by David Wood
Ahmed looked up from his magazine, his gray pallor belying his feigned nonchalance. “What did Yusuf say?”
“He says it isn’t over just yet. Grab your things. We need to catch a plane.”
Chapter 37
“Now this is what I call a meal.” Bones smiled as he piled his plate high with roast chicken, steamed vegetables, and bread.
“Leave some for everyone else,” Dima said.
Down the long table packed with tourists, people stared at Bones with looks that ranged from amusement to deep concern. Maddock couldn’t blame them. If Bones didn’t slow down, the people at the far end stood a very real chance of going hungry tonight.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Bones said. “I always got fed last growing up, so I’m not used to leaving food for everyone else.” He smiled and slid the plates on down the table.
“Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite,” said a broad-shouldered man with a walrus mustache. “I’ve been known to clear a few plates myself.” He chortled and patted his ample belly. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.” He filled his own plate and passed the food along. “So,” he said to Maddock, “I understand you are archaeologists.”
Maddock tensed. The fellow looked harmless enough, but who was to say? “We are.”
“Excellent. I am something of a biblical archaeologist myself, though with me it is a hobby, not a profession. Douglas Schrader. This is my wife, Alice.” He inclined his head to the woman seated on his left. Alice, a slender woman with silver-streaked brown hair, smiled. “And my daughter, Melanie.” Melanie was an attractive girl of about sixteen, with long, brown hair and big, hazel eyes. She blushed and made a little wave.
Maddock introduced himself, Bones, and Dima, using false names for each, and they all shook hands with Schrader.
“If that’s your hobby, what do you do for a living?” Bones asked
“I’m a missionary. My family and I are opening a school for orphans outside of town. We thought we would get in a little sightseeing before we open our doors. Who knows? I might even find Noah’s Ark.”
Only the years of military discipline instilled in him kept Maddock from reacting to the statement. He took a bite of chicken and chewed slowly, considering what Schrader had just said. Was it merely a coincidence? Surely if the man had ill intentions he wouldn’t be so reckless as to reveal himself to Maddock and Bones.
“Noah’s Ark?” Dima asked. “I thought that was somewhere in the Middle East. Turkey, perhaps.”
“That is what common wisdom holds,” Schrader said. He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “I’ve made a fair study of the Noah stories, and I believe the ark might have actually landed in this region.”
“Really?” Dima cocked her head. “That sounds far-fetched.”
“Oh ho. A skeptic!” Schrader laughed. “You are hardly the first. Believe it or not, there’s an old tradition that this region is, in fact the home of Noah. Why, Mount Meru is referred to by many as ‘Noah’s Ark.’ But what people don’t know is that Mount Meru is not the same as…” He paused when his wife, a slender woman with long, silver streaked brown hair, laid a hand on his arm.
“Please, Douglas. These nice people are trying to enjoy their meal, and so are Melanie and I. None of your lectures at the dinner table.”
“It’s all right, really,” Dima said. “Actually, it sounds interesting.”
Schrader’s wife smiled. “That’s very kind and more than a bit indulgent of you, dear, but he knows better.”
Schrader made a small shrug and turned his attention to his meal. They ate in relative silence, with only an occasional bit of small talk breaking the monotony. Schrader and Alice described their plans for the school, which included housing and religious instruction.
“Most of the community has been supportive,” Alice explained, “but a small contingent opposes educating young women. Fortunately, Arusha is a modern city and such attitudes are rare.”
“I think it’s a wonderful cause,” Dima said. “And I also hope Mr. Schrader gets a chance to search for the ark.”
“I shall, first chance I get,” Schrader said around a mouthful of roast plantain. “As I was about to say earlier, I found an account that claims…”
“Nice try, dear,” Alice interrupted, her tone as soft as her eyes were sharp. “Now, please stop talking with food in your mouth.”
Schrader rolled his eyes and his daughter giggled.
