by Greig Beck
“But all cellular processes require energy, and among the basic properties of cells is the ability to generate energy. The energy is obtained through controlled oxidation of foods, and called cellular respiration. And this is what’s confounding me. You see, there are seven characteristics of life – movement, sensitivity, growth, respiration, the need for nutrients, excretion and reproduction. A thing can be classed as living if it exhibits some of these.”
He straightened, his face creased in a frown. “But this thing? This thing, he, is moving, but what else? He won’t grow, his cells don’t need food, or least food as we understand it. He’s not respiring, excreting, and is certainly not sensitive to light, heat, or anything really.”
“But it attacked us,” Adira said. “It saw us, moved fast, and was stronger than ten men. How can it not be alive?”
Yair shook his head. “I don’t know. Its brain is near mush, but it obviously sees, hears and has motor control.” He shrugged. “Yes, it’s moving, but this thing is no more alive than a wind-up toy. In fact, the cells are actually decomposing, right before our eyes.” He turned to Alex. “Did you destroy the body?”
Alex shook his head and took the long metal probe from the scientist to prod at the thing’s cheekbone.
“Ah, well, then it’ll make for a nice surprise when their cleaners come in the morning.” Yair chuckled.
The thing’s eyes seemed to fix on him. “It can’t see us – I don’t think so, anyway. It’s just like attaching electrodes to a dead frog. It’ll jump all right, but it isn’t alive.”
“Well, this here little frog killed one of our team and nearly broke me in half.” Sam glared, making Yair seem to shrink before him. “So, Doc, what exactly are the electrodes making this freak jump?”
Yair nodded. “Good question, Lieutenant Reid. Answering that from a scientific perspective, I would say some sort of power source we still need to determine.” He rested his knuckles on the steel bench top. “But if I were to answer as a religious man, and totally off the record, I would say, the scarification on his face is that of mystical incantations, and they have somehow imbued him with life.” He shook his head. “No, no, let me correct that; animation, not life, more a sort of … living death.”
“Living death?” Sam growled. “Well, ain’t that great? So if you sewed this thing back together, it’d try and attack us all over again.” He placed huge hands on his hips. “This is why it couldn’t be brought down by being blasted with around a hundred high velocity rounds; because it’s already freakin dead.”
“Great infiltration capabilities,” Alex said quietly, using the probe to prod one of its fluttering eyelids. “Immense strength, unbending focus, immune to fear, immune to any of the mortal requirements of sleep, food, water, or shelter – the perfect damned delivery mechanism.”
“And someone is launching them … right at us,” Adira said.
“Not just someone,” Alex said. “Hezar-Jihadi and possibly Iran.”
“I don’t get it.” Sam shook his head. “These jihadis loathe Iran as much as we do, and vice versa. They’re already fighting border skirmishes with them now.”
“No, it makes sense when you look at their underlying philosophies.” Adira began to pace. “They both believe the end of the world will begin in the Middle East. In fact, their core beliefs are of a final decisive war, and that the new caliphate awaits the army of Rome, that’s the West, and whose defeat at Dabiq will start the countdown to the apocalypse – the end of the world. To them, death is the pathway to heaven.”
“Iran’s a theocracy, sure, but gambling with possible nuclear retaliation is suicide on a mass scale. Their people would revolt.” Sam shook his head. “Not sure I buy that.”
Alex exhaled. “Maybe not so far fetched. Hammerson told me that Iran has invited us to join them in a military coalition … in Dabiq.”
“Fuck it, they’re trying to sucker us in.” Sam rubbed big hands up through his hair.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said. “Whether or not Iran believes in any of this, or even cares about it, they know that dragging America into another war in the Middle East only helps them. They get to watch us waste blood and treasure. And imagine if they could arrange for another nuke to be walked into the center of our army.”
Sam groaned. “That’d hurt us bad.” He folded huge arms. “Still begs one huge question – how the hell are they sewing bodies together and reanimating them?”
