by S. L. Menear
Lance smirked. “Good luck hiding those.” He nodded pointedly at my chest. “And what about your long blond hair and Lisa’s red mane?”
I crossed my arms. “Thanks for your concern, Lance, but my shape won’t be a problem. I’ll wear padding over my torso for a fireplug physique, and Lisa and I will wear shoulder pads under our clothes and the male version of head scarves to hide our hair.”
“It’s hot as hell here. That padding will make you overheat.” Bryce frowned, looking concerned.
“Not in Lalibela. It’ll be chilly at eight thousand feet, and the padding will give me extra warmth.” I looked at Banger. “You should pose as our leader. We’ll wear traditional white robes, like the religious pilgrims in these pictures.” I held out my phone. “You’re good with that, right?”
Banger grinned. “Only if I get to play the big cheese.”
Mike arched a brow. “Uh, sister dear, have you forgotten I’m the team leader?”
I patted his back. “You’re the real boss, but we should act like Banger is our leader. The locals will respond more favorably to a man who looks like an African king than to a blond white guy.”
Lance laughed. “Especially since he’ll be surrounded by white guys catering to him.”
“Sweet.” Banger leaned back.
I nudged Mike. “Is there an intelligence officer here who can gather all the info we’ll need for this op?”
“Sit tight while I check with the base commander.” Mike turned and strode out the door.
“Sam, what if Lalibela turns out to be like your last quest?” Lance crossed his arms.
Lisa glanced from Lance to me. “What does he mean?”
I pulled the medallion out of my shirt. “This key opened hidden doors in Petra where we found secret chambers with info about Atlantis and a WMD called Poseidon’s Sword.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t find the weapon until much later.” Lance tapped his watch. “What if it takes a long time to find the Blue Dragon?”
Lisa frowned. “And if it’s a powerful weapon, how will it help us find our men?”
Bryce took a long swig from his water bottle. “Good point. What do you think, Sam?”
“I think if we go to Lalibela, we’ll either find the Blue Dragon, and it’ll help us, or the Eye will show me something else that will help.”
“Ethiopia is right next door.” Banger pointed at the map on the wall. “If General Ryan will loan us his jet again, we can fly to Lalibela Airport and rent a car.” He held a measuring device against the map. “Looks like about eight hundred miles.”
Lisa studied the map. “You’re right about the distance, but it’s easier to travel in and out of foreign countries on a private jet.” She looked at me. “Any chance you can arrange for one of the Starr Corporation’s jets to fly us around?”
“Good idea, Lisa. A private jet won’t attract as much attention as a military one.” I pulled out my cell. “I’ll call the chief pilot.”
Captain Bill Hiller answered on the first ring. “Hello, Sam, did you find Ross?”
“Not yet, and it looks like we may need to travel to several countries in Africa. Can you send one of our Gulfstream G650s to Camp Baledogle in Somalia as soon as possible?”
“Why the G650? Didn’t you say you only have six people on the team?”
“Yes, but we might carry a lot of gear, and the G650 is the only jet we can safely parachute from if the need arises.” I hesitated. “We’ll need it and a crew for one to two weeks.”
Bill hesitated. “Let me make a few calls and I’ll get right back to you.”
I hung up as Mike strode in with Navy Intelligence Officer Robert Metz.
Mike glanced at me. “Sam and Lance, you remember Commander Metz from your escapade on the aircraft carrier.”
The man in blue fatigues with a dark blond buzz cut offered me his hand.
“Good to see you again, Bob.” I squeezed his hand.
Lance grinned. “Small world, isn’t it?”
Mike introduced the rest of the team, and we settled at the table for Bob’s briefing.
He began, “I’ve got people in town procuring your clothing and disguises. Lalibela is a medieval Christian site of great significance, so your cover will be a religious pilgrimage.”
I nodded. “That’s what we planned.”
Bryce looked at Bob. “Will it fit our cover to arrive in a jet?”
