed out. “But if it makes you feel better, you can point all of yours at me.”

“Greer?” Helmsley asked.

“I’m good,” the team leader replied.

“Okay. Rhiannon, come away from him,” Helmsley instructed.

The director of Central Operations crawled on her hands and knees until she was out from underneath her attacker.

Helmsley helped her up and walked her away from the center of the conflict.

Adair slowly moved out of the way in Helmsley’s direction, looking down at the two fallen soldiers as he went. “Sean?”

The young man was on the ground, cradling Nikolaus’ head in his lap. There was blood all over his pants and his hands. When he looked up, his teary eyes instantly reminded Adair of Ryan’s expression on that fateful day in the desert, when they had hidden Sean’s injured body in the brush. Ryan had the same look of unspeakable pain, and Adair realized that this young man had not only lost his brother in the last few weeks, but now the friend who had served as a replacement.

“Come with me,” Adair said softly, offering his hand. “Come on.”

Sean’s tattooed arm slowly rose, his hand reaching.

Adair grabbed his hand, slick with blood, and pulled him to his feet.

Greer and Thompson moved to their left so that they could get a better angle on both Kaels without risking anyone else in the crossfire. “Alright. Slowly,” Greer ordered.

Kael moved out from the trees and walked across the rocks and dirt.

“Where’s Matthews, then?” Martinez asked as his gun tracked its target.

“That’s what I’m about to find out … among other things,” Kael answered. He stopped in front of his twin and looked him over carefully.

Adair watched, fascinated by his son’s ability to paralyze a man by simply reaching out.

“Before you die,” Kael said, “I want you to know that you’ve lost. Satarel wasn’t in there. This isn’t even Command. You’ve given your life to achieve something, and it has all been in vain. Now, as you tried to do to my father, I’m going to take from you everything you’ve ever known or experienced. And after these soldiers end your life, I’m going to use everything of yours to bring down Armaros. I am The Awakened. As it was written, so shall it come to pass.”

Kael reached up and placed his hand on Kokabiel’s bare arm, then closed his eyes.

Adair turned and caught the confused looks on everyone’s faces. That’s when he remembered he hadn’t told them yet about Satarel. In all the commotion, there hadn’t been time to explain everything. The realization that you were working for one of the Myndarym was a heavy one, and now it was their turn to experience it.

C HAPTER 24

BASTUL OUTPOST

FORMERLY, THE HIGH TEMPLE OF THE KALIEL

The sergeant kept a brisk pace in front of Dacien, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. His feet shuffled awkwardly through the sand each time he tried to offer another explanation. “We always maintain the highest level of discipline and order in our work. I had my men clean up the mess immediately, of course.”

Dacien looked over at Oranius walking beside him, and the lieutenant had an apologetic look on his face.

“It was just over here,” the sergeant said, pointing as he reached the center of the Temple, near the moat.

Dacien looked down at the sand, noticing a distinct pattern of parallel lines indicating the use of a rake.

“It was a mess.”

Dacien nodded as he knelt down. The sand looked somewhat darker in this area. “You said there were two guards?”

“Yes, General.”

“And there were two places of attack?”

“Yes, General. There and over there.”

Dacien looked a few paces away to another area, also slightly darker than the surrounding sand. “You removed the blood?”

“Yes, General. As much as we could. There were also … pieces.”

Dacien looked up at the man. “Why is the sand darker?”

“That would be the ash. Some of the remains were charred.”

Dacien glanced quickly at Oranius before looking back at the sergeant. “I didn’t hear about any charring. Do you mean the flesh was burned?”

“Yes, General. Some of it. At least, it looked that way.”

“How could it be a wild animal then?”

The sergeant looked worried. “I don’t know, sir. That’s just what some of my men have been saying. I don’t believe it myself.”

Dacien stood up and wandered slowly across the cavern floor with one hand pointing in the direction of each darkened area. “Was there a pattern to the attacks? Was the debris cast in any discernible direction?”

“I’m sorry, General. I don’t recall. If I had known that you wanted to inspect the area, I would have forbidden my men to touch anything … of course.”

Dacien continued moving across the sand, walking backward now as he kept both sites in view. At the forefront of his mind was the confrontation with Rameel during the battle in Orud. He’d watched that demon raise his hand and cause soldiers to burst into fire. Was it possible that another one like him had come through the portal?

His eyes shifted from one place to another, then down to the sand below his feet. Beside his footprints, another pattern emerged. Dacien lifted his feet and stepped aside, noticing a triangle of circular impressions. He knelt down, running his hand across the compacted area. It looked as though something had dug into the sand with a significant amount of force. “What is this?”

Oranius immediately began walking over.

The sergeant followed him, squinting at the ground. “Those appeared around the same time as everything else. I don’t know what they are.”

“Did your men have a cart or a box sitting here when they cleaned up?” Oranius asked.

“Yes, sir. But these were here before my men raked up the mess. There are more over there.”

Dacien turned and looked toward the dais at the center of the room. There was another circular impression a few feet away, and the start of another trio roughly five strides away. Most of that one had been obscured by rake lines. Turning the other way, Dacien saw that the pattern of impressions continued, moving away from the dais. He stood and followed them, remembering what Saba had said about the worlds at the other end of the portal. As he noted the left and right alternating rhythm, his hunter’s instincts took over.

They’re footprints, he realized.

Judging by their size and the distance between each one, the creature that had created them must have been enormous. The pattern suddenly turned to the right for several more steps before ending at something very troubling. The sand, in an area twenty feet in diameter, was spread outward in all directions, as if it had been blown by the wind. At the center was a crater the depth of a man’s ankle. All around it, the sand had been pushed outward.

Dacien’s gaze rose until he was staring at the gigantic hole in the center of the cavern’s ceiling.

“General?” the sergeant asked. “Do you know what happened?”

Dacien lowered his gaze and turned. “Oranius, prepare your two fastest ships.”

“At once, General. What is their destination?”

“The first will go to Leoran with this message: General Dacien Gallus requesting immediate assistance. Maintain minimum guard. Send all additional infantry to Bastul. Further orders will be given at assembly.”

Oranius nodded, but his forehead was creased with concern. “And the second, General?”

Dacien inhaled deeply. “The second to the Empress in Orud with this message: One scout confirmed. More unknown. Prepare for invasion.”

NULL, EASTERN COMM RELAY STATION

ORENBURG OBLAST, RUSSIA

Kael let go of Kokabiel’s arm and stepped back. His mind was reeling and his heart was racing. He turned to see that everyone was staring at him. The sun had changed position since he last took notice. “How long?”

Helmsley looked up from his watch. “Almost twenty minutes.”

“Are you done with him?” Greer asked.

Kael turned and noticed that Greer, Thompson, and Martinez, the only remaining members of TAC 1, still had their weapons on Kokabiel. It appeared as though they hadn’t budged the whole time. “He’s all yours,” Kael replied, stepping away.

“Fire at will,” Greer said.

Their guns shuddered in their hands as they unloaded upon the enemy that had killed Jensen.

