Also there was something in Sallah’s eye on occasion. A glint where there should be none. Like for a flash of a moment you could see the cultist within the man. A calculating look. One that didn't mesh with the man's ever-present smile.
Davison trusted the man about as much as Brandt did. Which according to the Sarge’s glares was not at all.
But they were still moving forward to Alat. Davidson trusted Brandt one thousand percent, so if he said we are going to Alat, they went to Alat.
Davidson scoured his mind trying to remember any religious significance to Alat, Azerbaijan. The region was ripe with proto-Christian history, but none that felt like it fit with the Hanging Gardens.
He was glad to see Rebecca was in the same boat.
“So what does Alat mean to you?” she asked Sallah.
He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That we shall find out.”
“No,” Davidson announced. “You know something.”
“Spit it,” Brandt said.
The man seemed reluctant to speak
“We will figure it out, Sallah,” Rebecca said. “You might as well tell me now so that my “brilliant” mind can be figuring out the rest of the puzzle.”
Sallah sighed, perhaps the first real emotion he’d shown since they got on the boat. “It is rumored that the Rab-talia originated from the Alat region.”
“The Rab-talia?” Davidson reflected.
“Yes, why?” Sallah asked.
“Weren’t they the super Arab troops that the British used to subdue the region?”
Sallah nodded. “Yes. They are an ancient sect of warriors descended from the great Assyrian armies.”
Davidson thought so.
“I don’t understand,” Rebecca said. “What significance does that play?”
Davidson frowned. He had some pretty esoteric ancient culture history, but a lot of it was sketchy. Like this bit of information. “Many people wondered why the Rab-talia would turn on their own culture as they did with the British…”
Sallah nodded. “It was rumored they were more than happy to squash their local rivals as the Rab-talia was charged with keeping the ancient Assyrian treasure hidden from all seekers. So they helped the British vanquish the local powers.”
“And this treasure is in or around Alat?” Rebecca asked.
* * *
“Seriously?” Brandt asked. “We are now looking for buried treasure?”
“Don’t look at me,” Rebecca said. “I just noticed the Hanging Gardens were eighty x eighty x eighty. The rest is just following the logical conclusion.”
“Logical?” Brandt challenged.
His wife smiled and tilted her head. “About as logical as we usually get.”
Brandt would take that. “How long until we land?” Brandt asked.
Sallah checked his watch. “About forty-five minutes or so.”
Bunny came on the line. “Um… I am fielding a bunch of questions from the Pentagon about whether or not you were in Iran over the last hour, what do you want me to say?”
“What do you think?” Brandt answered.
“No way, no how,” Bunny remarked.
“That’s damned right,” Brandt responded. “But congratulations to whoever blew up a hidden nuclear missile site.”
“Got it,” Bunny replied.
He turned to Sallah. “Okay, you’ve got forty five minutes to convince me we should stick with you, otherwise it is a big thank you and we are outta here.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to speak. She might be his wife, but he had six souls to guard. He needed his questions answered. At this point it was his way. Period. No highway. No dissention. No questioning.
It had been a while since they were in the field together. At home they split things pretty equally. And to be honest, Rebecca usually got her way. She was the momma-bear of the family.
But here? Now? There could be only one driver. There was no democracy. There was his rule.
He didn’t have to say anything, Rebecca closed her mouth on her own and looked down. She knew this wasn’t a power play or a game. This was their lives.
Brandt crossed his arms, “Well?”
Sallah looked over to Rebecca, but she wouldn’t make eye contact.
“What do you want to know?” the older man asked.
Brandt noticed the smiley-smile was all gone. The man’s shoulders were down and his lips were in a thin line. Sallah was practically a different man in front of Brandt, which he was glad for. The happy cultist had been freaking him out.
“Who are the Foremen? And don’t give me any crap answers.”
* * *
Stark listened, almost wishing he was on the boat. Brandt was giving Sallah some Hell, that was for sure.
But witnessing the verbal beat down would mean being out in the field, and Lord knew that was never happening again. Just the water park alone had nearly killed him with chlorine poisoning.
And to blow up an Iranian missile base? Then run, actually run across the desert. He’d be dead, simply from culture-shock.
But he’d really like to be on that boat right now.
Brandt could shoot a question with nearly the same accuracy he did a bullet from a gun.
“What is your end game?” Brandt asked.
The storm that had let up let loose again with the rain. They could hear it come down in sheets onto the boat’s roof.
Stark looked to the screen that was tracking the weather. The Caspian Sea was a real doozy when it came to weather. It was the largest body of water land-locked from the ocean. Larger than all the great lakes combined.
And as anyone from Chicago can tell you, having that large a body of water caused the weather to get a bit “schizophrenic.”
One moment windy. One moment raining. Then in fifteen minutes, sunny.
However, that large storm covering the sea wasn’t going to allow any sunshine in for a while.
Goodbye sun. Hello storm. It was going to be raining for another week, at the least.
“Well?” Brandt prompted, jerking Stark back into focus. “What is your end game?”
