King's Crusade (Seventeen) Page 9

  Her eyebrows rose slightly. ‘And the Cross?’

  He grinned at her obvious impatience. ‘Depending on who you talk to, Rosicrucianism either originated from the Egyptian secret schools or takes its name from Christian Rosenkreuz, a mythical German doctor, philosopher, and alchemist from the fourteenth century. The Rose Croix symbolizes the Rosicrucianism Order or secret society. Some surmised it represented Rosenkreuz himself, whereas others adhere to the belief that the cross epitomizes the human body, with the rose representing the unfolding human consciousness.’

  Alexa digested this wealth of information with a guarded expression. ‘Does this mean that Dragov belongs to some sort of secret sect?’

  Jackson shrugged. ‘Possibly. The caves that Reznak discovered were in Egypt after all, although they weren’t close enough to Thutmose’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings to be directly linked to the Egyptian secret societies.’

  The helicopter flew over Cyprus and Cape Andreas, the promontory at the tip of the Karpass Peninsula. From his calculations, they were about a hundred miles from Adana Airport.

  ‘You mentioned the Freemasons,’ said Alexa after a while.

  ‘I did,’ Jackson replied. ‘Strictly speaking, the Freemasons are not a Rosicrucian Order, but they are an esoteric society. It’s thought that Rosicrucianism impacted on Freemasonry as it evolved in Scotland in the late eighteenth century.’

  ‘So if the Freemasons don’t use the Rose Croix as a symbol of their order, who does?’ she said with a scowl.

  ‘Strangely enough, the largest Rosicrucian Order in existence today who uses a golden cross with a red rose in the center is not as secret as you might think,’ said Jackson. ‘The Ancient and Mystical Order Rosae Crucis, or AMORC as it’s abbreviated, is an international organization dedicated to studying the elusive mysteries of life and the universe. They’re based in New York.’

  ‘So, Dragov could be a member of AMORC?’ asked Alexa doggedly.

  Jackson smiled. ‘It’s possible, but I doubt it. There would be a lot more people walking around with Rose Croix tattoos on the back of their necks if that were the case.’ His expression grew sober. ‘He could be a member of another Rosicrucian order or any other esoteric society that uses the symbol of the Rose Cross as part of their systems of beliefs and rituals. There’s a wealth of conspiracy theories out there about a New World Order that refer to Rosicrucian- and Masonic-influenced societies such as the Illuminati, as well as other spiritual and religious organizations like the Round Table and the New Age movements.’

  Alexa remained silent for the remainder of the trip, apparently brooding over what he had told her. From their discussions the night before, he sensed she was certain Dragov was the key to tracing the tomb raiders. The potential link between the giant and secret societies holding alternative religious and spiritual beliefs was not one that she seemed to welcome.

  The airport at Adana was conveniently small and the charter company’s representative swiftly whisked them through the international terminal. Alexa left Jackson on the curb outside the building and headed toward the offices of a local car rental company. She drove out ten minutes later with a black Range Rover Defender pickup and braked to a screeching halt a couple of feet from where he stood.

  Jackson stared at the vehicle. ‘Where the hell does she get these cars?’ he muttered. He threw their bags into the back of the pickup and got in. She performed an illegal U-turn right in front of a dumbfounded policeman and guided the vehicle toward the motorway that would take them to the Port of Mersin, sixty-nine miles to the west.

  ‘How’s your arm?’ he asked after a while. He glanced at the sleeve of her leather jacket. The night before, he had watched her clean and dress her injured arm with a proficiency that suggested she had performed similar tasks many times before. Yet, from what he had seen of her pale skin, she bore no visible scars.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she replied curtly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

  Jackson remained silent for the rest of the drive and gazed blindly at the dusty, dry landscape rolling past the window. Though he could not quite put his finger on the crux of the matter, something about this whole affair did not ring true with him. He had felt the same way the last time he worked on a project with Dimitri Reznak. He had been fully aware then that he had been actively breaching the terms of his contract when he started to investigate the mysterious organization funding their dig in ancient Mesopotamia; when Reznak questioned him about his motives before sacking him, Jackson had been unable to come up with an answer to justify his actions.

  To put it simply, he could not help himself; mysteries, old and new, had always fascinated him. It explained a lot about his nature.

  Five years after that first dig with Reznak, Jackson came across an old photograph that baffled him even more. All his attempts to investigate the matter further reached a dead end. He had always felt that formidable powers had been at work behind the scenes to prevent him from getting to the truth.

  There was no denying from what he had seen in the last few days that the people behind Reznak and King were extremely wealthy and influential. That fact alone made him uncomfortable. In his experience, institutions wielding that much authority were usually without scruples and would protect their secrets at any cost.

  On the other hand, he was not exactly beyond reproach. He had not accepted this assignment out of charity. Five million dollars was five million dollars. It would be enough to fund dozens of his research projects.

  ‘We’re here,’ said Alexa, interrupting his thoughts.

