Janos Vajic and general manager Gina Louvinski watched the line of chartered buses as they left the resort. Vajic glanced down at the woman, who had her clipboard clutched to her chest as she watched the last of the buses leave just as the first of the many hundreds of black stretch limousines started up the circular drive.
“This is like the return of Ceauşescu and his thugs,” Janos said as he watched the first of the arriving guests. “Please inform our host that the first of the mob has started to arrive.” Janos turned and allowed the sliding glass door to open automatically before he stopped and faced Gina with a wry smile on his clean-shaven face. “You can use a different descriptive for his friends if you like.”
“I don’t know, I think mob was a pretty apt description.”
Janos pulled a cell phone from his suit pocket and opened it. The reception bars were at zero.
“When are the cell towers supposed to come online?” he asked as he angrily slammed his phone closed.
“Not until next week because of weather concerns.”
“Damn, I don’t like the idea that the only way we have of reaching for help is our antiquated phone system with weather moving in.” Janos thought a moment and then turned to Gina. “Make sure our engineering staff is made aware that we need to keep the phone service up and running.”
Janos looked outside and saw that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He grimaced and had that horrible feeling in his gut that the gorgeous blue of the world would soon give way to darkness.
PATINAS PASS, ROMANIA
Several of the more burly men of her village managed to get the old woman out of bed and after the women had dressed her they had moved her while still ensconced in her large wooden chair out into the grassy square at the heart of Patinas. They propped her broken ankle onto a large cutting of firewood until she was comfortable. The breakfast fires had long been extinguished and the men for the most part had left for the high pastures. Madam Korvesky thanked the men and allowed them to depart for their chores. The women stayed long enough to exchange the morning’s gossip about the doings far below, and then they too eventually drifted away in twos and threes and went about their task of making life livable in the pass.
The old Gypsy woman allowed the sun to caress her face as she stared upward into the crystal blue sky. To her the Carpathians were the most misunderstood mountains on the face of the earth, and she knew well that her people had worked hard to make them seem so. But in her opinion these mountains were God’s last great masterpiece—beauty hidden amid the stone and steam of the pass.
She lowered her face as she heard the small bell around the neck of the goat at the gates leading to the road chime, and then she heard the goat bleat out a warning. Madam Korvesky turned and watched the goat for a brief moment until the animal went to its knees and continued to chew its cud, relaxing after an initial sound, or smell, had frightened it. She always ordered one of the young goats to be tied at the front and back gates of the village, just as a warning to the men, women, and children that there may be Golia about and to be aware of their thoughts.
“I see the pain medication and the antibiotics I got from that filthy Slav below at the resort have helped you. You survived the night.”
She didn’t turn to face her grandson but she did turn her face up to the sun once again.
“You sound almost disappointed, Marko.”
“You know that isn’t so. I want no harm to befall you. After all, you’re all I have.”
The old woman kept her eyes closed and her face turned to the warmth of the sun. She took a deep breath as the Percocet tablet she had taken earlier seemed to be helping not only herself, but she thought maybe it had also helped Mikla somewhere out on the flatlands.
“You also have your sister, don’t forget,” she said as Marko had already turned to leave.
“She isn’t a part of my life any longer. She left the people to join a world we know nothing of and now she will never be a part of the people again.”
“Unlike you, man-child, she did as she was told. She left her home because I said she had to.” The queen finally lowered her face from the warming rays of the sun and fixed Marko with a harsh glare. “And she will always be a part of us, make no mistake, my prince,” she said and then chuckled at the use of the title.
“If you say so, Grandmamma.” He smiled. “Now you take care of that leg.”
“You will not be tending your flock today?” she asked as he turned his back on her.
“No, I have other tribal business.”
“And what is that?”
“Nothing you need to worry over.”
“I believe your queen asked you a question, grandson,” she added sternly.
Marko stopped and took a deep breath before he turned to face her with his smile still lining his features above the black beard.
“I and a few others will see for ourselves this new world that has arrived on our doorstep—after all, I am young and must keep up with my sister as far as knowledge of the outside world is concerned.”
“I believe you have gained much of that knowledge the past few years, Marko. You have changed, and don’t think that I don’t know of your courting the evil that has arrived on our mountain.”
Marko decided that he no longer needed to respond to her accusations. Soon the people would see that his way into the future was the right way. Not the old way, but the human way. He was their leader and there was no returning to the old ways. No longer would the Jeddah be subject to the laws of the ancients. They would now join the people of the world and they would no longer struggle in the mountains to live, they would reap their reward for three thousand years of exile and finally use that which they have guarded for so long. That was the real sticking point between him, his sister, and grandmother—they all knew the time had come to abandon the old ways, but it was only he who wanted the rewards they deserved.
The sound of the goat’s bell sang out as the small animal stood and was looking nervously across the road and into a stand of barren trees and rock.
“The Golia seem to be agitated. They are out of the temple this fine day.”
Marko ignored her comment and then turned for the front gate, sidestepping the agitated goat as he did. The small animal kept its sharp eyes on something hiding across the road.