When they finished eating, Alice ushered her family away quickly, much to Maddock’s disappointment. He was interested in hearing what Schrader knew, or thought he knew, about the ark. Perhaps it was nothing useful, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out. Maybe he’d have the chance later.
Bones and Dima went out for a walk, so Maddock returned to his room where he inspected the contents of the case that had been left for them at the front desk. It contained two handguns: a Walther for him and a Glock for Bones, along with ammunition and a spare magazine for each. When he was satisfied both were in good working order, he returned them to the case and slid it under his bed. He took a few minutes to examine a map of the park and sketch out a plan for the following day. They’d hit the slopes and work their way up, hoping one of the Noah Stones would react to its missing counterpart.
When he couldn’t come up with anything else to busy himself, he tried calling Angel, but couldn’t get a decent cell phone connection. Disappointed and weary, he fired off a quick text message in hopes it would get through, stretched out on the bed, and drifted off to sleep. His slumber came to an abrupt end shortly thereafter when Bones banged through the door and flipped on a bedside lamp.
“I thought you were bunking with Dima,” Maddock said, opening his eyes but not bothering to sit up. The bed was comfortable and he was stiff from the series of tunnels they’d crawled through and the many airplane rides they’d taken in the past week. He wasn’t sure which was harder on his body.
“I thought so too,” Bones grumbled. “Apparently, the hot tub thing was a test and I failed. She said if I really liked her I wouldn’t be in such a hurry.” He sat down heavily on the bed on the opposite side of the room.
“Do you like her?” Maddock asked. “I mean, for more than a hookup? You’ve been acting kind of strange around her.”
Bones scratched his head. “You know what? I think I do.” He frowned. “How do you think I ought to handle this?”
Now Maddock sat up. “Seriously? You want my advice about women?
“Yeah. I mean, you suck at picking up chicks, but you’re pretty good at holding onto them once you find one you like. Except for Jade, but you kicked her to the curb, so I guess that still counts.”
Maddock let that pass. “What is this? A teenage girls’ slumber party? I guess we could play Truth or Dare.”
“Come on, bro. When is the last time I actually liked somebody? You know, really liked her?”
Maddock groaned. Here they were in search of a potentially deadly ancient stone, the Trident was breathing down their necks, and Bones, of all people, wanted to talk about relationships.
“I don’t know,” Maddock admitted. “I just try to be myself.”
Bones sat staring at him, as if he expected more. Finally, he shook his head and flopped back onto the bed. “Maddock?” He said to the ceiling.
“Yes?”
“You suck at giving advice.”
Chapter 38
The sun was a golden ball balanced on the edge of the horizon when Maddock called it a day. He’d spent more hours than he cared to count wandering the slopes of the mountain, searching for caves, passageways, or even depressions where a huge boat might have once come to rest. He’d seen lots of amazing sights: broad vistas of lush greenery and a dozen zoos’ worth of native wildlife, but as for the mission, he’d struck out at every turn. The Templar Stone, as he’d come to think of the artifact they’d recovered from the wreck, remained in his pocket. Not once since he and Bones had split up to begin their search had it radiated
even the tiniest measure of heat that might indicate the presence of the third and final Noah Stone.
Out of habit, he checked his cell phone to see if he had a message from Bones, but still no signal. He hoped his friend and Dima had enjoyed better luck than he. His head pounding with frustration, he began the long walk back to the lodge. When he got there, he would track down Schrader, preferably when his wife wasn’t around, and listen to his stories. The feeling that the man knew something useful had not entirely left him. Schrader had made the comment that Mount Meru “wasn’t the same as…” something. Given today’s failure, Maddock was already wondering if they were on the wrong track. In any case, what would it cost him, save some time, to sound the man out? And, if Bones continued his pursuit of Dima, Maddock would have plenty of spare time to fill this evening.
As the Hatari Lodge, a chunk of sandy brown in the midst of all the green, came into view, he paused and looked back at the mountain. If they didn’t come up with any new clues, he supposed they’d arrange some climbing gear and try the peak next. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t mind a good climb, but three days uphill, all the while facing the possibility that they’d meet with more failure, held little appeal for him.