Kael watched as the imposter stumbled backward from the impact, convulsing from the high-velocity rounds that were passing through his body. His chest erupted into a mass of blood, ruptured flesh, and torn fabric. His face lost all of its features. He shook, even as he lost his balance and fell backward to the earth.

TAC 1 continued firing, moving forward to surround the enemy as they emptied their magazines. When they finally ran out of ammo, the barrels of their guns were smoking.

The shredded heap of flesh on the ground seemed to dissolve into the air. Tiny flecks of light appeared across its surface, breaking free before drifting away like embers from a fire. The vaguely man-shaped object dissolved into the air, flickering as if it was made of light. The process reversed itself, and when the embers came together again, a new form emerged, then disappeared the moment it was revealed. Various faces looked up at the sky, some human, some animal. Each one traded places with the next in a rapid series of births and deaths. With each flicker, Kokabiel’s body grew and shrank, taking on one appearance after another. Suddenly, the progression shifted to larger and larger beings, until a massive creature appeared with teeth lashing out at the bystanders.

Marshall screamed in surprise.

A long tail whipped through the air and passed through the group as if it were an apparition. Gigantic wings swept downward through the earth, only to dissolve into nothing.

Another flicker and the creature was gone. The embers returned, coalescing into another form before subsiding. On the ground lay a human-shaped being, naked and perhaps ten feet in length. Its pale, muscular features were elongated into graceful lines that formed a majestic and frightful image. The radiance of the embers that remained under the skin slowly faded until there was nothing but dead, gray flesh. Eventually, even that became nothing more than ash that eroded into the soil.

Kael stared at the darkened spot upon the earth. His sense was still gathered over the area like a blanket, suppressing any messages that Kokabiel might have tried to send. But there had been none. Unlike Rameel, Kokabiel’s last moments were of desperation and panic at being on the threshold of death. Instead of looking outward, he had retreated inward to the vast lineage of forms he’d taken over his lifetime, but was unable to bring them fully into existence. And now, Kokabiel, the second of the fallen Myndarym, was no more.

“Kael,” Adair almost whispered.

Kael turned to his father.

“What did you see?”

“Everything,” Kael replied. “I have all of his memories as if they were my own.”

“What happened to Matthews?” Greer asked.

“He was in love with Andrea. He diverted the security footage from Bogotá and kept leaving to look for confirmation that she was killed in the attack. Kokabiel took him at Rugov’s estate. He emptied Matthews’ mind and took his form. And now I know everything that Matthews knew.”

“Kael,” Helmsley said, stepping forward. “Before you … did your thing, you told him that Satarel wasn’t in there.”

Kael turned and looked Helmsley straight on. “Jim. I’m sorry, but Null is Satarel’s organization. That’s why Kokabiel and Armaros were coming after us together, and with such aggression. Satarel knew that I was coming to this world and what I’d do once I got here. That’s why you were ordered by Command to protect me and win my trust.”

Helmsley’s eyes welled up, but no tears fell. He just stared back with a rigid face.

Marshall reached up and covered her mouth with her hand.

“So, what do we do now?” Greer asked. “We have nowhere left to go.” He, Thompson, and Martinez were kneeling on the ground next to Jensen’s body.

Adair had an arm around Sean, who looked like he was going to pass out.

“We’re out of moves,” Greer added.

“No,” Kael replied. “We’re just getting started.”

Helmsley and Marshall both frowned.

Kael turned to his father. “After seeing into Kokabiel’s mind, I understand what happened. Satarel found a way to divide his spirit into millions of tiny pieces. He hid himself in plain sight, attaching himself to the spirit of people all over the earth. As they learned, he learned. As they experienced, he experienced. The Amatru couldn’t find him, and neither could the Marotru, because they were all looking for the wrong form—a single being. Satarel fractured himself, and in doing so he made himself into a vast network of knowledge and influence.”

“But here in the Temporal Realm,” Adair said, “the center of that network has to be a person.”

“Would you two care to explain what you’re talking about? I’m completely lost,” Helmsley admitted.

“Command doesn’t exist … at least, not as a centralized facility,” Kael explained.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Have you ever had any direct contact with Command?”

“No. All of our communication goes through …” Helmsley turned his head toward the distant mountain range.

“Mr. Carter,” Marshall finished the thought.

“Everyone inside Null is just following orders from the person above them on the chain of command,” Kael continued. “You were getting your information from Carter, but who was above him? I’ll bet he didn’t even know.”

Helmsley looked at the ground as he ran through scenarios in his mind.

“How does that prove that Command doesn’t exist?” Marshall asked.

“Because it’s not how Satarel operates. He wouldn’t centralize his control, and he certainly wouldn’t be dumb enough to put himself at the top of the only organization in the world capable of being a threat to Armaros and Kokabiel.”

“He would operate it from a distance,” Helmsley added, finally seeing Kael’s line of thinking. “He would stay involved, but out of the spotlight.”

“Someone of influence,” Marshall said, “but pretending to be one of the worker bees …” She turned slowly and looked at Helmsley.

“Rugov,” he replied, struggling to get the name out.

“He was the one relaying our information to Command,” Marshall pointed out. “He was the one who came up with the idea of using a facility like this as a diversion. And EOD is the only part of the organization that hasn’t fallen.”

Helmsley looked up into Kael’s eyes. “What did you mean, that we’re just getting started?”

“Armaros thinks I’m dead. He thinks he destroyed Command and Satarel along with it. Besides that, Kokabiel has a vast array of resources that we can make use of. And I have access to all of it. For all practical purposes, I am Kokabiel. And one third of Null is still functional. Who would know the difference if there was a change of leadership at the top? No one. There’s still one more move to make and then Null will be all yours. Then we can go after Armaros together.”

Helmsley’s stern face softened. He looked at Marshall, who was standing next to him.

She grinned.

“Alright. Do it,” he replied.

Kael closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw the foreign memories that were now his own. He felt the words forming on his tongue—words that Kokabiel would have used and the way he would have used them. He felt a confidence wash over him as he became the enemy. He expanded his sense until it merged with the air around him, growing and dissipating until darkness was all he could see. On the horizon, a faint light flickered like a campfire—the being who was the intended recipient of his message. And somewhere out there was another who would overhear it.

The directors are dead, as well as the rest of their team.

Null’s Central Command Station is destroyed, and The Awakened was inside when it fell.

There is no evidence of survivors, but I will stay in the area to ensure that our goal has been accomplished.

Satarel wasn’t here, but I know where he is hiding.

RUGOV’S HUNTING CABIN

WESTERN RUSSIA

“Pyotr!” Rugov yelled.

The security leader entered the room within seconds, accompanied by two other guards. “Yes?”

Rugov stood. “We need to leave, fast!”

“What is the threat status, sir?”

“No threat in the immediate area, but our location has been compromised.”

Pyotr opened his COMM and alerted his teams to the appropriate evacuation protocol. “Come with me, sir.”

Rugov followed Pyotr down a narrow hallway to an external door on the east side of the cabin. It opened into a heavily shaded canyon choked with tall pines. A thin layer of fog barely concealed a trail of bare dirt that angled northeast for fifteen meters and connected with a staircase of exposed rock. Pyotr brought his machine gun around to low-ready and began moving.

