Edge of Dawn

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “These people weren’t pawns!”

  Richard flinched at the tone but realized it wasn’t directed at him. It was inchoate fury seeking a target. He understood, he felt it too, but he had to stay detached, analytical, clinical. His enemy wasn’t panicked, that was clear. Richard had to match that calm. “I never said they were. But they were used that way. Come on.”

  He started up a path that led onto the hills. Three young goats with multicolored coats stared at them from devil-slitted eyes, bleated, and leaped away with a ringing of bells. They found the Lion’s Gate. Two towering stones formed the stiles on either side of the gate, and the figures of lions seemed to be emerging from the stone. Their forepaws rested on stone platforms set at the base of the uprights. The face of the figure on the left was sheared away, but the lion on the right still snarled, the eye sockets glaring out at the world, and the body sprawled at its feet. An old man lay in the dirt. A carved stone figure of a lion had rolled from his hand. More carvings were arrayed on the stone pedestal at the lion’s feet. More lions, bulls, a flat stone carved with bas-relief figures of Hittite warriors. Clearly the old man waited here to sell souvenirs to the tourists. Richard bent and picked up the little lion. The work was exquisite. The tail was a serpent, on the back of the neck was a two-headed eagle, and the mane was suggested by leaf-shaped figures. The creator had even managed to have the mouth open but left the fangs in place.

  Richard’s fist closed on the figure and he forced back his rage. “I promise you. I’ll find them,” he whispered, and he closed the old man’s staring eyes. He took the little lion as a reminder of that promise.

  They moved on, and then, carried on the wind, they heard faint cries. All three men broke into a run along the side of a stone wall built into a hillside. There was another body in front of a stone doorway that led into the hill, but this one was weakly moving. Terrified and suffering dark eyes were raised to Richard’s. The young man looked to be in his late teens, with skin like old ivory and his black hair matted with sweat and dirt. His legs were bent at unnatural angles. Just looking at those broken limbs was sickening. His wrist had been cut and was still slowly seeping blood.

  Richard knelt at his side and slid an arm beneath the young man’s shoulders, levering him up slightly, and cringed when the boy wailed in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered. The boy’s lips were cracked and bleeding; he had been out here a long time. “Damon, there’s water in my coat pocket. Open the bottle for me.”

  The older man handed him the now open bottle, and Richard held it gently to the boy’s mouth. He gulped at the water, but Richard was careful to pull it away periodically. “Easy, easy.” The boy coughed and cried out again. Richard looked up at Cross and Weber. “It will be agony for him if we try to carry him. Is there some way to get the helicopter up here?”

  Weber backed off, then scrambled up the rock wall set in the hillside. He dropped back down. “It’s fairly flat on top. We can do this. Who do you want to go back for the chopper?”

  “You.”

  Weber headed off at a steady ground-covering run.

  Richard laid the boy back down on the ground, then shrugged out of his coat, folded it to form a pillow, and slipped it under the young man’s head. “Do you speak English?”

  “Yes. Some.”

  “What’s your name?” Richard asked as he wrapped his handkerchief around the boy’s cut wrist.

  “Acabey.”

  “I’m Richard. Can you tell us what happened?”

  The boy shivered and closed his eyes, then slowly began to speak. “Three cars arrived. Big cars. Expensive. Grandfather told us to hurry up to the gates and the stone with our carvings. These people had money. I was at the stone.”

  “The green stone. In the lower city?” Richard clarified. The boy nodded. Richard frowned. “I didn’t see any of your beautiful carvings.”

  “They bought them all. No one had ever bought everything before. They gave me so much money.” Acabey glanced down at a pants pocket bulging with lira. “Then the man with all the money nodded to other men who were with him. One of them drew a gun and shot Riza.”

  “Who’s Riza and why was he there?” Richard asked. It probably didn’t matter, but he was falling back into cop mode. Get every detail. You never knew what might be important.

