The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set)

by Carolyn McCray

  “Hang on!” Brandt yelled. There was no time to get back inside. Besides the boat might capsize due to the explosion of the missile. Brandt would rather be out here, where there was some maneuverability.

  The missile streaked to the left, diving into the water. A loud clang preceded a loud explosion. Water sprayed upward as a metallic object bubbled to the surface. It was a small four-man submersible. A distinct red flag with a large golden star and four in an arc around it, proclaimed the submersible was the Chinese governments.

  Damn.

  How long had the Chinese been following them? And did they mean his team harm?

  Brandt’s phone buzzed at his side. He had tucked it into a plastic bag in the fold of loincloth. He pulled it out to find a text…

  It was from an unknown UK number.

  “You are welcome.”

  Vanderwalt. He’d come through again. Apparently the Chinese had been trying to harm them, otherwise Vanderwalt wouldn’t have taken them out.

  That didn’t mean that those were the only Chinese following them.

  “Let’s get to land as soon as possible,” Brandt stated to Sallah.

  “And get some pants,” Lopez moaned.

  * * *

  Bunny felt pain in her chest, but didn’t really feel the pain. Her lungs felt swampy, like she was falling into the storm water and couldn’t get out.

  Lightheaded, Bunny tried to understand the conversation going on around her. The words were English, but she couldn’t put them together into a coherent sentence for the life of her.

  All she did know was that their tone was concerned. It was hazy but she could remember fragments of her chest hurting and having difficulty breathing. Bunny attempted to swallow, but felt a tube in her throat.

  That was never good.

  Someone squeezed her hand. While she couldn’t move her head, Bunny slit her eyelids open and slid her eyes to the left. Was it Davidson?

  The figure was short and slim. Stark then. Which, honestly, in this situation was almost better. If you had terrorists coming after you, Davidson was your man. In the hospital, clinging for your life? Stark was probably your go-to guy.

  Her eyes flickered open and she realized she was a room full of doctors and nurses. No one looked very happy.

  “She’s awake,” Stark said smoothing back her hair. “Shhh, just rest.”

  Because she couldn’t talk, Bunny moved her eyes to ask what was happening around her.

  “You threw an embolus, and it looks like it is blocking left pulmonary artery,” Stark explained. “Since it is a fat embolism from your leg, anticoagulants won’t work. They can do surgery, but that is risky as well. There is a new technique where they go down and try to remove the blockage through a catheter. Which, of course, has risk of its own.”

  Bunny blinked to show that she understood.

  “Mom is working on algorithm to figure out which is the best choice.”

  She blinked again then squeezed his hand. She hoped he understood that meant she trusted him, and his Mom’s algorithm.

  “We’ve got to sedate her more fully,” the doctor said. “We can’t have her moving while I’m poking around her pulmonary arteries.”

  Bunny blinked, this time slower. Her eyelids were getting heavy, too heavy to lift.

  Stark leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Davidson sends his love and will be here as soon as he can, but I will stay with you. No matter what.”

  Bunny tried to squeeze his hand, but simply didn’t have the strength.

  As she drifted off, Bunny realized how incredibly lucky she was to have both men in her life.

  Take that, Tika.

  * * *

  Rebecca reveled in her new dry clothes and raincoat. They had landed in Turkmenbasy, a small coastal town in Turkmenistan. While the ex-Soviet bloc country wasn’t exactly American friendly people, local fisherman were more than happy to take American money.

  The sun had risen, although it didn’t matter much with the dark storm clouds always overhead. The fisherman were especially glad to see them because they had lost a fishing day the day before and more likely today as well. Brandt passed around enough cash to get everyone new clothes and a car to the airport.

  The nearest airport wasn’t far. It was in Turkmenbashi, just northeast of the port town.

  However, they still didn’t know where they were going next.

  The line clicked in Rebecca ear. “Stark?”