Rugov followed him as the other guards protected him from behind. They ascended sixty-five feet to the rim of the canyon where a black SUV was waiting. The camouflaged tarp had already been removed, and the engine was running. Rugov pretended to be more winded than his physically conditioned guards as he followed them to the vehicle. Pyotr climbed into the front passenger seat while Rugov and the others entered through the side door. Rugov’s single seat was positioned in the middle of a large and comfortable interior. The rear-facing bench seat in front of him already contained two men with weapons ready, the other two climbed into the seat behind him.

The truck’s tires spun in the dirt before finding traction. The shadows of the trees overhead disappeared as they left the cover of the forest and sped away from the canyon into the dull morning light. Seconds later, two more vehicles of the same type pulled out in front of them and sped across the rolling terrain, quickening the pace. Clusters of brush flew by the windows, barely visible through the clouds of dirt being thrown into the air by the lead vehicles. A dark object suddenly appeared to the west and swung into position behind them. The last vehicle of the motorcade was in place.

Rugov grabbed the arms of his chair as the vehicle bounced over the rough terrain. Several tense minutes passed before the vehicles skidded around a bend and connected with a two-lane paved road that extended to the north. The transition to smooth road was accompanied by an abrupt decrease in the volume of noise. In its place was the sound of the vehicle’s engine roaring at full power and the transmission shifting up through each of its gears.

Rugov let go of his armrests, but his teeth were still clenched. He had managed to avoid situations like this over the ages by becoming an expert at hiding and manipulating others. But the cost of that expertise was his devotion to it at the exclusion of developing other abilities. Now that he had lost his primary advantage over his adversaries, he was just like any other high-profile target and his modest experience as a field officer, which he’d only learned in order to build his cover, wouldn’t be able to protect him.

Pyotr turned around from the front seat. “Where are we going, sir?”

Rugov looked out the side windows as thick forests of pines sped by on either side of the road. “Head toward EOD for now, and I will …”

Up ahead, the road curved to the left around a hill, and as they rounded the bend, Rugov could see someone standing in the middle of the road. He was several hundred meters away, but the distance was rapidly decreasing.

“Sir?” the driver said.

Pyotr spun around and looked out the windshield just as someone was trying to reach him over the COMM. The motorcade entered the straightaway and the two vehicles ahead obscured the dark figure on the road.

“I don’t care!” Pyotr yelled into his COMM. “Run him over if you have to, but do not stop!”

The pitch of the engine noise changed as the vehicle sped up.

Rugov leaned to the side and looked north, but all he could see was the left shoulder of the road where two more men had just stepped out of the trees on the hillside.

A thermal scan showed eight people in each vehicle except for the one in the third position. It had only seven, and they were seated in a different arrangement, with one person centrally located in the back half of the vehicle. The whole motorcade began to speed up as Daud casually walked off the road to join his subordinates on the shoulder.

[Destroy the first, second, and fourth positions. Leave the third for me.]

Both subordinates raised their weapons and began tracking the armored vehicles.

A hundred meters became fifty, then twenty-five.

A purple haze filled the air along the shoulder of the road. A deafening hum fell upon the area like a thick blanket, blurring all other noises.

Three of the vehicles exploded into fountains of shattered glass and twisted metal. The first vehicle swerved to the right before catching its tires and rolling across the highway, sending spouts of fire in every direction like a flaming pinwheel. The second was tossed onto its left side and skidded across the pavement, leaving behind a wake of sparks and burning fluids. The fourth swerved and hit the right-hand guardrail, breaking through it and shooting off the embankment as it tumbled from view. The attack played out like a violent sequence of dominoes, moving from the front of the motorcade to the back.

Daud already had his seven targets locked when the other vehicles began exploding. He waited a split second longer, until the vehicles were almost parallel to his team, before opening fire. Moving from the front of the vehicle toward the back, he fired a dozen energized rounds through the engine block and then moved on to each of the six security guards. The armored paneling and windows gave up easily to his ammunition as fist-sized holes appeared across the SUV in rapid succession. As the motorcade broke apart in a fiery display, the third vehicle veered left across the highway and coasted for another hundred meters before it slammed into the hillside beyond the shoulder.

[Make sure everyone else is dead,] Daud instructed. Then he turned and began jogging north along the road. By the time he reached the SUV, his sensors had already catalogued the damage. The engine was dead. The body and frame were twisted to the point that the doors wouldn’t open. The two guards in the front seat had gone through the windshield. The passenger was on the hillside in front of the vehicle, and the driver was slumped over the hood. There was only one person alive inside, but he had been thrown from his seat with such force that he had sustained multiple internal injuries. Daud wedged his fingers around the side of the door and pulled, ripping it off its hinges.

A middle-aged, overweight man lay in a fetal position on the rear-facing bench seat. He was bleeding from the mouth and nose and struggling to breathe.

Daud reached in and grabbed him by the collar of his expensive shirt. He pulled, dragging him out of the vehicle before dropping him onto the sandy shoulder of the road. “Where is Kael?” he vocalized.

The man just whimpered in pain.

“Where is Kael?” he repeated.

The man turned his head to look up at Daud, but blood was the only thing to escape his lips.

Daud kneeled and pressed his hand against the man’s shattered ribcage.

Suddenly, the man began sucking in rapid, shallow breaths. “He’s dead!” he whispered.

Daud pulled his hand away and stared into the man’s eyes, but there was no indication that he was lying. “Who killed him?”

The man’s breathing slowed, but his heart kept pumping. It was frantically trying to supply his body with blood and was unaware that most of it was not reaching its intended destination. “Armaros … Kokabiel,” he whispered.

Daud stood up and let his eyes scan across the road and the surrounding forests as questions, once foreign to him, began racing through his mind.

“Who are you?” the feeble man at his feet grunted.

Daud looked down again. Someone looking for answers, he didn’t say. Neither did he project the response to his subordinates. Such statements would be kept to himself until he understood them better.

Miles away to the south, sound waves were detected by Armaros’ network, and therefore Daud’s ears. The powerful and rhythmic pulsing was indicative of several transport helicopters. Daud quickly opened a window on the left side of his vision and ran through the orders database, focusing on this region only. An attack operation had been given the green-light minutes ago, and five teams of Armaros’ guards were en route.

“Lieutenant?” one of Daud’s subordinates called out from across the road. “Should we engage?”

“No.”

“Who is our next target?” the other asked.

[Armaros and Kokabiel,] he answered. [But we need more resources to accomplish our objective. Get off the road and out of sight.]

[Yes, sir,] his obedient soldiers replied.

Smoke rose from between trees to the north, two columns of black smears that bent toward the west as a slight breeze altered their shape. The captain, watching from one of the approaching helicopters, quickly reviewed the action reports to make sure that no other teams had encroached on this mission, but there was no such indication.

[Standby to engage,] he alerted his teams.

Below, the two-lane road snaked through the forest, moving generally in a northerly direction. Its painted yellow stripes were easy to follow against the dark backdrop of trees and thin, lowlying clouds. As the asphalt rounded a leftward bend and cut across a hillside, the trees opened to reveal a battlefield. Two vehicles were on their sides near the center of the road. Their crumpled and charred bodies were no longer on fire, but still smoking. To the east, another vehicle was at the bottom of an embankment. Yellow flames and smoke were pouring out of the windows, and orange fire was licking up the trees around it. Farther to the north, a fourth SUV had crashed into the hillside next to the road.

