“I’ve missed you,” Alex said to Jesse without moving her mouth.
“I’ve been right here,” Jesse said.
Tears slid from Alex’s exhausted eyes. Afraid of getting caught crying, she slipped off Miss Sweetie to check the horse. Despite the hard ride, Miss Sweetie didn’t seem thirsty or tired. Alex took out a handful of oats and fed them to the horse.
“Hey!” Trece yelled. “Get over here! There’s a party here with your name on it.”
“What about me?” Troy asked.
“Just count yourself lucky to have been there,” Trece said. “Alex! Join us!”
Laughing, she tied Miss Sweetie’s lead to a post. She’d just started to walk toward the group when Sergeant Dusty’s voice came in her earbud. She stopped walking. As a safety precaution, he’d stayed behind to monitor their positions and stay with the phones in case Xavier, their technical expert, called.
“Sir?” Sergeant Dusty asked.
“Yes?” Alex asked.
“What?” Trece boomed when Alex stopped walking. Alex pointed to her ear. “No!”
“It’s X,” Sergeant Dusty said in Alex’s ear. “He needs to talk to you. Now.”
“Put him through,” Alex said.
The Fey Team grumbled and begged, but Alex turned and walked back to Miss Sweetie.
“Alex?” Xavier, their technology-security expert, asked.
“Hi, X,” Alex said.
“Dusty said you just finished a sim,” X said. “How’d you do?”
They would talk for a few minutes while X checked the security of the call. Alex got back on the horse and started riding away from the party.
“What do you think?” Alex asked with a laugh.
“Of course,” X said. “Did you beat the best time?”
“By more than two minutes,” Alex said.
“That’s my girl,” X said.
“It was a team effort,” Alex said.
“Aren’t most things?” X asked.
He didn’t say anything for an entire minute.
“Okay, we’re clean,” X said. “I apologize for taking an age to get back with you.”
“Any news?” Alex asked.
“Do you know how satellite phones work?” X asked.
“Not really,” Alex said. “I turn it on, wait for a signal, dial, and talk.”
“Yep,” X said with a laugh. “That’s how military phones work. Consumer satellite phones are the same with one caveat — the phone connects only to the satellite owned by the company who made the phone. The military has a bunch of satellites. But as you know, you can have trouble getting a line out. Most consumer satellite phone companies only have one or maybe two satellites. Some of them only rent a few satellite hours here and there.”
“And this means?” Alex asked.
“Sometimes it’s hard to catch a satellite,” X said.
“Got it,” Alex said.
Miss Sweetie tugged on her lead. Alex let the horse take her to a patch of grass.
“The specific phone we’re talking about is made by a client of mine,” X said. “That’s what took so long. I had to check with them to see if it was all right to check this for you.”
“If there’s anything I can do to . . .” Alex started.
“Oh, no — it’s not that,” X said. “They were happy to help. I just had to check.”
“Did you find anything?” Alex asked.
“One thing first,” X said. “Every time the phone signal hits the satellite, the satellite logs the GPS coordinates of the call. Military phones do that as well. It’s a long story, but it’s something left over from when these were more like beacons and less like telephones.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me something good,” Alex said.
“I have GPS coordinates for one team,” X said. “At least where they were two days ago. It’s secure and safe, so they shouldn’t have moved.”
“Would you like to give me the coordinates, or do you know where they might be?” Alex asked.
“Near the Afghanistan-Tajikistan bridge,” X said.
“Ai Khanoum,” Alex said in a low voice.
“Yes,” X said. “The coordinates are almost exactly to the spot on the Oxus River where Paul Bernard claimed to have found it in 1968.”
“There’s no protection there,” Alex said. “It’s a valley where two rivers converge. Are they in Afghanistan or Tajikistan?”
“That’s the question,” X said. “Where exactly are they?”
“Where are they now that it’s been a couple of days?” Alex asked. “There’s not a lot of Taliban activity there, but it’s near the Afghanistan-Tajikistan bridge. Believe it or not, there’s a fair amount of tourist activity. You can still find coins there, so people go to look.”
“There’s something else,” X said.
“Yeah?” Alex asked.
“Those satellite phones you gave the Kyrgyz?” X asked.
“And Wakhi,” Alex said. “Sure.”
“The Kyrgyz has been trying to get ahold of you,” X said. “Somehow, their messages are specifically blocked by the satellite.”
“How many Kyrgyz?” Alex asked.
“You received multiple calls from all three satellite phones over the last week or so,” X said.
“Explains why we haven’t heard from them,” Alex said. “Are they leaving messages on this satellite?”
“Oddly, yes,” X said. “How could you possibly know that?”
“It happened before,” Alex said. “I was told it’s the weather. The phones don’t make an exact connection with the satellite due to conditions and cloud cover. So the message isn’t relayed.”
“This has happened before?” X asked.
“Once, about a year ago,” Alex said. “It was trading season. They usually call to see how many sheep I want, so I was expecting their call. When I didn’t hear from them, I called, and they told me they’d been calling.”
“Sheep?” X asked.
A consummate European and a vegan, X couldn’t imagine the purchase of meat from people he deemed “heathens.” Alex laughed at him.