  “No, sorry. It is his mother. Bunny is about to undergo a procedure to remove the blockage in her artery, but that’s not what I called about.” Stark’s mother explained. “I’m calling because the blog guy came through at partially decoding the lines on the splinter of wood.”

  “Blog guy?” Rebecca questioned.

  “Yes, long story. Short story is we told him we found a small slab of stone on a dig. He has no idea where it really came from.”

  “Great, go ahead,” Rebecca urged.

  “The passages you gave me repeatedly reference ‘Cush.’”

  “Cush?” Lopez asked.

  Rebecca was about to explain, but Davidson jumped in. “Noah famously had 16 grandsons, and since the Judeo-Christian bible states that Noah’s family were the only humans to survive the flood, the world was populated with his children and grandchildren.” Rebecca nodded for Davidson to continue. “These sixteen grandchildren, spread out over the Middle East and Europe, with the land they settled usually named after the man who settled it.”

  Rebecca smiled. Davidson had always been an excellent student. “And ‘Cush’ is the name of one of Noah’s grandsons, who settled in what is now Ethiopia.”

  “In Africa?” Prenner asked.

  “Yes, that Ethiopia,” Rebecca answered.

  “Great. But how does that help us?” Brandt asked.

  Stark’s mother explained, “It appears that Cush was the chronicler of the family and brought with him the history of his grandfather and the flood. It is rumored that Noah went with Cush and died in ancient Ethiopia. This splinter indicates that Noah’s personal diaries were buried with him.”

  None of this was completely news to Rebecca. Since she and Lochum did not spend much time on the Noah myth, she wasn’t exactly well-versed, but she did read her archeology journals faithfully.

  She turned her husband, “I guess we’re headed to Ethiopia.”

  Brandt grunted and nodded to Lopez. “You know what to do.”

  * * *

  Davidson fidgeted in his seat. They were nearly to Ethiopia. Everything on their front was going fine, but he was worried about Bunny. They supposedly started the procedure an hour ago, and it was only supposed to take forty-five minutes. Yet it had been over an hour since Stark had reported in.

  Since Stark couldn’t take any communication devices into the procedure room, there was no way to find out what was happening.

  While he had done what Brandt had ordered, and compartmentalized his concern away, it was hard to keep everything in a box during the flight. His mind kept wandering to Bunny.

  Rebecca had spent most of the flight talking to Stark’s mother, trying to figure out where Noah’s grave was in Ethiopia. They were concentrating on the Gondar region of the country, which was in the northwest corner of Ethiopia.

  Normally Davidson would’ve been fascinated by the discussion, but his mind was elsewhere. He took no part in the debate about where Noah’s tomb might be. There are at least a dozen sites scattered over the Middle East claiming to be Noah’s final resting place. Ethiopia was not one of them. Which kind of worked in its favor. All the other countries had done extensive excavation to find the tomb, meaning that they had destroyed a great many pristine ancient sites.

  Ethiopia was practically an archaeological virgin.

  Davidson caught bits and pieces as a mission was planned out. They were headed to the Gondar region of Ethiopia, the Simien Mountains. Their first stop was going to be Felasha village, which historically had been Jewish. After the many p
urges and wars, it was reported there were no more Jews left in the region, but Rebecca wasn’t so sure about that.

  The line clicked on and Stark’s voice came over. “Yah, they are done…”

  Davidson knew from the shaky tone of Stark’s voice it wasn’t good news.

  * * *

  Stark swore that he wasn’t going to cry. He was already failing that oath. He tried to keep it under control, At least until he was done reporting to Davidson.

  “The procedure didn’t go quite as planned, instead of pulling the embolism out, it broke apart upon contact. While that did free up the artery, the smaller fragments went down and caught a bunch of smaller blood vessels.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Davidson asked.

