Author: Clive Cussler
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/43615_9
In time the message would pass along the chain of command from England across the ocean on a secure line to the National Security Agency in Maryland, then on to the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia.
But there was a traitor inside Echelon, so the review went to more than one location.
Inside the cave on Mount Forel, John Ackerman was living a fantasy life in his mind. He’d already pictured himself on the covers of most of the archaeology magazines; now he was formulating an acceptance speech for what, in his mind at least, was something akin to the Academy Awards of archaeology.
This find was huge, like the modern-day opening of a pyramid, like finding an untouched, perfectly preserved shipwreck. Magazine articles, books, television shows loomed. If Ackerman played his cards right, he could ride this find into a lifelong career. He could become the acknowledged grandmaster of archaeology, the man the media always called for comment. He could become a celebrity—and nowadays that was a career in and of itself. With just a little manipulation, the name John Ackerman would be synonymous with great discovery.
Then his computer chirped to report an incoming message.
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
The message was succinct.
Don’t tell anyone yet. We need more proof before the announcement. I’m sending a man up there to check it out. He will arrive in a day or two. Just continue documenting the find. Super work, John. But mum’s the word.
At first reading Ackerman was irritated by the message. Then he reflected and was able to convince himself that his benefactor was probably taking the time to build a media storm for the find. Maybe he was planning to give one of the major networks an exclusive and needed time to set up the interview. Maybe he was planning a simultaneous blitz of magazines, newspapers and television.
Soon Ackerman was awash with these thoughts and his ego started to run wild.
The larger the shower of publicity, the greater his future fame.
For Ackerman, ego tinged with self-aggrandizing would prove a deadly combination.
4
SOMETIMES IT IS better to be lucky than smart. High atop a hotel in a city known for risk takers, a middle-aged man named Halifax Hickman stared at the digital pictures on the computer and smiled. Reading a separate report he had printed out a few hours before, he did a few calculations on a pad of paper then stared at the images again. Unbelievable. The solution to his problem had arrived—and it had come with a tax write-off for the donation.
It was as if he had slid a quarter in a slot machine and hit a million-dollar jackpot.
Hickman started laughing—but it was not a laugh of happiness. The laugh was evil and came from a place without joy. Tinged in revenge and shaded by hatred, it rose from a recess deep in the man’s soul.
When the laugh had subsided, he reached for the telephone and dialed.
CLAY HUGHES LIVED in the mountains north of Missoula, Montana, in a cabin he’d built himself, on a plot of land 160 acres in size that he owned free and clear. A hot spring on his property provided heat for the cabin as well as for the series of greenhouses that supplied most of his food. Solar and wind energy provided electricity. Cellular and satellite telephone communications kept him in voice contact with the rest of the world. Hughes had a bank account in Missoula with a six-figure balance, an address at a pack-and-ship office to send and receive his mail, plus three passports, four social security numbers and driver’s licenses with different names and addresses.
Hughes liked his privacy—not uncommon among assassins who enjoy keeping low profiles.
“I have some work for you,” Hickman said.
“How much?” Hughes asked, cutting to the chase.
“Maybe five days, for fifty thousand dollars. And I supply the transportation.”
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“I take it someone is going to have a bad day,” Hughes said. “What else?”
“I’ll need an object delivered somewhere when it’s done,” Hickman told him.
“Does it help the cause?” Hughes asked.
“Yes.”
“Then the delivery will be free,” Hughes said magnanimously.
“My jet will be there in an hour,” Hickman said. “Dress warm.”
“I want gold,” Hughes said.
“Gold it is,” Hickman said as he disconnected.