With a quick thought command, the captain ordered the other chopper to land on the road to the south of the attack site. “Set it down there,” he said to his own pilot, pointing to the north. Seconds later, with the helicopters forming barricades along the road, the captain’s teams began spreading out to establish a secure perimeter. Whoever had already destroyed the target was likely miles away, but his men would maintain a high level of caution nonetheless.

With confident steps, the captain moved away from the helicopter and approached the only vehicle that hadn’t caught fire. The difference in its condition made it the obvious choice. As he moved around its rear end, he saw a body lying on the ground. At first glance, it appeared that the man had crawled out of the vehicle, but the twisted hinges and the proximity of the car door told another story. The captain stopped and kneeled beside the corpse. This one’s expensive clothing clearly separated him from all the other bodies in the area. Initiating his element scanner, the captain inspected the body and let his eyes linger on the streams of blood coming from the man’s nose and mouth.

In just seconds, the target’s DNA had been added to the captain’s report, along with a weapons analysis based on the size of the bullet holes, an after-action assessment based on the location of each vehicle, and the troubling bottom line observation that someone else had beaten them to the objective.

As soon as the data had been compiled, the captain issued the report and stood up. His eyes glanced around the scene, looking for an explanation. It was obvious that this was the work of Armaros’ technology. There had been three shooters, and they had been standing on the western side of the road. From a tactical perspective, their approach had been efficient, but their goal had clearly not been the same as the captain’s own objective. Whoever had done this was primarily looking for information. Destroying the target had either been a secondary objective or a side effect of the first.

A personnel indicator suddenly appeared at the bottom corner of the captain’s vision. It was green, like the other fourteen, indicating the presence of a friendly. Had it been red, the captain would have started shooting immediately. But it was concerning nonetheless—for two reasons. The first was that indicators were always active as long as the individual was alive. They didn’t just appear and disappear at random. The second reason was that, instead of displaying the person’s alphanumeric designator, which gave a traceable identity inside Armaros’ network, this one simply stated CLASSIFIED.

Was it possible that Armaros had agents working throughout the world who were off-network?

[I apologize for the confusion. Our mission objectives overlapped,] the soldier stated. A moment later, he stepped out from the trees and began walking slowly along the road. He was dressed in civilian clothes but had the distinctive facial features of all of Armaros’ lieutenants. As he came near, the captain scanned him for any other information that would help identify this mysterious soldier, but the scan produced nothing. The only noteworthy observation was that the soldier’s eyes were brighter and more human-looking than others of his rank.

“Who are you?” the captain asked.

Something indecipherable happened to the soldier’s face. It seemed to change shape without changing at all. Was it a smile? Was it something around his eyes? The captain couldn’t interpret it.

The soldier extended his hand in a strangely human greeting. “Daud,” he said.

The captain looked down at the soldier’s hand, wondering if Armaros’ off-network agents were, by necessity, programmed for higher levels of human interaction. Exercising his latitude for battlefield judgments, he reached out and clasped hands, deciding to play along until he understood what he was dealing with.

LOCATION UNKNOWN

“Sir. The field report has just come in,” Armaros’ assistant spoke softly.

Armaros turned from the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a vast cityscape of high-rise buildings near a coastline. He pulled the cigar away from his mouth, leaving a trail of white billowing outward even as it curled in on itself. “Is there a DNA signature?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he replied. “Run it through our colleague’s library.”

The assistant looked down at the transparent panel in his hand, tapping it in various places before dragging his index finger across it. When he looked up, his face bore evidence of concern.

“What is it?”

“The captain reports that the target had already been hit by the time they arrived.”

Armaros left the cigar between his teeth and clasped his hands behind his back. “By who?”

“He doesn’t know, but all the evidence suggests it was three of our own.”

Armaros turned back to face the city from the highest vantage point available. “Three,” he exhaled. “The same quantity we sent to terminate the liability.”

“Yes, sir.”

Armaros kept his eyes out the window, scanning over the display of human wealth and technology before him as his mind attempted to draw some type of connection.

“The results are back. Satarel’s death is confirmed,” the assistant added.

Armaros smiled. The Awakened was dead. Satarel was dead. Two thirds of Null’s regional offices, as well as their Central Command Station, had been destroyed. What was left could easily be located and acquired for his own use. Finally, after all these years, he and Kokabiel could move forward without opposition.

A brief, perplexed exhalation escaped his assistant’s lips.

Armaros frowned and turned.

“Sir,” the young man said, his eyes focused on the panel in his hands. “The captain’s teams … they’ve just disappeared.” He tapped the panel a few times before continuing. “It’s just like before; the network has no record of them ever existing.” He looked up with an expression of concern that only a human could produce.

“That brings the total to eighteen,” Armaros pointed out.

The assistant nodded, but apparently didn’t know what else to say.

Armaros turned to face the city again, a silent message to his assistant that he would need some time to think over the problem. The momentary pleasure of learning that all his enemies had been destroyed was slowly becoming eclipsed by this frustrating turn of events. Such was the nature of this epoch. As the door to his office closed and silence returned, Armaros’ longing for the good old days seemed to fill the room, thriving in the absence of others. Gone were the days when a victory over an enemy would be celebrated with feasting and all manner of delights for the senses. Or holy days of observance that would reshape a culture for generations. This was an age of subtlety—of long-distance conflict. An era where the pleasure of feeling an enemy’s blood on your hands was replaced by the dull satisfaction of a political speech, or the monotonous sight of data bits moving from one location to another. This was an epoch of speed and the impermanence to go with it. As Armaros’ mind went to work on figuring out a solution for this latest irritation, he decided that the real pleasure to be derived from today’s outcome was the assurance that this age would die like all the rest. And he was now free of the barriers preventing him from reaching the next one—one unlike any the Temporal or Eternal Realms had ever experienced before.

NULL, EASTERN COMM RELAY STATION

ORENBURG OBLAST, RUSSIA

“It’s done,” Kael said, opening his eyes. “Satarel is dead.”

The group was standing in a ragged semicircle, looking down at the two mounds of piled stones—the best alternative to a burial they could find for Jensen and Nikolaus under the circumstances.

“I thought he was undetectable,” Marshall pointed out. “Were you able to feel him?”

“No. But I could feel a great burden lifting from Armaros. His skepticism disappeared quickly, as if he verified it.”

Helmsley turned. “So you know where Armaros is? Why couldn’t you feel him before?”

“He and Kokabiel had a connection,” Kael replied without taking his eyes off the cairns of tan rock.

“Then we can go after him,” Marshall stated.

“We have a lot of work to do before we’ll be able to get close to him,” Kael clarified. “But he can’t hide from us anymore.”

Martinez turned his head slowly away from the burial site and his teary gaze settled on Kael. “The Myndarym don’t belong here. These are our worlds, not theirs. We have to kill every last one of them.”

