“Hold on,” Aleman said. “She was supposedly buried in the Velabrum, between the Palatine and Capitoline hills in Rome. It was once a swampy area, but it’s now covered by the ruins of Foro Romano—the Roman Forum.”
“It fits,” King said. “His last hiding place had been beneath the Rock of Gibraltar, one of the two pillars of Hercules. If the Herculean Society is dedicated to protecting the historical Hercules, it would make sense to set up shop at his most prized locations, especially one housing the body of his one, and only, love in twenty-five hundred years.”
He opened his cell phone and dialed. A moment later he said, “Bring my ride around. Yes. Rome.” He hung up and dialed again, waiting for the other end to pick up. When it did, he got an answering machine. “It’s Jack. I’m on my way to Rome and I need your help. ETA fives hours. Thanks, George.”
No one knew Rome or Hercules better than George Pierce, the man whose inquiries made him a target of the Herculean Society’s cloaked thieves and, later, the mysterious wraiths. He wasn’t sure if Pierce would want to help, but knew he would. King made a mental note to tell Pierce about his mother not being dead and headed for the door as the roar of a two-seat F/A-18 Hornet filled the hangar bay, signifying the arrival of his ride.
“King,” Aleman said, stopping him in the doorway. “About the golems. If that’s what they are, and they are mindless, keep in mind that you’re not just up against dumb hulking rocks. Someone smart is behind this. And they have an agenda that is beyond us. Beyond Fiona.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said, but only made it one more step before Aleman stopped him again.
“I’m not sure you will, King. Not this time. Because the last three attacks happened on three different continents at the exact same time. Whoever is behind this is not alone, and has amazing resources.”
King looked back. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that Hercules may not have meant us to figure out where he was. And if you’re right, and find him beneath Rome, he might not be happy to see you.”
“I’m going to make damn sure he’s not happy. We might be named for chess pieces, but he’s done moving us on the game board.”
* * *
THE ROAR OF the F/A-18 hit him like a pressure wave as he left Decon and entered the hangar. He held an index finger up to the waiting pilot, who nodded in response as he brought the jet to a stop and killed the engines. King approached his parents, who had been sitting in metal folding chairs on the opposite side of the hangar. His mother looked worried as she sat with her hands over her ears. His father looked positively thrilled by the presence of the jet.
Peter held his hands out toward the jet and spoke to King. “You know, if this was a MiG I could fly you wherever you’re going myself.”