“You remember that I have all of those Irish people at home, right?” Alex said.
“And?” X asked.
“The Irish love mutton and lamb,” Alex said. “It’s obtainable in the US, but these sheep graze in one of the most beautiful and natural spots of the world. It seems to make a difference, or so the Irish say. You’ll have to try a lamb and mint grilled burger. Plus, Margaret will make traditional Navajo tacos when we beg her. Those are made out of mutton.”
“Sounds lovely,” X said with a laugh. “How do you get said sheep?”
“There is a war going on, X,” Alex said. “Army supply ships them to us for a fee, which is usually some amount of the stock which they use to trade with the war lords. We get to support the Kyrgyz without it looking like they are informants. They get rid of the last of their stock. It works out well.”
“This wasn’t an accident,” X said. “It was done intentionally.”
“But I just called them!” Alex said.
“You can call them; they can’t call you,” X said. “Clearly, someone knew about your relationship with the Kyrgyz and the Wakhi.”
“What do the messages say?” Alex asked.
“They are in a language I don’t speak,” X said.
“Right,” Alex said. “Sorry. Can you put them through to the Map Phone?”
“No, actually, I can’t,” X said.
“Why is that?” Alex asked.
“For lack of a better description, the Map Phone is offline,” X said.
“I guess that’s why there wasn’t anything on it when I checked it,” Alex said. “Any messages stored for that?”
“I’m not sure. I doubt it,” X said.
“Shit,” Alex said.
“Alex,” X said.
“Xavier,” Alex replied.
“This was not a computer malfunction,” X said. “Th
is was intentional. Someone doesn’t want you to get messages on the Map Phone. Any ideas why?”
“Some,” Alex said. “But I have to check it out first.”
“I think we should take over this phone number,” X said.
“I was just fired from drawing maps for the Intelligence Center,” Alex said. “I’m hoping on holding them to it.”
“That sounds like a good thing,” X said.
“It’s been an interesting few days,” Alex said.
“Well, someone’s running interference on you,” X said. “It looks like they intended to get you out of the way.”
“Thanks for your help, X,” Alex said. “I’ll call the Intelligence Center and let them know about the Map Phone.”
“And the rest?” X asked.
“I think we’ve found some of our lost SEALs,” Alex said. “Any ideas where our last team of SEALs might be?”
“It seems like Afghanistan is the key,” X said. “From the time of Alexander. Any other place where there might be an old settlement?”
“Alexander established more than seventy cities,” Alex said.
“Yes, but they’ve got to be looking for the library,” X said.
“If there is another one outside of Egypt,” Alex said.
Thinking, neither of them said anything. After a while, Alex sighed.
“I should call the Kyrgyz,” Alex said. “Thank you for your amazing help, X. You’ve saved lives here. I am grateful.”
“My pleasure, Alex,” X said. “Go stick it to those bastards.”
“I’ll do my best,” Alex said, and she hung up.
A breeze picked up off the ocean, and Alex realized she was cold. She glanced over to the area where she’d grabbed the bandana. There was a large bonfire, and the soldiers seemed to be having a nice time. She smiled at them.
She looked up and saw Jesse was standing right next to her. She took Miss Sweetie’s lead and mounted the horse. She let Miss Sweetie set a steady pace.
“So how have you been?” Alex asked Jesse.
“Well . . .” Jesse said. “I guess the question is how have you been, Alex?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out if I should leave the military to become a contractor,” Alex said.
“And?” Jesse asked.
“Everything points to leaving the military,” Alex said. “Like this phone bullshit. If I were a contractor, I’d be able to control this kind of thing. As it stands, the Intelligence Center won’t give me the Map Phone. I’m at the mercy of their crappy IT department.”
“There’s no question that the military is frustrating,” Jesse said.
“And all of this bullshit with Ingram,” Alex said. “I won’t be able to go get these men. I have to trust someone else to do it right, which sucks.”
“You’re right,” Jesse said.
She gave him a sideways glance.
“Are you being nice to me because you’ve abandoned me in the last month?” Alex asked.
“You abandoned me!” Jesse said with a laugh.
“Never,” Alex said. “At least never intentionally. God, the ocean and Zack and the F-15s and . . . all of this and . . . you weren’t there.”
Tears streamed down Alex’s face. She sniffed at her tears, trying to stem the flood.
“I’m proud of you,” Jesse said. His voice caught with emotion. “You saved Zack’s life and your own. You made it happen.”
“And where was the military? I’ve given . . .” Alex’s voice caught. “And they . . . couldn’t be bothered. I was found by a contractor.”
“Who was paid by the military,” Jesse said.
“What?” Alex asked.
“Who do you think paid of the cost of Leah and her crew to look for you?” Jesse asked. “Three boats, five men a boat. Pricey.”
“I never thought about it,” Alex said.
“Maybe you have more friends than you think,” Jesse said.
“But . . .” Alex started.
Jesse laughed. Alex smiled at him through her tears.
“Will you tell me know how you are?” Alex asked.