The old woman watched for the longest time just as she knew she was being watched in return. She suspected Stanus was there and he was wary of something. She thought maybe it was worry, or even anger at Mikla for vanishing as he had on her orders. Either way, the giant wolf was acting strangely and that fact alone worried the queen of the Gypsies.
All around the village of Patinas the Golia watched every move made by man, woman, or child. They were starting to feel they had been betrayed by the men and women they had lived with since the time of Abraham and Joseph.
Things had changed in the pass and whatever it was had the Golia on edge like no other time since their arrival in the pass three thousand years before.
OTOPENI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, BUCHAREST, ROMANIA
The Boeing 747-200 taxied into the secure area of the international airport that was home to the Romanian air force and its 90th Tactical Airlift Flotilla. The Americans were using their status as part of the current NATO alliance maneuvers around the eastern Danube. They were a part of that exercise and attached to the group mapping the Patinas Pass. The president had used the awesome weight of the Oval Office to get the clearances.
The white and red 747 was flagged into a large hangar by United States Air Force personnel stationed there to handle American airlift capabilities while the maneuvers were in progress. As the four massive General Electric engines spooled down from their long and arduous journey, the giant hangar door slowly started to slide closed. Outside the hangar the engine noise of the 747 was replaced by the high turbine whine of two U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopters and that noise was soon joined by the start-up sounds of a brand-new Sikorsky Executive S-76C++ helico
pter borrowed from the State Department and the ambassador to Romania.
The procession down the rolling steps of the aircraft started with Niles Compton replete in khakis and baseball cap. He was followed by Mendenhall, Ryan, and then Alice, who was flanked by the much larger Captain Everett. Then the science teams led by Pete Golding and Charlie Ellenshaw came down the long set of stairs. Finally, Jack and Sarah dressed in casual attire followed. They carried clothing bags for the nights and days they would be at the Edge of the World. Pete Golding and Jason Ryan were also similarly equipped, with the exception of Collins’s and Ryan’s nine-millimeter sidearms hidden away in their suit carriers.
“Dr. Compton?” asked an Air Force loadmaster and his assistant.
“I’m Compton,” Niles said as he reached the base of the stairs.
“Sir, your transportation is right outside for your flight to the Dacian Hot Springs bivouac area. We have a Sikorsky executive craft waiting as requested.” This remark elicited a dirty look from Will Mendenhall that was directed at Jason Ryan over his chance inclusion as a passenger on the luxurious helicopter while he had to vibrate to pieces in the Black Hawk.
“Thank you. Is there any further communication from Colonel Guillen of the 82nd Airborne since last night?” Niles asked as he stepped by the two airmen.
“No sir, they are waiting on your team for the reconnoitering of the pass itself. We have a report that the storm we have been monitoring has caused a lot of flooding in low-lying areas along the Danube in the south and west. There’s scuttlebutt that the maneuvers and the examination of the Patinas Pass may be canceled. The Romanian army could be called away for emergency relief. I’m afraid we have to rely on them to transport your equipment. They will follow as soon as we can get some of these people in line, just as soon as we can find someone that speaks English.”
“Very good, the Air Force is as efficient as ever and my compliments to your team for the weather heads-up.” Niles rubbed his chin as he saw their cargo being removed from the lower compartments of the 747 and was sorry to hear that the equipment would be out of U.S. hands.
As the Event Group personnel filed by the two watchful airmen, the American Air Force personnel saw the strange makeup of this NATO survey team. The two men exchanged looks after a smiling Charlie Ellenshaw walked past and gave the men a horrid open-handed salute and a broad smile until the crazy white-haired professor was pushed forward by Pete Golding. The last was Jack Collins, who looked the airmen over. They knew immediately that this man was an officer—one that looked capable—very capable and that instinctual, self-survival mechanisms that all private soldiers get when around a man they knew was a real soldier.
“NATO assayers my ass,” the smaller of the two airmen said as the door closed behind Jack.
The sergeant looked up at the red-liveried 747-200 and shook his head.
“Just who in the hell are these people?”
THE EDGE OF THE WORLD HOTEL AND RESORT CASINO, DACIAN HOT SPRINGS, ROMANIA
At two that afternoon over a thousand of the specially chosen guests of Dmitri Zallas were wandering through the hotel and the attached casino with mouths agape. Never had they seen anything like the Edge of the World in all of Eastern Europe. With the guests still flowing in for the first night of the three-day weekend they were matched by one attendant for every four guests—a major concern of Janos Vajic. His bottom line was going to bottom out over the losses this party would generate.
Vajic smiled as best he could as he stood inside the long covered walkway that connected the hotel proper with the real moneymaker next door—the casino with the name placed above the entrance in golden letters—the Dacian Room.
Janos stiffened when he saw Zallas approach with one of the five differing women he had seen him with in just the past two hours.
“I must say your staff is exceedingly efficient. My guests thus far truly believe they are in a Las Vegas–run facility. And I cannot wait for the grand opening of the castle tomorrow night. I expect the staff will be as professional there as here.”