  “We make the tourists hire a guide. Better for everybody. Riza has worked digs for years and years. He knows … knew so much.” A few tears leaked from the corners of the boy’s eyes and ran down into his sideburns. “Then other men grabbed me. The rich man opened a briefcase and took out a bowl and a knife, and a long crystal like amethyst. He told the fat man with the glass hand to collect blood and gave him the knife and the bowl.”

  Cross and Richard exchanged looks. “Well, guess we know where Grenier washed up like a fuckin’ beached whale,” the Old One grunted.

  Acabey continued. “One of the men held my arm and the fat man cut my wrist. He almost filled the bowl. It hurt so bad. Then he took it back to the rich man, who began to speak strange words and poured the blood over the stone. He struck it with the amethyst. It shattered, and there was this terrible stink. Then this thing like shadow and blood slithered out of the stone.” Richard, his hand on Acabey’s shoulder, felt the boy start to shake.

  “I know this is hard and terrifying, but can you tell us anything else about this creature?” Richard asked gently.

  “Eyes, so many eyes.” He flung his head from side to side. “No, no.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Richard soothed. He glanced up at Cross. “Ring any bells?”

  “Not right offhand. It’s not like we’re all related or are in a bowling league together or something. Actually, we mostly hate each other.”

  Richard thought about that. If these creatures posing as gods all hated each other, was it any wonder that religious hatred was such an integral part of human history? In the distance, the thwap of helicopter rotors started up.

  Looking back at the boy, Richard asked, “How did you get up here?”

  “Some men dragged me. Then they…” He gulped. “They broke my legs.”

  The beat of the rotors grew to a roar, and the belly of the Mi-17 swept overhead.

  “We’re going to get you to a hospital now.”

  “My grandfather. He was going to the Lion’s Gate. People always buy at the Lion’s Gate. Can you get him? And my parents and sister are in Boğazkale.”

  Richard hesitated. He had done only a few grief calls during his time at APD. It was hard enough to tell a family that their loved one had been killed. How could he tell this boy his entire community was gone and that he, however unwillingly, had played a part in those deaths? He decided not to lie, just, for the moment, omit.

  “I’m sorry, but I found your grandfather. He’s been killed.” The boy whipped his head to the side, trying to hold back tears. Richard removed the lion carving from his pocket. “He did beautiful work. May I keep this? As a reminder?”

  The boy, his eyes glistening with tears, regarded the little lion. “Of what?”

  “That I’m going to find these men and see that they face justice.”

  “I want to kill them,” Acabey said savagely.

  “That’s just death. I want them punished.”

  Acabey stared up into Richard’s face and gave a taut nod and squeezed Richard’s hand. Weber, with soldiers in tow, jumped down next to them.

  “My family…?”

  “First, hospital.”

  Four soldiers gently lifted Acabey up to waiting hands of the soldiers on top of the wall. He screamed in pain, but they got him to the helicopter and used the medical kit to give him a shot of morphine.

  Çelik said quietly to Richard, “Are we done here?” Richard nodded.

  The engines whined, the rotors began slowly turning, and then the ground was receding beneath them, the buildings becoming mere flashes of red tile in the midday sun.

  Richard gazed out across the empty grasslands.
“I wonder where it’s gone.”

  “I have a feeling we’ll be finding out real soon,” Cross replied.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-ONE

  DURING the helicopter ride, Çelik had been on the radio constantly. Richard assumed he was informing various government agencies of the deaths in Boğazkale. When they landed at the military base, an ambulance had met them and taken Acabey to the hospital.

  Back at Işık headquarters, Richard requested a meeting with all three generals. The expressions on the faces of the men who looked up at him were grim. Richard stood at one end of the oval table, flanked by Weber and Cross.

  “What is it after?” Sözer asked.

  “Best guess, Mr. Kenntnis and my ward. Maybe me as well.”

  Marangoz looked at Cross. “You were here with Kenntnis in the thirties, and like him you have not aged. Are you of his kind—”

  “Uh … short answer … no.”

  “But you are clearly not human, so can you not do something to combat this thing?” Sözer asked.

