The safehouse was a crumbling riad on the edge of Marrakesh's medina — a square courtyard hidden behind unmarked doors, vines creeping over faded tiles. By the time Marcus guided the Land Cruisers inside, dawn's first grey light touched the city walls.
Theo climbed out, still running on battle calm. Lara followed, stretching stiff shoulders; Sophie staggered out with her laptop bag like a soldier with a wounded comrade.
"Clear," Marcus said after a rapid sweep of alleys and rooftops. "No tails. Locals think we're ghost aid workers."
Theo nodded once and led them inside. The riad's central courtyard had been turned into a field HQ: maps on tables, gun cases and med kits stacked by the fountain, a portable server humming in one corner. Alexandra's reach extended even here — stocked, wired, ready.
Sophie collapsed into a chair, immediately plugging in. "Dumping all data I grabbed before the network iced me."
Theo set the Custos Mentis cross on the table. Everyone went silent for a beat, drawn to its strange, age-worn beauty.
Lara leaned close, eyes bright with scholar's hunger. "That's pre-Templar. Early Crusader or older. Script isn't Latin or Greek… looks proto-Coptic?"
Theo turned it gently in scarred hands. "My father called it a key. Said it belonged to the Guardians of the Mind — an order older than the Templars who swore to keep dangerous relics from those who'd twist belief."
Marcus frowned. "And the Veil wants to twist belief."
"Yes," Theo said quietly. "It's why they came to my house."
Sophie, eyes on her screens, whistled softly. "Whatever else, it's important. The drive I cracked is full of shipment ledgers — Nazi occult loot, Templar reliquaries, Crusader maps. Whoever runs this branch is building a master collection."
"Why Morocco?" Lara asked.
"Smuggling hub," Sophie said. "And politically easy to hide in. But bigger question—" She tapped keys; a map appeared showing Europe. "One shipment flagged for Königsberg. Date is next week."
Lara's eyes sharpened. "The Amber Room."
Theo nodded slowly. "If the Veil's moving on it, they're chasing Templar connections through Nazi thefts."
Marcus grunted. "Means our little raid only nicked their tail."
"Exactly," Theo said. "But now they know we exist."
Sophie's phone buzzed — encrypted alert. She looked up fast. "Problem. Net chatter just spiked. Someone's posted bounties on four Westerners matching us. Price is big and rising."
Marcus swore. "They've found the safehouse?"
"No," Sophie said, "but they know we're in Marrakesh. They're buying eyes."
Theo's calm didn't flicker. "Then we move."
Lara looked at him across the table. "We hit them hard last night. They'll come hard back."
"Let them," Theo said. "But not here."
Marcus already moving: "We've got two exfil options — old airfield north, or drive to the coast for a boat."
"Airfield," Theo said. "Faster."
Sophie kept typing. "I'll burn our trail."
Lara leaned back, half-smile sharp despite danger. "You really are a ghost duke."
Theo ignored the tease, checking weapons and loading mags with precise efficiency. "Gear up. We leave in twenty."
The team worked fast.
Marcus swept the riad's roof with binoculars, muttering into his throat mic: "Streets waking up. Vendors, taxis. No armed tails yet."
Theo packed with soldier's economy: rifle, pistol, spare mags, med kit, rope, smoke, flash. Lara mirrored him, her own rig stripped down to light armour under a desert jacket. Sophie packed drives and laptops into a hardened case and slung it across her back.
Twenty minutes later the Land Cruisers nosed out of the hidden courtyard and onto a narrow cobbled lane. Early morning Marrakesh was coming alive: shopkeepers rolling carts, the scent of bread and spice thick in cool air. It would have been beautiful if not for the weight of eyes.
Theo sat front passenger, scanning. "Marcus?"
"Clean so far," Marcus said, hands easy on the wheel.
Sophie, monitoring networks on a tablet, looked less relaxed. "Not clean digitally. Bounties got hits. Someone just pinged our license plates."
Theo: "Change of plan?"
Before Marcus could answer, Sophie's screen blared red. "Vehicle intercept — two vans coming fast from rear alleys. They're jamming local comms."
Marcus cursed and slammed the accelerator. The Land Cruiser leapt forward, tyres squealing on cobbles. Behind them an engine roared — then two black vans burst into view, accelerating hard.