“Pastors of American megachurches have private jets. Plan to depart tomorrow morning at oh-four-thirty.” Bob glanced at his watch. “It’s too late to go today. You wouldn’t arrive before the site closes. They’ll reopen at oh-eight-hundred.”
“What’s the plan?” Mike checked a site map for Lalibela.
Bob glanced at the big SEAL. “Banger will pose as a wealthy Christian leader from America. Lalibela is in the far north of Ethiopia, so you’ll borrow General Ryan’s G650 again. He’ll be back in a few hours. Questions?”
I raised a hand. “I’m waiting for a call back from the chief pilot at the Starr Corporation. We’re hoping to use one of their Gulfstream jets for the rest of our flights.”
“That’s great, but if they’re coming from Florida, they won’t get here in time for the early departure tomorrow morning.” Bob glanced at his watch. “Plan on using their jet after Lalibela.”
“All right, I’m expecting his call any minute.” I checked my cell phone.
“My knowledge of the Bible is fairly extensive.” Banger arched his brows. “Will that suffice?”
Bob nodded. “Use your stature to intimidate troublemakers. Tell them the Lord sent you.”
Banger grinned. “That sounds good. Who can argue with what the Lord wants?”
“What’s the exit plan?” Mike asked as he studied the terrain on the map.
“That depends on what you find.” Bob glanced at me. “If Sam discovers a hidden passage that leads to wherever, you may need to change your travel plans. And no explosives on the sacred site. We’ll wait for your call.” He handed me a SATCOM and handed another one to Mike. “Use these for team communications to home base. Don’t forget Sweetwater has informants inside our military, so there’s a chance you may pick up a tail.”
A soldier entered and placed a large tray of sandwiches on the table. Another serviceman handed out cold bottles of water.
Lisa took a ham and cheese sandwich. “What about the rest of us? What roles are we playing?”
“Pilgrims serving your leader, so be submissive around Banger and let him do the talking.” Bob studied the team. “And remember, you’re all men in this case, so don’t treat Sam and Lisa differently.” He looked at Lisa and me. “No makeup, perfume, or nail polish, ladies, and trim your nails short.”
I glanced at my fingernails, which had been painted for my expected date with Ross, and checked my watch. “When do we get our clothes and stuff?”
“Your robes will be delivered by a sergeant who’s good with disguises. He’ll help Sam and Lisa suit up. And he’ll advise everyone on the best places to hide your weapons. Carry as much as possible under your robes in case you find a secret passage and end up somewhere else, like Sam and Lance did in Petra. Once Sam and Lisa are wearing their disguises, you’ll need to send new pictures to the embassy to update your fake diplomatic passports for Ethiopia.”
My cell rang. I answered, “Hi, Bill, were you able to get me a G650?”
“I’ll bring it to you myself. Laura Burke and I will be your pilots for as long as you need us, and we’ll land in Somalia tomorrow evening around six local time.”
“Thanks, Bill. My team won’t be there when you arrive, so relax and rest up for the next flight when we return.” I hung up and told Bob and my team the news.
Bob smiled at us before he left. “I’ll ensure the corporate pilots are taken care of. Good luck.”
Two hours later, a guy named Sergeant Beaumont showed up. He set two large duffel bags on the conference table. “I’ll get you set up with everything you’ll
need for your mission.”
He pulled reversible robes out of a duffel, checked the sizes, and handed them to the men. “Wear these over your clothes with the white side showing. The black side could be useful later if you find yourselves in a stealth situation in the dark.” He handed them several full ammo magazines.
“What about us?” Lisa peeked into one of the bags.
“I have reversible robes with shoulder pads for both ladies, and this torso padding for the blonde.” He handed us the garments and passed me the padding.
“What are these for?” I stuck my hands inside pockets hidden in the padding.
“The big one on the right is for your pistol, the two on the left are for your item in the leather pouch and rations of beef jerky, and the compartments along the front are for extra ammo. There’s also a large folded canvas satchel attached along the bottom edge.” He handed me four full mags.
