Babel Found (26 page)

The George Bush Center for Intelligence

Langley, Virginia

“Tell me again why the Director of the CIA wants to see me?”

Kane stops his forward march and spins, blocking me. I almost crash into him, my mind fluttering like a hummingbird. He holds out his hands and rests them on my shoulders, breathing in deep. Even the big guy is a little nervous.

“Director Rollins wants to ask the horse’s mouth himself what we’ve been asking ourselves…”

I lift my eyebrows, waiting for him to finish.

“Are we safe?”

He’s right, of course. Is the threat completely neutralized? Are there other dangers out there that only our team can fight? It’s been almost a month since it all ended, but…

“Don’t you
hear it
from the horse’s mouth and not
ask it
?”

He waves me off. “Semantics.”

“Honestly, though,” I say, “I don’t think we’ll ever truly be—”

“Don’t tell me,” Kane says, squeezing my shoulders hard, “tell him.” He motions to the door at the end of the hall. “He knows my loyalty to this country. Rollins is a former operative, and before that, a Ranger, like me. He has no political allegiances, which makes him a fantastically scary man. But he knows nothing about you other than what I’ve told him.”

“Which is?” I ask, eyebrow raised.

“You’re kind of a pussy.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

“Hank.”

I meet his serious gaze.

“If he sides with us…” His eyes widen. Something is spinning in his head. “Well, if he does… It’ll be worth it.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Can’t say until the cards fall into place.”

“But—”

“Don’t Hank. You may be one of my best friends, but don’t make me choose between you and my country on this one. You can’t win that fight.”

I nod. Kane is a true patriot—a hero even. I would never make him cross the line like that. We
are
friends, but he still has his duties.

“Okay, then,” I say, blowing out a long, nervous breath.

Kane smiles and turns again, leading me towards a utilitarian looking door, guarded by two men. They both resemble Kane. Huge and intimidating.

I’m expecting them to stop us, but they don’t. They actually don’t even move. As we near, I hear a faint click. Then, on silent hinges, the door opens. It’s just like the one leading down to our basement offices under the Castle.

We smoothly enter, followed closely by the door. It softly clicks back into place behind us, the only noise in the quaint, mostly unfurnished room. It’s no bigger than your average living room, but knowing the CIA, there’s more than meets the eye here.

It’s proved when the rear wall opens, allowing a man access. It quickly closes behind him, meshing perfectly back into the hidden entrance it was before. He’s around my height and build but carries himself like Kane, the former soldier. His face is hardened, specifically his clenched square jaw. But his eyes are the most intense thing. They just stare me down, reading every little clue I can give him.

He’s literally reading me like a book and I haven’t said a word… Damn spies.

“Sir,” Kane says with a nod as his boss sits.

“Have a seat.”

Following Kane’s lead, I circle around a set of simple leather chairs and sit in one of them, trying not to look too uncomfortable in my freshly tailored suit. I hate these things, but Kane thought it would be a good idea.

“The suit doesn’t fit you, Mr. Boyd. Makes you look uncomfortable. You look like more of a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy.”

This guy’s good.

“It is,” I say, pulling at the collar. “I haven’t worn one of these outside of a wedding or a funeral in years.”

It actually gets a slight grin out of the man.

“We all do what we must to look the part, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree with you.”

This gets a smile out of me.

“Let me introduce myself, Mr. Boyd. My name is Henry Jamison Rollins, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.”

“Henry?” I ask without thought.

“Those that know me better…call me Hank.”

This time, we both smile.

“But that’s where our similarities end.”

I frown as his face hardens again.

“…until recently.”

I perk up a little.

“I have more important matters to attend to these days than digging up lost relics, but from the reports Agent Kane here has sent me, I find his stories and your abilities…intriguing.”

Intriguing?

“Make no mistake about one thing, Mr. Boyd, I love this country and I will do anything to protect it, even if it’s as farfetched as it sounds.” He sits forward, digging those nerve-wracking eyes into me further. “Are you completely under control?”

“Yes,” I say quickly. “I am.”

It’s the truth too. I haven’t been able to call upon the fires of An’tala since the fight in Babel’s
otherworldly
Citadel. I’ve tried several times actually. Apparently, I really did use them up when I burned out the interior of Enki’s spacecraft, destroying the pure orichalcum stone within it. We suspect there might be some traces of it left, hiding deep in my DNA, but haven’t been able to detect any yet.

Then again, I thought it was gone after Algeria too…

“What of the woman, Terra?” he asks.

I shrug. “No idea. She vanished after we blew a hole in the desert floor to escape. Once we realized she was missing it was too late.”

He shifts, uncomfortable knowing that someone like Terra is now free to roam. I do my best to squelch his anxiety.

“I wouldn’t fear her.”

“Why do you say that?” he asks.

“Terra wasn’t like the others, sir,” Kane says, helping me out. “She opposed what they did, only following orders for fear of her own life. I agree with Hank. She isn’t a threat.”

“She may end up being a valuable ally in the near future,” I say, thinking about the treasure trove of knowledge floating around in her head. She has literally seen
everything
. She even went as far as warning me about a place in the mountains of Asia.