"Contact rear!" Sophie yelled.
Theo twisted, saw masked men leaning out with suppressed rifles. "Go evasive!"
Marcus yanked the wheel, plunging them into a maze of alleys. Vendors shouted and scattered; crates shattered under tyres. Bullets stitched the walls where the car had been.
Lara leaned out a window and fired controlled bursts, forcing the nearest van to brake. "Two vehicles, at least six shooters each!"
Theo passed her a smoke canister. "Left alley, now!" She yanked the pin and tossed; a thick white cloud swallowed the pursuit for a heartbeat.
They shot out into a wider street. Market stalls flew apart; goats scattered bleating. Marcus kept the vehicle low and fast, taking corners that almost flipped them. Theo fired two quick shots back; one van swerved, clipping a fruit stand.
Sophie shouted over the chaos, "Local grid just lit up! They're hijacking traffic cams — these guys have serious support."
"Veil cell," Theo growled. "Marcus, next right!"
The Cruiser skidded into a lane barely wider than the mirrors. Theo leaned out, firing to shatter a pursuing van's windshield. It rammed a wall with a crunch of metal and shouts.
But the second van powered on, faster.
"Bridge ahead," Marcus barked. "Narrow — we can bottleneck them."
"Do it," Theo said.
They burst onto a small stone bridge over a drainage canal. Marcus swerved sideways, braked hard. Theo and Lara flung doors open in the same motion, using them as cover. The van screeched to a halt twenty yards back; masked gunmen spilled out.
Theo and Lara opened fire together — crisp, surgical shots. Marcus added the deep bark of his carbine. Two attackers dropped; the rest dived for cover.
Sophie stayed low but tossed a drone skyward; it zipped above and dropped a micro-flashbang. The street erupted in white light and thunder. Theo moved in that instant — three quick shots dropping the stunned men. Lara rolled from cover, finishing the last with a precise double tap.
Silence crashed back, broken only by distant shouts and the smell of cordite.
Marcus jumped back into the driver's seat. "Move before more show up!"
Theo climbed in last, slamming the door. "Go!"
The Cruiser roared off the bridge, van wreckage shrinking behind them. Sophie snatched her tablet and grinned grimly. "Traffic cams fried. Bought us two, maybe three minutes."
"Enough," Theo said.
Lara glanced at him, adrenaline bright in her eyes. "You're fun in a gunfight."
Theo gave the faintest smile. "Try to stay alive."
She laughed once, short and sharp, then faced forward.
The city closed in behind them as Marcus threaded the Land Cruiser through tight alleys toward the outskirts. Morning traffic thickened; donkey carts and mopeds swarmed unpredictably.
Sophie's fingers flew across her tablet. "They're throwing up more digital eyes — drones, hacked CCTV. Veil's pulling favours."
Theo scanned the mirrors. "Distance?"
"Two more vans, a bike squad cutting north to intercept," Sophie replied. "ETA three minutes if we stay on main roads."
Marcus grunted. "Then we don't." He yanked the wheel left, plunging them into a maze of side streets so narrow both mirrors scraped walls.
Lara braced, eyes alight with battle thrill. "I like this driver."
"Try not to distract him," Theo said, calm but focused as he leaned out to sweep each intersection before they shot through.
They burst suddenly into an open souk. Vendors scattered; carpets and spices flew. Theo fired twice at a quadcopter swooping down — it exploded into sparks. "Sophie?"
"I'm spoofing drone feeds but they've got too many. Need a hard reset."
"Do it," Theo said.
She tapped a sequence; every screen in her lap glitched. Outside, several chasing drones spun and crashed into walls. "That's my only EMP burst," she warned.
"Enough," Theo replied.
Marcus gunned the engine, bouncing them down an ancient stone stair to a back street. Behind, a Veil bike tried to follow, skidded and smashed into a fruit cart. Lara looked back and grinned. "That's one way to shop local."
They shot out onto a wider road that led toward the desert edge. Traffic thinned; sunlight broke fully over the city, painting everything gold and red.
Sophie glanced at her feed. "Airfield ahead, five minutes — but the Veil's calling in local police. Might not be official; might be their people in uniform."
