“You make no mention of anyone other than the – I suppose Russian occupants of the Zlatoust facility. Did you find any evidence that the facility had come under attack?”
“None whatsoever. We searched the surrounding area for several days. We found nothing unusual except two survivors who had managed to make it out.” The mention of survivors caused a stir. “We found a man and a woman sheltering in the forest. Both were suffering from the extreme effects of radiation sickness. They were quite delirious and babbled incoherently in Russian. It isn't a language I understand a great deal of. The woman said very little and died soon after we found her. The man, Vasile, lived another week but there was nothing we could do for him. We had few medical supplies with us and he refused to re-enter the facility when we tried to treat him inside. He suddenly went berserk and ran off. We tried to stop him but he broke free. We found his body in a makeshift shelter in the forest.”
“Did you have any contact with them before the tragic events?”
“No, none at all. It was only when we saw the plume of smoke that we were able to find them. They did have a radio transmitter but never used it. I guess they did not want to alert anyone to their location – much like yourselves.”
“What caused the explosion? Were you able to determine the cause?”
“The cooling water to the thermal pile was cut off. The power plant overheated and eventually there was an explosion. That is our presumption.”
“You say the cooling water was cut off? Was it a deliberate act of sabotage?”
“There was no way to tell. There was nothing left of the power plant – just a large hole in the ground. The water was fed from a reservoir in the hills above. There was a land slide that wrecked the sluice gates and water pipes but it could easily have been entirely natural or caused by the shock wave from the explosion – there was no way to tell. Personally, I suspect that there was some kind of insurrection at Zlatoust that turned violent and led them to start killing each other. Either the power plant was not maintained or it was sabotaged. You would know better than I would what psychological pressures develop within such a community as Zlatoust. We walk the Earth freely and see the sun. To us, being entrapped underground is entirely unnatural.”
Julia found the whole story extremely unnerving but she resolutely denied any possibility that the Ark would or could go the same way as the Russian facility – even as much as living in the Ark frustrated and dispirited her. More importantly, she would not allow her outward expression to betray her inward anxiety – not in front of Patriarch Ryan and the other directors. She was aware that Omar was giving Patriarch Ryan a warning and he deliberately invoked the freedom of the Nephilim to live on the surface. Even Julia was riled when he pointedly mentioned that the Ark was in effect a dungeon in which they were imprisoned. This was not the propaganda that Julia grew up with but it particularly irritated because, in simple terms, it was true. The Ark was a prison – there was no escape.
Omar stopped and Patriarch Ryan thanked him saying that he had given them much to consider. Ryan hoped that they would be able to speak again soon and wished a continued recovery for Omar. Julia sensed that Patriarch Ryan – as well as Peter – had many questions but suddenly it was no longer appropriate to talk about Zlatoust. The eerie parallel with the Ark was too close to home. Patriarch Ryan had moved to close down the subject. Omar left and Julia followed but lingered just outside the door to hear a tense exchange between Peter and Patriarch Ryan.
“We have no reason to believe that they didn't sabotage the facility at Zlatoust and kill all those inside – whether directly or not it doesn't matter.” Peter of course was making the accusation. Patriarch Ryan responded in agitation – most unlike anything Julia would have suspected.
“We have no reason to believe that the facility at Zlatoust even exists or that any of his story is true … in any way. However, we must accept it at face value. What reason could he have for fabricating such a thing? Paranoia is our enemy also.”
Julia was relieved that Omar had not heard those words. Omar had indeed been right, it would have been better not to know about Zlatoust. Later, alone, the full shock of the story began to play on her mind. A dark and intangible terror began to oppress her. Half of what remained of humanity was gone. They had held out for so long but, in the end, they had been lost. Perhaps there were no other places where people – any people – endured the Nakba. Except for the Ark, the Nephilim were the sole remnant of humanity – if indeed they were human as they claimed.