Kael stared in silence for a moment, transfixed by the pain in the soldier’s eyes. When he replied, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I will.”

Greer looked up quickly. “Your mission is our mission … till the end. I don’t care which world these things are hiding in; we’ll help you hunt them down.”

From the corner of his eye, Kael saw his father smile. A second later, he felt Adair’s hand come to rest on his shoulder with a squeeze of assurance.

“You said Kokabiel had some resources …?” Marshall asked.

“Has,” Kael corrected. “Companies. Personnel. Facilities all over the world. As far as they know, nothing has changed.”

Helmsley nodded and turned to Marshall. “We need to pick up the pieces of Null and find out what’s left to work with … and how to reactivate them.”

Marshall nodded, but kept silent.

Kael slowly looked around at the faces of everyone gathered. Some were younger and some older than himself. All of them were uniquely talented and dedicated individuals. And as a team, they were a formidable force that Armaros would soon have to face.

Thompson, who had been silent the whole time, stepped away from the semicircle. “Let’s get on with it, then,” he said as he headed in the direction of their vehicle.

Sean turned and followed without a word.

One by one, the group dispersed until Kael was alone with his father.

“Till the end?” Adair asked.

Kael looked back to the mounds of stone, reminders of the heavy cost of his destiny. Was he prepared to see his father buried, if that’s what would be required? He considered the question carefully before looking up again. “Let’s go. We have work to do.”

__________

B OOKS BY JASON TESAR

THE AWAKENED

Awaken His Eyes | Book 1

Paths of Destruction | Book 2

Hands to Make War | Book 3

Combined Edition | Books 1-3

Seeds of Corruption | Book 4

Hidden from Men | Book 5

Foundations of the World | Book 6

Combined Edition | Books 4-6

WANDERING STARS

Incarnation | Volume 1

Manifestation | Volume 2

Inhabitation | Volume 3

Regeneration | Volume 4

The Making of Incarnation | A Reader’s Companion

OTHER STORIES

Emit (a short story)

HOW YOU CAN HELP

Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review at Amazon. Your help is greatly appreciated!

HOW YOU CAN CONNECT

Sign up for Jason’s email list to receive behind-the-scenes info on his fictional worlds and characters, exclusive content on his writing and publishing adventures, and book release notifications. If you’d like to connect with Jason, you can do so at any of the following locations, or send him an email at jasontesar@yahoo.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jason used to work in the microelectronics industry, developing and improving processes and writing technical documentation. He is now a full-time author, living in Colorado with his beautiful wife and two children. Visit his blog to read a full bio.

GLOSSARY AND PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

The following is a glossary of characters, terms, and locations mentioned throughout this and subsequent books of the Awakened series.

The vowels section below contains characters, or arrangements of characters, which are used in the pronunciation section of glossary entries. Each vowel sound is followed by an example of common words using the same sound.

The additional consonants section also contains characters, or arrangements of characters, which are used in the pronunciation section of glossary entries. These sounds are not used in the English language, but examples are found in other languages and are listed for reference.

Glossary entries contain the word or phrase, its correct pronunciation (including syllables and emphasis) if needed, and a description. The format for each entry is as follows:

Word or phrase \pro-nun-see-ey-shuhn\ Description

VOWELS

[a] apple, sad

[ey] hate, day

[ah] arm, father

[air] dare, careful

[e] empty, get

[ee] eat, see

[eer] ear, hero

[er] early, word

[i] it, finish

[ahy] sight, blind

[o] odd, frost

[oh] open, road

[ew] food, shrewd

[oo] good, book

[oi] oil, choice

[ou] loud, how

[uh] under, tug

ADDITIONAL CONSONANTS

[r] rojo (Spanish)

[zh] joie de vivre (French)

[kh] loch (Scots)

GLOSSARY

Ackerson (Mrs.) \ak-er-suhn\ Neighbor of Captain David Frisk.

Adair Lorus \uh-dair lohr-uhs\ Former colonel and governor of Bastul. Husband of Maeryn. Father of Kael and Aelia.

Adussk \a-duhsk\ The female Orudan god of healing. In Bastul, the temple erected in her name was located on an island in the center of the Nescus River.

Aelia Lorus \ey-lee-uh lohr-uhs\ Daughter of Adair and Maeryn Lorus. Sibling of Kael Lorus. Wife of Dacien Gallus. Mother of Suline Gallus.

Ajani \ah-jah-nee\ The youngest male slave in the household of Lemus. Childhood friend of Kael.

Alan Chisholm \al-an chiz-ohm\ Deputy director of Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe office

Amatru \ah-mah-trew\ The combined military forces in the Eternal Realm who remained faithful to the Holy One. The angelic military.

Anatoly Rugov \a-nah-toh-lee rew-gahv\ Director of Null’s Eastern Operations Division; responsible for all the agency’s operations in Russia, Asia, and Australia.

Andrea Bosque \ahn-drey-uh bosk\ Tim Matthews’ replacement as senior analyst in the Intelligence group at Null’s South and Central Americas office.

APC An Armored Personnel Carrier is an armored fighting vehicle designed to transport infantry to the battlefield. Armored personnel carrier. (2013, August 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:44, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Armoured_personnel_carrier&oldid=568731180

Area 51 (Also known as Dreamland, or Groom Lake) A remote detachment of Edwards Air Force Base. It is located in the southern portion of Nevada in the western United States, 83 miles (133 km) north-northwest of Las Vegas. The base’s current primary purpose is officially undetermined; however, based on historical evidence, it most likely supports development and testing of experimental aircraft and weapons systems. Despite the obscurity of the facility, the base has become well known, in large part because of various conspiracy theories involving it and its frequent portrayal in popular culture. Area 51 (2013, May 8). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 22:04, May 8, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Area_51&oldid=554091700

Armaros \ahr-mahr-ohs\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Assistant Team Leader (ATL) A member of one of Null’s Tactical Teams, responsible for the Team’s training, medical care, and long-range defensive weaponry.

Bahari \bah-hahr-ee\ Former criminal, who became an informant for Adair after being caught. Later became captain of a merchant ship.

Bastul \ba-stewl\ Southern-most city in the Orudan Empire, located at the tip of the Southern Territory. Referred to by many as the “Southern Jewel” for its glittering beauty in the way that its waters reflect both sunrises and sunsets.

Borderlands In the Eternal Realm, the portion of the creation spectrum just before the Temporal Realm.

Brendan Marshall \bren-den\ The older of Rhiannon Marshall’s two sons.

C-4 A moldable plastic explosive.

Carter \kahr-ter\ Null’s communications coordinator, responsible for managing all of the organization’s intelligence communications.

Central Operations Division (COD) A division of Null, headquartered in Haslingden, United Kingdom, responsible for operations in Europe and Africa.

CIA The Central Intelligence Agency is an agency of the United States federal government, responsible for gathering and analyzing information about foreign governments, corporations, and individuals, carrying out or overseeing covert activities and tactical operations by its own employees, by members of the U.S. military, or by other partners, and exerting foreign political influence through its tactical divisions. Central Intelligence Agency. (2013, October 14). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:17, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Central_Intelligence_Agency&oldid=577110159

Ciarán Hayes \keer-ahn heyz\ Head of field operations for Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe office.

