I always found it interesting that James Smithson, founding donor of the Smithsonian, died without any heirs. But his death wasn’t what was interesting, it was that he stated in his will that his estate be donated only if it was used to start an educational institute.

  The Castle was the first of the Smithsonian buildings constructed and was designed by James Renwick Jr. The American architect was also known for other majestic designs, including what would later be considered his finest work, St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City.

  We pull up in front of the Castle’s main entrance on Jefferson Drive and park but don’t get out. It’s early and traffic is light, so we still have a couple hours before the rest of D.C. wakes up. But still, Kane isn’t taking any chances. He looks back to Nicole, Olivia, and me, sitting in the back seat, Brooks sitting up front.

  “Okay, this is how it’s going to work,” he starts. “Brooks and I are going to lead the way, just in case, and you guys will bring up the rear.”

  Then Brooks turns around his cold stare like ice. “Watch our six and be careful. We don’t yet know if Frost or his people are here, but we need to operate as if they are. We can’t afford to take any chances.”

  We silently nod as the two men open their doors and climb out. They step up to the front door and stop, each man checking in different directions for signs of anything unusual.

  Seeing nothing, Kane motions for us to follow and we exit the SUV. As I get out of the rear driver side door, I look out over the Mall’s pristine lawn and breathe in, seeing the statue of Joseph Henry.

  Henry was the Smithsonian’s first secretary and an American scientist who invented the electromagnetic relay in 1835. The nine-foot bronze statue of him was dedicated in 1883 and has been there ever since, watching out over the Mall.

  “Hank?” A voice says from behind.

  I look back to the front entrance and see my team standing, waiting for me to accompany them.

  Nicole steps forward, hand out. “Come on.”

  It’s then I notice a familiar face waiting for us at the top of the stairs, just outside the front door. She’s been my dad’s secretary for the last ten-plus years, having been hired just before me. We kind of broke into the biz together.

  I climb the stairs and hug the woman hard.

  “Sophia, long time no see,” I say, letting her go. “How’s the family?”

  Sophia Lane, a woman in her early fifties, but could easily pass for ten years younger, smiles. “They’re good, Hank. Bob is set to retire next year, and the twins are off to college this fall.” She beams with pride. “It’s sure going to be a crazy year for the Lane household.”

  I step aside, presenting Nicole to Sophia for the first time. “This is Nicole. I believe you were on vacation the only other time she’s been here.”

  Nicole reaches out a hand, but the older woman instead envelops her in a warm embrace.

  “So happy to finally meet the woman responsible for my Hank’s happiness!” She lets go, inspecting my girlfriend with a nod. Then she lowers her voice a little, but not low enough to not be heard by everyone.

  “You know,” she says, glancing at me with a smirk. “Hank here talks about you twenty-four-seven. You’re all the boy ever talks about.”

  I can’t see it, but I blush instantly. She isn’t lying, though, either. I just seem to talk about Nicole a lot. She’s always a topic of conversation for me, especially with her selling her home in Sweden. I guess I’m just excited that she is moving here permanently.

  Nicole reacts with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so?” Then she smiles. “I hope he doesn’t swoon while he works. I’d hate for him to hurt himself because of me.”

  This gets a good laugh out of Sophia, which in turn tints my rosy cheeks even darker, adding to my embarrassment. It also receives a groan of protest out of Kane.

  “Alright, enough,” he says, a look of nausea on his face. “Could you please just take us to Dr. Boyd’s office before I shoot myself?”

  Sophia turns and motions for us to follow her, still laughing. She, indeed, is a wonderful woman and one I know Dad would have made a move on years ago. That is, of course, if she hadn’t been a happily married mother of two.

  She leads us inside and down a corridor before reaching a locked door, which leads to the administrative offices in the building’s basement. Sophia swipes a keycard and enters, holding it open for the rest of us.

