“I would say good luck, but with you, luck never has anything to do with it, does it, mate?”
“Oh, more than you might think,” Brandt replied. “Thank you,” he said sticking his hand back out. “You always come through Walt. Always.”
Apparently the handshake wasn’t good enough as the Brit pulled Brandt into a bro hug. Vanderwalt harshly whispered into his ear, “It’s not what it seems.”
Then Vanderwalt was back to his affable Brit self as they backed out of the hug. “Ta ta.”
What the Hell was that supposed to mean?
CHAPTER 4
Davidson missed Bunny as the light dimmed. Behind the clouds, the sun must have begun to set. He missed her a lot more than he would want to admit. He’d gotten used to having her around all the time since she joined the team. He didn’t realize what a privilege it was to just look over and get one of her beautiful smiles. Or how often in the day he would tuck a stray curl behind her ear.
Having Brandt and Rebecca around only exacerbated his feelings of loneliness. Marriage wore well on both of them and they didn’t have much trouble with PDA. Not excessive, but enough to remind Davidson how much he missed Bunny.
This was one of the reasons he was reluctant to have a relationship. They hurt. Not all the time, but often enough that it felt like too much of a risk for his inexperienced heart.
Before Bunny, he hadn’t even suspected how incredibly awesome the times were when they were together. It more than made up for melancholy moments like this. She was stuck in the hospital and there was nothing either one of them could do about it.
Besides it was all rainy. Bunny hated it when the humidity made her hair frizz, so probably best she was back in DC.
Lopez stood up. “It’s been lovely folks, but probably time to get the plane ready.”
Davidson rose as well, stretching out his stiff joints.
The rest followed more slowly.
It was weird to think they were going to be in Iraq in a matter of minutes. Minutes. It was a little freaky. It had been a while since he had been there. Not a ton of great memories in that war-torn country. Davidson had been there when the American army was basically there to act as a human buffer between the Sunni and the Shia. Not fun. You never wanted to leave a civilian population exposed to a massacre, but you never knew who were the aggressors and who were the victims.
That had not been a great time in his career.
Luckily, this should be an in-and-out type mission. Under an hour to fly to Hillah, at least with Lopez flying. Two hours to establish whether or not the coordinates provided by Bunny were the actual Hanging Gardens of Babylon or not, then back here.
Like he said. Quick in and out.
Right. Like it ever happened like that.
* * *
Stark frowned as he rubbed his eyes. The sun was just coming up here into a gray drizzly morning, as the fiery orb was setting in the Middle East. He was trying to secure some satellite footage over Hillah, but there was nada.
Which, of course, made no sense whatsoever. Iraq usually had like three satellites per square mile under surveillance. Yet an entire ten-mile diameter of sand was left unmonitored.
“What’s the matter?” Bunny asked with dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t slept well either last night.
“I think someone is intentionally blocking satellite feed from the Hillah area,” Stark reported.
“It isn’t just a problem with orbital scheduling?” his mother asked.
Rubbing the sleep fully out of his eyes, Stark sat up. “I mean there is none. Like the satellites are turned off.”
“Well, which satellite is supposed to be scanning that area?” Bunny asked.
“The British Geological Survey satellite,” Stark answered.
“So MI-6’s?” Bunny asked.
Stark nodded. Nobody was fooled by the name.
“How could it be off then?” his mother asked.
Stark pointed at the screen. “What do you think I’ve been trying to figure out for the last half hour?”
His mother took in a sharp breath and looked away. He’d snapped at her and was already sorry for it.
“Mom, sorry. I think I’m sugar crashing, but sorry.”
His mother still wouldn’t look at him, but she did pull a Pop Tart out of her purse and hand it to him. Frosted strawberry, his favorite. Oh, sure, the S’mores flavor had won a lot of awards, but give him some frosted strawberry any day of the week, and his mother knew that.
“That means we have no way to watch the team after they land in Iraq?” Bunny asked.
