Serpent's Tooth. James Axler
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to babysit me.”
“This is my fault?” Fargo asked, strapping on his gun belt.
“Absolutely,” Lakesh challenged with a grimace. “You are the one who literally stirred up a nest of snakes. And don’t think that we’re not aware that you just might be setting us up.”
“I’ve been threatened and bullied ever since your pale little bitch pointed her crossbow at me, Lakesh,” Fargo snarled. “This shit has positively grown ancient fast. Do you honestly think I’m so smug that I don’t realize your crew can kill me like a mouse in a trap?”
Lakesh’s cheek twitched at Fargo’s insult of Domi. His words came out in a controlled tone. “No one from the consortium has ever proved to be anything close to reliable or trustworthy, unless you specifically want a knife in the back. You cost them a lot in terms of your murdered expedition, so even if you’re not offering us to the consortium on a silver platter, they’ll be watching you.”
“And I’m not going to lie that I don’t expect them to make another go at the Nagah and their stockpiles,” Fargo told Lakesh. “But you checked me over. No transmitters, no hidden comms, no locator devices.”
“If Domi gets hurt, I will hold you personally responsible,” Lakesh warned.
“Understood,” Fargo answered.
Lakesh stepped forward and handed Fargo his confiscated revolver. “You’ll need something more if you expect to pull your weight.”
“I escaped the last time only because I carried a minimum of gear,” Fargo answered. “I don’t know about guys like Grant, but I don’t carry the kitchen sink with me.”
“I’m not a pack mule, either,” Lakesh noted. He looked conscientiously toward the Detonics .45 on his hip. Domi insisted that Lakesh carry the pistol, and she had spent hours familiarizing him with the powerful sidearm. As neither Domi nor Lakesh had large hands, the .45 was ideal, being slim despite its power.
“I just can’t see slogging all the way back to the Kashmir with bags of guns and grenades.” Fargo sighed.
“Who said that we were walking?” Lakesh inquired.
“Yes. The mat-trans system,” Fargo noted. “But would the facilities in the subcontinent be sufficient to get us close to the Nagah?”
“We have the means to travel…” Lakesh paused, debating whether to continue. He realized that he would not be able to disguise the interphaser’s improvements on mat-trans technology.
“Your new invention? The one that lets you pop in on ancient temples?” Fargo asked.
Lakesh winced. The millennialists had representatives present at the tomb of Huan Di, intermediaries between the ancient Chinese warlord and the Annunaki to recover his rejuvenating armor. Obviously, they had reported back about the interphaser. Fargo cut into Lakesh’s recollections with a new question. “How does it work? Magnetic fields?”
Lakesh maintained his silence.
“Come on, Lakesh. Who am I going to tell? And how could I even decipher the necessary mathematical formulae?” Fargo asked. “I’m a tomb digger, not a theoretical physicist.”
“No, but that won’t keep gun-toting thugs from trying to abscond with it,” Lakesh stated. “It’s been sought after before, and lives have been lost in the process.”
“Do I look like I can let them in on your secrets? Do I have some magic, invisible phone to call them with?” Fargo pressed. He pointed to the Commtact behind Lakesh’s ear. “Or a bionic transceiver, like you guys have?”
“No,” Lakesh returned. “We searched you carefully. Nothing popped up.”
“But you’re still worried about me,” Fargo said. “What kind of a trap could I put you all in?”
“I can think of twenty or thirty,” Lakesh noted. “And with all of those, I doubt any redundancy with the suspicions of my cohorts. Even without your friends in the consortium…”
“They are not my friends anymore,” Fargo interrupted through gritted teeth. “Not after I blew it in India.”
“Well, without them, you have the Nagah and whatever they have. Not to mention other interested parties who have access to technology that we can’t detect,” Lakesh said. “The Annunaki and other parties have demonstrated access to extrasensory means of communication.”
“Others?” Fargo inquired.
“There are records of dozens of species of hybrid beings represented in mythology. The Nagah are only one such breed,” Lakesh stated. “My compatriots and I have encountered others in our travels.”
“The creations of the Annunaki?” Fargo pressed.
“Precisely,” Lakesh answered.
“But what about Tiamat? That fireworks display must have taken care of them and whatever freak armies they had,” Fargo said.
“Marduk is alive,” Lakesh countered. “And he’s looking for the means to regain his old status as a god. We stopped him once, but we may not be lucky the next time. There are also his surviving brethren, time travelers, colonies of malcontents in suspended animation…”
“So why are you rushing off to India?” Fargo asked. “If you’re so certain that there are all these deadly threats out there…”
“I’d rather die trying than let those monsters go unopposed,” Lakesh answered.
“Oh, so you lot are suicidal. Then why worry about me?” Fargo asked.
“Shut your fool mouth,” Lakesh growled. “Suicide is the furthest thing from my mind. I hate risking the lives of my friends.”
“But you are definitely damned if you sit on your hands,” Fargo mused. “At least this way, you’ve got a snowball’s chance in a lava flow.”
Lakesh glared at the archaeologist for a long silent moment. Fargo squirmed under the harsh gaze, realizing that he’d pushed too hard.
“You say another word about failure, and I will personally strangle you to death.”
Lakesh left Fargo alone in the locker room.
THERE WAS A GRIM SILENCE when Fargo finally joined Kane, Lakesh and the others in the mat-trans chamber. Obviously, Lakesh had spoken of their conversation. Domi’s eyes had a particularly demonic aspect to them, the blood-colored jewels glaring at Fargo as if lit from behind by the fires of hell. The archaeologist winced, looking to the others, whose quiet demeanors held more than just impatience. He looked down to the floor of the chamber, spotting a small pyramid-shaped device.
“That’s the interphaser?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Yeah,” Grant spoke up. “Go ahead and pick it up.”
Fargo heard the unstated threat in the giant Magistrate’s words, and wisely kept his distance from the pyramid.
“Dumb enough to talk shit about me,” Domi spoke up. “Smart enough not to commit suicide…more or less.”
“Enough,” Kane interrupted. “We’ve got work to do. Brigid, fire her up.”
Brigid input the coordinates, and the mistlike appearance of plasma waves surrounded the six travelers and the interphaser.
Fargo winced as the mat-trans chamber blurred from view. As reality opened around them, Fargo felt a momentary jarring, as if he were unplugged from the Earth. The reality of the situation wasn’t much different from his initial perception. His body, and those of the others, were shunted through a wormhole and hurled across the planet at the speed of thought. The transit felt as if it lasted minutes for the millennialist, and when his senses returned to normal, he was in a darkened, cavernous temple.
He