Chapter 40
Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America
The llama enclosure was quieter than the big cat enclosures. Lions and tigers and the like were always more popular. Gary leaned on the fence and gazed at the docile beast and recalled how his grandmother had recounted stories of her youth when she herded llamas for her father, Gary's great-grandfather. As a child, he had enjoyed imagining the story – it seemed like a life of freedom, no worries and no school. Yet Gary had done well at school and gone on to study at university and gotten a reasonable science degree. His grandmother, in her last letter to Gary, had written about how proud she was of him when he graduated. She had died shortly after at the age of ninety-one years. Her most important achievement in life, she wrote, was that she had taught her only grandchild Portuguese.
Gary's father had been less effusive about Gary's choice of career and, on a regular basis, had let him know that he begrudged the school fees and Gary's propensity to stay in and read books and study. He would have preferred a son who shared his addiction to sport and beer.
The llama remained passively beside the fence, stroked by children and ruminating distractedly. The llama was strangely majestic yet awkward.
“She's a beautiful creature, isn't she?”
Gary was enticed from his reverie by Mandy's gentle tone.
“Sorry, you startled me. You sneaked up on me.”
“You were a million miles away. It's a good job this is the llama pen and not the tiger enclosure,” Mandy joked. “I wasn't expecting you. This is a pleasant surprise. Do you have time for lunch – I have an hour.”
“I was hoping we could do that.”
“This way,” said Mandy as she walked over to a gate and let herself out using a key hung round her neck. Gary admired every movement. Mandy took Gary's hand as they walked over to the restaurants.
“I'll let you treat me to a proper meal on the terrace rather than the fast food court.”
Gary gazed at the seething hordes of families punctuated with children screaming and refusing to eat.
“Of course.”
The terrace offered à la carte dinning with white cloths, proper cutlery and table service. Gary and Mandy were seated at a table at the edge of the terrace with an open view to the paddock housing giraffes and ibex. Gary could not have imagined a better setting. He had not planned this meeting. He had simply driven out to the zoo park on a whim and only after he arrived did he fully realise it was a big park to find someone who did not know she was looked for. He resisted calling her cell phone, preferring to surprise her face-to-face. He had asked a few of the other staff before being directed to the llamas.
“Gary, be straight with me. Do I have a boyfriend or not?” Mandy's question was incisive and unexpected. Its directness threw Gary who felt himself fluster and stammer. He was not in doubt of his own mind but he did not expect Mandy to be quite so decided herself.
“Yes … I mean … if I have a girlfriend, you certainly have a boyfriend. Gee, this is like junior high … and senior high...”
“Good. I'm glad you could clear that up. Twice we've sat down to dinner and not managed to finish a conversation... Wait! There aren't colleagues hiding ready to spring out at whisk you away again?” Mandy jokingly looked around, searching for invisible men.
“No, I hope not. At least, I didn't tell anyone I was coming up here.”
“But you are going away again. I can tell – I have a
feeling.”
“Yes,” Gary confessed. “I leave tomorrow.”
“Where is it you're going?”
“Africa.”
“The same as last time?”
“I can't say,” replied Gary guardedly.
“You were nearly killed last time, weren't you?”
“No, not at all,” Gary lied.
“You didn't enjoy the trip though? Something's troubling you. I can see it in your eyes... I'm sorry. I’m asking too many questions. Do you like the giraffes? Giraffa camelopardalis. They are such beautiful animals?”
Gary longed to talk to Mandy about his experience in Mozambique but it was off limits. As much as he cared for her, he could not let her in. He would have secrets, whole swathes of his life she could know little about but which shaped and distorted him. He contemplated a future that would be as complex and fragmented as the broken pattern on the giraffe. The pieces would kind of fit together but there would be gaps. Somehow he was certain that they could make it work. Mandy had proven herself to be resilient. He would most likely never find another chance to be so happy.
