The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (reading in the dark txt) 📗

The henchman stood once his job was complete. He waited for her to give him a command, just like a good soldier.

“Return to the car,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. He immediately exited the apartment, leaving her alone, surrounded by the acrid smell of gun smoke and blood.

She looked down at the two bodies. The scene was messy, but it didn’t matter. A clean scene would raise questions among the subjects, and the fewer questions the better. She laughed internally at the thought of the subjects. They called themselves civilians or citizens. Think what they might, they would never understand the truth.

She shook her head at Svoboda. “You had a free pass to life,” she drawled. “Shame you had to be so stupid. And for what?”

The woman shrugged and turned away. She would never understand Svoboda’s decision, or the rare few who made the same mistake. Emotional attachment was a fuse strapped to an explosive and sudden demise. She never let herself get sentimental. There was no room for nostalgia or codependence in her world. There was only the mission. And the time for the Milestone Protocol to be initiated was finally at hand.

2 Volgograd, Russia

The team of archaeologists looked up from the plastic picnic table as three SUVs skidded to a stop on the dusty trail that passed for a road.

The researchers had been working almost around the clock, only taking breaks for food and sleep, as they searched for evidence of the lost city of Sarai. Fatigue had worn on them, but they were on a mission, and their persistence had finally paid off.

They’d made a significant discovery the day before, and the joy and relief on every face still shone like the warm afternoon sun.

“Who is that?” one of the team asked. The man had a thick black beard and matching hair with a tanned, fleshy face.

“Not sure,” Susan said. A thin, shortish blonde, she’d been left in charge of the operation when the lead, Kevin Clark, went into town.

He’d taken their discovery to the university in Volgograd to be analyzed and had promised to return as soon as he knew something. They’d agreed he could also leave the artifact with the university's professors. The team had a working agreement with the university to house any of their discoveries there, if needed. They’d also worked out details to allow the university to conduct additional research with any artifacts the team recovered. After all, the dig was happening in Volgograd’s backyard, and while the ancient city of Sarai wasn’t necessarily Russian, the land was.

Kevin and Susan had to hope that the eccentric Russian president didn’t find out about any of it. For the time being, he had his eyes on other matters, not the least of which was the constant tension with other European nations and, occasionally, with the United States.

The American president, Gwen McCarthy, had made major strides in diplomatic relations with Russia, though it was unclear whether either side fully trusted one another. Public sentiment said no, but only time would reveal the truth.

For the moment, though, Kevin and the rest of his team didn’t concern themselves with international affairs, instead focusing all of their energy on tracking down what had been one of the world’s largest, most magnificent cities of the Middle Ages.

The week had been a thrilling one for every member of the team. The first signs of their discovery emerged on Monday, and by Wednesday, they had uncovered something unexpected and exciting.

The graves were unlike most they’d seen, and definitely not like anything used by the Golden Horde, the founders of Sarai.

Susan watched the doors to the SUVs open and several people in black tactical suits step out. One of them, a blond man with shiny aviator sunglasses, pointed in various directions and issued orders. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but from the looks of it, she didn’t like what was going on.

She moved away from the table and stalked over to the man as his team fanned out. There were a dozen of them, and they were all armed with submachine guns.

Susan didn’t know much about modern weapons—she’d spent most of her life in academia, studying history and cultures—but her expertise in ancient weaponry rivaled some of the top minds in the world. All she knew about the guns these people carried were that they looked like the kind she’d seen the military or SWAT teams use.

She stormed toward the man in charge as his team spread through the camp like wildfire. They started turning over crates, rifling through files on some of the workstation tables, and even entered the tents that served as private quarters for the members of the archaeology group.

“Excuse me,” Susan blared. It was all she could do to keep from yelling at the man. “What are you doing? This is a legal excavation site with permission from the Russian government.” The breeze whipped a loose strand of her blonde hair up past her ear, where it fluttered for a second before falling.

“The artifact,” the man said. “Where is it?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“We know you found something here. You must give it to me.” His accent wasn’t Russian. He towered a full eight inches or more over her. His broad, muscular shoulders trailed down to equally strong arms. The man was too lean to be a professional bodybuilder, but he clearly worked out frequently.

Susan frowned. She eyed the man suspiciously. “Who are you with? We have—”

“Yes, I know you have permission to be here. So do we. We’ve been instructed to extract the item. I’m not at liberty to tell you who I work for. Just know that their authority supersedes the Russian government.” The accent sounded vaguely Scandinavian, but she couldn’t distinguish which nation. She didn’t think him to be Finnish, but she’d only met a few people from Finland.

“Supersedes? Now, hold on one second,” she sneered. Her