When he arrived back the lodge, Schrader was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t a large place, so it didn’t take much looking to confirm that the missionary was not on the premises.
His disquiet growing, Maddock returned to his room. Stripping down, he folded his sweaty clothes and laid them on the bed. He’d have blamed the military for his fastidious behavior, but it was his parents who had instilled that particular discipline in him long ago. Smiling at fond memories, he headed for the shower. The pressure was low, but it was better than nothing. He stood beneath the shower head, letting it wash away the dirt, sweat, and memories of a fruitless day’s work. By the time he shut off the water, he felt halfway ready to tackle Mount Meru. He was just toweling off when he heard a door bang open.
“Maddock!” Bones’ voice cut through the calm. “Are you in here?”
Towel wrapped around his waist, Maddock stepped out into the room to find Bones and Dima waiting there.
“What’s going on?”
“Get dressed and grab your Walther. Somebody just snatched Schrader and his family in broad daylight, not a hundred yards from the lodge. If we hurry we can catch up with them.”
Maddock dropped the towel, not worrying about Dima, and began tugging on the same dirty clothes he’d stripped off a few minutes before.
“Any idea who did it or why?” he asked.
“Not really. The Schraders did say that not everyone around here approved of them educating girls. That’s a Muslim extremist idea.”
Maddock looked up. “Boko Haram?”
Bones shrugged. “Does it really matter?”
“Not a bit.”
Maddock laced his boots, stood, and headed for the door, but Dima barred the way.
“I don’t see why you two have to be the ones to go after them. Shouldn’t you let the authorities handle it?” Fear shone in her eyes.
“The authorities might not get here in time. We’re here now and they don’t have much of a head start. We can do something about this,” Bones said.
“And Bones is an amazing tracker. He’ll be able to find their trail,” Maddock added.
Dima bit her lip. “But what if something happens to you?” Her eyes were locked on Bones, who seemed at a loss for words.
“Here, take this.” Maddock handed her his cell phone. “If we aren’t back by morning, there’s a number in here for Tam Broderick. Get to a place with a signal and call her. She’ll take care of you and she’ll send people to find us. Of course, we’ll owe her the favor from Hell if that happens.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her so he could slip by. Behind him, Bones and Dima exchanged whispered words, and then Bones was at his side.
“Let’s do this. I’ve been in a bad mood for a while now and I’m ready to take it out on someone.”
“So, that’s the camp. I think it’s safe to say they’re staying put for the night.” Maddock pointed at the flickering light of the campfire in the distance. He and Bones had spent two hours tracking the kidnappers over rough terrain and back to their encampment.
“Idiots. Trying to hide in plain sight,” Bones said. “Why wouldn’t they hop in their trucks and get the Hell out of Dodge?”
“Maybe they’re counting on strength in numbers, or they just didn’t figure on anyone knowing where to look for them.”
“Either way, it works to our advantage. Most of them have probably bedded down for the night. They think they’re safe, and they’ll be sleepy, which will slow their reaction time.” Bones ran his hand over the Glock at his waist. “Have you seen any sign of the Schraders?”
“No, but it’s got to be the big tent in the center. They’ve got a guy standing guard in front of it.”
Bones nodded. “I’ve counted a dozen men in total moving through camp and in and out of the tents. They’re idiots if they don’t have at least a couple of guys minding the perimeter a bit farther out.”
“Agreed.” Maddock cast a baleful glance at the full moon hanging low in the clear night sky. A little more darkness would be welcome, but there was nothing to be done about it. They would just have to be extra stealthy. “We’ll need to work our way in quietly, taking the perimeter guys out in complete silence if at all possible. If we start shooting, it’ll put them on full alert and we’ll be hard-pressed to break through their defenses.”
“Plus, they’ll take off with the Schrader’s, or do something worse.” Bones didn’t need to elaborate. “So, it’s knife work, or do you have any other bright ideas?”