The conversation turned to the animals and Mandy's job at the zoo. The meal was ordered: Gary had steak, medium-rare, while Mandy had Arabian chicken. He admired her adventurous and exotic choice and thought it was quite natural she should have such refined taste. The hour sped quickly and carelessly. Gary's impending reprise of Mozambique was quite forgotten until Mandy remarked.
“I shall miss you, Mister Sanders. You take good care of yourself; keep your head down. I shall think of you each day – I expect the same in return. Alas, my lunch break is over and I have a pregnant llama to look after. She is with twins.” With that she rose from the table. She bent over Gary and kissed him. Her moist lips tingled and electrified. The smell of her hair overwhelmed and left Gary speechless. He half stood up. She had whispered in his ear three words, softly uttered but by no means casually. The power of their meaning was enhanced by their hushed and sacred tone. Gary turned and watched Mandy walk away. She was heart-stopping fabulous and Gary felt a spasm of pain with every step she took away from him. He was both deliriously happy and intensely sad all at once. He had seldom known such emotional confusion. One thing he knew was that Mandy loved him. She had said so and he believed her. Nothing else mattered. He would face what he feared and do what was needed. He would be coming back and Mandy would be waiting.
Gary drove back to his apartment, changed and did some last-minute packing. He was deposited at Davison Army Airfield two hours later. He boarded a military transport plane bound for Johannesburg. During the flight, he slept, dreamt and thought of his meeting with Mandy. Every word spoken was rewound and replayed and he absorbed them into his soul.
Chapter 41
Mozambique
Gary nodded his head as he listened. “At West Point we studied the Battle of Marathon, the Battle of Hastings and, of course, D-day – at great length. My grandfather led the assault at Guadalcanal and Okinawa. I was a second lieutenant during Operation Restore Hope in nineteen-ninety-two in Somalia. This is an exceptionally well-planned attack. It will be executed with precision and attention to detail. My team is the best there is. My marines are happiest with one foot in the water, the other on land and the enemy in their sights. We have surprise on our side, the sun at our backs and air cover provided by the finest carrier in the fleet. Today will go well. Be sure of that Agent Sanders.”
Gary eyed the general sceptically. He had read enough books on military history to know that nothing was a foregone conclusion. There were always risks and unforeseen setbacks. Doctor Campbell was something of an enigma. Gary recalled vividly the failed assassination attempt that left the three attackers dead. The CIA had no inkling that Israeli agents nor President Armando de Sousa would be there. Gary dreaded to think what the CIA did not know this time. What was certain was that this was Mozambique and President de Sousa would be involved. He was safely a thousand miles south in Maputo or, at least, Gary hoped so – time would tell...
The media and political ramifications of what was about to happen were huge. The US Marine Corps were seven miles out from invading a foreign state that had extensive trade links with China amongst others. For conspiracy theorists, all Mozambique lacked was proven oil reserves but offshore exploration drilling was scheduled to start in six months’ time. The objective of the raid was an orphanage – allegedly with a nuclear capability. A surgical strike with a rapid conclusion uncovering absolute, undeniable proof of a nuclear program – that was the objective. Virtually any other outcome would be an embarrassing failure.
Gary watched as the marines dispersed and embarked on a flotilla of landing craft. By 04:00 hours all the craft were manned and the order was given. The flotilla surged forward. Two submarines were patrolling nearby; pilots sat in a formation of F/A-18 Hornets ready to be scrambled if air strikes were called in; satellites scoured the beachhead. The landing would not be opposed.
Gary was assigned to one of the lead landing craft and attached to a special forces team that would strike out directly for the target area. Gary had mixed feelings. He had the honour of a body guard, Riley, whose orders were to keep Gary's head down when the shooting started – even if that meant sitting on him. Gary felt like one of the Navajo code talkers fighting the Japanese – perhaps Riley had orders to shoot him to prevent his capture. Gary hoped he did not know enough for it to come to that. He looked Riley up and down. He was a fierce soldier. Gary would keep his own head down – he did not relish Riley jumping on it.
