Soul Meaning (A Seventeen Series Novel: An Action Adventure Thriller Book 1) (26 page)

‘Are our satellites back online?’ he said after a while.

‘Yes,’ said the Bastian tech.

‘Good. I want you to start tracking all known Crovir facilities around the globe. There’s bound to be a lot of activity on the ground if they’re detaining the Godards in one of them.’

Dusk was falling across the mountains when I entered the building that housed the lab. Foam from fire extinguishers coated the floor and walls, turning the ash and soot into muddy slush. I made my way to the service elevator and went down to the bunker.

Glittering fragments crunched under my feet as I crossed the floor to the outer room.

Bullets had damaged the equipment Anna and the scientists had been using. Documents lay scattered across the worktops, most shredded beyond recognition by volleys of rounds and debris.

I stopped in front of a workstation and trailed my fingers across the back of Anna’s chair.

‘We’ll find them,’ said Reid behind me.

I kept my back to him, afraid to speak. My hands clasped the edge of the seat tightly while I stared into the isolation chamber where I had lived as a virtual prisoner for three days.

The familiar scent of Pall Mall clouded the air. A smoke ring drifted past my ear. ‘She’s quite a lady, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she is,’ I murmured. I turned to Reid. ‘Anna and I,’ I started hesitantly, ‘we—’

He raised a hand. ‘Stop right there. I know what you’re gonna say. A blind man would have guessed what was going on between the two of you.’

I hesitated. ‘And it doesn’t disgust you?’

Reid shrugged. ‘You’ve been around for hundreds of years. And it’s not as if you grew up in the same crib. Besides, I think the normal rules of morality have to be bent slightly for immortals, a bit like for royalty.’

A wave of gratitude washed over me. ‘Thank you.’

A companionable silence fell between us.

‘Never thought I’d hear the bulldog defend you,’ Reid said after a while.

A smile crossed my lips despite my inner turmoil. ‘Neither did I.’

Footsteps sounded behind us. We turned and watched the figure striding across the floor of the bunker.

‘Victor wants you,’ said Bruno.

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘R
eznak called.’

We were on the ground floor of the lodge. The Bastians had recovered some of the equipment from the operations room and were busy setting up camp in the kitchen.

I ignored the bustle around us and studied Victor intently. ‘And?’

‘The Godards are in Europe.’

I took a step forward. ‘Where?’

There was a flicker on one of the smoke-stained walls. An infrared, night-vision satellite image appeared on a projection screen. A Bastian tech brought the shot into sharp focus.

We inspected the grainy picture silently.

‘They’re on an island in the Mediterranean Sea, somewhere between Sardinia and Sicily,’ said Victor. ‘The only reason we know its location is because Dimitri gave us the exact geographic coordinates.’ He glanced at me. ‘It doesn’t appear on any maps of the area. In fact, according to the US Geological Society and the European Federation of Geologists, it doesn’t exist.’

‘It sure looks real to me,’ muttered Reid.

The island was a fortress. A jagged ring of rocks surrounded the rugged landmass, churning the dark waters around it into a roiling, foaming death trap. A few night birds danced and swirled above the silver spray. White-topped waves surged and crashed against the sheer, three-hundred-foot-high cliff walls soaring vertically above the sea. Tendrils of scrub clung to the bare rock face.

A castle stood on the summit of the bluff. A nightmare concoction of towers, rooftops, and terraces, it sprawled across the prominence like a scar on the land and was enclosed by hundred-foot-high, towering brick ramparts. Narrow courtyards and labyrinthine paths intersected the extensive grounds in front of it. Barred casement windows glimmered in the dark, the leaded glass reflecting the glare from the security lights around the perimeter of the monstrous citadel.

Dozens of figures guarded the walkways topping the walls. Scores more patrolled the ground.

The place was swarming with Crovir Hunters.

‘Reznak and the rest of the Crovir Councils have been summoned to the island,’ said Victor. His expression hardened. ‘Vellacrus is intending to make an example of Tomas. He will be the first Bastian to be exposed to the Red Death in more than six hundred years.’

Numbness spread through my limbs at the Bastian noble’s words. ‘When does she plan to do this?’

‘Not for a day or so, at least. She’ll have to wait until all the Council members are gathered on the island.’

Victor’s eyes moved briefly to Costas’s stony face. ‘One out of the other three Crovir First Council Heads has pledged to help Dimitri stop Vellacrus and Thorne, as have several members of their Second Council and Assembly. They each command about a hundred men.’

Reid grimaced. ‘So, what you’re saying is, we’re kinda outnumbered three to one.’

‘We wouldn’t be in this position if the Bastian Councils stopped sitting on their hands and did something!’ Costas snapped.

Victor turned a steady gaze on him. ‘Roman
will
persuade them.’