  Jackson shifted in the seat and looked around. The D400 state road had brought them straight past the city of Tarsus and through the southeast fringe of Mersin, close to the tracks of the Adana-Mersin railway line. Mertim Tower, the second tallest skyscraper in Turkey, was visible in the distance ahead and to the right. To the left, the waters of the Mediterranean shimmered under the midday sun. The weather was cooler than it had been in Egypt.

  Alexa took the next exit and headed toward the Mersin Free Zone. Established in the 1980s, the zone was a free economic trade area intended for foreign investors. The companies within it operated outside customs and were exempt from corporate and income taxes. Home to a variety of import-export firms, offices, production facilities, and warehouses, the Mersin Free Zone was the first of about two dozen such areas that now operated in Turkey.

  She turned down a side street and parked the pickup opposite the offices of the trading company that owned the three warehouses Jawaed Hassan had done business with in Mersin. Jackson exited the vehicle and followed her inside.

  A young woman sat behind the reception desk, next to a noisy fan. She smiled politely when she saw them.

  ‘We had a container delivered to one of your warehouses about a month ago,’ said Alexa after they exchanged greetings. Jackson was faintly surprised at her flawless Turkish. ‘We’ve been away to South America on business and have only just returned to the country. Unfortunately, there was a fire at our offices in our absence and we’ve lost our shipping receipt.’

  ‘Oh. I hope nobody was injured,’ said the receptionist with a sympathetic expression. Her eyes darted to Jackson while she spoke. A hint of a blush tinted her cheeks.

  Alexa glanced at him with a frown. Jackson shrugged his shoulders in a ‘It’s-not-my-fault-I’m-sexy’ gesture that he knew would infuriate her. The gleam in her pale eyes told him he had succeeded.

  ‘If you’d like to give me your company details, I’ll see what I can do for you,’ said the young woman, glancing curiously between the two of them. She indicated the computer in front of her.

  Alexa told her the name and address of a fictitious firm in Adana.

  The woman typed the information in. A moment later, she pursed her lips. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have your shipment on our database,’ she said hesitant
ly. ‘Where did you say it originated from again?’

  ‘Jawaed Hassan’s warehouse in Port Said,’ said Alexa smoothly.

  The receptionist checked her records again. ‘Oh. We did receive shipments from Mr. Hassan’s warehouses around that time, but none of the docking receipts list your company as a customer.’

  ‘Can you tell us which of your depots took delivery of that order?’ asked Alexa. ‘We’d like to talk to the manager of the warehouse if possible.’

  The woman’s expression grew wary. ‘I’m afraid I can’t release that information without the relevant paperwork,’ she said apologetically.

  Jackson leaned across the desk. ‘Please, could you do it as a favor?’ he requested with an engaging smile. ‘Like you said, we won’t be able to take delivery of the container, anyway.’ He cocked a thumb toward Alexa. ‘Honestly, she’s already cranky as it is. You’ll save me a whole afternoon of nagging if you just tell us where the shipment was delivered.’

  The woman opened her mouth, hesitated, and bit her lower lip. She glanced over her shoulder at the busy office space behind her.

  ‘We won’t tell. Honest,’ said Jackson.

  The receptionist looked down at the computer with a flustered expression and brought up another screen. ‘It’s depot number four,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Follow the road to the water. It’s the warehouse at the end on the left.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jackson warmly. He winked at the young woman as they turned to leave. She giggled.

  Alexa gave him a stern look once they were outside the building. ‘What was that?’

  ‘I’ve always found that a bit of harmless flirting often gets you what you want,’ said Jackson. His grin seemed to irritate her further.

  They climbed in the pickup and drove to the end of the free zone. Alexa pulled up in the shadow of a tree next to the last warehouse on their left. The sea glittered beyond a rocky beach less than five hundred feet ahead of them.

  ‘Though I’m certain I’m not going to like the answer,’ said Jackson, ‘but now what?’

  She studied the depot. ‘We’ve wasted enough time as it is. I don’t care if we do this in broad daylight.’

  ‘Do what in broad daylight?’ said Jackson.

  She pulled El Bashir’s Beretta out of her bag.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ he said dully.

  She handed the gun to him. The metal was disturbingly cool against the skin of his palm as he clasped it.

  ‘I never kid.’ She opened the door of the pickup and stepped onto the asphalt.

  ‘Great,’ muttered Jackson. He scowled at the dashboard while he debated his options. There were very few of them left. The only legal one involved him walking away from this entire mess and going straight to the cops.

  The passenger door opened. ‘Well, what’s it gonna be?’ said Alexa. She stared at him impassively. ‘I’ll understand if you’d rather stay,’ she added in a faintly condescending tone. ‘Things might get heated.’

  Jackson sighed. He was going to live to regret this. ‘I’m coming.’

  Chapter Eight

  No amount of careful planning can beat pure luck.