  Dad recently had a lot of the rooms underground retrofitted and made into offices for myself and for some of the other people working here. They were renovated explicitly for those who were aiding us in our search for anything pertaining to Atlantis. No one knew that we had found its locations, just that Dad had a hunch and wanted it looked into.

  I enter last and nod my thanks, walking beside her as she gives the rest of the group a few tidbits about the Castle’s construction and what not. We enter a less than stellar, but still well-maintained section, and come upon a closed door.

  She’s about to swipe her card on what I know is my father’s office, but I stop her. “Hang on Sophia,” I say, stepping up, pulling out an identical card. “Dad had a new one made for me before I left and I haven’t been able to try it yet.”

  She smiles and steps aside, moving behind me to Nicole.

  “Oh, and by the way,” I say, sliding my card through the door’s reader, interrupting the two women. An audible click signifies that my new card has indeed worked. “Have you seen anything suspicious?”

  “Now that you mention it…” She says as I grip the doorknob, turning it. I swing the door open and get a peek inside. Dad is behind his desk sitting in his worn leather chair, and Ben is seated in front of him along with a third man, a man with a horribly scarred face.

  Who’s that? I think.

  “…Mr. Kane’s people sent someone ahead of you.”

  But before I can verbally question the identity of the stranger, he whips a gun around at me and fires.

  34

  The Smithsonian Castle

  Washington D.C., USA

  Multiple shots ring out as I dive to the side, having seen the attack coming a split second before it did. Sophia however, blocked by my body, didn’t see it and takes two of the three rounds fired, square in the chest. The third bullet harmlessly strikes the wall behind her, sounding like a hammer pounding in a nail.

  I glance up to see her slam into the adjacent wall, staying upright on her feet. In shock, she looks down at her bleeding chest and then to me. A look of confusion is stitched across her face, followed by one of recognition as she realizes what just happened. Then, as if gravity itself triples in strength, she’s pulled down by an invisible force, leaving a streak of red on the wall.

  Clutching her chest with both hands, she comes to a stop at eye level with me and smiles. She blinks twice and then stares straight through me. Dead.

  “No!” A scream rips through the corridor, originating from the office… Dad’s voice.

  I can hear a commotion going on around me and can sense a flurry of motion just outside the office door. But I don’t care. All I can do is stare.

  Sophia Lane, the closest thing I have to family outside of my father, is dead, shot by the man who on more than a couple occasions has tried to kill me and those I care for.

  Frost.

  I stand, draw my gun, turning towards the open door. I calmly stroll up to the doorway, passing right through it like it was just another day, and raise my Glock. My laser sight, a toy I added, blinks to life and appears on the forehead of the man who has caused my family so much pain and anguish over these last few months.

  “John Frost,” I coolly say.

  The other man just smiles a sickly grin and replies, “Hank Boyd. We finally meet and under such a precarious circumstance.”

  It’s then I look down and see his gun to my father’s temple, finger on the trigger, ready to blow his brains across the room. I slightly balk at the sight, but don’t lower my gun. Kane and Brooks step into the room around me, their weapons drawn as well.

  “Dammit, Frost!” Kane shouts, glancing back to Sophia’s body. Nicole and Olivia are crouched next to the dead woman, unsuccessfully checking for a pulse. “What the hell is the matter with you, you psycho!”

  Brooks stays as silent as ever, gun steady, finger slowly tightening on the trigger. But before he can squeeze off a shot, I intervene. “Brooks, stand down. Not until my father is clear.”

  If the man hears me, I have no hint, except when I see the pressure on his index finger lessen. But his aim, like mine and Kane’s, never wavers, neither does the steel in his voice.

  “Put the gun down, John,” he says through gritted teeth. “There is only one way out of here alive for you and that only happens if you drop your weapon. If you pull that trigger, you will die.”

  I take the standoff as an opportunity to scan the room. Ben, thank God, is alive and huddled behind the chair he was just occupying.

  “Ben,” I say, causing the man to flinch. “Leave.”