Davey actually set the charges and once we broke through, Terra pulled me off to one side to talk. I just figured she wanted to ask me questions about being mortal.

Nope…not even close.

“Listen to me very carefully, Hank,” she said, her tone serious. “Beware of those that call the
Immortal Mountain
home. They are even worse than the Judges. Do not go there.”

“Wait—what?” I ask.

“Not everyone that fled An’tala died, Hank. Some still exist. Please trust me and do not go there.”

Then, she’s gone, stepping back into the shadows of Eridu, and without a flashlight of my own, I have no hope of finding her. Her cryptic message left me stunned. More survivors of An’tala are out there. How many more?

The Immortal Mountain?

I’ve looked into it a little more since and I have my suspicions about what it is, but that’s all it is right now—hearsay. But if she’s right…

After a moment, Rollins speaks up again.

“What about you, Mr. Boyd? Should I fear divulging any lucrative information to you in the future?”

Huh?

“Um, no,” I say, not understanding the meaning of the question.

“Do you believe the threat against us is over?” he asks.

I glance over to Kane and see him looking at me. It’s the same question he asked me outside in the hall.

I turn back to the director. “I wouldn’t be sitting here unless you yourself believed it was. And I wouldn’t have my ass firmly planted in this seat if I thought the same.”

His chin tilts up in thought as he closes his eyes, blinking hard, lost in thought. It’s the only indication he gives me that he’s actually taking what I have to say seriously. He breathes in and calmly exhales.

“Very well, Mr. Boyd.” He turns to Kane. “It’s a go.”

Kane nods and stands, motioning for me to follow.

“Wait, Director Rollins, I—”

“Agent Kane here will continue to be your direct liaison to me until I deem otherwise.”

“Yes sir,” Kane says, turning back towards the door.

“Hang on!” I say a little too loud. Kane spins on me, but it’s the director that speaks up.

“We all have our ways of fighting the evils of the world, Mr. Boyd. For now, you are in my white zone and the enemy is in my black zone—or as Agent Kane so eloquently puts it, his
shit list.
It would behoove you to trust those closest to you. Friends, Mr. Boyd, are truly a rare thing for men like us. Take Agent Kane’s advice wisely and walk away.”

His eyes pour into me again, making my skin crawl.

“Come on, Hank.”

Kane pulls on my arm, but I jerk away and approach the CIA boss. Rollins stops and faces me, but doesn’t react. I do the only thing I can think of…and hold out my hand.

“Thank you.”

Rollins’ eyes widen slightly as he takes my hand.

“From what Jeremy tells me, you’re one of the rare good guys left in this world.” He nods his chin to Kane. “He’d be the other.”

He lets go and turns away.

“And you, sir,” I say.

Rollins just looks over his shoulder, barely looking at me.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know not to fully judge someone until they give you a reason to do so. First impressions are sometimes overrated until you get to know someone better.” I pause, thinking of Dad. “My father taught me that. I think it correctly applies to you.”

The older man just simply nods and leaves, pushing through the rear wall-door. I turn and face Kane who looks to be in shock.

“What?” I ask.

“No one has ever talked to him like that. He’s normally such a hard ass. He’s respected, but not necessarily liked.”

I shrug. “Has anyone actually sat and talked to him like he was human and not just a scary suit?”

Kane doesn’t answer.

I continue, “The coin flips both ways. He’ll treat you with the same cold calculation as you do him.”

Kane shakes off the awkward quiet. “You ready?”

“For what?” I ask, growing frustrated. “Look, man, I’m really over this secret spy crap.”

He grins. “Me too, buddy… Me too.”

Somewhere

“Where are we going?” I ask, agitated by the secretive thirty-minute car ride. We’ve ridden in silence since leaving CIA headquarters. It’s only Kane and me and we just turned off into an unincorporated, backwoodsie section of Virginia a few miles ago. We’re now seemingly lost in the woods, traveling over a weathered dirt road. The only reason we aren’t bouncing around like crazy people in a padded room is because of the vehicle we’re in…another of Kane’s signature blacked-out Jeeps.

“Keep your panties on,” he says, pointing. “We’re here.”

We turn a corner and are met by a guard shack of sorts. It’s not until someone steps out from the rundown looking shack that I see it
is
an actual guard shack.

In the middle of nowhere?

Just like the door to Director Rollins’ office, we coast through quickly, opening gate unperturbed, and head towards a massive, but really crappy looking barn. It could even be some type of abandoned warehouse maybe. But why out here?

What the hell is going on?

As soon as our wheels enter the compound the tires find smooth traction on a hidden roadway. I glance out the window and see a layer of leaves and dirt
hiding
pavement.

More secrets.

We pass through the open area with ease and park in front of
Farmer Fran’s Butcher Barn
, opening our doors in unison. I look around the space and bring up my night vision, instantly greeted by numerous bodies. They aren’t close to me, but they’re there.

And they’re alive.

Men stand at attention, surrounding the now obvious military installation, some on twenty-foot sentry towers, others walking the grounds with German Shepherds.

“Let’s go,” Kane says, heading towards a rusted outside door.