Vajic nodded his head in acceptance of the compliment but deferred speaking in front of the Romanian bimbo currently inhabiting the man’s personal space.
“The interior minister has not arrived as of yet?” Zallas asked smiling as six guests walked past dressed in their finery on their way into the casino.
“I have not been informed as such. I suppose he will wait until night has fallen to make an appearance.” Janos looked at Zallas. “That would camouflage his arrival to the press corps that is building up outside the gates. Another matter you said not to worry about.”
Zallas caught the slight toward his other partner in the tangled web of financing for the Edge of the World along with the sniping about the press near the front gate. He only laughed.
“Very good, Janos, very good.” He stopped smiling as he leaned toward the Romanian. “Make sure your outstanding wit does not make an appearance in front of the minister. Am I understood? If not, that wit will bury you, quite literally.”
Vajic watched the smile return to the bearded face of the Russian as he placed a protective arm around the girl and slowly walked into the casino without a look backward.
“God help me,” he muttered.
Around him the excited guests of Dmitri Zallas knew they were in for the most interesting weekend in recent memory. And as fate would have it, they were indeed in for a most interesting and wild weekend.
EIGHTY MILES FROM PATINAS PASS
The man sat and waited for the fax that was incoming from his contact inside the governing body of the state of Israel. The person that was sending the information that he waited on was embedded in the Israeli Security Council and received every bit of sensitive military intelligence that the prime minister was briefed on every morning.
Ben-Nevin was close to the woman and her pet dog and he knew it. It was that very same unusual animal that had him concerned, as he had never seen anything like it in all his experience. The size alone was terrifying and even more worrisome was the way the beast was handled by the girl. Ben-Nevin could not believe the narrow escapes from death he had experienced in just the past two days. For a man who had never had to use a weapon in anger he had almost lost everything before he had a chance to complete his mission.
The small roadside gas station had an eating area where you could force down a cold drink and a sandwich from a machine. The colonel had forgone the plastic-wrapped sandwich stuffed with greasy-looking sausage and settled for a soft drink. He sat waiting for the only fax machine within twenty miles to beep behind the counter where the bored clerk leaned against the service counter looking at a filthy magazine. It had cost the colonel his inexpensive wristwatch and twenty euros for the use of the gas station fax machine, which the clerk was unsure how to use in the first place.
His men were waiting outside in the false light of the evening underneath blinking and burned-out fluorescent lighting. After the train incident his men were jumpy and every time the lights flickered they looked about nervously. Ben-Nevin was smirking at his men as he knew they would feel much more apprehensive if they knew what it was that was traveling with the major. An abomination from a horror movie was walking with the woman and if they had seen what he had on the train he likely would no longer have any men to command.
As soon as his information arrived confirming the woman’s destination and the rest of the acquisition element being sent to him by friends of the organization, he would move.
As he sipped the Romanian version of cola through a straw he heard the phone behind the counter ring and then ring again in rapid succession. Ben-Nevin looked up and the burly man nodded his head. He disappeared toward the back of the small office adjacent the counter area.
Ben-Nevin used a napkin to dab at his thin mustache and then he pushed the can and napkin away and stood, careful using his wounded right hand with his missing fingers. By the time he reached the counter the clerk was back holding a sheet of fax
paper. He held it out but just far enough out of the colonel’s reach that the gesture was clear. The man thought he deserved more money for the fax. Ben-Nevin smiled and then moved his left hand and pulled back his sport coat only slightly, just enough to expose the handle of the Glock nine-millimeter he was carrying. The colonel shook his head.
The clerk froze for the briefest of moments and then he too smiled a toothless grin and handed over the fax. Ben-Nevin took the fax but held the man’s eyes long enough that he soon lost the stupid smile and turned away.
The colonel quickly read the fax and smiled.
“I knew you were close, you little witch,” he said as he folded the fax and placed it in his coat.
Just as he realized he was only miles away from probably the richest archaeological finds in the history of the world, several sets of headlights pulled into the gas station. The clerk’s eyes widened when he saw how many men piled out of the seven cars. The new arrivals stretched and then shook hands with the men who had arrived earlier with the man with the mustache. The clerk turned and looked at the colonel, who was also looking at him. The heavyset attendant swallowed as the colonel raised his right hand. Then he smiled and raised his damaged and bandaged hand to his lips. “Shhh,” he said as he turned and left the station.
He walked out and shook hands with the men who had arrived to assist him in recovering what was Israel’s and although the men didn’t know it, they were also going to help him kill the little witch and her abnormally large dog.
“Gentlemen, I assume our equipment is in the trunks, so let’s move out. I want to make camp outside our target area and wait for our lady friend to arrive.”
“And where is the target area?” asked one of the bearded men who had just arrived.
Ben-Nevin pointed at the dim outline of the Carpathians in the near distance.
“Up there is where our reward will be found, my friends.”
“Does this place have a name?” the same man asked as he opened the rear door for the colonel.
Carpathian: An Event Group Thriller (Event Group Thrillers) Page 27