Stark shook his head. “We are going to be blind until the Mexican satellite passes over in six hours.”
Of course, by then the team should be out of the country, especially with Lopez flying. With any luck, they wouldn’t need that satellite feed.
“Isn’t our first priority to figure out who has the mojo to turn off an Iraqi surveillance satellite?” His mother asked.
“Great question,” Stark said, trying to make up from before, and that Pop Tart was really making a difference.
“Don’t try to snow me, son,” his mother replied. “Just tell me who has that kind of pull?”
Unfortunately, Stark couldn’t. All they knew was someone didn’t want any information getting out regarding the Hillah area.
Was it friend or foe?
* * *
Rebecca watched as the ground slid beneath them. It was a moonless night so she could only make out large boulders and wide roads, but the flight was kind of beautiful. Lopez was flying with all the running lights off. They probably didn’t have to have them off, but Lopez liked the challenge.
She’d heard about the rough time he’d had after Levont. She couldn’t imagine the corporal despondent. It just seemed unnatural. She was glad he was back to normal in time for her to rejoin the team.
Rebecca thought his buoyancy also had something to do with Brandt’s arrival. Lopez seemed completely rejuvenated by his old commander.
“When is Maria due?” Rebecca asked.
Lopez’s lips spread in a big smile. “You mean when is “One Shot’s” baby due?”
Prenner groaned, “Not this again.”
Rebecca wasn’t sure what the men were referring to, but she could guess. “Well?”
“We’ve got three more months to go.”
“We?” Rebecca asked with her eyebrow up.
“Okay, fine, so Maria and my mom have three more months, but they’ve got the baby’s room all done up. I think that level of pink could cause retinal damage, but hey, like they say… it’s their show.”
Somehow Lopez, his baby momma, and his real momma made it work. More power to them.
All of a sudden, the engine went dead.
“What was that?” Rebecca asked.
Lopez laughed off concern. “Chica, you've been away too long. I don't want them to hear us coming.”
“Who are they?” Rebecca asked. She thought the army was far from here.
“The campers at the lake,” Lopez reported.
“There's coasting in mysteriously, and then there's falling from the sky,” Prenner stated.
Lopez waved his teammate off as well and grumbled, “back seat flyers.”
Oh, this was going to get interesting, Rebecca thought as she buckled the belt tighter.
* * *
Brandt was trying very hard not to worry about Lopez’s landing plan. However, lights from the campground got larger and larger. It really highlighted how quickly they were descending. Seaplanes could land on the ground but it was tough. And falling this quickly?
If it were anyone else at the helm, Brandt would be very, very worried.
“Hey, is that a light out in the distance?” Prenner asked.
Brandt squinted, he really hated getting older, and thought he saw a speck in the distance. But as they descended it became clear that Prenner was correct.
“Are those spotlights?” Davidson asked.
Lopez coc
ked an ear. “Is that a generator I hear?”
Dammit? Brandt, even with the seaplane’s engines off, couldn't hear it, but Davidson nodded.
“What's going on out there?” Rebecca asked apparently to no one in particular.
The closer they got though, the more apparent it became. Someone was out there, digging.
“Who the hell would be way out here?” Lopez asked.
Rebecca frowned next to him. “I think I know.”
Brandt raised an eyebrow. Rebecca's frown deepened. “Dr. Rawlings was getting a bunch of flak because her theory regarding the Hanging Gardens of Babylon was only on paper. She had no fieldwork to back it up. I guess she decided to get some.”
“But none of this,” Brandt said as he waved his arm to encompass the large field flooded with light “is authorized, right? The Iraqi government never condoned it?”
Rebecca shook her head. “But sometimes archaeologists don't take ‘no’ for an answer. Remember Dr. Walker back in Istanbul? He dug under the blue Mosque.”
“And look how well that turned out for him,” Brandt replied.
“Well, we'll find out ourselves, won't we?”