  “Not necessarily, because over all she has much better blood flow in her lung, however her lung tissue is very inflamed and that is causing some serious systemic problems. They have her on ten different medications, but her bleeding times are worsening and they fear blood will start to leak into the lungs. If that happens…”

  He just couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Davidson spoke, saying words that Stark never thought he’d hear in his life from the sniper. “Stark, buddy, you’re doing a great job. And as much as we love her, we both know that Bunny can be a little bit of a drama queen.”

  Sniffling, Stark chuckled at that. True. True.

  “This is just Bunny’s way of making sure we appreciate her. Stark, you have to hold the faith. She can get through this. We just have to make sure she knows there’s something to come back to. She’s got to know we are rooting for her.”

  “I am, I swear I am,” Stark sobbed. “I wish you were here.”

  Davidson was so much braver, so much more put together, so much more of a man.

  “No,” Davidson said. “You’re the one that’s always taking care of her. You’re the one that got her those fluffy socks during the cold snap. You’re the one that knows just the right amount of sugar to put in her tea. She needs you, Stark. You.”

  Okay. If Davidson wanted Stark to stop crying he really needed to stop talking right now.

  “I’m on it,” Stark managed to croak out. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for research, but Mom said she had it.”

  Davidson chuckled on the other end of the line. “Don’t even worry about it. Your mother is crushing it.”

  Yep, that sounded like her.

  * * *

  Brandt was kind of glad to see that Davidson was holding it together so well. Before he had fibbed. If it were Rebecca injured, he too would have a hard time putting his feelings in a box. And heaven forbid if one of his children was injured.

  This Special Forces gig really was for young, unattached soldiers. Wives and serious girlfriends, could get into your head and your heart. It was a stress that he hadn’t known back when he was single.

  Everyone, though, needed his head in the game, because the Chinese certainly hadn’t given up after the Caspian Sea. Soon, Brandt was sure that they would show up at a most inopportune time.

  Lopez landed the plane smoothly, pretty much just to show off, that not only could he shave a half an hour off the flight but execute a perfect landing. Brandt didn’t bother to rise as Lopez headed out of the airplane. It would probably take a few minutes for the corporal to find a ride to his liking.

  Ethiopia probably wasn’t the best place in the world to find a power SUV.

  However, Brandt was equally sure that Lopez was up to the task.

  Chapter 12

  Rebecca sucked down another bottle of water, as Lopez drove down the dirt, correct that, now mud road toward Felasha. They had skirted the ancient Capital of Gondar and were striking for the mountains.

  Ethiopia was always presented as this dry barren country. Which, for the most part, it was not. Most of the country was made up of mountains and low rolling hills like the ones they were traveling through. The ground was green with a mixture of grasses as they drove toward the lake.

  No, it wasn’t the climate that had Ethiopia in such a state. It was the wars that had driven the populace from their farms into the cities. This humanitarian crisis was, of course, man-made.

  It was too bad, because Ethiopia had a rich and long history. As a matter of fact, the most ancient human remains have been found here. This war-torn, famine-ridden country was the birthplace of human life.

  And now maybe the key to solving a millennia-old puzzle.

  Rebecca looked over to Sallah, who still cupped the small remnant of the ark. His mouth moved in silent prayer. She didn’t want to interrupt his meditation, so she held her question until later.

  Looking forward, the rain beat down on the windshield in sheets. She didn’t know how Lopez was keeping them on the road. That was being a bit generous. Rebecca suspected it was a game trail, turned cart trail, turned “road.” Really it was just a black stripe down the grassy plain.

  “How much further?” Prenner asked.

  “Who knows?” Lopez joked.

  “No, seriously,” Brandt stated.

  “I was being serious,” Lopez responded. “I thought we were going to be there ten minutes ago.”

  Davidson pointed out the window. “Could that be it?”

  Rebecca squinted and maybe just maybe she could make out a few simple huts. This was a very rural village, far off the beaten path. She knew they were actually at the village when she noticed the goats grazing out in the rain.