The sergeant handed Lisa a padded vest with an inner holster and inner compartments. “Load this with your weapon and ammo and wear it under the robe.”
“What about their long hair?” Lance glanced at us.
Beaumont pulled out six reversible turbans and handed them to everyone. “The women will hide their hair inside the turbans, white side out. Everyone will be dressed the same.” He grabbed a bag full of mini magnesium flashlights and handed them out. “Put these in your robe pockets.” Then he reached inside and pulled out six combat knives in sheaths and several packages of beef jerky. “Hide these wherever they fit best.”
I loaded the padding and wrapped it around my torso, fastening it with Velcro straps. Then I slipped on the robe, twisted my hair, and stuffed it inside the turban.
Beaumont handed me a jar full of clear liquid and a rag. “Clean off the nail polish.” He nodded at Lisa. “You too.”
Banger circled Lisa and me and then stared at our faces. “No good. They’re too pretty to pass for guys.”
“I’m not finished.” The sergeant opened a small case and pulled out our disguises. He lifted my chin. “Hold still and don’t speak until the glue dries.” He brushed glue above my upper lip and on the back of a fake mustache and then pressed it onto my skin. Next came a matching goatee.
Mike busted out laughing, and everyone else snickered.
“Let me see.” I pulled out a small makeup mirror. “I think I look distinguished.”
I glanced at Lisa with her newly applied facial hair and grinned.
She grabbed my mirror. “Not bad. How long will the glue last?”
Beaumont handed us small tubes. “The disguises won’t come off until you massage that glue remover into the hair. You can shower, eat, wash your faces, whatever—they’re not coming off.”
I glanced at the men. “Do we look masculine now?”
Bryce crossed his arms. “If you don’t speak. Your voices are too high.”
Banger grinned. “I’ll do the talking.” He pulled out his cell and took pictures. “These will make amusing memories. I can’t wait to show Tiesha.”
I nudged him. “Are you two still on a fast track to marriage?”
“We already have a venue booked.” Banger chuckled. “I hope you’ll have that facial hair off by then.”
“It had better be off by tomorrow night.” I glanced at the sergeant. “Are we done?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gathered the duffels, saluted, and left.
Lisa handed Mike her cell phone. “Take headshots of Sam and me for our new passports.”
Five
Lalibela
The next morning, we landed at Lalibela Airport, which was about sixty-five hundred feet above sea level. By 7:00 a.m., Mike had rented a minivan for the fourteen-mile drive to the city. We watched General Ryan’s jet fly away as we drove up a winding road that led almost two thousand feet higher into the mountains.
The primitive village of Lalibela looked like a place time had forgotten. Some of the homes were round two-story tukul huts built of stone, and others were round one-story chika huts built of earth and wattle.
The buildings in Atlantis had been circular. Hmmn.
We pulled into the World Heritage site’s parking lot and looked around. All the monolithic churches were below ground level. UNESCO had built protective roofs over many of the churches, and those roofs were the only things visible above ground in the bright sunlight. The air at over eight thousand feet was a chilly forty degrees, but our robes and the clothes beneath them kept us warm.
Mike waited until we gathered around him. “Check that your weapons are well hidden.”
We gave each other the once over. Everyone looked like typical white-robed pilgrim men.
Banger leaned close to me. “Which church should we search first?”
“The first one, the House of the Savior of the World, is the largest—almost a hundred feet long, seventy feet wide, and three and a half stories.” I glanced at my guidebook. “It’s one of the five churches in the Northern Group on this side of the river Jordan. May as well start there since it’ll take a while to cover it.”
“Isn’t there a better way to choose the right church?” Mike looked at my guidebook.
“The Atlanteans used Earth’s electromagnetic energy as their main power source. If one of the churches sits on an intersection of ley lines, that will be the likely choice. We just have to find it.” I headed toward the site’s steps.