Dammit if his wife wasn't always right.
* * *
Despite their lack of engines, Rebecca was happy to report a fairly smooth landing by Lopez.
She didn't waste any time getting out of the seaplane, and rushing over to the dig. The archaeological team was hurrying over to the plane.
One woman in particular was at the head of the pack. She wore dusty jeans with kneepads over her pants. Quite a sexy look. A tool belt around her waist with her picks and brushes. A nondescript T-shirt with mud stains and tiny holes from getting snagged on rocks.
The shirt was likely the archaeologist’s “lucky” shirt. Probably because she'd worn it during grad school when she’d made her first big find.
How did Rebecca know? She knew because not that many years ago, that was her. And dear God, is that what she used to look like? The woman’s hair was pulled back in a severe French braid. No makeup. No attempt whatsoever to make herself look attractive.
Rebecca had wondered why she didn't have many dates during that period of her career.
Another thing that she and this archaeologist seemed to share was a passion for their work. The woman's cheeks were blotchy red and you could tell that tears weren’t far behind.
“What do you think you're doing?” Rebecca asked as they neared.
The archaeologist replied. “Said by the woman who just landed a seaplane in the middle of the desert.”
Rebecca couldn't help but smile. “I'm sorry Dr. Rawlings, excuse my manners. I'm Dr. Rebecca Monroe and this is my… Well my backup.” she knew Brandt wouldn’t mind being called her backup. Better than saying her own personal Special Forces team.
The archaeologist gained some composure as she wiped her hands on her dirty jeans, then realized getting clean was futile and offered her hand to shake. Rebecca accepted the offer feeling the grains of desert sand on her palm. She couldn’t lie. She missed it.
The kneeling for hours, not so much.
Dr. Rawlings eyes narrowed. “The Dr. Monroe?”
“That would be me.”
“I didn't think you did digs anymore,” Dr. Rawlings stated.
Rebecca felt the archaeologist’s hand fall from hers. She knew exactly what Dr. Rawlings was thinking. She was thinking that Rebecca was here to steal her dig. That couldn't be further from the truth.
“Don't worry, I just need some information. I'm not here to steal your thunder.”
Archaeologist looked tangibly relieved and even got a sly smile on her lips. About the only thing better than a dig was bragging about a dig. “I think I found it. I really think these are the gardens.”
“Great. Let's take a look,” Rebecca replied.
Rebecca looked back at the men, who all looked exceedingly bored, especially Lopez.
“I'm getting under the hood of the seaplane. Somebody has been woefully neglecting it. I’m surprised it flew at all.”
Great time to inform them of that.
“While you go have fun, we will check the perimeter,” her husband stated.
“I won’t be long,” Rebecca replied.
Brandt chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
* * *
Davidson had walked the perimeter four times now. Unless he was sadly mistaken, the camp had absolutely no security measures. No trip wires, no sensors, no guns.
This entire illegal archaeological dig was just sitting out here in the open for anyone to find.
Dr. Rawlings was either extremely dedicated or completely insane. Or a little bit of both --- just like Rebecca.
While the two women had gotten off to a rocky start, they now looked like BFFs. They stood shoulder to shoulder intently looking at whatever Dr. Rawlings pointed out.
Sometimes Dr. Rawlings pointed down at something so tiny Davidson couldn't see it. Other times Dr. Rawlings spread her arms wide open indicating something of massive scope. The whole time Rebecca nodded like a bobble head.
Davidson glanced down at his watch. They had already been here over an hour, and it didn't look like Rebecca was any closer to finding the evidence they needed then she had been when she landed.
“Davidson?” Bunny asked in his ear.
“Yes,” he replied.
“What's going on out there?” Bunny queried.
“What do you mean? Can't you see us?”
“Umm… the satellite over your position has been turned off,” Bunny explained.
“So we have no idea if anyone is heading out this way?”
