A Covenant With Death

by Bill Wetterman

  “The quarrels I can’t help you with. Workers I can. How many?”

  “Five-hundred. We didn’t have enough precut stone in storage. Thanks to Arthur Pendleton, precut stone is available in quantity, but not near Jerusalem.”

  Akbari listened with interest. Pendleton had set in motion the perfect conditions for projects like this. “You’ll have 500 men from the Greenland prison, plus twenty 200-ton haulers for the additional stone. Satisfied?”

  “Jews are never satisfied. But appeased, of course.”

  Akbari disconnected. The ability to transnavigate the globe from anywhere in twenty-four hours made the impossible twenty-years ago possible now. His cell buzzed again. “Yes.”

  “Imam Akbari, Sayyid identified three possible spots for Edison’s location, but two are unthinkable.”

  “How so?”

  “One is submerged in the Pacific Ocean and the other is in Antarctica.”

  Akbari groan. A meager try at best. “And the third?”

  “There is a former settlement in the Americans near the Grand Canyon called Supai. A phone communication was exchanged between the Rome Complex and George Pendleton’s cell from a location near Supai only a few hours ago.”

  Maybe not a meager try. Maybe genius at work. “Send me everything written about that area, including military installations the Americans built years ago. Also, give me an analysis of the number of our loyalists in the area.”

  “Right away. Allah Akbar.”

  The former United States used the American Southwest to test weaponry and had numerous military facilities in close proximity to the Grand Canyon. A sneaky location for the world’s brainchild. But a logical one. Wipe out Edison and Pendleton’s family at the same time. The beauty of the thought warmed him. But where was the redheaded witch? She would be in one of two locations—Rome or with Edison, no question.

  Let the Christians who can, leave. Those who remain will conform or else.

  #

  Tzu Chui tapped his fingers on his conference table. A quarter of the scheduled shuttle flights worldwide had been completed and their crews had returned to make a second run. One active satellite bank provided him information on ground movements made by Ammad’s forces. With London and Balmoral falling without a fight, Chui wondered if Rome, Dallas, and Supai would do the same.

  “Do we assist our friends, if they put up a fight, or remain neutral?” His gaze moved from advisor to advisor, stopping long enough to make an impression. “Your thoughts.”

  A long silence followed before a reluctant hand edged up.

  “Director Sun, you have my attention.”

  Sun, a frail man in his eighties, rose unsteadily to his feet. He inhaled a deep breath and spoke in a confident tone. “Fifty missiles will not bring us ultimate victory over the evil one’s forces. They are for tactical—surgical strikes. Agreed?”

  Heads nodded. Those in attendance nervously adjusted themselves in their chairs. Sun waited until they settled.

  “My advice is twofold. First, decide how many missiles we can afford to use in aiding our friends. Second, how will they best strike fear in the heart of our enemy? As Sun Tzu said, ‘When you are far away act as though you are close.’”

  Chui held back a smile. “As to your first point, I doubt more than four or five missiles will be needed. Our task is to delay our enemy, not destroy him. All fifty could not do that. To the second point, the few missiles we fire must be so accurate our enemy will know we can see his every move. He will not strike us back, fearing defeat. He will wait until he can build up stronger forces.”

  Sun nodded. “Precisely.”

  He slowly dropped back into his chair.

  “Are we together on this?” Chui asked.

  There was no opposition.

  #

  Connor Uba rushed about the mountain enclosure shouting orders to her two-hundred eighty warriors. She’d divided the forces into four groups, Bruegman, Cher, Ming, and herself heading up one each. “Reports are enemy forces are approaching. One force is planning to scale down the Havasu Canyon walls west of the old Havasupai Nation reservation. The other is approaching the trail we arrived on.”

  “How many?” Cher asked.

  “Harry, how many?” Ming called out.

  “Oh,” Harry answered in a quiet voice. “Over a thousand troops from each side, we’ve nowhere to go. But we have God. So if I follow Gideon’s lead, we should all go to the river and get a drink of water. We’ll send those who lap the water like a dog away.”