  Goats were the backbone of any small village. They provided milk, hides, and even meat.

  Lopez paused as the small herd crossed the road. Soon children poured from the small houses and surrounded their SUV.

  These children were the foundation for the village’s economy. Tourists took sympathy upon them and would buy all manner of trinkets from them along with taking the children’s advice about the best restaurant or hotel. The kids were the village’s front men.

  Lopez had to stop the car. He couldn’t and shouldn’t go further anymore.

  Rebecca rolled down her window, and tossed some change in the air temporarily distracting the children. They made it into the village proper which really was just a dozen homes, a few bars and a restaurant in a hotel in the center of the village.

  Some of the older children caught up with them. They spoke pretty darn good English, given the fact Rebecca doubted any of them had had a day of school.

  “You want to see cemetery?” one of the boys asked.

  “No, no,” another interrupted. “See factory. See bowls made!”

  Rebecca smiled. “Not those, but how about the synagogue?”

  The two boys nodded in unison, “Yes, yes.”

  They took off running to the south, not bothering to look behind to see if they were following.

  The rain was already trying to seep into her coat, so Rebecca flipped up the collar and buttoned it down tight. The group followed the boys through the village. Eyes peeped out behind closed shutters. The adults in the village were not quite as extroverted as the children.

  Soon they came to a small building. It didn’t outwardly look like a synagogue, but that was fairly common in Ethiopia. Even the churches looked more like homes to keep any invaders from targeting them.

  “No one here,” the boy stated. “Just a synagogue.”

  Rebecca was certain that that was exactly what it was supposed to look like. However, as they walked in it became apparent that someone was keeping the place clean and more than likely holding ceremonies here.

  She handed the tallest boy a five-dollar bill. “Find me the caretaker and there’s another five in it for you.”

  That was the language these boys spoke. They didn’t bother to clarify why, if no one was here, they could find a caretaker. They just ran off, whooping as they went.

  While they waited, Rebecca walked around the small synagogue. No matter how large or small, each always had pews and an arc up on the dais. She knew better than to open the arc. It was Jewish tradition that only a
man enter the sacred space which stored the synagogue’s most valuable scrolls.

  Not long after leaving, the boys came back dragging an old man behind them. “He is him,” the tallest boy said, his hand extended.

  Rebecca put a ten dollar bill in his palm. “The extra five is for not telling anyone I asked.”

  The boy nodded vigorously and turned with his companion to leave. Before they were even out of the synagogue they were arguing over who got how much of the money.

  She turned to the old man. “Are you the rabbi?”

  “Yeat, yeat,” the man said.

  Sallah shook his head, “He said no.”

  Rebecca turned and asked their Foremen companion “You understand Ethiopian?

  “Not all of the dialects, but the majority language, Amharic.”

  “Then ask him where the rabbi is.”

  Sallah proceeded to quickly ask the question. The old man opened his hands as if he had no information.”

  “Who pays him then?” Rebecca asked.

  Funny, but the old man seemed to understand what she said. “Tell him we mean no harm, we simply need a little information.”

  Words were exchanged, but the man still kept insisting he didn’t know of any rabbi.

  This is going nowhere fast.

  * * *

  Brandt pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. The cash was meant for bribes, but the old man in front of them didn’t seem to care. His eyes dilated as Brandt rolled out one hundred dollar bills.

  “This is enough to seriously help your village. How many goats could you buy with this money?”

  He wasn’t being sarcastic or demeaning. Goats were a type of currency in a nation like this. Having extra milk or extra offspring to sell could transform this village from barely surviving to being economically stable.

  The money that he offered came from his team’s slush fund. He would by far rather see it go to helping get a village out of poverty, rather than bribing some smarmy official.

  Even though the old man might not speak English, he clearly understood what Brandt was communicating.

  He rattled something off to Sallah. “He says that men with guns seldom only want to talk.”

  Brandt offered the money forward. “This man does.”