“I doubt you and I could do it, but someone has found the right mix of chemistry, alchemy, or perhaps even magic,” Adira said.
On hearing the word, Yair Shamir cleared his throat and Adira shot him a murderous glare. “What?” Her eyes blazed. “What?”
The scientist shook his head and waved both hands before him.
“Clarke’s third law.” Sam looked from under his folded brows, his eyes going from Yair back to Adira. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
A sticky sound drew their gazes back to the thing’s head. Its mouth opened and closed as if trying to speak, but its lips were gummed with the tar-like slime. Alex couldn’t take his eyes from the loathsome thing.
“I don’t care how they’re doing it,” Alex said. “Frankly, I’m not sure I even care why they’re doing it. But I think something else is driving them – there’s another motive we’re not seeing yet. The end result is the same: a lot of death rained down upon us. I only care about stopping it dead, and if it’s a single person or a whole lab full of high tech wizards creating these things and launching them at us, then we need to deal with it, conclusively.” He punctuated the word by stabbing down with the probe, driving it into the center of the thing’s skull and down into the steel bench below it.
“The stakes are high. We just don’t know how many nukes they have ready to go. We could set the whole Middle East on fire. Israel would be first into the inferno.” Adira grimaced.
“As far as I’m concerned, the inferno will be upon us if we don’t act.” Alex straightened. “They like playing with the dead so much; I say, we go and help them join the ranks.”
“Into Iran?” Sam asked, a grin beginning to split his face.
Alex looked back down at the head and saw its eyes were firmly fixed on him. Alex’s smile was grim. “Hammerson said we’re to follow the leads, wherever they take us. Then we terminate with extreme prejudice.”
CHAPTER 10
Hammerson scrolled through a screen of the latest Intel. “We’re blind and deaf in there now. I can use our orbiting hardware to guide you, but we’re just eyes from a long way up. The rest is up to you.”
“Got it,” Alex said. “It’s a weird one, Jack. These … things were not really alive. It was more like someone jump-started a Mac truck. They were all sewn together, no blood, just a weapon delivery system on two legs. Got the strength of a dozen men – hard to kill.” Alex snorted. “No, already dead; make that, hard to stop.”
“But you took one down,” Hammerson said.
“Yes and no. I beheaded it, but I didn’t see what happened to the body. Might still be jerking around down there, or worse, having another head fitted, and then coming right back at us.”
“Jesus Christ.” Hammerson spat the words. “These things are hard to see. They don’t show up on thermal, as there’s no body heat. And trying to find a single slow moving person in the entire Middle East is damned near impossible.” Hammerson exhaled. “And now they plan to take their war to the armies of Rome. One goes off in Italy, and we’ve got a world war on our hands.”
“Got to find that Traveler, and find the source. Both need to be totally destroyed,” Alex said.
“Agreed – find them, and take them down, hard.” Hammerson sat back, thinking. After a few seconds, he ran a hand up through his hair. “I can swing the satellites in on this to watch borders and sniff for any high energy particle traces. I’ll arrange for coded updates to get to you, but for the most part you’ll need to go dark when you cro
ss into Iran. They’ve got some pretty sophisticated surveillance equipment in there – mostly Russian and Chinese, but top of the line. As soon as you start talking, they’ll begin to close in on you.”
“Blackout might be a good thing,” Alex said. “From now on, the less you know, the less you’ll have to deny to anyone who asks.”
“Works for me. You got any firm leads?” Hammerson asked.
“Maybe. Adira seems to think she has an idea where to start, but it’s a long shot. She told me that this reanimation process was thought to be a myth or a legend about an alchemist named Jabir ibn Hayyan, who lived over a thousand years ago in an ancient city called Tous – it’s still there today in northeastern Iran. She thinks that should be our first call. Best way in for us is to cross from Afghanistan into Turkmenistan, then drive a few hundred miles through empty desert.”
Hammerson whistled. “Wild West; nothing but a graveyard of fallen military power up there.”