  George dashed in through the entrance, face grimy and pants shredded. “The shuttle left the mothership a few minutes ago. With any luck, they’ll land here tomorrow morning. If we can hold off the vultures for twelve hours, we can get the rest of the personnel out of here.”

  Connor trembled. The rest of the personnel didn’t include her teams. That would mean a third trip, and by then, she doubted anyone would be left alive. She nodded and smiled. “Good news. Thank you, big brother. Now keep Edison running and leave the fighting to us.”

  “The Havasu River appears blue-green now against the maroon, travertine rocks,” George said. “I had our construction crew plant two detonators and six sticks of dynamite into the mountainside east of their most likely descent point. They’ll be impossible to see given the coloring. Travertine rock is porous and fragile. The mountain should crack and collapse. I don’t know what the result will be to us in here, but the enemy will receive heavy casualties.”

  Bruegman grumped. “The assholes will be annihilated. But others will regroup at the campground two miles past the village. Give me twenty-five volunteers, and I’ll trap them there.”

  “Each of you has a charged laser weapon.” Connor raised hers in the air. “Set it on kill. How many dynamite sticks do we have left?”

  “Three,” Cher answered. “Enough to disrupt and disorient.”

  Connor considered their situation. Each planned attack depended on their guesses being correct. What Ammad’s commanders decided couldn’t be predicted. But they had to pull together quickly, so how well trained these fighters were was questionable.

  “Okay, no more than twenty-five and grab some dynamite. Take your positions before the enemy arrives.”

  Harry raised his hand again. “Chui just called. His people have Ammad’s forces on satellite feed. He has agreed to help us. His people can fire a few missiles into their midst.”

  “Whoa,” Connor gasped and shook her head. “Those missiles clear a five square mile area.”

  “The natives are long gone, sis. It’s them or us.”

  #

  Christian leader, Sean O’Dell, waved to the third team of shuttles leaving the Dallas Complex. All roads surrounding the Complex had been blocked by Ammad loyalists. Four artillery pieces brought from Fort Hood were positioned in range of the Dallas Complex Evangelical Seminary and Education facility.

  O’Dell and his staff formed a line next to the runway, determined to remain there until either the shuttle returned for them or Ammad’s forces attacked. They had no weapons. They had no protection. They vowed not to bow the knee, and over a hundred citizens gathered at the gate to the shuttle area to block the entrance.

  “No violence,” O’Dell directed. “Peaceful disobedience only.”

  Those at the gate sang “It is well with my soul” and held hands. Ammad loyalists fired all four artillery pieces at the gate. O’Dell and those around the shuttle area were knocked to the ground as explosions blew the gate and those singing into miniscule fragments. When the debris settled, the loyalists breeched the gate and approached the landing area.

  “Pledge your allegiance to Ammad al-Sistani and the Global Realm.” The voice over the loudspeaker added. “Any who do will be welcomed without harm. You have thirty seconds.”

  “I will not forbid you to go, if you so desire.” O’Dell remained on the ground kneeling and prayed.

  “We will not forsake God,” a voice replied.

  All of th
ose awaiting transport stayed their ground.

  After one minute, the crowd rushed O’Dell and his staff, cutting them to pieces with knives. Outnumbered thirty to one, the Christians died where they prayed, and the battle for the Dallas Complex ended.

  Chapter 29

  “They’re unaware of the numbers.” Chui’s assistant paced hands behind his back and head down. “Tens of thousands are coming. They’ll attack in waves.”

  “Pendleton destroyed armies with his missiles,” Chui said, staring at the satellite feed. “We can only delay this army. Fire two missiles—one at the forward group and one at the farthest behind. This temporarily traps the three middle groups from advancing. They’ll scatter, regroup, and give the evacuees some needed time.”

  “Beijing command. Fire rockets 14 and 15—one at the forward group—one at the rear.”

  Chui called George at Edison base. “Pull anyone deployed above away from the mountainside.”