Bryce frowned. “How are we supposed to know where the ley lines intersect?”
“Like I explained in Luxor, I’ve developed a sensitivity to the energy fields.” I tapped my forehead. “When I get close, the intersection will make my head buzz.”
“Okay, so once we figure out which church, then what?” Banger glanced around at the site.
“Look for gold tridents on the walls, floor, or ceiling—or anything that doesn’t belong.” I nudged Banger. “Lead on, my liege.”
The men on our team were all over six feet, but Banger was a few inches taller and a lot broader than the next-tallest guy. He strode down the path to the House of the Savior of the World with a confident swagger, as if all eleven churches had been built for him. The crowd parted when he approached the entrance.
I followed him down the rock-hewn steps, and Lance stuck to my six o’clock like glue. The rest of the team trailed behind us as we descended about forty feet to the base of the magnificent structure.
When we stepped inside the enormous church with its five aisles, I tugged at Banger’s robe and whispered, “Lead us down the center aisle.”
He nodded.
Halfway down the long aisle, I tugged his robe again.
He stopped and leaned in. “What?”
“No ley lines under this church,” I whispered. “Lead us to the next one.”
Banger continued out the back door and into the connecting trench to the next church—the oldest and most popular, the House of Mary. A long line of pilgrims waited to enter, probably because it contained replicas of the tombs of Adam and Christ.
I nudged our leader. “Forget the line. If we walk around the outside of the church, I’ll sense whether this is the right place or not.”
He beckoned us forward. When he reached the far side of the monolithic church, he paused and turned to me. “Anything?”
I shook my head. “Next on the list is the House of Golgotha Mikael, believed to contain the hidden tomb of King Lalibela. Maybe that’s it.”
Banger turned and led us through a tunnel trench that connected to the next site. It was dark and narrow and barely wide enough for one person. In some parts, the sky could be seen high above, but only by looking straight up. At least it wasn’t confined enough for my claustrophobia to fully kick in. Just a little extra sweating and chest-tightening.
A wave of relief swept over me when I stepped into the open area around the church. Beautiful artistic stone carvings set this one apart from the others, and the entry line was shorter. In minutes, we entered the dark structure and stood admiring the intricate interior.
My head tingled, but not like it would if we were over an intersection of ley lines. An invisible force beckoned me deeper inside.
Lisa sidled up to me. “I found something.”
“Show me.”
She led me to a small alcove carved into a thick wall near the center of the church. Goosebumps prickled my skin as she pointed at a dark corner inside. I crept closer and spotted a Coptic cross carved into the stone. A gold trident pierced it diagonally. The alcove was too small for more than one person to stand inside.
I glanced around. No one except Lisa watched, so I slipped inside. A powerful force drew me to the trident. Soft whispers sent chills down my spine.
I spun around. “Did you say something?”
Lisa shook her head. “No, why?”
“Uh, nothing. Stand watch in case something weird happens.”
Raising a brow, Lisa took a step back and glanced behind her.
I hesitated, reached out, and placed my hand over the gold trident. My fingers tingled as a deep grinding sound reverberated in the stone church, and a small section of the alcove’s wall opened inward. A puff of stone dust swirled around me as cool air escaped through the opening. I pulled a small mag light from my pocket and peered inside. Spiral steps led downward into darkness.
Oh no.
Loud shouting accompanied running footsteps approaching from behind me.
Now or never.
Leaving Lisa, I ducked through the door and entered the stairwell. The door thudded shut behind me, leaving me alone on the dank stone steps. No light, except from my tiny flashlight.
Claustrophobic alarm bells rang in my head, keeping time with my pounding heart, as I descended to a dark room about twenty feet below the church.
Inside the room, I swung my light around, revealing a lavishly carved burial chamber about fifteen-feet square with an ornate stone sarcophagus in the center—probably King Lalibela’s tomb. Was the Blue Dragon hidden inside the stone coffin?