Theo checked his mag, voice quiet but certain: "If they block the runway, we break through."
Lara's grin sharpened. "Now you're speaking my language."
Two kilometres from the airfield, a checkpoint appeared: three pickups bristling with rifles, men in mixed police and plain clothes. Marcus slowed just enough to assess.
"Not legit," he said. "Too fast, too sloppy."
Theo weighed the angles. "Punch through. Lara and I suppress."
"Copy," Marcus said.
As the Cruiser roared forward, rifles rose. Theo and Lara popped doors just wide enough to lean out, firing short, controlled bursts. The first pickup driver spun sideways; the truck skidded off the road. Lara's shots shattered another truck's windshield, sending men diving. Marcus rammed the third lightly enough to spin it aside but not flip the Cruiser.
They blew through the makeshift barrier, tyres screaming.
"Clear," Marcus said.
Sophie let out a shaky laugh. "Remind me to never complain about your driving again."
Theo checked the horizon: the flat strip of their airfield appeared, hangar doors already rolling open. The Blackwood jet waited on the tarmac, engines hot.
"Final sprint," Marcus said, pushing the Cruiser to its limit.
The sun was a red coin on the horizon when the private airstrip came into view — a single cracked runway and a squat hangar shimmering in heat. The Blackwood jet waited with stairs down and engines already whining.
"Almost there," Marcus muttered.
Sophie glanced at her feed and swore softly. "Not alone. One last group — two technicals with mounted guns closing from the west. They'll hit us before we load."
Theo's eyes never left the road. "We hold them long enough to get airborne."
Marcus swung the Cruiser onto the tarmac, brakes shrieking. Theo and Lara jumped out even before the wheels stopped, taking knee behind the vehicle. Marcus joined them; Sophie bolted up the jet stairs with her case, shouting back, "Thirty seconds to warm nav and systems!"
The technicals crested a dune, engines howling, mounted guns opening fire. Rounds chewed asphalt in angry sparks.
Theo dropped to prone, scoped and fired — three sharp cracks; one gunner toppled from his truck. Lara was already moving, fast and low, firing controlled bursts that made the second truck swerve. Marcus lobbed smoke and a flash — the trucks vanished in a cloud of grit and blinding light.
"Go!" Theo barked.
They sprinted for the jet. One truck pushed through smoke, gun chattering, but Marcus turned, braced, and fired a perfect three-round burst; the gunner folded and the truck skidded to a halt.
Theo was last up the stairs, covering with his rifle until the ground dropped away beneath the tires. The hatch slammed; the cabin filled with the deep roar of takeoff.
The Gulfstream hurtled down the strip, lifted into the pink dawn. Below, the two crippled trucks shrank to black dots in the desert.
For the first time since the kasbah alarm, the team let themselves breathe.
Marcus dropped into a seat, sweat streaking his face but grinning. "Smooth ride."
Sophie collapsed into her console, already scrubbing traces from every Moroccan net. "We're ghosts again."
Lara unbuckled and flopped opposite Theo, still grinning through exhaustion. "Not bad for a morning commute."
Theo said nothing at first, only reached into his pack and drew the Custos Mentis cross. It gleamed in the growing sunlight through the cabin window.
Sophie swiveled her screen toward him. "You're going to want to see this. In the files I pulled before they kicked me out — shipping logs tie directly to Königsberg. Nazi stash site. Something codenamed Sacrum Mens. Moving next week."
Lara straightened, eyes alight. "Amber Room. I knew it."
Theo turned the relic slowly in his hand, then looked at each of them. "The Veil wants something hidden there. Whatever killed my parents started with this cross — and ends in Königsberg."
Marcus leaned back, breathing out. "Europe, then."
"Europe," Theo confirmed. His voice was calm but carried a promise. "We take the hunt to them."
Lara tilted her head, watching him. "So the ghost duke's war really starts now."
He met her gaze — steel and quiet fire. "It started twenty years ago. Now it goes public."
The jet banked north, leaving Morocco and its burning secrets behind. Below, the desert shrank to gold and shadow while ahead the Mediterranean gleamed — and somewhere beyond it waited the ruins of Nazi treasure vaults, Templar whispers, and the next step in a battle that had become personal long ago.