Sallah paused for a great while. “That I cannot tell you, but in no way are we heralding in, as you say, the apocalypse.”
Stark could imagine the look that Brandt was giving Sallah. Boy, Stark would like to see that.
Although he didn’t have to imagine it since his mother was giving him a pretty good imitation of that stare right now.
“Okay, okay,” Stark said to his mother, going back to his usual drudgery of re-tasking satellites and trying to get excellent coverage of the Alat region. He was having to hack into the Russian Defense system, since they were very interested in what was happening in their previous Soviet bloc neighbors. But even they didn’t have extensive coverage of the Caspian Sea region of Azerbaijan. It was going to be a little tricky.
Nothing he couldn’t handle, but tricky nonetheless.
* * *
The boat began slowing as they neared the Alat coastline. It was still dark and the storm made it seem even darker.
“Well?” Rebecca asked Brandt. “Is Sallah coming with us or not?”
Brandt cocked his head and looked at the cultist. “You have absolutely no intention of causing us or the rest of the world’s population any harm?”
The man shook his head. “None at all.”
“And we can leave you here without any repercussions.”
“Besides losing my insight and context in the situation, no. None.”
Brandt frowned.
Rebecca knew that her husband had hoped to nail Sallah in a lie or instance of deceit, but in forty minutes, Brandt hadn’t been able to do so. Besides refusing to give away the cult’s central governing secret, Sallah had seemed honest and forthcoming.
Which put Brandt in a bind.
To keep the man with them was like keeping an asp at your chest. Which, just ask Cleopatra how that went for her. However to leave the man behind might mean leavi
ng vital information on the table. Besides, he could tell his fellow cultists where the team was headed.
Her husband was damned if he did. Damned if he didn’t.
The boat pulled up to the shore. The clang of metal sounded as the ramp was lowered.
Decision time.
Brandt really didn’t give an order yay or nay. He just moved out, leaving Sallah looking confused.
“You going or what?” Davidson asked.
Sallah pressed his palms together and bowed his head. “Yes.”
Then they were out on the rocky shore of the Caspian Sea. The boat retracted the ramp and sailed back into the night.
Rain continued to fall, soaking them all as they watched their only transportation leave in the night.
Brandt turned to Sallah. “So what’s your insight into where the Rab-talia are hanging out?”
Sallah inclined his head. “They have a compound due north of here.”
Brandt waved his hand. “Lead on then.”
Rebecca knew that there was no way Brandt was as at ease with the cultist as he was letting on. Her husband had decided to play nice…for now. She also noticed that Prenner followed close on Sallah’s heel, pointing his gun directly into their guide’s back.
Brandt wasn’t one to take huge risks. And for that Rebecca was grateful.
She took his hand as they walked along a narrow path that lead up from the water. Water dripped down her nose, but she didn’t complain. As long as she didn’t have to run, she was good.
* * *
Stark was trying to figure out Sallah’s game. What was the guy up to? Bunny and he had scoured the internet for references to the “Foremen” group and found a big fat nothing. They’d searched for a Sallah that matched face recognition and came up with squat.
Now Stark was trying to see if Sallah had any kind of tracking device on him, but again was coming up with nothing. It meant Sallah was telling the truth, however Stark would rather him being tracked. At least that way they could at the least back-track and have a line of investigation.
Right now they were completely useless. All this computing power and they couldn’t contribute anything to the team.
“I think I’ve got something,” his mother said. She was always the one that pulled it out of the fire for them.
She showed them her screen. “I believe they are heading here…” She pointed to a large complex of buildings due north of the team.”
“And?” Bunny asked.
“And they are pretty fond of their electronics. I’ve got at least a dozen laptops in there, several cell phones and a television in each room hooked up to a central DVR.”
Bunny frowned, but Stark’s smile began to grow. “We can tap into nearly all of those devices,” he explained. “The cell phones and laptops can become our eyes and ears. Even the DVR’s satellite uplink can help us breach the complex electronically.”
Now this was something.
* * *
Davidson trudged along in the mud like everyone else. The storm had only gotten worse as they made their way up the game trail. It didn’t look like many people went down to the shore from Alat.
The terrain, as far as he could tell on a moonless, cloudy night, was a bunch of scrub brush and prickly trees. If you strayed very far off the path, you were going to get nailed. It looked like further down the slope were grassy fields.
It was idyllic with a bite.
Davidson knew that Azerbaijan was a former Soviet bloc nation. The country was primarily Muslim, but a more moderate westernized Muslim country. There was no strict code for the women, and women had the votes. Not that their elections were all that much on the up and up. Azerbaijan was accused of what was called “caviar” diplomacy.
The ruling “Freedom” party was hardly that. They basically bribed their way into power and spent freely abroad to legitimize their rule. Overall though, the country was at peace. The only source of contention was the disputed northern region that bordered Armenia. It was similar to the Indian-Pakistan dispute over Kashmir.
But that disputed region was far to the north and this southern region was mainly rural.
The government of Azerbaijan had a cordial but cool relationship with the United States. It was a member of the coalition against international terrorism, but with their fast and loose elections, it was hard to have a warmer relationship with the country.