COMM The communications system used for Null’s field operations. Also an abbreviation for communications.

COMM Operator (Communications Operator) A member of one of Null’s Tactical Teams, responsible for relaying the Team’s movements to Command.

Command A title used during a field operation to designate the base of operations and communications hub. Also used to refer to Null’s global headquarters.

Command Room The central area, typically a single room, where both Field Operations and Intelligence groups coordinate activities for an operation.

Dacien Gallus \dey-see-en gal-uhs\ General of the Southern Territory of the Orudan Empire. Friend of Kael. Husband of Aelia. Father of Suline.

Darren Jensen \dair-en jen-suhn\ The second security officer (S-2) on TAC 1.

Daud \doud\ The leader of Armaros’ team of personal guards.

David Frisk \dey-vid frisk\ Retired captain, formerly of the Swedish Maritime Administration. Lives in Sandhamn, Sweden.

Deputy Director (Null) The highest position of authority within one of Null’s regional offices.

Deputy Director (FBI) Reports to the director of the United States’ Federal Bureau of Investigation, commonly known as the FBI. Three of the FBI’s branches report directly to the deputy director—the National Security Branch; the Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch; and the Science and Technology Branch. Federal Bureau of Investigation. (2013, October 10). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 22:04, October 16, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Federal_Bureau_of_Investigation&oldid=576569671

Devon Greer \de-vuhn greer\ Team leader (TL) of TAC 1.

Director (CIA) The head of the Unites State’s Central Intelligence Agency, commonly known as the CIA. Central Intelligence Agency. (2013, October 14). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 15:40, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Central_Intelligence_Agency&oldid=577110159

Director General (MI5) The head of the United Kingdom’s Security Service, commonly known as MI5. MI5. (2013, October 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 22:09, October 16, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=MI5&oldid=577406621

DNA Deoxyribonucleic acid is a molecule that encodes the genetic instructions used in the development and functioning of all known living organisms and many viruses. DNA. (2013, September 19). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:45, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=DNA&oldid=573590529

Eastern Operations Division (EOD) A division of Null, headquartered in Moscow, Russia; responsible for operations in Russia, Asia, and Australia.

EMP An electromagnetic pulse is a short burst of electromagnetic energy. It may occur in the form of a radiated, electric or magnetic field or conducted electrical current depending on the source. It is generally damaging to electronic equipment, and the effects of high-energy EMP have been used to create EMP weapons, both nuclear and non-nuclear. Electromagnetic pulse. (2013, October 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:43, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Electromagnetic_pulse&oldid=577466863

Eric Thompson \air-ik tomp-suhn\ Assistant team leader (ATL) of TAC 1.

ETA Abbreviation for estimated time of arrival.

Eternal Realm The portion of the creation spectrum that is eternal, in contrast to the portion that is temporal.

EXFIL Abbreviation for exfiltration. The fourth phase of a field operation that involves moving from the objective location to an extraction point.

Field Operations (Field Ops) A department within each of Null’s regional offices, responsible for planning and conducting field operations.

FBI The Federal Bureau of Investigation is a governmental agency belonging to the United States Department of Justice that serves as both a federal criminal investigative body and an internal intelligence agency (counterintelligence). Federal Bureau of Investigation. (2013, October 10). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:10, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Federal_Bureau_of_Investigation&oldid=576569671

FSB The Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation is the principal security agency of the Russian Federation and the main successor agency to the USSR’s Committee of State Security (KGB), responsible for counterintelligence, internal and border security, counterterrorism, and surveillance. Federal Security Service. (2013, October 7). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:19, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Federal_Security_Service&oldid=576128051

Fortress City The hidden, mountaintop city where Kael lived after sailing with Captain Gryllus. Home of Matsuri and Suriku.

George Barrett \johrj bair-it\ Deputy director for Null’s South and Central Americas office.

Greg Suncio \greyg suhn-see-oh\ Head of field operations for Null’s South and Central Americas office.

Gryllus \gril-uhs\ Captain of the trade vessel Kael hid in after escaping the Monastery. Usually referred to as Captain.

Head of Field Operations A position of authority at each of Null’s regional offices responsible for tactical teams, security, and coordination of field operations.

Head of Intelligence A position of authority at each Null’s regional offices responsible for collecting and analyzing intelligence data.

HUMINT Abbreviation for human intelligence.

Ian Petran \ee-in pe-tran\ Head of intelligence for Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe office.

INTEL Abbreviation for intelligence. A piece of valuable data or information about a subject or enemy. Also used to refer to an Intelligence group at one of Null’s regional offices.

Intelligence A department within one of Null’s regional offices responsible for collecting and analyzing intelligence data.

Interpol The International Criminal Police Organization is an intergovernmental organization facilitating international police cooperation, focusing primarily on public safety, terrorism, organized crime, crimes against humanity, environmental crime, genocide, war crimes, piracy, illicit traffic in works of art, illicit drug production, drug trafficking, weapons smuggling, human trafficking, money laundering, child pornography, white-collar crime, computer crime, intellectual property crime, and corruption. Interpol. (2013, October 6). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:24, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Interpol&oldid=575970156

IR Abbreviation for infrared.

IRA The Irish Republican Army was an Irish republican revolutionary military organization, and a name used to describe several armed movements to resist British rule in Ireland in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Irish Republican Army. (2013, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:21, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Irish_Republican_Army&oldid=577580482

Jim Helmsley \jim helm-zlee\ Director of Null’s Western Operations Division, responsible for all the agency’s operations in North, Central, and South America.

John Martinez \jahn mahr-tee-nez\ The first security officer (S-1) of TAC 1.

Joint Intelligence Committee The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) is the part of the British Cabinet Office responsible for directing the national intelligence organizations of the United Kingdom on behalf of the Cabinet of the United Kingdom and providing advice to the Cabinet related to security, defense and foreign affairs. It oversees the setting of priorities for the three intelligence and security agencies (Secret Intelligence Service, Security Service, GCHQ), as well as Defense Intelligence, and establishes professional standards for intelligence analysis in government. Joint Intelligence Committee (United Kingdom). (2013, July 8). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 22:06, October 16, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Joint_Intelligence_Committee_(United_Kingdom)&oldid=563397008

Kael Lorus \keyl lohr-uhs\ Son of Adair and Maeryn. Sibling of Aelia. Uncle of Suline.

Kaliel \kuh-leel\ An ancient and mysterious religious organization serving the demon god Rameel and seeking to reclaim the earth for his ownership.

Kapustin Yar A Russian rocket launch and development site in Astrakhan Oblast, between Volgograd and Astrakhan. Known today as Znamensk, it was established 13 May 1946 and in the beginning used technology, material, and scientific support from defeated Germany. Numerous launches of test rockets for the Russian military were carried out at the site, as well as satellite and sounding rocket launches. Kapustin Yar. (2013, June 22). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:31, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Kapustin_Yar&oldid=561084027

Karl \kahr-l\ The security leader for Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe regional office in Stockholm, Sweden.

Key One of the ten items crafted by the Myndar Ezekiyel, which allows a being to move from one temporal world to another through the portal.