Alex snorted. “Compared to Mosul? Walk in the park. I’ll contact you again when we’re on the ground. Good luck finding that last Traveler.”
“Same to you, and stay alive. Over and out.”
*
“Just you. A smaller team is a faster team.” Adira folded her arms.
“My full team, you and Eli, that’s five; all we need,” Alex said. “We’re better trained, and ready to go.”
“Than who?” Adira snorted. “Too many, and which ones can speak fluent Farsi? Which ones know where the safe houses are? Which ones know how to spot Sepah or Quds commandos on the ground?” She shook her head. “I know you’ll fight to the death, but what good are dead HAWCs to me?”
Alex exhaled. “Sam Reid can speak Farsi.”
Adira raised her brows. “Like an American.”
“Sam and Franks, and Big Brother looking down over our shoulder. You need the Intel.” He folded his arms. “We’re ghosts, and we’re going in, with or without you.”
“The Intel I need, ghosts I don’t.” She folded her arms tighter and narrowed her eyes. “But you have proven useful before, and there is something I need.”
She waited, and eventually Alex raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
“Clear me with Jack Hammerson. I may never go back to America, but if I do, I don’t want him expending any energy getting in front of me.” She shrugged. “And I’d hate to have him send you to bring me in.” She smiled, tilting her head. “Or would you like that?”
Alex grinned. “I’ll talk to the Colonel.” He straightened. “So, we’re all good; three HAWCs for the price of one.” Alex half bowed, and then Adira led him to a small table where they sat down and she poured a coffee. He sipped and then looked up at her. “Afghanistan is a risk – bad country in the border regions. Turkmenistan at least pretends to be neutral. Easier in and out.”
She nodded. “Normally true, but it also has more IRG spies than most other countries. Many live and work out in the open, but they are flush with cash, and pay locals handsomely for information. A group of strange-looking people flying in or moving around would attract high-value attention. They’d be on us in an hour.”
“I agree. Do you know the city of Tous?” Alex asked.
She shook her head. “I only know the area; it’s in the Mashhad Province. Not much out there – mountains, cold grassland plains, and some nomadic tribes. The city itself is old, like most cities in the area. It’s changed hands many times, even been captured by Alexander the Great in 330 BC. Then almost totally destroyed by the Mongols around eight hundred years ago. It was always a city of poets, sciences, and learning, and a natural fit for an ancient alchemist’s dark magic. I have my network gathering information before we leave, but an interesting thing to note is that there has been heavy traffic in and out of the area lately – by land and air.”
“Crossing into Iraq – by helicopter perhaps?” Alex half smiled. “Looks like our number one suspect after all.”
“Yes, and a good place to start. We leave tomorrow morning, early.” She smiled. “Time for another outfit change; I get to wear a simple abaya. But you and Sam look too much like soldiers to pass as anything else, so … we have some Iranian regular army uniforms.” She grinned. “And please let me tell Casey Franks she will be in fetching all-over black this time, just like me.”
Alex went to turn away, but she reached out to grab his arm. “Not so fast. I have just one more change of clothing for you … and one more request.”
His brows came together, and she tilted her head. “You owe me, Alex … at least for that thing I did for America. I saved your friend Matt Kearns, and probably half the country.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, but then slowly nodded. “Fire away.”
CHAPTER 11
5 Gvulot Street, Tel Aviv
Alex laughed as he stood in the doorway of the Joz Veloz restaurant. He remembered Casey’s face when he told her of their plan, and what she would need to wear. She had at first rebelled, but then realized she’d be able to conceal a lot more weaponry under the abaya than he and Sam combined. She relented, but still looked like she wanted to break something.
Even though Adira had given him a cotton shirt, blue chambrays, and a pair of lofas – casual garb – he still stuck out like a banged thumb, as he near filled the narrow doorway.
He waited impatiently. Adira had gone to speak to the owner, an old friend she had said, and he craned his neck to see into the dining area. It was a small, candlelit décor of flea market finds, with what looked like red wine served in small tumblers. He would have called it cramped; she would have called it cozy. More couples sat at a small bar talking softly or in high backed booths. He liked the place. It was private, and the smell or roasting lamb made his mouth water.
