“Mikla, home!”
The Golia turned back and faced Anya and then reached down in a flash of movement and snatched up the boy and his goat in one muscled arm. Mikla then easily tossed the boy and dangling goat onto its back and then looked at Anya and growled, angry it had been called off from killing the soldiers. Its ears came back up and the creature with its massive strength reached out and took Anya by the arm and tucked her under its shoulder and then took one large step toward the wall of the car, kicking out with clawed feet the three seats between it and freedom. Mikla brought its muscled right leg up and kicked out once, twice, and then a third time into the glass and wood lining the window. The entire section of aluminum and wood framing separated from the train leaving a gash eight feet in diameter. The beast leaned out of the car as the wind caught its fur. Anya’s, the boy’s, and the goat’s eyes widened as the Golia leaned out into empty space as the train sped along. Mikla howled and then pushed off from the car, and the Golia and its frightened cargo fell free into the early morning darkness.
The Golia hit the ground at fifty-six miles an hour but the great beast never lost its footing as it caught the hardpan of the feeder road next to the tracks. The giant beast yelped in pain and then vanished into the breaking dawn.
The soldiers came through the open door and felt the wind before seeing the frightened and bloody man lying in the aisle. Their eyes went to the eight-foot hole in the side of the train car and the vodka bottle slipped out of the grasp of the man standing in front of the other two.
The next thing they knew their platoon sergeant was standing next to them. He looked at each man in turn and then bent over and picked up the half-finished vodka bottle. His eyebrows rose in a silent condemnation. The Romanian army sergeant just pointed back the way they had come.
“I think that just about covers drinking on duty—let’s go.”
PATINAS PASS, CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS
The old woman held on to the side of the temple entrance where man-made materials met the natural stone of the mountain. She held fast as the air of the dawn cooled her face after the heat inside the massive structure. Madame Korvesky knew eyes were on her from just off the trail leading down into the mountain. The Golia were there and were watching her; some with only mild curiosity, and then there were the others with malice-laced thoughts. She knew these were the younger Golia—the males and few females that seemed to set out away from the rest. One of these was Stanus, who she knew was on his high ledge above the temple where he lay alone and watched everything occurring around the giant temple structure and the camouflaged opening that led deep into the mountain.
The heat inside had become unbearable for the old Gypsy to take at her age and now she was paying the price for staying so long inside. She managed a deep breath and felt the pain in both her legs from the ten thousand steps it takes coming and going from the depths of the great temple. She would have to make it home and drink as much bitterroot tea as she could stomach in order to ease the pain that would nearly cripple her when she awakened later. The tea alone she knew would probably kill her or constipate her so bad she would wish she were dead. She took another breath and then raised the flowered print dress to a spot just above her right ankle. It was purple and black and she knew that if it wasn’t broken it was a close imitation of a break. She could barely place any pressure on the ankle and foot without streaking jolts of pain shooting up her leg.
As she placed her cane carefully and took her first tentative steps down the small dirt trail that led into her village she heard the laughter of men somewhere ahead. It was only a few steps later that her grandson appeared on the trail with four of the men that had been his constant companions the past six years. Three were from their village but the fourth was from a farm more than fifteen miles away. She trusted none of them. Her grandson stopped and the talk between the Gypsy men ceased as they all took in her ragged and unhealthy condition. Marko looked shocked and then moved to her side as the other four men half bowed to the Gypsy queen and then faded off the trail and into the trees that lined it.
“What are you doing up here, Grandmamma?” Marko took her by the arm and held her as the talk of his men faded from ear.
He waited to speak again until the men had vanished. “You were in the temple?” His tone was still one of concern but now it was also laced with suspicion.
“I believe I am still allowed the freedom to come and go from my own temple, am I not?” She looked up at him and even managed a smile but she soon lost the will and the strength to produce either the smile or to keep her head held high.
“I must get you home and into your bed, you old foolish hen,” he said as he placed his arm around her and started her back down the trail. He grew silent as he walked. The sun was broaching the eastern edge of the mountains before he spoke again. “Stanus is quite agitated tonight. I think you could tell that from the fire pit this evening. I think one of his young ones is missing.”
The old woman didn’t respond. She just kept her walk slow and easy while using her cane as much as possible to lessen the pain in her right ankle.
“Of course it’s the male pup, Mikla. He always was surly and the only brother Stanus has a hard time controlling.”
The old woman walked in silence.
“Are you going to tell me what you were doing in the temple so late and without escort?”
“I could not sleep. And yes the encounter with Stanus tonight was the reason. I had to pray on it some. The alpha is conflicted about something.” She slowed and then looked upward into the dark features of her grandson. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, man-child?” She knew she had caught him off guard and turned the tables on him because Marko stopped and then stepped away from her so he could see her fully in the false light of dawn.