  As he stands, still gripped by fear, I turn my attention back to Frost. He doesn’t so much as give Ben a second look as the Israeli historian slides out of the room and around the corner. Once, safely out of harm’s way, I hear him audibly gasp for air and collapse on the ground.

  “Why her?” I ask Frost, motioning to Sophia. “She had nothing to do with this.”

  Frost shrugs his shoulders. “I was aiming for you as you opened the door. I guess you shouldn’t have jumped out of the way. She’d still be alive if you had just been a good boy and died.”

  I tighten my finger around the trigger of my Glock at his callousness. This was a delightful woman, not a piece of furniture.

  “Dad, you okay?” I ask, looking down to him for the first time. Tears are streaking down his face as he stares out at Sophia’s body. His eyes flick to mine and then back to his secretary and friend.

  “Well boys,” Frost says. “It’s been fun, but I really do need to go. I wasn’t exactly expecting this type of showing, especially that of Mr. Brooks.” He smiles, looking at the man. “How are you these days, J.R.?”

  “Peachy,” Brooks says, his finger tightening on the trigger once more.

  “Ah, Ah, Ah, Brooksie,” Frost says, mockingly warning the Ranger. “You wouldn’t want my finger to slip and redecorate the walls of this office, would you?”

  Thankfully, Brooks does indeed stand down, relenting the death grip he has on my other gun’s trigger. The only thing that doesn’t concede is the seething rage building within the man. If this guy’s top actually pops, he might even make Mt. Kane look like a crappy science fair volcano.

  Frost then reaches down and grabs Dad’s shirt collar, forcing him to stand. Dad, still half in outer space, doesn’t fight him. He willingly rises and allows the killer to guide him towards the door.

  Reluctant to take the risk and open fire on the man holding my father hostage, Kane, Brooks, and I watch as Frost slips out through the door, never giving us a clean shot.

  He’s met by twin gun barrels as Nicole and Olivia get a bead on him, but they also see the situation and don’t pull the trigger.

  We exit the office a second later, guns up, and watch Frost back down the hallway towards the stairs, hand still clutching Dad’s shirt. When his heel hits the first step, he pauses and looks around Dad’s head to the five of us, or more specifically Brooks.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, smoothly. “I bid you ado.” He then smiles and snorts a laugh. “J.R., would you be so kind…”

  My heart stops when Brooks steps forward and turns his weapon on us. “Sorry, guys, but he offered me a shit ton of money, and I couldn’t say no.” Then, he glances to me. “Nothing personal.”

  “J.R.?” Kane asks, dumbfounded at the turn of events.

  He shrugs and simply says, “Sorry, Jeremy.”

  Brooks, the former friend, and teammate of Kane strides towards Frost, briefcase in hand and continues past him up the stairs. When he reaches the door, he turns and calmly says, “John, you ’bout done?”

  Frost, now half-dragging Dad up the stairs, stops and smiles at me. “Hank, J.R. may not be doing this for any type of personal vendetta, but I am.”

  Then, as Frost shoves Dad forward down the steep steps, he levels the gun at my father’s back and pulls the trigger.

  A blood-curdling scream erupts from my mouth as a spray of blood exits Dad’s chest. Frost’s bullet, fired at point-blank range, tears through his body and sends him falling like a puppet with its strings cut. Dad lands face first and slides down the last remaining steps. He comes to a rest with his lower half still on the incline and his face and chest on the ground.

  I run to his aid and am met with gunshots as Brooks and Frost try to deter me from following. A volley of return fire erupts from behind me as the more substantial force of Kane and the two ladies fire back, sending the two killers diving out the door above.

  I reach my father and carefully flip him over, as my friends come to my aid. Dad slips in and out of consciousness, not being able to choke out a word. It’s only then when Nicole and Ben slide into view that he grits his teeth with determination and speaks.

  “Hank?”

  “I’m here,” I say through sobs, understanding the use of my preferred name. The only other time he had recently used it was in Algeria during another life-or-death situation.

  Death…

  “I’m dying, Hank,” he says, wincing at the effort.