  “Yeah. But whether I can beat it…” Cross shrugged. “Well, that’s another issue. And it’s got little human helpers and it will get more. You gonna be ready to shoot your own citizens?”

  The soldiers exchanged glances. “This comes at a difficult time,” Çelik said. “There’s tension between the civilian government and the military. We had sworn to honor Kemal’s vision and keep Turkey secular, but the Islamists have gained in both influence and government authority in recent years. They have been chipping away at our power and prerogatives. If the military is seen as attacking civilians…”

  “Bottom line. Can they … will they find us?” Weber asked.

  “I’m here and Kenntnis is here. They’ll find us.” Cross’s tone was flat and implacable. “They can’t sense Richard or the kid, but we’re like goddamn flares.”

  Weber blew out a sharp breath. “Well, that’s just great. So how secure is this facility if … when they do?”

  “And is there a back way out?” Richard asked.

  “Of course,” Marangoz said. “We weren’t going to trap ourselves.”

  “We need to make sure everybody knows how to use it.” There were nods of agreement. Richard continued, “We know one of the men present at Boğazkale was Mark Grenier. He would have just arrived on a plane out of Britain. We really need to know who else was with him, and given the timing of the attack on Boğazkale, they probably landed in Ankara. It would have been a private plane. It would be nice to know for certain who we’re up against.”

  “We will make inquiries,” Sözer said.

  The meeting broke up. Richard checked his watch. Nearly five P.M. He realized his head was light and his legs rubbery. “I need food and sleep. Preferably in that order. Everybody okay with that?” he asked Weber and Cross.

  “Huh, maybe it is the End of Days,” Weber said, but he was smiling. “First time I’ve ever heard you reach that conclusion without somebody nagging.”

  “I can be taught.”

  “I’m gonna head out. Patrol a little,” Cross said. “Sure wish we had that sword.”

  “Not as much as me,” Richard snapped.

  “Well, you’d be wrong, it’s my only hope for an ending.” The creature splintered into red-tinged light shards and vanished.

  “And our only hope to keep from ending,” Richard muttered to the empty space.

  The scientists, Kenntnis, and Mosi were in the mess hall. Weber and Richard paused in the doorway for a moment, watching. At this time of day, there were heated chafing dishes, and the room was filled with the aroma of grilled kofta and pilaf. Chen was holding a piece of construction paper, and as he flipped and turned it, various colors and designs appeared. There was an array of colored pens on the table in front of the little girl and the scientist. Mosi was frowning, but suddenly her brow cleared and she gave a bell-like laugh. She grabbed the paper and manipulated it while the scientist nodded and smiled.

  “Do we dare let them go and work tonight?” Weber said, speaking aloud Richard’s thoughts.

  “Let’s find out where they’re at on recovering the sword.”

  “I have this horrible vision that it just bounced around that lab in Rochester and is sitting in a janitor’s closet or a men’s room somewhere.”

  “If only we could get that lucky.”

  They walked toward the men and the little girl at the table. When Mosi saw Richard, she jumped up and ran to him, clutching the piece of paper. “Look! We made a hexaflexagon!” Her excitement and the fact she wanted to share it with him filled Richard’s heart. He looked down at the folded construction paper and saw a flash of color between the seams. “We made different faces different colors, and then when you fold it you get to see them. Dr. Chen says this is math, but this is fun math.”

  “That’s wonderful. You’ll have to show me how to make one.”

  “Okay, let’s do it now.”

  “Damon and I are really hungry, Mosi. Let us eat first.”

  She looked mulish for an instant, then she nodded. “Okay. But you promise?”

  “I promise.” His body ached for sleep, but he thought he could hang on a bit longer for her.

  Famished, he ate six of the intricately spiced lamb meatballs and a mound of rice. While he ate, Mosi cut and folded construction paper, colored the sides while keeping up a meandering explanation of how it all worked. Richard met Chen’s eyes over the child’s head, and they shared a smile.

  “You have children?” Richard asked.

  “A daughter.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try to get you home as soon as possible.”