“With all of the changes in the valley below and even upon our own mountain, do you expect Stanus not to be confused? He will settle down, you will see. Now, do you know Mikla’s whereabouts?”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly refusing to play this game with her own flesh and blood. “I do know where Mikla is.”
Her right leg gave out completely and she collapsed almost to the ground before Marko’s strength stayed her fall. He lifted her up and carried her to a small outcropping of stone that lined the trail. He removed her sandal and saw that her ankle was swollen at least five times its normal size.
“What have you done? Did you fall on the great steps?”
“Oh, it’s only twisted; I do worse sometimes tripping over my own feet.”
He looked at her and then removed his blue head scarf and started wrapping the horribly swollen ankle.
“Twisted? If it’s not broken I would be surprised, Grandmamma.” He finished tying off the wrapping and then placed his elbows on his bended knees and then looked at the Gypsy queen. “Where is Mikla and what did you do to him to make your ankle swell like that? Is the Golia all right? Do I need to send Stanus to retrieve him?”
“That would not be a good task, as Stanus is not at all popular with Mikla and a few of the other pups. And Mikla needs no help getting home; he’s with two very reliable people.”
“What have you done?”
“Protected the future of our people the best way I knew how. Now help me get home so you can make me some bitterroot tea because I just cannot stomach the smell,” she said as she used his strong shoulder to pull herself off the rock.
Marko said nothing in response. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, as the old woman had the longest stubborn streak in her since Moses himself. He took a deep breath and knew he had to slow down her suspicions until he was ready for what needed to be done. He remained silent all the way home.
* * *
One hundred and eighty miles to the west three forms lay in a drainage ditch beside a deserted feeder road. The boy was sleeping soundly after their crazed exit from the train and Anya hoped he wasn’t in some form of mild shock. Her two young nephews, thanks to her grand
mother, had saved her life twice in the past twenty-four hours.
It was Mikla she was most worried about. The Golia lay on its side and was licking the right rear paw and ankle. The beast had landed awkwardly when he jumped from the side of the car. The speed of the train was something the Golia was not familiar with and it had caught the great animal by surprise when they had landed hard. Mikla barely managed to keep his footing but soon had to stop to go on all fours until he had to rest his leg.
“Poor Mikla, it’s my fault for making you run when all you wanted was to hold your ground and protect us.” She reached out and ran her hand along his side. The giant wolf looked up and then whined and licked her hand. The young Golia held Anya’s eyes for the longest time and then with the articulated fingers of its right hand extended and the claws gleaming in the sunshine, Mikla reached up and took Anya’s hand and held it tight. The prehistoric wolf suddenly winced and closed its softly glowing yellow eyes and released Anya’s hand as it lay its head down into the grass.
“We’ll rest the best we can today and start out again tonight after it gets dark.” She rubbed his thick fur once again. “Maybe we can get you another train ride, maybe on top this time, huh?” she said with a smile and a hard rub of the black wolf’s fur. The ears popped up with their gray tips and she knew the thought of riding on a train, while his first trip didn’t end that well, still excited Mikla enough that he wanted to do it again. She knew his thoughts at extreme moments like this and his being excited and happy was easy to pick upon. But she wasn’t sure if Mikla was excited about the train or more to the point that he was nearing home.
The giant Golia laid its head against Anya and was content to close its glowing yellow eyes that were now fading to green as the sun started to rise higher.
Mikla had done the task he was sent out to accomplish and for the day at least the beast was content as he lay with those he was sent to protect.
7
DACIAN HOT SPRINGS, CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS, ROMANIA
Dmitri Zallas was most impressed as he toured the Roman mud baths and hot mineral springs adjacent to the Enviro Dome. Accommodations for a thousand or more guests who would undoubtedly enjoy the spa when it was fully operational were now finished. The steam from the natural hot springs and the mud that boiled through to the surface after being cooked for a million years far beneath the Carpathians made the gardens as lush as any tropical rain forest.
“I take it your man was successful with his foray into the Patinas Pass? Were you pleased?”
Zallas lost his smile as he turned to face his limited partner. “It was worth it, but very expensive. You shall have no more trouble in the mountains above the castle.”
Janos Vajic pursed his lips and then wrestled with the question in his mind for the briefest of moments before blurting it out.
“The man is a mess,” Janos said as he stepped to the geodesic dome. They were on the eighth floor nearest the cable car entrance. He pointed down toward the maintenance area a thousand yards away from the massive pool and spa. The man was sitting on the ground with his fur coat still on in the heat of the day with his knees pulled up to his chest as workers and maintenance personnel were forced to walk around him. He pointed his man out to Zallas, whose eyes narrowed to slits when he saw the hunter. “He’s been like that ever since he returned without his hunting companions—who are still among the missing by the way.”
“They are not missing, Janos; they just went home after failing this man. He did what I paid him to do.” He turned and looked at Vajic. “I will have him removed.”
“May I broach another subject with you?”
“Does it have anything to do with my guest list?” Zallas asked as he turned away and started for the escalator to head down to the casino.