‘When? By then it might be too late!’ Costas exhaled loudly and rubbed his face. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that—’

Victor crossed the floor and put his hand on the Bastian noble’s shoulder. ‘The friends who betrayed us will be made to atone for their treachery,’ he said coldly.

A hunted look flitted in Costas’s eyes. ‘Seven hundred years. That’s how long I’ve known Grigoriye. You would think after all that time I’d know the man inside out.’

A hush followed his tortured words.

‘From what we witnessed earlier, there are others in the Bastian Councils who want to imitate his actions,’ said Victor.

‘They will have to answer to my blade if they do!’ Costas growled.

My nails dug into my palms. ‘When do we leave?’

‘We can be airborne in two hours.’ Victor walked to a table on which a map of the Mediterranean Sea was spread out. ‘But first, we have to consider the small matter of logistics.’

We left the compound within the hour, the convoy of SUVs and vans traveling swiftly through the night to the private airfield where we had landed days previously.

Victor and Costas spent the drive making a number of long transatlantic calls.

A cold wind was blowing in from the Virginia coastline when we arrived at the airstrip. The C-40 Clipper stood waiting in the glare of a dozen halogen floodlights.

Shadows soon danced across the gray fuselage as the aircraft was loaded with weapons and hardware. Many of the Bastian Hunters were still recovering from their recent injuries and some moved more slowly than others.

Forty minutes after reaching the airfield, we were in the air. It was a nine-hour flight to our destination. Victor finalized the details of our operation and ordered everyone to get some rest.

Despite my bone-deep exhaustion, sleep proved unsurprisingly elusive once more. I stared out of the window next to my seat, my mind filled with images of Anna and our grandfather from the previous week. My fingers unconsciously tightened on the armrests, my emotions fluctuating from anger and frustration to fear at their fate. Clouds glowed in the moonlight beneath the belly of the plane; occasionally, a break in the white blanket afforded a glimpse of the dark waters of the Atlantic below.

‘Can’t sleep?’ someone murmured beside me.

I looked to my left. Reid had moved up the aisle and taken the seat opposite mine.

‘No.’

He watched me steadily. ‘We’ll get them back. You have to believe that.’

I sighed. ‘I know.’

He shrugged. ‘Look on the bright side. Half the immortals on the planet are no longer trying to kill you.’

I smiled and leaned against the headrest. My gaze shifted to the dark sky outside. Memories of the night before flashed past my eyes once more.

It felt like a lifetime ago since I’d held Anna in my arms.

Sometime before noon the next day, we landed on a military airfield in the south of Sardinia. I stepped off the plane onto hot, cracked asphalt and looked around.

The base was teeming with officers from the Italian Air Force. A dozen transport and fighter planes as well as a pair of combat search-and-rescue helicopters stood parked on the tarmac. The C-40 Clipper earned a few curious stares as the Bastian Hunters started unloading the plane.

Cloud-wreathed peaks rose to the west of the base. Two dots appeared above the shimmering foothills of the mountain range.

Seconds later, a pair of F-16 fighter jets boomed overhead and disappeared in the azure skies to the east.

A smoke ring blew past my ear. ‘That’s a sight you don’t see every day,’ said Reid.

I looked at the cigar in his hand.

‘Oh, this? I got it from Costas.’ He grinned at my expression. ‘The bulldog’s bark is definitely harsher than his bite.’

We headed toward a hangar where Victor and Costas stood in conversation with a tall, distinguished-looking, gray-haired man in uniform.

‘This is Major Vincenzo. He’s the commander of the base and an old friend,’ said Victor by way of introduction.

Shrewd eyes studied us from beneath a pair of thick, white eyebrows. ‘Are these the men you want me to coach?’

‘There are six others,’ said Victor. He signaled to a group of Bastian Hunters hovering close by.

Surprise darted through me when I spotted a familiar face. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

Friedrich nodded an acknowledgement. His injuries appeared to have healed and he walked with barely a limp. ‘Victor thought my skills might come in handy.’

The major observed him critically. ‘How many jumps have you done before?’

‘Twenty,’ said the German Bastian Hunter.

Vincenzo’s gaze shifted to the sky framed by the hangar doors. ‘We’ve got six hours left till sundown. Come with me, gentlemen.’

We followed him to a DHC-6 twin otter plane standing on the tarmac a short distance away. Several figures loaded bags full of gear into the rear of the fuselage. The turbo engines roared into life as we reached the aircraft.

‘Get in,’ ordered the major. ‘We’ll go through basic drills in the air.’ He hesitated. ‘Have any of you performed accuracy landings before?’

Bar Friedrich, everyone shook their head.

Vincenzo sighed. ‘Well, we’ll have to see what we can do.’

‘Oh boy,’ Reid muttered as we climbed inside the plane.

The light was fading fast when we made our final descent to the base hours later.

