Hunt at World's End (8 page)

Grissom shrugged. “Undoubtedly. But I don’t want anyone to know where we’ve been, or what we have found. I’m afraid certain sacrifices must be made.” He turned his back on them and kept walking into the trees.

Gabriel watched as Julian flicked a lighter under the long fuse attached to the dynamite. Julian threw the lit bundle into the open door and began tearing across the clearing toward the spot where his father had vanished. “Move!” the gunman behind Gabriel shouted. “Now!”

They had just reached the edge of the clearing when a loud explosion rocked the trees. Birds screamed and
flew out of the canopy, soaring away from the cloud of dark smoke that billowed into the sky.

From his vantage point amid the trees on the opposite side, Vassily Platonov saw the blond man toss the dynamite into the doorway, then watched him and the others run off, the armed men and their three bound captives. The blond man was not one of those who had deprived Ulikummis of his sacrifice the night before, but it hardly mattered. In following the interlopers who had dared come to their sacred ground and free the American girl, Vassily now saw there were even more trespassers to be dealt with. The ground shook suddenly with an enormous subterranean explosion. Black smoke erupted from the doorway as the structure collapsed, taking half the hillside with it.

In the jungle beyond, Vassily’s followers slipped silently to the ground from their places in the trees, like ghosts emerging from the darkness. Vassily gestured at them with his staff, and they lowered the skull masks over their faces.

The interlopers had destroyed a holy site, surely a tomb of their ancestors. Just as surely, they had found and taken the gemstone that he as the high priest of Ulikummis had vowed to find himself. The time for merely watching and following was over. He would make them pay for the affronts they had committed. Then he would locate the second and third Eyes of Teshub, secure the Spearhead and use it to wipe the followers of all false gods from the face of the earth.

Vassily motioned to his followers, and together they disappeared into the jungle.

A heavy, warm rain had begun to fall in sheets by the time Grissom’s men marched Gabriel and the others out of the jungle and onto the road. Noboru’s jeep stood wet and muddy where they’d left it. Parked right beside it was Grissom’s much larger one, military-style with three rows of seats. Gabriel, Joyce and Noboru were shoved into Grissom’s jeep, Gabriel and Joyce in the middle, and Noboru in the back with two of Grissom’s men. Grissom took the wheel, and Julian sat in the passenger seat. The other two men got into Noboru’s jeep.

The engines roared to life and the jeeps pulled out. The bumpy, unpaved road jostled Gabriel and Joyce into each other. The ropes around his wrists bit into his skin. The rain soaked through his clothes.

Joyce shook a wet strand of hair out of her face and shouted over the downpour, “Where are you taking us?”

Grissom smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Patience, Ms. Wingard. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Julian glanced into the rearview too. Gabriel stared at him in the reflection, not breaking eye contact. Julian’s gaze returned to the road, then flitted back to the mirror a moment later. Gabriel didn’t blink. Memories of Julian pistol-whipping him back at the Dis
coverers League and stealing the Death’s Head Key replayed in his head and it must have shown in his eyes, since Julian looked away quickly.

Joyce leaned against him, her sopping wet hair falling in thick ropes across her face. “I’m sorry you got involved in all this,” she said.

“Funny,” he replied. “That’s usually my line.”

She leaned closer until a wet strand of hair touched his cheek, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “If we get out of this—”

“We will,” he said. “I just need to think.”

“If we get out of this,” she continued, her voice insistent, “we can’t let Grissom keep the Star. We can’t let him find the other two Eyes. Whatever it is they activate, what ever the Spearhead turns out to be…it would definitely be a weapon in his hands.”

Gabriel thought of Sargonia, a city of ash and cinders and glass after the Spearhead had been turned on it.

Joyce went on, “If it comes down to it, if you have to choose between the Star or me…”

“It won’t come to that,” he said.

“Promise me if you have to make a choice you’ll take the Star and run. Leave me behind if you have to, just keep it out of his hands.”

“It won’t come to that,” Gabriel repeated.

“Goddamn it, promise me.”

“Joyce—”

She stared at him, her mouth a tight line. Rainwater dripped from her nose and chin.

“Okay,” Gabriel said. “I promise.”

“Because it’s only fair you know what I’ll do if I’m faced with the same decision,” she said. Her expression didn’t change. He had to admit, she was tougher than
he’d given her credit for. Looking in her ice blue eyes, he had no doubt she’d leave him behind if it meant getting the Star away from Grissom.

The jeeps turned off the road and barreled along a narrow stretch of dirt that cut through the foliage. Eventually the leaves and branches around them thinned and parted, revealing a campsite filled with wide canvas tents. More jeeps were parked around the camp, and men dressed in jungle camo busily passed in and out of the tents. Gabriel counted at least a dozen of them, with god knew how many more out of sight. Who knew how long Grissom had been on the trail of the Spearhead, but he’d amassed a small army along the way.