Kokabiel \koh-kuh-bee-el\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Lars \lahrz\ The local drunk in Sandhamn, Sweden.

Lemus \lee-muhs\ Colonel and governor of Bastul, appointed as Adair’s replacement after the former governor’s disappearance.

Leoran \ley-ohr-uhn\ Capital city of the Southern Territory of the Orudan Empire, located southwest of Orud.

Lev \lev\ Team leader for SEC 3, one of Anatoly Rugov’s personal security teams.

Liam Marshall \lee-uhm\ The younger of Rhiannon Marshall’s two sons.

Low-Ready A downward-angled position of a held firearm which allows an unobstructed view to the front, and keeps the weapon readily available for use on short notice.

Mach In fluid mechanics, Mach number is a dimensionless quantity representing the ratio of speed of an object moving through a fluid and the local speed of sound. Mach number. (2013, August 20). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:45, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Mach_number&oldid=569386254

Maeryn Lorus \mair-en lohr-uhs\ Former governess of Bastul. Wife of Adair. Mother of Kael and Aelia. Grandmother of Suline. First Empress of the Orudan Empire.

Magnus Calidon \mag-nuhs kal-i-don\ Former General of the Northern Territory of the Orudan Empire who later became Emperor. Leader of the Resistance. High Priest of the Kaliel.

Manchester Business School The largest department of the University of Manchester in Manchester, England. According to Bloomberg Business Week’s ranking of the world’s best business schools, the MBS MBA is ranked third in the world.

Mark Zylski \mahrk zil-skee\ Former COMM Operator for TAC 1.

Marotru \mah-roh-trew\ The combined military forces in the Eternal Realm who rebelled against the Holy One. The unholy, demonic military.

MI5 The Security Service, commonly known as MI5 (Military Intelligence, Section 5), is the United Kingdom’s domestic counterintelligence and security agency and is part of its core intelligence machinery. MI5. (2013, October 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 21:51, October 16, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=MI5&oldid=577406621

MI6 The Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), commonly known as MI6 (Military Intelligence, Section 6), is the British agency which supplies the British Government with foreign intelligence. It operates under the formal direction of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) alongside the internal Security Service (MI5), the Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ), and Defense Intelligence (DI).

Monastery The place where Kael was raised and trained in the arts of war. An island facility owned and operated by the Kaliel.

M-SPEC Abbreviation for multi-spectral imaging system. The imaging system used by all of Null’s Intelligence groups for analysis of electromagnetic radiation data.

Myndar \min-dahr\ The singular name of a member of the Myndarym.

Myndarym \min-dahr-im\ The plural name of the angelic race entrusted with Reshaping the Temporal Realm after its separation from the Eternal Realm.

National Clandestine Service A directorate of the CIA responsible for counterintelligence and counterterrorism. Central Intelligence Agency. (2013, October 14). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 15:46, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Central_Intelligence_Agency&oldid=577110159

Nephiylim \nef-eel-im\ The plural name for offspring of angelic-human or angelic-animal copulation.

Night Vision Device (NVD) A vision apparatus which amplifies ambient light to allow visibility during nighttime or in locations of darkness.

Nijambu \ni-jam-bew\ An ancient and primitive trade port, far to the south and beyond the reach of the Orudan Empire. One of the last functional pieces of infrastructure of a civilization that began its decline before the Orudan Empire was founded.

Nikolaus Almstedt \nik-oh-luhs ahlm-stet\ Team leader for Bravo Team, a tactical team at Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe office. Temporarily designated as TAC 3 during the assault on the medical complex in Helsinki.

NORAD North American Aerospace Defense Command is a combined organization of the United States and Canada that provides aerospace warning, air sovereignty, and defense for North America. Headquarters for NORAD and the NORAD/USNORTHCOM command center are located at Peterson Air Force Base in El Paso County, near Colorado Springs, Colorado. The nearby Cheyenne Mountain nuclear bunker has the Alternative Command Center. North American Aerospace Defense Command. (2013, October 2). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:29, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=North_American_Aerospace_Defense_Command&oldid=575368247

Null A secret organization, formerly the Global Conspiracies Division of the CIA, formed to investigate and combat global conspiracy through the employment of intelligence and paramilitary operations.

Objective Data Composition (ODC) A compilation of graphical and alphanumeric data, displayed in a Command Room during a Null field operation. Typically centered around the operational objective, the ODC displays terrain and atmospheric data as well as Team movements.

Oblast A type of administrative division in Slavic countries, including some countries of the former Soviet Union. Oblast. (2013, August 9). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:40, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Oblast&oldid=567868995

OP Abbreviation for operation.

Oranius \oh-ran-ee-uhs\ The lieutenant who served under Dacien Gallus when he was Captain of the Guard in the city of Bastul. Having been left in charge of the city since the Syvaku invasion, Oranius now functions as the city leader.

Orud \oh-rewd\ Capital city of the Orudan Empire.

Orudan \oh-rew-dan\ The people of the Empire of Orud.

Portal The device which allows passage between the three worlds of the Temporal Realm.

Pyotr \pew-ter\ The leader of Anatoly Rugov’s personal security force.

Rameel \rah-mey-el\ The All-Powerful. One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the Kaliel.

RF Abbreviation for radio frequency.

Rhiannon Marshall \ree-a-nuhn mahr-shuhl\ Director of Null’s Central Operations Division, responsible for all the agency’s operations in Europe and Africa.

Ryan Collins \rahy-an kahl-inz\ One member of the two-man transport team assigned to move Adair from Null’s Western Operations Division in McLean, Virginia, to its South and Central Americas office in Bogotá, Colombia.

Saba \sah-bah\ Kael’s childhood mentor. Friend of the Lorus family. Also known as Sariel.

Säpo The Swedish Security Service (Säkerhetspolisen) is the security service of Sweden, responsible for counterespionage, counterterrorism, and protection of sensitive objects, including royal and diplomatic protection. Swedish Security Service. (2013, August 11). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:13, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Swedish_Security_Service&oldid=568047245

SAT Abbreviation for satellite.

Satarel \sah-tah-rel\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Schlieren Signature Visible streaks produced in a transparent medium as a result of variations in the medium’s density leading to variations in refractive index. Anything that disturbs the atmosphere may be detected because of the Schlieren effect caused by that atmospheric disturbance. Stealth aircraft. (2013, October 11). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:39, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Stealth_aircraft&oldid=576694215

Science and Technologies Division (STD) A department of Null’s global headquarters, responsible for developing all of Null’s equipment and weapons.

Sean Collins \shahn kahl-inz\ One member of the two-man transport team assigned to move Adair from Null’s Western Operations Division in McLean, Virginia, to its South and Central Americas office in Bogotá, Colombia.

SEC Abbreviation for security.

Security Leader A position of authority within a Null regional office responsible for managing security efforts. The security leader reports directly to the head of field operations.

Security Officer Two of the five members of a Null Tactical Team, responsible for observation and medium-range, heavy defense weaponry.

Security Team A defense-oriented group of soldiers within a Null regional office, whose purpose is to secure Null personnel and facilities. As a general term, it can refer to one or more ten-person teams, or the entire security force.