  The words of one of her mentors resonated in Alexa’s mind when they entered the depot through a fire exit at the rear seconds later. The place appeared strangely deserted for the time of day, and she had just realized why: the workers were on their lunch break.

  The building was practically empty.

  Several feet inside, she revised her previous thoughts about their good fortune. The office was not where she thought it would have been. Instead of a simple boarded room at the back, it was a loft-style, portable cabin on a mezzanine floor at the top of a flight of stairs halfway along the east wall of the warehouse. A pair of windows looked out over the depot below. There was no movement behind the glass.

  They headed swiftly along the deserted aisles, past empty forklifts, and soon reached the end of the storage area.

  An empty concrete floor separated them from the staircase twenty feet away. Alexa peered around the edge of a pallet of crates and looked toward the front of the warehouse. Jackson moved up behind her.

  A couple of men in overalls stood conversing near a roller shutter door some hundred feet to the right. They were both smoking cigarettes and their general demeanor suggested they were still on their break. The direction the pair faced would make it impossible for Jackson and her to reach the cabin office without being detected. She shifted back and bumped into the Harvard professor.

  ‘Sorry,’ he murmured in her ear.

  She ignored the disconcerting feel of his breath across her skin. ‘We need a distraction.’

  ‘Oh.’ His pupils dilated in the shadows cast by the boxes on either side of the aisle. ‘What do you propose?’

  ‘I want you to go out the back, walk around, and engage those men in conversation,’ said Alexa bluntly.

  Jackson’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking, right?’

  She looked at him steadily. ‘Or I could start a fire. The choice is yours.’

  He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Fine, I’ll go talk to them,’ he said with a resigned expression. ‘Just don’t go near anything flammable.’ He turned on his heels and disappeared around the corner.

  Moments later, his voice rose from the front of the warehouse. ‘Hello,’ she heard him say in Turkish. She looked around the edge of the tower of crates.

  Jackson had crossed the loading bay in front of the depot. The sea shone brightly behind him, outlining his silhouette. He walked out of the sunlight and into the shadow of the overhang above the shutter door. ‘I appear to have lost my way,’ he continued, addressing the men with the cigarettes. ‘I’m looking for someone.’ The pair turned to look at him curiously.

  Alexa moved. She was at the top of the flight of stairs in less than five seconds and opened the door to the cabin.

  The office was empty. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. Her eyes landed on the filing cabinets against the walls. They were labeled alphabetically. It would take too long to go through them.

  She turned her attention to the computer on the desk.

  Voices reached her through the steel walls of the cabin a minute later. Her gaze shifted from the display in front of her. She rose from the chair, took a few steps toward the door, and stole a glance through the window that overlooked the front of the warehouse.

  The two men in overalls were heading across the concrete floor toward the office.

  Jackson followed reluctantly a few steps behind them. ‘Look, honestly, I don’t want to trouble you,’ he said loudly with a strained smile. ‘I’ll walk around and find him myself.’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ said the man in the lead. ‘I’ll give them a ring and find out if he’s there.’

  Alexa glanced at the phone on the desk. She moved to the wall behind the door just as footsteps clattered on the landing outside.

  The first man who crossed the threshold never even saw her. The edge of her hand connected sharply with a vital pressure point on the side of his neck, and he was unconscious before he hit the floor.

  The second man cried out when he saw his companion fall. His shout became a strangled gurgle after Jackson struck him on the back of the head with the butt of the Beretta. He slumped across the landing.

  Alexa dragged the two inert figures inside the room.

  ‘Please tell me I didn’t kill him,’ said Jackson anxiously. He entered the office and closed the door.

  ‘He’ll live,’ she said shortly. She cocked her head toward the desk. ‘Remember that time in the desert, when you said you could hack into the mine’s computer frame?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ said Jackson. He glanced at the desktop computer. ‘Where’re you going with this?’

 
‘My techs won’t be able to get into that hard drive,’ said Alexa. ‘It’s not connected to a network. And whoever owns the thing has decent encryption software in place. I’ve barely scratched the surface.’

  Jackson took the seat behind the desk. He started to type.

  Alexa moved to the window. ‘How much time do you need?’ she asked, looking out at the empty warehouse.

  The keyboard clattered under his fingers. ‘Five minutes. Maybe ten,’ he said distractedly. His eyebrows rose. ‘You were right. This guy has some pretty good programs in place.’

  She stared at him. ‘Does this mean you can’t access the data?’

  He looked up with a mildly affronted air. ‘I said it was good—I didn’t say I couldn’t override it.’

  She turned her attention back to the window. A couple of men appeared in the sunlit yard at the front of the building. Three more followed. ‘You haven’t got ten minutes,’ she said crisply. ‘These guys’ friends are coming off their break.’ She indicated the unconscious men by the door.

  ‘Great,’ muttered Jackson. ‘Nothing like a bit of pressure to get the job done.’

  Alexa watched the warehouse fill up with men in blue overalls. Forklifts were activated. The building grew noisy. She heard babbles of conversation and the occasional bark of laughter.