I follow unable to form a proper question. So, like the director advised, I’m trusting my friend not to get me killed. He holds up a keycard similar to the ones we use in D.C. and the door swings open as silently as the one in Langley.

Not so rusted after all…

He steps aside and motions for me to enter first.

“Better not be a super-early surprise birthday party or anything,” I say with growing uncertainty.

“You’ll see,” he says, trying to hold back any emotion, good or bad.

Adhering to his request, I enter the dark space. There’s nothing within my field of view either. I’m about to activate my night vision again, but instead, get startled by Kane as the door shuts behind us. It’s completely black now—no lights at all. No windows either.

“ENVY…lights.”

The ultramodern space blooms to life, revealing its true nature. It’s a library, lab, and training facility all in one. There’s even an upstairs loft area with a series of doors.
Bedrooms?
There’s even an odd symbol painted on the wall of the hangar as well. It shows two hands holding the world.

He’s been busy.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Home,” he simply says.

“Home?”

“Yes, home.”

I turn, finding the owner of the other, more tantalizing voice.

“Nicole?” I’m shocked to see her here.

“Not just
Xena
either,” Olivia says, stepping out from behind Nicole’s taller form. Todd is next, followed by Ben and the soldier from Iraq, Davey. The latter is dressed like the others outside. Apparently, he’s here for security purposes, but Kane obviously trusts his input enough to include him in this conversation after what they went through together in the Kur.

Ben actually limps out with the help of a cane, reminding everyone that not all of us came out of this last fight unscathed. Doctors think there’s a slight chance he could fully recover and lose the walking stick. He’ll need to go through the motions and agree on some less-than-smiled-upon therapies, but for now, he’s content with being alive.

“Welcome to
Atlas
, Hank.”

I turn back to Kane. He’s holding a small wooden box. What’s in it… I have no idea.

“You can thank Todd and Olivia for laying the ground work. They’ve been busy while you and Nicole were on hiatus.”

By
hiatus
Kane means vacation.
If you want to call it that.
What it really ended up being was a two-week jaunt around the globe, tying up loose ends. The two of us started in D.C. and eventually hit Mexico, Algeria, and finally Kuwait. Our frequent flyer miles have probably blown through their limit or something by now. But it was worth it. I got to do something I thought I never would.

You guessed it… Underneath the entry shaft in Algeria, a thousand feet underground, I asked the love of my life to become Mrs. Hank Boyd. And before you ask, she said, “yes.” Sappy, I know, but I figured the setting would be perfect since it’s where it all started—minus the Special Forces soldier’s corpses, of course.

I blink out of the memory of me sliding the ring onto Nicole’s finger and turn to our tech guru and tattooed geneticist.

“But you can thank Kane for getting the ball rolling,” Todd adds. “I don’t think Director Rollins would have given it a go without his input.”

Everyone really has been busy beavers.

“Atlas…” I say, remembering the strain of holding up the sky when fighting Susanoo in South Beach. The weight of the world literally felt like it sat on my shoulders. I again look around and see my friends and trusted team. I smile at the sight. Unlike the Titan, I wasn’t bearing the weight alone after all.

I look back up to the logo painted on the wall above the lab.

“Why Atlas?”

“Because,” Ben says, speaking up, “he was sentenced to an eternity of suffering. We all feel that way sometimes, but you especially.” I agree, but— “You are not like him, however.” He holds out his hands, leaning on his good leg. “We are not like him.”

“We accept that torment,” Kane says, stepping in. “We choose that responsibility and whatever ramifications come with it.”

“As do you,” Nicole says, stepping up next to me. She has an ID badge on with her picture and name, along with the logo of the two hands holding up the world. In fact, they’re all wearing them.

“So we’re in the business of holding up the sky—supporting the world?” I ask unsure.

“Saving it,” Kane says, his eyes serious.

“We’re all in this together, Hank,” Nicole says, interlacing her fingers in mine. “It’s not just you who carries this burden. We’re a team. We share it.”

They all nod in agreement.

“What’s in the box?” I ask, pointing at the beautifully stained object still resting in Kane’s hands.

“It’s for you,” he says, holding it out.

I take it with a little hesitation, but once it’s in my grasp, I quickly open it. My hands shake at what’s inside. It’s a duplicate ID badge. It’s the same as the ones they’re wearing except it has a title above my name.

“Director?” I ask in shock.

Kane nods. “This is your show, Hank—always has been. We,” he motions to everyone, “are your supporting cast. We’ll follow you to hell and back.”

“It may come to that,” I say, looking at everyone. They again nod their allegiance to Atlas…and to me.

“So be it,” Nicole says, squeezing my hand harder. I can feel her engagement ring dig into my hand a little, but pay it no attention. It’s just nice feeling it there.

I breathe hard and focus my thoughts.

“Hank.”

I look back up to Kane and away from my badge. His hand is outstretched, awaiting confirmation that I’m in.

A kiss on the cheek from Nicole ends my internal debate. I clasp Kane’s large hand and smile. “I’m in.”

He squeezes and grins. “Well, Hank Boyd, Director of Atlas… Welcome to the CIA.”