“Well, although I have major concerns about several of the more … colorful names on that list, there is but one that makes me nervous. But I have to start with my first concern, which is obvious to any fool who steps on this property: the amount of private security you have brought in. You have over a hundred well-armed men; this will not look good, not only to the guests, but to the media.”
“Get to the point, Janos, for crying out loud.” Zallas stopped at the guardrail for the giant escalator and turned on his partner.
“There are certain members of the media who have started asking questions about how the land was transferred from the state to a private concern after so many years of protection. Dmitri, they are starting to ask questions. And look at this.” He held out the large guest list with close to two thousand names on it. “Stephan Antonescu, the interior minister, is on the list. We cannot have him on the property—at least not now.”
“The sale of the land cannot be traced to us through his office. Remember it was over the very loud and media-covered protests of our good interior minister that the land grant was enacted. He maneuvered the right element into the equation, one that no one in all of Romania could argue with. As a matter of fact the people believe this to be to their benefit—I mean what more powerful ally could we have than the most formidable military organization the world had ever known backing us through sheer necessity?” Zallas smiled as he took in the shocked features of his partner. “I mean with the security of a new nation at stake, what’s a little resort when the government finally has control over the one pass in the Carpathians that not even the mighty German army could capture.”
Janos Vajic heard noise coming through the glass panes of the dome and stepped over to the front of the great construction to look out toward the south where the new highway had been built to accommodate the resort. Lined against the afternoon sun was a long column of vehicles. Janos leaned closer to the glass as the long procession of trucks drove past the entrance to the resort and then continued west where they disappeared around a bend in the highway. He tried to see the vehicles in more detail but they were just too far away. Zallas saw Vajic as he struggled with the distance and he smiled and reached into his suit jacket pocket and brought out a small set of binoculars; gold-plated of course.
“Here, use these and allow the sight to ease your concerns. Look first to the lead vehicle’s markings, and then to the rear, view the military designations on those vehicles and then I will accept your apology for your baseless concern about land rights.”
Janos accepted the glasses and held the dark eyes of Zallas before putting the glasses to his own eyes. As he focused on the lead vehicle, an older military version of the venerable American jeep but built in the old Soviet Union, was leading forty two-ton trucks. He focused on the markings along the side of the hood next to the stenciled black and gray eagle: Brigada 2 Vânǎtori de Munte “Sarmizegetusa”—2nd Mountain Troops Brigade. He turned and looked at Zallas.
“The new Romanian mountain division?”
“Yes. Now look who’s bringing up the rear, Janos, why, it’s our saviors,” he said with a smile, “and the people ultimately responsible, although they didn’t know it at the time, for getting our land grant for us and almost forcing the new Romanian government to open up land that has not seen the outside world for nearly three thousand years.”
The smile made Vajic far more nervous than the anger Zallas could show from time to time. He turned the small gold-inlaid binoculars toward the end of the long column and placed the glasses on the strange-looking vehicles bringing up the rear of the military column.
“Oh my God,” he said as the lettering on the front of the vehicle’s bumper became legible: 223-SFOD-D82nd USA.
“If you are having trouble with understanding what you are seeing I am not surprised. After all you’re Romanian so there is no reason you should. I received the information last week about our guests down there. They are the 223rd Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta Company—the famous All American Division. Those are American airborne troops down there, Janos, and what we are looking at is the one factor that gave us all of this,” he said as he gestured around the giant glass dome. “I give you N
ATO. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization, the most powerful military force the world has ever seen.”
“What are they doing here?” Vajic asked as he lowered the glasses.
“The reason this area is so important to them is the fact that the Patinas Pass is a vital passage leading to the north of the nation. It is what’s known in military parlance as a choke point—one that was pointed out to our friends at the Ministry of Defense. Thus, our new NATO partnership has paid the full dividend. The pass is about to become militarized and the Americans are here to show them how to defend it against invasion from the south.” He smiled as he slapped Vajic on the back. “They will stay in the lowlands today and tonight and then head to the pass tomorrow to evaluate the defensive planning for an invasion that will never come.” He laughed. “It is so very easy to frighten a people that have lived under the yoke of totalitarianism for so long that they never recognize the real threat.”
Dmitri Zallas may have been comfortable, but Vajic wondered what other deals were made that wouldn’t be so beneficial to their resort.
“After the pass has been mapped and war plans made, the entire area will be up for leasing and improvement. That is my plan. The whole of the mountain will soon be ours and we will expand the property to the pass itself.”
As Janos allowed the plan of Zallas to set in, a loud whining rumble came to their ears.
Shockingly to everyone at the resort three American-made Black Hawk helicopters swooped low over the resort and then banked hard right to follow the disappearing trail of NATO vehicles.
“You see, Janos, who needs friends when you have the biggest bully on the block leading the way for you?”
Carpathian: An Event Group Thriller (Event Group Thrillers) Page 22