“I think you need to talk to Dr. Rawlings about it. Her dad works at Whitehall. We think he had the satellite turned off to protect the dig.”
The conversation must have been on the open channel because Brandt hightailed it over to the archaeologists.
Yah, Davison was kind of glad he was way over here.
* * *
If Brandt wasn't happy with the situation already, he was downright pissed off now. He gave the signal for Lopez to get the bird ready. They were taking off, like now.
He joined the two doctors. “Sorry, but we've got to leave.”
“No problem,” Rebecca said.
Brandt's jaw nearly fell to the ground. “Really?”
He had expected a knockdown, drag-out fight with his wife. He had expected her to want to stay…for days.
But she turned on her heel and walked toward the seaplane.
“Um, you don't want to stay?” Brandt asked.
“Why would I? These aren’t the Hanging Gardens,” Rebecca remarked.
It was the other archaeologist that sputtered, “Wait. What? What do you mean?”
Rebecca turned and frowned. “You’ve probably found yourself a nice Babylonian palace, but certainly not the Gardens.”
Dr. Rawlings looked ready to cry. “No, look at the borders. This has to be them.”
Rebecca shook her head. “First off, the foundation is too small. But the truly damning evidence is the limestone.”
“I don't… I don't understand. Limestone was the rock of choice during that era.”
“Don't make it worse, Rawlings, you really should do your research before you go publishing an article. I don't even know how it made it through peer review.”
The woman stood there sputtering, her cheeks bright red, her lips in a firm line.
Brandt really wanted to warn the woman not to argue with Rebecca, but the archaeologist look determined to go ten rounds. He didn't think he could stop her.
* * *
Rebecca really wondered how Rawlings ever got her doctorate. This was all sloppy research. Sloppy excavation. Sloppy thinking.
The number of problems with Dr. Rawlings’ theory were so many that Rebecca doubted she could list them all before dawn.
The fact was clearly documented in ancient writings that the garden’s walls were made of mud bricks lined with lead, which d
idn't seem to matter to this archaeologist, or whatever you called her.
Plus the fact, it was fairly clear that the ancient city of Babylon did not list the Gardens in their city directory. And yes, even back then large cities like Babylon took an inventory of their greatest assets.
Why in the world wouldn't the Babylonians claim one of the seven wonders of the ancient world? Probably because they didn't build them.
The Assyrians did, which put but the gardens somewhere in Iran.
She was about to explain this all to Rawlings in excruciating detail when Brandt shook his head.
“We don't have time, babe. We've got to go now.”
Rebecca knew her husband's many tones. The tone he just used could have gotten even Kasa put down her play sword and go take a bath.
Rebecca strode off, allowing Rawlings to sputter behind her. The woman would figure out soon enough what she’d found. And the archaeological community would give Rawlings a thumping even better than Rebecca could.
Once they were far enough away from the archaeologist, Rebecca turned the Brandt. “You're worried about the lack of satellite feed?”
Her husband just gave a curt nod.
Rebecca did not argue a single word with them. If he was worried, they all had reason to be worried.
She had dealt with enough cults to know that caution was the watchword. Besides there was nothing here for them.
They all assembled in the plane. “So where to now?” Lopez asked.
Rebecca tried to sound as casual as possible. “The Hajaligholi Salt Lake. It’s a bit further east … in Iran.” Brandt had swiveled so quickly that Rebecca was afraid her husband was going to hurt his neck.
“Come again?”
Rebecca smiled.
Some risks were worth it.
CHAPTER 5
“No. No way. No how. Just no,” Brandt stated emphatically as Lopez got the seaplane ready for flight.
“Vincent…” Rebecca sighed.
“Are you going to stomp your foot or use my middle name too? Paul?”
Rebecca's lips turned up at the corners. “Only if you make me.” The smile on her lips dulled the sting of her words.
“We are talking, Iran,” Brandt said knowing that it was practically futile to argue with Rebecca. But it was after all, Iran.
The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set) Page 6