The smell of diesel fumes filled the air. The sea was calm as predicted by the weather forecasters; there was almost no wind. The sky to the east began to brighten with the prospect of sunrise. Gary had no appetite for breakfast but had forced down eggs and toast. Now he sipped coffee. He felt awake. His stomach churned and adrenaline rushed. Land was sighted and soon the wide golden sandy beach where the landing would take place was visible directly ahead. It looked ideal for a holiday; it could soon be a killing ground. Closer it came. The first landing craft touched on the sand and pushed aground. The front ramp slapped down into the shallow water and a small armoured vehicle raced up the beach.
Gary's craft was next to reach shore. There was silence aboard until the shudder was felt when the front ramp dropped to reveal the beach. The marines leapt into action. They followed behind their armoured point vehicle and fanned out onto the beach. Marines threw themselves to the sand and took a defensive posture while others rushed up the beach. Gary and the special team commander, Colonel Hardy, were in a Jeep that rolled off the landing craft and navigated between prone marines. Images of war movies played in Gary's head but there was no shooting from on land. The marines yelled, engines roared, radios were shouted into – he was surrounded by plenty of action but, thank God, no shooting. The Jeep suddenly accelerated across the sands. Colonel Hardy and the driver were up front. Riley sat menacingly beside Gary in the back while another soldier manned a machine gun mounted on top of the Jeep. The ammunition belts clattered and jangled.
Mozis had been sighted. At the very top of the beach a desert-khaki tent stood. The tent flaps were neatly folded open. As Gary's Jeep rapidly approached, Gary could see a table was set up inside the tent. Two thin black men were calmly sitting behind the desk watching the marines swarm ashore. They were dressed in beige linen trousers and white shirts. The one on the left wore glasses. The Jeep slid to a stop immediately in front of the tent, broadside on. Gary held his breath, ready to duck and find cover at the side of the Jeep – anywhere. The man with the glasses slowly picked up a megaphone from the table. Riley raised his rifle. The commander raised his arm in caution half-whispering to Riley, “Hold fire.” The grating whine of the megaphone cut across the beach.
“Welcome to Mozambique.”
Gary tensed. He even felt Riley tense as well. It seemed everyone held their breath. They did not have the element of surprise after all. In the next few seconds, it would be apparent
what kind of welcome had been prepared. The megaphone whined again, the man with glasses was slowly standing. He appeared unarmed.
“Welcome to Mozambique. Please have your passports ready for inspection opened at the photograph page.” The man with glasses was deliberately officious, imitating to perfection the advice dished out at airports around the world. He looked at his colleague and nodded smiling. He was pleased with his performance. He continued, “Surnames A to M, please form a line on my right, your left. Surnames N to Z on my left, thank you...”
The Colonel Hardy bolted from the Jeep towards the official with glasses, pointing his rifle into the man's face. The black official held his stance but was becoming uncertain. In a burst of passion he blurted, “However, white colonial scum can get back on the boats...” Colonel Hardy's rifle butt smashed into the megaphone and the man's mouth spurted blood. The second man remained sitting but was shaking in fear.
More marines reached the tent. Some paused and watched the spectacle before pressing ahead to secure the top of the beach. Riley put his hand on Colonel Hardy's shoulder and said, “First blood of the day to you, sir.” Gary was shocked at the wanton assault on the unarmed man. He lay cowering behind the table, blood seeping from his mouth, his glasses broken. Colonel Hardy cursed and stomped back to the Jeep.
“Are you coming or not Sanders?” Colonel Hardy was extremely pissed off. Gary hesitated deciding whether to help the man back to his feet but turned and remounted the Jeep. Colonel Hardy waved his hand forward and the Jeep started off. A convoy of Jeeps and light armoured vehicles formed and snaked from the beachhead. It was an ominous welcoming party. Gary feared it meant something worse had been prepared.
The Nephilim Protocol Page 20