Senior Analyst The senior member of a Null Intelligence group, responsible for collecting and analyzing intelligence data. The senior analyst reports directly to the head of intelligence.

Shaping The ability of a Myndar to change its form, or the form of another being or object.

Sniper A sniper is a highly trained marksman who operates alone, in a pair, or with a team to maintain close visual contact with the enemy and engage targets from concealed positions or distances exceeding the detection capabilities of enemy personnel. Sniper. (2013, May 7). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 12:10, May 10, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Sniper&oldid=553920486

Southie \sowth-ee\ South Boston is a densely populated neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts, located south and east of the Fort Point Channel and abutting Dorchester Bay. One of the oldest and most historic neighborhoods in the US, South Boston is most popularly known as Southie. South Boston. (2013, October 6). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:00, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=South_Boston&oldid=575945668

Suline Gallus \sew-leen gal-uhs\ Daughter of Dacien and Aelia. Granddaughter of Maeryn and Adair. Niece of Kael.

Surface-To-Air-Missile Defense System A surface-to-air missile (SAM), or ground-to-air missile (GTAM), is a missile designed to be launched from the ground to destroy aircraft or other missiles. It is one type of anti-aircraft system; in modern armed forces missiles have replaced most other forms of dedicated anti-aircraft weaponry. Surface-to-air missile. (2013, May 8). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 12:22, May 10, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Surface-to-air_missile&oldid=554127507

Surveillance Specialist (Security) A member of a Null regional security team, responsible for monitoring and analyzing data from security sensors.

Svenson \sven-suhn\ Head medical officer for Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe regional office in Stockholm, Sweden.

Tabia \tah-bee-uh\ The house servant assigned to help Dacien and Aelia after Suline was born.

TAC Abbreviation for tactical. One of Null’s five-member paramilitary units, assigned to the Field Operations group of a regional office.

Tarsaeel \tahr-sey-el\ Sariel’s former friend in Viytur.

Team Leader (TL) The lead member of a Null tactical team, responsible for long-range, precision fire weaponry, directing Team movements, and making “on-field” decisions to achieve mission objectives.

Temple Also called the High Temple. The place where Kael first met the All-Powerful. A secret facility built inside an inactive volcano off the western coast of Bastul, serving as the main headquarters for the Kaliel. In Kael’s home world, the Temple houses the portal.

Temporal Realm The portion of the creation spectrum that is temporal, in contrast to the portion that is eternal. The Temporal Realm now exists as three worlds.

The Awakened The subject of an ancient prophecy regarding angels who abandoned their home to inhabit earth. The Awakened is thought to be a human warrior who will ultimately destroy the fallen angels.

The Prophecy Refers to the prophecy of the Awakened. See also The Awakened.

Thermal A general term referring to the portion of Null’s M-SPEC system that captures infrared wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation, or the radiant temperature of objects.

Tim Matthews \tim math-yewz\ Head of intelligence for Null’s South and Central Americas region office.

Ukiru \ew-keer-ew\ Teacher and mentor to Kael while he lived at the Monastery.

UNDK The Intelligence Office (Underrättelsekontoret) is one of three departments within Sweden’s Military Intelligence and Security Service, responsible for gathering intelligence data and aiding deployment of Swedish military units. Swedish Military Intelligence and Security Service. (2013, March 14). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:38, October 15, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Swedish_Military_Intelligence_and_Security_Service&oldid=544132687

Viytur \vee-tewr\ One of the seven disciplines within each branch of the Amatru (angelic military). The Viytur is a cross-branch force, specializing in the gathering and analysis of information and controlled implementation of its conclusions.

Wandering Stars A renegade faction of angels (Myndarm) who abandoned their home to inhabit earth and take wives from among the daughters of men.

Western Operations Division (WOD) A division of Null, headquartered in McLean, Virginia, United States; responsible for operations in North, Central, and South America.

West Point The United States Military Academy at West Point (USMA), also known as West Point, Army, The Academy, or simply, The Point (the latter never used by actual graduates), is a four-year coeducational federal service academy located in West Point, New York. United States Military Academy. (2013, October 15). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:03, October 17, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=United_States_Military_Academy&oldid=577265931

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Carly Tesar for her creative wisdom in refining the cover design on Hidden From Men.

I would also like to thank Carly Tesar, Cindy Tesar, Claudette Cruz, Kim Sheard, and Ronda Swolley for their precious time and expertise in editing.

SYNOPSIS OF

SEEDS OF CORRUPTION | THE AWAKENED BOOK FOUR

Seeking closure to his troubled childhood, Kael sets out with Saba to revisit places that contain painful memories for them both, and either destroy them or reclaim them for the Orudan Empire. As they continue their ongoing discussion of Saba’s past, Kael discovers that his world is one of three, and that the others are controlled by colleagues of the All-Powerful. When he learns that his father may still be alive in the next world, Kael enters the portal with the weight of destiny upon his shoulders.

With Armaros amassing soldiers at his Brazilian fortress, the mysterious organization known as Null intercepts a critical message and learns that a high value asset may soon be coming through the portal. In an effort to secure the asset and smooth his transition between worlds, they move forward with a military assault of the fortress while bringing another citizen of the other world back to Brazil to welcome him.

After working with Null for more than a year, Adair travels back to the portal under the secrecy and protection of armed transporters in hopes of reuniting with his family. As law enforcement grows progressively interested in their movements, it soon becomes clear that their mission has been compromised, leading to a deadly battle with SWAT teams in the desert wastelands of Texas. Adair is captured and taken to an underground prison where he is interrogated and tortured for information about Null.

Kael steps out of the portal and into our world in the middle of a firefight, where he meets and escapes with a tactical assault team. Evading Armaros’ forces, TAC 1 successfully brings him to Null’s Bogotá facility, where Kael must quickly adapt to a new world, a new language, and a new form of warfare. As he learns about Null’s ongoing conflict with Armaros, he discovers that his father has been captured by the enemy and pressures Null to rescue Adair.

When Adair fails to give Armaros’ people the information they seek, he is moved to a medical facility in preparation for a memory extraction procedure. It is there that he meets a fellow prisoner/patient who has a unique connection with the Eternal Realm where a small band of angels is working to rescue the father of The Awakened. As Armaros’ doctors anesthetize Adair to take what he is unwilling to give, the angels pull his spirit into the Eternal Realm and abandon his body.

In a joint effort with Null’s European forces, Kael and TAC 1 assault the medical facility and rescue Adair’s comatose body. But the forces guarding Adair are a new breed of soldier, and the conflict quickly escalates into a costly war that pushes Kael further than ever before. After defeating Armaros’ security force and capturing his lieutenant, Kael and TAC 1 return to Null’s Stockholm office to recover from their conflict. With Adair in a coma in the medical wing, the rest of Null’s multinational group gathers in a conference room to analyze what they have learned about Armaros. It is there, during a teleconference with two of their other leaders, where they witness the destruction of their Bogotá facility at the hands of Armaros himself. The lights of the Stockholm office go out, and when the facility recovers from the power outage, the doctor phones up to the conference room to inform them that Adair has awoken from his coma.