Adira reappeared from the back of the restaurant clicking her fingers to get his attention. He watched her approach and realized he hadn’t seen her out of army fatigues in years. He’d forgotten what a figure she had. She wore a light dress to just above her knees, showing off long, brown legs. She had perfect honey-olive skin, and a hint of makeup made her dark eyes glow.
He stepped inside and she took his arm. A young man nodded to him, and introduced himself as Lev. He led them through to the back, where a single table sat against the wall, with extra space between them and any others.
“Private; our best,” he said.
“The best,” Adira repeated, with a smile and raised eyebrows. She leaned close. “I saved Lev’s father from a bomb attack.”
Adira turned and thanked Lev, and he went to hand her some menus, but she waved them away and spoke rapidly in Hebrew.
“Excellent.” He spun and disappeared.
“I hope you don’t mind; I ordered for us. The house specials.”
Lev silently returned with a bottle of red wine – Yatir Forest, which he showed to Adira, who nodded. He poured, she sipped, and then closed her eyes momentarily.
“Yatir Forest is an oasis in a dry and dangerous land. And this is its finest gift.” She nodded to Lev, who poured them both a tumbler full.
She lifted her glass. “To us.” Alex paused, raising a brow. She smiled. “And to our success.”
He clinked glasses, smiled and sipped. She was right; it was a gift. Alex felt her eyes on him, and lowered the glass.
“So, Alex, you found your way home … to Jack Hammerson at least. That is good, I think.” She sipped again, watching him, her gaze intense. “He will forgive me, or at least forget me, yes?”
Alex shrugged. “Hammerson forgets nothing. Maybe he’ll tolerate you. He knew you were in America, and did nothing. And you know he could have.”
“I paid my debt,” she said, lowering her glass. “After the Black Mountain, even my own country wanted me gone.” She sat back. “Like I said, I paid my debt. I always pay my debt.”
“I know you did. We all have to atone for our sins at some time. Perhaps that’s why we do this … us type of people,” Alex said, toasting her.
“You found your way h
ome.” She fiddled with her glass. “Found your way back to Angie, or was it Aimee?” She looked up with a twinkle in her eye. “Everything is good now, huh?”
“Aimee.” Alex nodded. “I found her, but haven’t spoken to her yet. It’s not easy. Things are still … complicated.” He scoffed and sat back. “And look, here I am, nearly eight thousand miles away. Like I said, not easy.”
“I know it’s not easy.” She held his gaze. “That’s because us type of people are the only ones that understand us type of people.” She slid forward, placing fingers on the back of his hand. She rubbed his knuckles. “And perhaps that’s why I am still a wandering soul.” She turned his hand over, palm to palm. “I missed you. I can say that, even if you don’t remember us, together. But I do.” She smiled sadly. “If I had a wish, it would be to have that time again, just you and me on that beach.”
“Another life,” Alex said.
Lev brought the first platter of food, and their hands separated as he laid it down with a flourish. “Flame seared, peppered lamb on a bed of cous cous.” He bowed and departed.
Alex inhaled the aromas of the spices and roasted meat. “Looks magnificent.”
Adira continued to stare at him with liquid brown eyes. “Yes, magnificent.”
CHAPTER 12
Afghanistan, 10 miles north of Herat
They were speeding away in the car before the helicopter was even out of sight. Alex, Sam, and Eli all wore well worn Iranian Republican Guard uniforms and had perfect IDs, all courtesy of the Mossad Infiltration Division. Adira and Casey had on the dark robes of the abaya and had identification as government functionaries – roles appropriate to be in the company of IRG – on some sort of government sponsored mission.
They would need to drive across the porous border – hundreds of miles of featureless, arid landscape. They followed a broad highway, and in the hours of travel only passed a single truck loaded with wood. It was only when they came to the town of Serhetabat that they knew they were already in Turkmenistan.