Jesse laughed, and Alex wiped her face. Miss Sweetie carried Alex back to her home stall. Alex gave her a fast brushing and made sure she had food and water. Alex ran home from there.
F
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tuesday afternoon
November 8 — 4:28 p.m. AFT (3:58 a.m. PDT)
Wakhan Corridor, Afghanistan
Jyrgal looked back to where her father stood on a snow packed hill above. He nodded to encourage her forward. She shot him an anxious look but continued forward. She would be twenty years old in a few weeks. She shouldn’t be so afraid.
She was strong, smart, dedicated to helping her people, and fairy born. Her father had delayed her marriage until she was finished with her schooling, and then he would marry her only to an educated boy of her same age. She could read and had already taught her father this precious skill. She was almost fluent in English and was helping her husband become fluent. Whenever the Fey Team was in country, they brought her tribe food, reading material, and doctors. Alex always gave her something special and pretty. Her family even kept the tribe satellite phone.
Her father was the leader of their settlement. She was his youngest, and only surviving, child out of ten. She had been at home when her father came to tell her to get dressed. Some Americans needed their help. She’d put on her prettiest skirt — bright-red with flecks of white weaved into the cloth, her warmest wool tights, her beautiful and warm vest, and her bright red head covering. Her husband had helped her to braid her hair into long black braids. She wore many strands of beads, including the one given to her by her friend, Alex the fairy. She had wrapped herself in her heaviest alpaca coat and her mother’s before stepping out into the 25 degrees below zero Fahrenheit afternoon.
“Go on,” her father told her in Kyrgyz.
She looked at him one last time and ran to the entrance of the cave. She glanced at her father. He nodded to encourage her, and she went into the cave.
“Hello?” Jyrgal called in English. “Are you here?”
The cave was warm and smelled of fire. At this moment, the cave was completely dark. Jyrgal continued with her prepared speech.
“I am Jyrgal,” she said. “I came on the request of my friend, the Fey.”
She heard rustling in the dark. A man appeared in front of her so fast that she squealed and jumped back.
“Shit,” the man said. “Sorry. Jeez, you’re not much older than my little sister.”
Jyrgal had never been this close to a stranger before. She had never seen a man so tall and big. She began to shake.
“Crap,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You said something about the Fey?”
Finding herself, Jyrgal’s hand went to the small fairy carved out of shell around her neck. She stood up a little straighter.
“I am fairy born,” Jyrgal said.
“You speak English,” the man said in a tone that sounded like he was experiencing a miracle.
“I am a friend of the Fey,” Jyrgal said. “She asked me and my father to come to see if you were all right and to tell you that some . . .”
Jyrgal wasn’t sure about the next word.
“I don’t know this word — SLLs — some kind of soldier, I think,” Jyrgal said. “Five SLLs.”
“SEAL team 5?” the man asked.
Jyrgal nodded.
“They will be here in the Wakhan tomorrow or the next day,” Jyrgal said.
“Did you hear that?” the man asked.
In the darkness, some number of men cheered. Intimidated, Jyrgal stepped back. More male faces materialized from the darkness.
“Back up, ya dipshit,” a man in the crowd said to the man she’d been talking to. “You’re towering over the girl.”
The man in front of her took a step back. She relieved her anxiety by straightening her skirt.
“Do you have food? Water?” Jy
rgal asked.
“We ran out of food,” the man said. “We’ve been melting snow for water.”
“Do you have fire?” Jyrgal asked. She gestured to the fire pit.
“We had fire,” the man said. “We’re out of fuel.”
“We will bring wood,” Jyrgal said. “My father has offered a goat. We have yak’s milk yogurt and tea. Very good. My cousins will bring what we have. They do not speak American.”
“We would greatly appreciate this gift,” the man said.
“Are you able to prepare the goat?” Jyrgal asked what she thought was an impertinent question.
Because of the extreme conditions, Kyrgyz men and women were equally capable of completing every task. But Jyrgal knew it was different for the foreigners. Jyrgal blushed and looked down.
“No,” someone in the crowd said.
“Please give us a few hours,” Jyrgal said. “It will be after dark, so my cousins will return with food.”
“How about this? Why don’t we come to you?” the man asked. “You can teach us, but we’ll do the work.”
“Won’t that cause trouble with the Taliban?” someone in the back asked.
“No Talib here,” Jyrgal said. “Too cold.”
The soldiers shuffled and murmured at her response.
“We will come with you,” the man in front of her said.
“As you wish,” Jyrgal said.
“Thank you,” the man said. “We will help prepare.”
“As you wish,” Jyrgal said. “We will wait for you outside.”
Jyrgal gave him a partial bow. She kept her head up and walked straight out of the cave. Once outside, she ran to her father. He held her until her shaking stopped. They waited until six men came from the cave. Together, they made their way across the valley to her father’s home, where her husband and child were waiting. Seeing the strangers, the other Kyrgyz joined in the celebration. Soon food and laughter filled the hut. As soon as she was able, Jyrgal slipped away.
“Alex?” Jyrgal said into the satellite phone less than an hour later. “Your men are here. I have spoken to them. Mama is teaching them how to cook goat!”
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