I stepped off the aircraft and gazed at the kaleidoscope of orange and pink streaks arching across the horizon to the west; though my heart still raced and my limbs shook from the intensive training we had just received, I was aware that time was fast running out for the Godards.

The major was the last man to exit the plane. He dropped onto the tarmac while his officers wrapped up the equipment we had used during our exercises.

‘That was good work. You’re all fast learners. I can safely say that none of you are likely to kill yourselves after what we’ve just put you through.’ A guarded look appeared in his eyes. ‘As to what happens after that, I’m not in a position to comment.’

We returned to the hangar assigned to the Bastians. The brightly lit confines were a hive of activity. A line of army trucks and jeeps stood at the ready at the doors of the building; the Hunters were getting ready to leave.

A command center had been set up in a corner of the vast space. The lights from the monitors cast shadows on the faces of the people gathered around the terminals.

Victor looked around at our footsteps. ‘How did it go?’

‘He said we wouldn’t die,’ Reid replied.

Victor smiled. ‘Coming from Carlo, I would take that as a compliment.’

I stared past him at the flickering screens. ‘Are we ready?’ I asked, unable to conceal the edge in my voice.

Victor nodded. ‘Yes. Dimitri and the remaining Council members arrived on the island an hour ago.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘They’ll have the radar-jamming devices set up by twenty-hundred. Costas and I will be heading for the port in fifty minutes. You should get some rest before you leave.’

Although I felt drained from our flight drills, I was too tense to follow his advice.

I found a deserted spot at the edge of the airfield and practiced with the swords under the rising moon. It took all my concentration to quell the nervous tension building inside me. A warm breeze blew in from the sea and flicked the droplets of sweat beading my face and arms onto the tarmac.

The Bastian convoy thundered past moments later. Anatole waved from behind the steering wheel of the leading SUV. Victor dipped his chin stoically from the seat next to him.

They were on their way to the city of Cagliari, some ten miles south and to the east on the Sardinian coastline.

Footsteps soon rose behind me. ‘You almost done?’ said Reid.

‘Yes.’ I lowered the daisho and slowly sheathed the blades.

‘Good. We should get some food.’ Reid grimaced. ‘I hate to think what might happen if we eat too close to take-off.’

I smiled and followed him to the hangar.

Two hours later, at exactly 21:00, we finally left the base.

The refueled DHC-6 climbed steadily in an easterly direction, its twin engines filling the interior of the fuselage with a steady drone that would have made conversation difficult even if any of us had been in the mood to talk. Not that we could have easily, what with the face masks delivering the one-hundred-percent pure oxygen we needed to inhale to flush out nitrogen from our bloodstream and reduce the risk of decompression sickness associated with our high-altitude, low-opening jump.

Two of the major’s lieutenants had accompanied us on the flight. As instructed by them, I spent most of the ninety-minute journey concentrating on my breathing and checking Reid for signs of hypoxia and hyperventilation.

‘If I’d known I’d be doing a HALO jump soon, I would have quit smoking months ago,’ said Reid in a low voice.

I peered at him anxiously. It was difficult to see his expression through the glass visor of his helmet. ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘I could do with a smoke,’ came the dull reply.

I muttered something under my breath and settled back in the seat.

A crackle of static echoed in my earpiece.

‘We’re fifteen minutes from the drop zone,’ said the pilot. ‘Check your gear.’

We rose and went through the safety drill we had been taught under the keen eyes of Vincenzo’s lieutenants.

Another voice came over the comm line a moment later. ‘Hey, can you guys hear me?’ It was the Bastian tech at the base.

I observed the series of nods around the fuselage. ‘Yeah, we hear you.’

‘Victor called. Reznak’s men are in place. They’ve secured access to the external security cameras and the radars. You’re good to go.’

There was a further crackle from the earpiece.

‘ETA five minutes,’ warned the pilot.

‘Good luck,’ the tech added quietly.

I switched on the portable oxygen bottle on my back, disconnected from the central console, and checked my flow meter.

One of the lieutenants opened the loading door on the port side of the aircraft. Cold air rushed inside the hold.

‘On five,’ he shouted, signaling with his fingers.

I followed Reid to the exit and switched on the night vision goggles beneath my helmet. The wind whipped at my jumpsuit as I stepped off the plane. Seconds later, I was in free-fall.

The HALO jump was from thirty thousand feet. I tucked my arms by my sides and angled downward. The island appeared as a green shadow in the waters ahead and to the left, the image strangely stark under the ambient moonlight. I turned toward it and kept my breaths slow and steady.

The audible altimeter soon sounded in my ears, indicating that I had reached a terminal velocity of 170 mph.

The fall lasted a thrilling two minutes. At the two-thousand-feet signal, I reached behind my back and pulled out the pilot chute from the bottom pocket of the container strapped to my body. There was a tug as the bridle lifted the deployment bag holding the main parachute. The canopy unfolded above me, suspension lines feeding steadily through the slider.