Hunt at World's End by Gabriel Hunt

it around his arm.
    “Who were those people in the jungle?” Gabriel asked her.
    She squatted in the middle of the room and started pulling up one corner of the carpet. “They’re a cult, quite an old one. The Cult of Ulikummis,” she explained. “They’re mostly Georgian, Russian and Ukrainian by birth, but they’re spread out all over the world. Their presence here is actually a good sign. It means I’m close.”
    “There’s nothing good about those people,” Noboru said.
    “Ulikummis,” Gabriel said. “I’ve heard that name before.”
    “One of the gods of the Hittite Empire,” Joyce said. “Ulikummis was the enemy of the storm god Teshub.”
    Joyce folded the rug over, clearing a portion of the wooden floor beneath it. She started digging her fingernails into the floorboards. Noboru shot Gabriel a curious look.
    “When the Hittite Empire collapsed in 1160 B.C.,” Joyce continued, “most of their people stayed put in what is now Turkey, but some of the religious orders fled north into what became Russia. Over the years, they gave the appearance of assimilating into the local culture, but they kept the old religion alive in secret cults. Most of these cults are gone now—all but one, really. The Cult of Ulikummis was pretty ruthless and basically they slaughtered all the others. Thousands of people were killed, many of them in ritual sacrifices like the one they were planning for me. The only reason I’m still alive is that they were waiting for the full moon before performing the sacrifice.”
    “Why did they come after you in the first place?” Gabriel said.
    Joyce blew a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes. “They thought I had something that properly belongs to them.”
    “Do you?” Gabriel said.
    “If they didn’t find it.” She located the floorboard she’d been searching for and pried it free. She reached into the hole in the floor. “Ah.” Joyce straightened, pulling something wrapped in an oilcloth out of the hole. She stood, put the object down on top of the dresser and gently unwrapped it.
    In the folds of the oilcloth was a flat, circular object with intricate designs cut into its golden surface. It wasn’t a single solid piece but rather seemed to be made up of several concentric rings set one inside the next, with a protruding bit in the center, like a handle or a knob. The sharp, angular designs along the outer rimwere cuneiform symbols, Gabriel realized, and had been cut all the way through, like stencil letters—light shone through them from underneath. The bit in the center was shaped like a starburst, each of its three arms a different length and each tipped with a small jewel. Two of the gemstones were green, one red.
    “This,” she said, lifting it carefully out of its swaddling, “was known as the Star of Arnuwanda.” The gold glittered in the lamplight.
    SOA. The acronym in Joyce’s journal entry.
    “Arnu—?” Noboru said.
    “Arnuwanda the Second. He was king of the Hittites around 1320 B.C., and supposedly the last custodian of the Three Eyes of Teshub. Shortly before he died, he had this device constructed to his specifications. Then he had the man who made it for him executed. He didn’t trust anyone to know how it worked, for fear that they might use it to find the Three Eyes.”
    Noboru looked over at Gabriel. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
    “Some,” Gabriel said. “The Three Eyes of Teshub are these legendary jewels that were supposed to unlock an ancient hidden weapon of the Hittites. But the jewels themselves were also hidden, or lost, or something.”
    “Cast to the three winds,” Joyce said, “by Teshub himself. But the Star is supposed to show their resting place. Teshub spoke to Arnuwanda in a dream and told him how to build it.”
    “Thoughtful of him,” Gabriel said. “Where did you find the thing?”
    “Not me. My uncle. He dug it up in Turkey last month. He didn’t trust the locals he’d hired, he thought they