However, if the team were captured, they would not be tortured and ransomed like they would have been in Iran. That didn't mean that out here, a random patrol couldn't find them and take issue with their presence.
Azerbaijan’s military budget was greater than most of its neighbors’ GNP. Even out here, the military had a significant presence.
The line ahead of Davidson stalled out. Now huddled together in the pouring rain.
Sallah pointed in the direction of some trees. “Their compound is just beyond that stand. I have no idea what their defenses might be.”
Stark came on the line. “We're working on that right now. It doesn't look like they have any perimeter defenses. But all of the buildings are wired on an essential security grid.”
“I’m going up,” Davidson stated. Brand nodded his approval.
Davidson headed out into the rain for the tallest tree. Hopefully the trees would provide some protection in the driving rain. He did not envy the rest of the group.
* * *
Rebecca was racking her brain, trying to remember everything she knew about the Rab-talia. Supposedly they were lost to time. After they had assisted the British in the early twentieth century, they had vanished from history.
However, not exactly vanished, more like shacked up on the coastline of an obscure country.
“Bunny, anything more?”
“All I can find is that they paid cash for the compound. And they have quite a hefty Swiss bank account. It appears there were days when the British Empire paid nicely.”
That information was not helping Rebecca form the questions that she needed to ask once they got inside the compound. She looked over at Sallah, She thought he knew how the Rab-talia fit into this puzzle far better than she.
How did this Assyrian connection fit in with Dr. Chen's drilling expedition? How were the Foremen connected to the Assyrians?
Rebecca shook her head. She’d dealt with enough cults to know that you just had to go with the flow until it made sense. Until the light bulb came on, you usually groped around in the dark. She couldn't let the stress get to her. She had a job to do.
They reached the line of trees that marked the compound. Dim lights stood out against the rainy nights. Soon the sun should be rising, but with a heavy cloud cover Rebecca wasn't sure what difference it would make.
They were so screwed.
What were they going to do? Walk into a semi-militarized group and say “Hey we’re pretty sure you guys know where the hidden Assyrian treasure is buried?”
Rebecca was pretty sure that wasn't going to go over too well. Like it ever did. Probably showing up in the middle of a stormy night wasn't going to help negotiations any.
Next to her, Brandt gave orders and the men dispersed into the night.
“Stark?” Brandt asked into the mic. “Can you ring the front door for us?”
CHAPTER 8
“Oh, I can do much better than that,” Stark said. “It looks like the television is on in the largest bedroom, I can only assume that one is their leader’s. What do you want me tell him?”
There was a brief pause like Brandt couldn’t believe that option was open to him. “Well?” Stark prompted.
“Tell him…” Brandt faded out. Stark would see on the satellite that the big man turned to his wife.
“Tell him,” Rebecca stated. “That we mean no harm, but need to talk to him about eighty x eighty x eighty.”
“You got it,” Stark said, typing what he needed to. He then nodded to his mother who interrupted the television satellite feed to show their message on the Rab-talia’
s leader’s TV.
Gunfire erupted from the complex. That seemed to be the Rab-talia’s response. Luckily the bullets were un-aimed and random, never even coming close to the team.
“You did put in the part on how we met no harm, right?” Rebecca asked.
“I sure did, but I will repeat it again.”
Starks fingers flew across the keyboard as he relayed the message.
Over the line, Sallah’s voice came over tinny since he didn't have his own mic. “Tell them that there is a member of the Foremen here, and I might have something they want to make it worth their while to meet.”
“Okay…” Stark did as instructed and typed the message.
Bunny broke in, “Guys, I got the feed from their cell phones. “They want to lure you in, then capture you. Sorry, Sallah, but privately they think the Foremen are a joke.”
“What do you want to do?” Stark asked.
* * *
That was a very good question, Brandt thought.
Clearly Sallah wasn't going to be much help in this situation. And the Rab-talia had shown that they like to shoot first and ask questions, well kind of never. He wished he could just assault the complex, but that probably wasn't going to get these men to talk.
Ugh, how he hated diplomacy. Which is why he’d become a soldier rather than work for the State Department.
“Well?” he asked his wife. This was her show after all.
Rebecca frowned as she thought. “Bunny, who is the head of the Assyrian pantheon?”
It took a few seconds for Bunny’s reply, “Ashur, the male god that is usually depicted with a lion’s body, an eagle’s wings, and a man’s face.”
Rebecca nodded beside him. “Great. Tell the Rab-Talia that under Ashur’s mighty gaze, we swear we only want to talk.”
There was the sound of clicking keys, then silence.
But hey, there wasn’t any shooting, so that was a huge bonus. A soul figure came out at the main house, holding his hand up, getting drenched in the process.
Brandt moved his old trio forward. “Bunny, what's the chatter like?”
“They still aren’t sure. They sound pretty confused and disorganized.”
That could work for them. But it can also work against them. You'd rather go up against the professional squad, rather than a dysfunctional militia. But Brandt kept them moving forward. They had to get this over with some time or another.
The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set) Page 9