  “This may be the last transmission you’ll be able to send us.” The concern in George’s voice caught Chui’s ear. “The enemy computer is cutting off transmission lines faster than I can bring them back up.”

  “Once they found your position, their job became easier.” Chui hesitated, then said, “Satellite indicates well over thirty-thousand are approaching from the north, above you and at your back. Maybe five thousand from the front.”

  “I see…” George’s voice trailed off. “I’ll pull everyone inside, except for those deployed to the campground.”

  The line disconnected.

  “How much time before the shuttle touches down?” Chui asked.

  “Six hours,” his assistant replied.

  “The second group will make it out. Not the rest.”

  #

  The screaming of her brother caught her attention. Connor raced to the entrance in time to see George racing up from the direction of Bruegman’s encampment. “Harry was only partly right—the thousand part. Try over thirty thousand coming up from behind and five thousand in front.”

  Connor gasped. “How many?”

  “Let’s not waste time.” George raced past her. “Chui’s attempting to buy us some time. He’s providing a missile strike. Get inside.”

  The walls of the Edison enclosure shook and pieces of rock fell from the reinforced ceiling.

  “Under the tables,” Connor yelled, as a huge piece of insulation fell within a foot of her head.

  “Edison has been shut down.” George Pendleton followed by Connor’s husband Obi slid under a standard Global conference table with her. “I called the crew to set the memory wipeout program. Ammad won’t be able to recover anything of value.”

  Obi tossed her an orange. “Eat fruit. You’ll feel better.”

  She edged over to him and clung on to his arm as the interior shook again. Having him at her side helped her feel safe, but worried her at the same time. She might lose him at any minute. “When the trembling stops, come with me to our room. I don’t want to die without showing you how much I love you.”

  “We’re not going to die. God is with us.”

  “God was with Peter, too. The Romans crucified him upside down.”

  #

  Klaus Bruegman hunkered down in the trench he’d dug on the west side of the campground. A huge cloud of debris wafted overhead. In his hand, the detonators for both the cliff side and the campground charges. The enemy timed their arrival precisely, what was left of the forces above had begun their trek down the cliff as the first units of Ammad’s loyalists reached the grounds and set-up base camp.

  His people, fifteen men and ten women armed with weapons set to kill lay in wait only twenty yards from the edge of the enemy camp in three foot deep trenches. A camouflage blanket draped over each. Bruegman grinned. Eager for battle, he loved hunting down a predictable enemy.

  As the troops on the cliff descended the mountainside, Bruegman’s finger moved atop the detonator button. When the cliff had filled with soldiers top to bottom, he pushed the button. A huge billow of smoke and debris flew into the air before the percussive sound rendered him temporarily deaf. One minute there was a cliff. The next minute a V-like fissure appeared splitting the rocky side wall and spreading north several yards a minute.

  Bruegman didn’t hesitate. He pushed the second detonator, and the campground exploded into flames. A wave of his hand once the debris stopped falling and his twenty-five warriors raged west killing everyone they met. Through the campground and toward the mule trail where they had first entered the valley, Bruegman raced alongside his team firing his laser weapon and picking up the weapons of the dead that were usable for future combat.

  At first the enemy ran, but then regrouped. Their numbers vastly diminished, they fired their weapons from behind trees and boulders, and their accuracy proved adequate. Bruegman couldn’t hear their cries, but he saw at least five of his people blown to bits by a weapon more powerful than the ones they carried. Death is death, he thought. He dove for cover behind a stone statue of a Havasu Indian.

  The enemy kept coming, reinforcing their troops and wielding massive firepower. As what seemed like an hour’s battle drew on, Bruegman glanced at his timepiece. Fifteen minutes had past. One by one, he saw his people die. From what he could remember, only six remained. If he tried to make it back to the compound he’d lead the enemy to it as well. Let the bastards find the entrance themselves.

  He rolled out to his right back toward the campground, grabbing the weapon of a fallen comrade. The others with him hesitated one moment too long. As Bruegman turned and fired with both hands at those pursuing. Ammad’s people cut him off from the others. Maybe they’ll kill a few more before they die, Bruegman thought, then his thoughts ceased.