  “No, you’ll be fine—”

  “Not from this, son.”

  Ben grips my shoulder. “Hank, he has colon cancer. He just found out last week. The doctors only gave him a few more months.”

  “But…I don’t understand—”

  “I…was going to tell you…when you got home from…the Yucatan,” Dad says, breathing heavily. The bullet must have punctured a lung. “I…” He continues, “I didn’t want you…to worry.”

  He then calmly turns to Nicole and smiles. “He loves you. You know that, right?”

  She nods, tears flowing freely as she does so. “I know,” she says, softly.

  “Take care of our boy.”

  I watch as his eyes start to close, but he jerks back awake and smiles. “Dad…” I say, crying. “Please don’t…”

  But he doesn’t answer. He just lies there, eyes staring up at the ceiling above. My dad is dead, and the men responsible are on the loose. I try to get up and pursue those that have wronged me in the worst way possible, but I can’t. My legs won’t work. So instead of avenging my father, I just clutch his lifeless body and weep.

  “Kane,” I hear Nicole say through tears. “Don’t show them any mercy. If you find them, you kill them, understand?”

  It’s then I look up and see Kane nod, never taking his eyes off the door above. He moves off, Desert Eagle drawn and marches up the stairs, two at a time.

  “Wait!” I yell, trying to stand.

  “Hank, no,” Nicole says, trying to keep me in place. But she relents when she sees the cold, calculated look on my face. It must look frightening—the combined emotions I’m giving off. One of mourning and one of vengeance.

  I stand and look down to my father’s body and sniff back another round of tears. I glance to Olivia who is huddled against the wall covering her face, sobbing. Then, I turn to Nicole and Ben, both of whom are crying as well. “Stay here with him…please.” They both nod as I turn and step towards Kane.

  He places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I give my thanks with a nod of my own. “Find Brooks and get that briefcase back,” I say, inspecting my Glock. “Frost is mine.”

  35

  The Smithsonian Castle

  Washington D.C., USA

  Bullets fly, and priceless exhibits are destroyed, as everyone who has a gun opens fire. Glass shatters as we pump lead into the Great Hall’s gallery just inside the front door. More than two sets of bullets return fire, making it evident that Frost did have some help on the grounds.

  Must have been out back in the Haupt Garden, around the south side of the building, I think. Then, I spin back around the corner of the small hallway leading to the offices below.

  Kane caught one of the men by surprise and put a .50 caliber round through two display cases, a feat my Glock’s smaller ammunition wouldn’t be able to achieve. He hit the merc square in the back, killing him. It’s what started the gunfight in the first place.

  In between volleys, we move out into the main hall and duck behind two separate displays, both large enough to hide our bodies from our attacker’s view…and their bullets.

  The hall’s immense size causes it to echo in the quiet calm of the morning hour, including the footfalls of our foes. This wouldn’t have been a problem a few months ago when Dad had tile floors put in, replacing the carpet from before.

  The thought of Dad paralyzes me and a tightness in my chest crushes the air from my lungs. Dammit, I think, understanding the signs of a panic attack coming. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, in and out, trying to ward off the incoming tidal wave.

  After a half-dozen or so heavy inhalations, my thoughts clear and I chance a glance behind me. I edge out around the corner of my hiding place and see a black-clad figure trying to move up closer to our positions.

  I bring up my weapon and squeeze off two quick shots. The first one misses my target, hitting a support column, but the other finds its mark and strikes the man in the leg, dropping him to the floor with a shout of pain.

  Kane’s attention snaps off the battle and to me after the shots are fired. I point to our shoes and start to remove mine. He gets the idea and does the same, giving us both a much quieter footing and therefore an advantage. We’ll just need to avoid the broken glass of the display cases as we move forward through the first floor.

  Another squeak of boots on the freshly polished floor alerts us to the advancement of two more people. This time, both of us pop up to our feet, aim, and harmoniously pull our triggers, dropping each of the mercenaries where they stand.