The Golden Crystal Read Online Free Page B

either.
    He got closer. The sedan was almost completely crushed — obliterated, really. He wouldn’t have been able to even recognize that the thing used to be a vehicle if not for the tires — one was smashed, but still connected to the axle, and another could be seen resting on its side about a hundred paces off. He looked up, knowing that the stretch of road he was on climbed up and around this mountain. These highways in and out of White Rock and the surrounding area often had switchbacks and tight turns, and someone must have driven their car off the road, landing on this lower section of road.
     There was a blackened wall of rock to the car’s left, and a small crater beneath it, spreading and cracking onto the two-lane highway. Bits and pieces of charred vehicle and metal components were strewn outward around the wreckage. The whole mess was steaming and smoking, and he could hear hisses and pops every few seconds. 
    Cole kept his eyes forward as he neared the wreck. He slowed to a quick walk and eyed the car carefully, looking for survivors. The smoke stung his eyes, and the heat of the dying fire was still intense. The acrid smell assaulted his nose and mouth. 
    “Hello?” he called out. There was no response — he knew no one could have survived such a crash — but still, something about the situation wasn’t right. 
    He crouched down, trying to peer through the smoke and twisted metal into the car’s interior. Straining to see through the smoke and hot air, he tried to discern any signs of life from within the vehicle. Seeing none, he bent down closer to the ground.
    The crunching of heavy boots on gravel sounded behind him. The hairs on the back of Cole’s neck stood up, and he scrambled backwards, away from the wreckage. 
    “Stand up. Place your hands on your head and step back away from the vehicle.” The voice was deep and menacing, with a gravelly strain that suggested its owner preferred not to speak unless absolutely necessary.  
    Shit, Cole thought. The cops are here, and I’m the only one around. He placed his hands on his head, and turned slowly to his left — 
    “Do not move! Do not turn around.” The bellowed command seemed very out of place for a police officer at a crash scene in the middle of the desert.  
    Cole tensed, then continued to back up. After several paces he stopped and hesitated, awaiting further instructions. Who does this guy think he is?
    “Here.” There was a metallic clang and a thud. Cole looked at the ground to his right, seeing a crude set of shackles. “Put them on, then turn around.” 
    Cole’s heart was pounding. He had no desire to put on handcuffs and place himself at the mercy of some stranger — who wasn’t acting much like a cop at all. What if this was just some wacko looking to rob him, armed with nothing but rusty shackles and a scary voice? 
    Cole decided he’d take his chances. He spun around to his left. 
    …Straight into a crushing blow, square on his cheekbone. Stars flashed inside his head. His eyes blurred, and he dropped to one knee. The pain was unbelievable — he had been hit before, in schoolyard fights mostly, but this was something else, like getting hit by a truck. 
    Cole got up, wiping his eyes with his wrist. Struggling to clear his vision, he looked up into the face of a behemoth; a broad-shouldered man with a slightly hunched back, dressed in military fatigues and holding an assault rifle loosely in his massive hands. 
    “Get up, boy, and hurry.” Cole realized the man spoke with an accent, but he couldn’t quite place it. Russia? Eastern European?
    Then, as his eyes finally re-focused, Cole saw the other three men. 

9:20 AM 
    AGENT VLADIMIR Beka watched the young man standing next to the wreckage, his back to the soldiers, and he could almost hear him assessing the situation. He was nothing special — average build, neither fat nor skinny. Vladimir wondered if he was scared, and he smiled inwardly at the