The jeep stopped suddenly, and Gabriel lurched forward, banging his chest against the front seat. Grissom killed the engine and jumped out of the jeep. His men dragged Gabriel, Joyce and Noboru out of the vehicle and marched them into the nearest tent. Three chairs had been set up in the center and a folding table stood to one side, a small, rectangular wooden box atop it. They were forced to sit and the ropes around their wrists were replaced with new bindings that secured their arms to the chair backs. Gabriel was seated in the middle chair, with Joyce on his left and Noboru on his right.

The tent flap opened, and Grissom entered. Rainwater dripped off the wide brim of his hat. He had a white towel draped over his shoulder. He nodded to his men. They exited the tent, except for one who stayed inside by the flap, one hand on the butt of his holstered gun.

“Well,” Grissom said, “I must say, this is better than I could have hoped for.” He took off his hat and shook
the water from it onto the ground. He pulled the towel off his shoulder and dried his face and hair.

“Why are we here?” Gabriel demanded. “You’ve already got the Star of Arnuwanda.”

“Indeed I do, but what I don’t have, Mr. Hunt, is an
understanding
of it. Not yet. We have a copy of Arnuwanda’s map, but without knowing how to use the Star to read it, it’s merely a curious historical document. Yet in your hands the map and the Star together somehow led you to the crypt in the jungle. What I want to know is how.” He placed the hat back on his head.

Gabriel glared at him and kept his mouth shut. Grissom looked at Joyce and then Noboru. After a moment, he nodded solemnly. “You’re reluctant to tell me. That’s understandable. I haven’t been the most pleasant host.” He folded the towel carefully, and put it down on the table beside the wooden box. He opened the box, pulled out a long object wrapped in a thick purple cloth and began to unwrap it. “But let me assure you, I can be even
less
pleasant.”

Grissom lifted a dagger out of the cloth. He held it up so that the light from the generator-fed lamp in the corner glinted off the edges of the long, sharp blade. The handle was made of ivory, a curling dragon carved along the hilt from the pommel to the crossguard. “Thousands of years ago, the Chinese of the Shang and Zhou dynasties sacrificed young men and women to the gods of their rivers. They did this to prevent flooding, and to ensure the supply of fish continued for another year. A government minister named Ximen Bao put an end to the practice a few centuries later, but not before that famous Chinese ingenuity took hold. They liked to put their sacrifices in the rivers bleeding
copiously, you see, and they needed a device to speed the process of preparing them.” He touched a hidden button in the dragon’s eye, and two additional blades sprang out of the handle alongside the first. He crossed to Gabriel’s chair. “Of course, this isn’t an original. They only had bronze to work with back then. But I do so like the design, don’t you? It’s far more of a precision instrument than it appears.”

He touched the tips of the blades to Gabriel’s face. Gabriel fought the urge to flinch as they neared his eye. The sharp metal slid along his skin, finally stopping when Grissom reached the stitches on his cheek. “I see my son was quite vehement in retrieving the Death’s Head Key from you, Mr. Hunt. He’s a good boy, but he doesn’t always know when to stop. Doesn’t know how much is too much. Perhaps he gets that from me.” Grissom flicked his wrist suddenly, and the tip of the central blade cut through a stitch. Gabriel clenched his jaw as a drop of blood rolled down his cheek. “We can both be quite persistent. Neither of us lets people stand in the way of our goals. Like father, like son. It’s best when things match, don’t you think? The important things, anyway.” He moved the knife to Gabriel’s other cheek and flicked it again, opening a second wound to mirror the first. “Tell me how the Star is used.”

Gabriel didn’t answer. Blood trickled down both cheeks. He grit his teeth against the pain radiating from the incisions.

For a moment the tent was silent except for the drumming of the rain on the canvas roof. Then Grissom said, “Very well.” He grabbed Gabriel’s collar in his fist and tore his shirt down the front. “I don’t know how well you know knives, Mr. Hunt, but I had this one made from the best high-carbon steel there is. It never dulls, no matter how much flesh it slices.” His
hand shot forward suddenly, and the tips of all three blades stopped less than an inch from Gabriel’s chest. “Or so I’m told. Shall we put it to the test?”

With another flick of his wrist, Grissom slashed a new wound into Gabriel’s skin. Blood welled up in the three parallel cuts the dagger left in his chest, then spilled out, painting three red lines down to his ribs. Behind his back, Gabriel’s hands clenched into fists. The ropes chewed into his wrists.

“I see you’re a stubborn man,” Grissom went on. “I understand this. I am one myself. When I want something, I’ll do what ever it takes to make it mine. I’ve never cared for the word no. I care even less for those who say it to me.” He swung his arm in a quick arc, drawing three more lines of blood across Gabriel’s chest, like a claw mark. Gabriel gritted his teeth and shut his eyes against the sharp pain until it dulled. When he opened his eyes again, Grissom smiled. “Still with us, Mr. Hunt? Good. I’d be sorely disappointed if you didn’t make it past the opening act.”