  #

  “The shuttle’s landed.” George Pendleton waved thirty-one workers and their family members out the cave entrance. He helped them up the slope to the east. Two crew members, hoses stretched tight, refueled the craft.

  “No time left to return for you,” the captain said. “Bring your family and let’s go.”

  “We have maybe eighty people holding off Ammad forces.”

  The captain shrugged, blue eyes reddened from stress. “I can only take forty more.”

  “I’ll tell the others.” George scrabbled downhill and into the compound. “Connor, he can’t come back. He says we’re out of time. He can take forty more now.”

  “Bruegman’s team has been destroyed.” Connor’s face told him she wasn’t going.

  “But we can save forty people. How do we decide?”

  Cher waved a hand. “I planned for this. While you and Obi were resting, we drew numbers.”

  “Drew numbers?” George cocked his head. “You think on your feet. Who goes then?”

  “You.” Cher pointed a finger at him. “You know more about the Martian complexes than anyone, but the few engineers there. Numbers 1 through 39 will go as well.”

  “What about Connor and Harry?”

  “I’m not going,” Connor said.

  “We’re not going either,” Harry echoed and pointed to Obi. “So you forty grab what you can, and get the hell out of here.”

  George screamed. “No. I’m not losing my family.”

  All eyes looked away, except for Harry and Connor. “God has a role for each of us. Yours is with the mission. Ours is here.”

  Harry hugged his brother. “Lead them well.”

  Chapter 30

  “Do not be alarmed.” Ammad waved a hand at the curator of Hadrian’s Villa near the old city of Tivoli. “Tomorrow, we head into Rome. But today we choose to camp here and admire the beauty of pagan history.”

  The curator twitched at the word pagan, but set about to accommodate the new First Citizen and his entourage of several hundred. Meanwhile, Ammad made himself and Akbari comfortable in the curator’s office, quarters the size of a hotel lobby complete with media, computers, and elegant lounge chairs and sofas.

  “Many things to inform you of.” Ak
bari scanned through data being sent in from satellite feeds. “Do you wish to hear these now, or do you wish to wait until after our victory in Rome?”

  “Information is power. Give me everything you know.” He mused at his friend’s apparent fear. “Hold nothing back. If I strike you, forgive me.”

  Akbari squirmed where he sat. “Edison has been shut down. My guess is the enemy plans to wipe out the memory before we can get our hands on it.”

  “We have Sayyid. What effect does the loss of Edison have on Chui?”

  “None that we can determine. He’s operating on older systems, never dismantled during the rebuilding.” Akbari printed out a summary and handed it to Ammad. “Apparently, he never dismantled his military capabilities either, at least not the non-nuclear ones.”

  Gazing upon several photos of military might, aircraft, ships, tanks, mechanized missile launchers, Ammad trembled and clenched his fists. “He out-guns us, out-man’s us, and out- produces us. We can’t attack him yet. We must organize our resources first.”

  “Pendleton’s people gave Chui the codes to the remaining missile systems.” Akbari handed him the photos of the Supai area before and after the first attack.

  “So the shuttle took off.”

  “We lost over a thousand warriors.”

  “We still have thousands more. These photos show no enemies outside their cave.” Ammad sneered. “Position the weapon we took from the Yuma facility. It has a breech-loaded mortar launcher that fires 120-millimeter munitions. Correct?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Position it, and use it.” He sighed. “Problem solved.”

  The number of his forces killed was of little significance to him. The masses were simple pawns in a greater scheme. Pendleton’s children were trapped. Ah, that was the greatest reward. Then he could face his adversary with their blood already spilled. What concerned him most was the whereabouts of the redheaded witch. She’d escaped his dungeon. Regardless of what Akbari told him, the Marid jinn guarding her possessed powerful magic to have broken her out of that pit.

  He sensed he’d meet her in Rome. He shivered.