  “It is all right. I feel an obligation,” Chen said.

  “Speaking of, how are you coming on that … ah … project?”

  Chen picked up on Richard’s obvious reluctance to speak openly about the sword and was equally vague. Unfortunately, the answer was far more specific. “Alas, not well. I wish I had better news.”

  Richard and Mosi played with the hexaflexagon for a while. Weber finally intervened. “Hey, Mosi, would you show me how to make one of those things?” Richard threw him a grateful glance and stood up. He bent and kissed the top of Mosi’s head. She didn’t stiffen or flinch, and he felt a bubble of joy at her acceptance of the embrace.

  Richard laid a hand on Weber’s shoulder. “I’ll grab four hours and then call the office.”

  “Six.”

  “Five.”

  “Deal.”

  As he walked past, Richard crooked a finger at Eddie, who jumped up and fell into step with him as he headed to the sleeping quarters. “I’m worried about letting you go to the university tonight. There’s an Old One loose,” he said quietly.

  Eddie paled. Unlike the others, Eddie had seen a fully operational gate and faced down Old Ones at Grenier’s Virginia compound. “If one of those monsters is around, there is no way I’m going. None of us should. Trout’ll be pissed, but we’re not going to figure out the sword tonight.”

  “Will you ever figure it out?” Richard asked.

  Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. We don’t even know what it was … is, or how it was made.”

  “So what is Trout working on if not recovering the sword?”

  “It has to do with computing” was the cautious answer.

  “Using Kenntnis?”

  “It’s hard to explain. And there’s no point trying to explain unless it’s going to be real.”

  “Okay.”

  They parted. Richard went to his bunk, stripped down to his briefs, set the alarm on his watch, and crawled under the covers. He didn’t remember going to sleep. When he woke, Mosi was asleep in her alcove. Gently pulling back the screening blanket, Richard gazed down at the sleeping child. He would not, could not, allow her to fall into Grenier’s hands. How far would you go, and what would you be willing to do to prevent that? He knew the answer, and he spent a long time under very hot water in the shower trying to wash away that knowledge.<
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  The scientists were still up and appeared to be working. Sözer caught Richard as he was heading upstairs with the satellite phone.

  “A private plane arrived two days ago. It is owned by the Titchen Group. There were twelve people aboard, among them Alexander Titchen.” The general reacted to Richard’s expression. “You know him?”

  “We had a run-in. I’m not his favorite person.”

  “We tried to arrange to have him detained, but we are getting resistance from unexpected sources within the government. And there are rumblings from the squatter slums on the hillsides. Police have been sent in, but I don’t have specifics yet.”

  “Thank you. Keep me posted.”

  Upstairs, Richard nervously spun an Atatürk ashtray displayed on a counter. It didn’t seem very respectful to the father of his country to grind out cigarette butts on his face, but maybe he just didn’t understand smokers’ culture, Richard thought while he listened to the phone ring.

  “Lumina Enterprises.”

  “Hey, Jeannette—”

  “Grenier has called. Five times. He left a number and he wants you to call him.”

  Richard sat with that for a moment. “Okay. Give me the number.” He grabbed a sales pad and pen from next to a cash register.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No more than usual.”

  “Richard, you can’t trust him.”

  “I don’t, but working in the dark doesn’t help me.”

  Jeannette sighed and gave him the number.

  “Everything else okay?” Richard asked.

  “No, nothing is okay,” she snapped. “But at least we’re back functioning. Oh, and I talked with Pamela. She’s on the job.”

  “Good. Talk to you soon.” He disconnected, looked up, and met Weber’s frown. “Are you going to start in on me now too?”

  “You call him, and you’ll give something away. He knows your buttons, Richard. He can manipulate you.”

  “And I know his. Maybe we’ll just cancel each other out.”

  Weber turned away and hunched a shoulder. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

  Richard flinched. He reached out and tentatively touched Weber’s hand. “I do. But we’ve got to kick this one way or the other. We can’t go on in this limbo. We can’t hide here forever.”