“I’ve got a plan. Do you have your stone with you?”
Chapter 39
The night was too quiet. Hassan hated it. Give him a city, a town, even a village. Anywhere he could be around people and away from this nature that everyone found so peaceful and exhilarating. Insects buzzed about his head, their high-pitched whines the only sounds on this desolate place. He smacked at one of the offending gnats and managed to cuff himself across the ear. It set up a lovely ringing sound, but at least that drowned out the gnats.
He heard a low rumble to the east. Dark clouds were rolling in quickly. They’d soon blot out the moon, and leave Hassan in darkness.
It was foolish to make camp here, this close to Arusha. The authorities could catch up with them any time. But Faid, their leader, claimed he had connections in town who would make sure the pursuit went in the wrong direction for the first forty-eight hours. By then, they’d be long gone, though not nearly soon enough for Hassan’s liking.
He sighed and glanced at the closed flap of the tent he guarded. The infidels were inside. The man had ceased his cursing and the woman her wailing hours ago, but the girl still whimpered the occasional plea. The Christians disgusted Hassan, but there was something about the young girl’s frightened tone that stoked the fires inside him. Perhaps, once the others were sound asleep…
Something moved out of the corner of his eye, snapping him from the depths of his depraved musings. He looked around but saw nothing.
“Ezekiel?” he whispered. Ezekiel was guarding the perimeter but it was possible he had circled in close to the tents. He wasn’t the most steadfast about his duties and Hassan wouldn’t put it past him to wander so far afield. “Ezekiel, is that you?”
No reply.
He looked, listened, but nothing. It had probably been his imagination. That was the thing about silence and darkness—his mind started filling in the blank spaces.
“Stop being a child,” he scolded himself. He let the barrel of his AK-47 fall to the ground, as if lowering his weapon were a statement to the night that he would not be cowed. “Two more hours and then you can sleep.” At least he had not drawn middle watch, so he would have six uninterrupted hours of rest. He was ready. The stress of the day had sapped him o
f his energy.
He closed his eyes and, for a moment, let the fatigue wash over him. It would be so easy to fall asleep standing here.
The underbrush nearby rustled and his eyes snapped open. What was that? He turned and took a few steps in the direction from which the sound had some, straining to see.
Another flash of movement, this time off to his left, lightning fast. He raised his rifle but saw nothing at which he could take aim. Nor did he hear anything. What in the name of Allah?
As he stood there, heart drumming, the stories came back. Campfire tales, meant to frighten young children, echoed in his mind. The spirits of the dead gathered in valleys like this one, waiting for a moonless night. Waiting to rise.
Movement to his right. There and gone.
“Who’s there?” He hated the plaintive tone that saturated his words with fear. He cleared his throat, steeled himself, and tried again, this time stronger. “Show yourself.”
Nothing.
“You can’t wake the others and tell them spirits have invaded our camp,” he whispered. “Move your feet.”
Step by laborious step, he moved out beyond the ring of tents. His finger brushed the trigger of his rifle. How he longed to fire, to pierce the darkness, shred the silence. But not until he had a target.
Beyond the tents, he began a slow circle around the perimeter, all the while keeping the center tent in the corner of his vision. The prisoners were bound tightly and weren’t going anywhere, but they were his responsibility until his watch ended.
As he walked, he cursed his superstition and his fear. He was a soldier of Allah, a warrior for the cause. What had he to fear when God was on his side?
By the time he completed his circuit around the camp, seeing nothing, his nerves had settled and he returned to his guard position with a renewed sense of confidence. He was not afraid of shadows in the night.
He drew back the tent flap and peered inside. Three pairs of eyes stared back at him, and the fear he saw there added fuel to the nascent fire of his renewed courage. He was not a pathetic creature such as these. He was a soldier. He bared his teeth, enjoying the way the girl flinched and the man thrashed against his bonds. Weak. All of them.