The Mongol Objective Read Online Free PDF Page A

her secretly tingled at the thought of another encounter, far more personal and direct, with Caleb.
    Revenge just might be better the second time.
    #
    The visions flew at him like a desperate flock of ravens, plucking at his mind’s eye, showing him . . .
    . . . the lighthouse on the cliff, and the main home, where Robert and the red-haired man approached the front entrance . . . the icy landscape above, sprinkled with stardust on the fresh snow, where the research station burned, churning fiery smoke into the sky . . . a Sno-Cat, racing from the wreckage on huge rolling treads . . . Phoebe’s face, behind the Plexiglass. Orlando Natch, unconscious in the back. . . .
    In the dark, using the only muscles he could still control, he smiled. Come on sis, don’t be too long . He saw her . . .
    . . . on the CB, making a distress call to Fort Erickson . . . a research installation bursting with activity, men racing to Sno-Cats and snowmobiles, hooking up digging equipment and ice-breakers. . . .
    And then, as if satisfied with what they had shown him so far, the visionary black birds pecked away with renewed vigor, excited at having undivided access to his exposed senses. Look this way , they cried, and he saw his son, Alexander . . .
    . . . standing outside the silver vault door, hands pressed against the reflective surface, while in the square window that mane of curly red hair, those familiar blue eyes, trapped inside, yet exuding triumph. . . .
    Caleb pushed his memory, recalling a hotel room years ago, in Alexandria, and those eyes peering at him from a crack in the door. Who . . .?
    And then he saw new visions of . . .
    . . . sprawling scenes of an arid landscape, with ruined pillars over an archaeological dig site on a hill; and then a scene of a medieval castle basking in the sun, before . . . again, the view of a giant green-hued metal head, a crown of spiked rays, those regal eyes . . . a huge underground cavern lit by sickly yellow light, and a host of cold, dead eye sockets set below helmets . . . an army waiting patiently in the darkness, brandishing spears, swords, bows, protecting something beyond immeasurable walls . . .
    Caleb moaned—a sound he barely heard, his spirit soaring now, glimpsing simultaneously . . .
    . . . Phoebe’s Sno-Cat, followed by the armada of rescue vehicles, arriving at the collapsed site . . . the Sodus Lighthouse, hurtling now down the basement stairs, through the underground passage to the vault door, over Alexander’s shoulder, through the door, inside, where that man, that familiar man kneels cross-legged, holding the artifact, the greenish-blue aura dancing from the Emerald Tablet.
    His face is bathed in its kaleidoscopic hues, and he suddenly looks up, cocks his head, and his eyes lock on, staring straight into the vision’s point of view. He smiles . . .
    . . . and Caleb rocked back into his body, screaming. That face! It was the person he had seen through the door in Alexandria. The Morpheus Initiative member who’d had a premonition of disaster under the Pharos and had stayed behind, had warned Caleb.
    “Xavier!” he shouted, his lungs burning. “Xavier Montross!”
     
    4.
    Lydia Gregory-Crowe didn’t see them coming.
    One minute she had been sipping her cup of steaming Armenian coffee, the next, two armed men in black ski masks had guns to her head. She tried to call out to warn Alexander, but remembered he was back at the lighthouse, most likely prowling in its basement, playing make-believe or whatever he did down there.
    Seconds later, she was led out onto the front lawn to meet the last two people coming out of a black jeep. A red-haired man with brilliant blue eyes stood first, glanced at her, smiled, then looked down to the lighthouse. Lydia started to pull herself free, struggling until she saw the next person emerge from the passenger side of the jeep, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
    “Hello, Lydia. Sorry to drop in like this.”
    Her expression went from