Grissom coughed suddenly, his whole body shaking with the effort. Another cough followed, and another, wracking his frame so strongly he doubled over. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and coughed into it. A few seconds later, the coughing fit stopped and Grissom put the handkerchief back in his pocket. Gabriel caught a flash of red in its folds. Blood?

“Perhaps you don’t know what it’s like to be weak, Mr. Hunt. To be a ticking clock, counting down to your own death as your body eats itself alive. To have nothing to look forward to but a few remaining years of misery, immobility and pain. To have more than enough money for anything you want, and yet still not enough to extend your life. Time is a thief, Mr. Hunt. It steals everything from you, little by little. I watched
Julian’s mother waste away on her deathbed. I saw the pity in everyone’s eyes, heard it in the pitch of their voices. I won’t allow that to happen to me. Pity is what you get when people don’t fear you. Other people’s pity only makes you weaker. But fear…” He swung the dagger once more, slicing three fresh cuts across Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel grunted in pain from between his clenched teeth. “Fear makes you much, much stronger. Now, tell me how to use the Star.”

Streams of sweat rolled off Gabriel’s forehead. Each new cut felt like a fire burning just under his skin. But as long as he could keep Grissom talking, keep the madman thinking he was the one with the answers and not Joyce, he would take it for as long as he had to. There was no other choice.

Grissom slashed his abdomen. This time Gabriel cried out. Judging from the smile on the old man’s face, it seemed to make Grissom happy.

“Can you imagine,” Grissom continued, “how intrigued I was when I heard the legend of the Spearhead? What I could do with such a thing. The fire at world’s end. Why should it just be
my
end that approaches? Why not the whole world’s, just like the legend says, only with my hand setting the blaze? When my wife died, the world didn’t care. It carried on as if nothing had happened. The next morning was like all the ones before it: birds sang, breezes blew, politicians lied, all of it. There will be no ordinary next morning when I die, Mr. Hunt. For me, the world will sit up and take notice. There will be no forgetting the name Edgar Grissom.”

“You’re…” Gabriel began, and then shook his head. The words were so inadequate. But he said them anyway. “You’re crazy.”

Grissom smiled. “And now we finally hear from Ga
briel Hunt! Has your tongue been loosened at last? Tell me what I need to know and the pain stops.”

Gabriel looked away. The patter of the rain on the canvas roof slowed to a stop, amplifying the silence that filled the tent.

“A pity,” Grissom said. “I was hoping you’d be more cooperative.” He looked down at the three blood-tipped blades of his dagger. “You see, until I have what I want, I need you alive. Your friends, however, are of no such importance to me.” Grissom turned to Joyce. She kept her head down, her eyes to the ground. “There’s something wonderful about women, don’t you think?” He reached out with the knife until the blades’ tips just brushed the skin of her clavicle. “The way the fear stays in their eyes even after they die.”

He moved the dagger to the base of her neck, then up to her throat. Joyce tilted her head away from the sharp blades and glared up at Grissom, her lips pulled back from her teeth.

“Tell me how to use the Star, Mr. Hunt,” Grissom insisted, “or I will open her lovely neck.”

Gabriel sat silently, his skin singing with pain, blood rolling down his ribs and abdomen. Beside him, Noboru tugged against the ropes that bound him to his chair. Gabriel met Joyce’s eyes, and she shot him a look of steely resolve that erased any doubt whether she meant what she’d said. She was willing to die to keep the Spearhead out of Grissom’s hands.

But what if the legend was wrong? They’d found one gemstone, but what if there weren’t any others? Or what if the Spearhead didn’t exist anymore, or if it never had? He couldn’t let her die for something no one even knew for sure was real. He met her eyes again, then looked over at Grissom, and saw an equal
determination in each pair of eyes. Rock, meet hard place. Gabriel struggled against his bindings, trying to slip a hand free, but the knot was too tight.

Grissom frowned. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Hunt. You’ve backed me into a corner. I dislike hurting women, but I’m afraid I have no choice now. When you look back at this moment in the future—should I allow you a future—I want you to remember whose fault this really was.” He grabbed Joyce’s hair in one hand and pulled her head back. She gritted her teeth and clamped her eyes shut. Grissom swung the dagger back, preparing to slash it across her throat.

“It’s a code!” Noboru shouted suddenly. “It’s a code.”

Grissom stayed his hand. Joyce opened her eyes. Gabriel turned to Noboru and saw the pained, desperate look on the older man’s face.

“Of course it’s a code,” Grissom said. “But how does it
work
? What is the
key
?”

“The elements,” Noboru said. “Earth, water. The symbols for the elements.”

“Don’t!” Joyce yelled at him.

Grissom let go of her hair and walked over to stand in front of Noboru. “The elements, you say. You mean the three elements from the Teshub legend, of course.”

“Noboru,” Joyce pleaded.