by Aiden James
9:05 p.m. Nighttime in Tehran.
“Well?” I persisted, when the only immediate response was a low sigh on the other end.
“I can see your point, William,” he said, with a touch of angst in his tone. “But I also see Amy’s perspective, as well. I’ve known this kid for years, man. When she gets an idea stuck in her head it’s harder than hell to get her to compromise. Even if I grant you the approval to get her out of there forcibly, you’ll still have a helluva time getting her to comply.”
“You know as well as me that she and my dad can’t stay here—it’s too damned dangerous!” I was finding it hard to hide my misgivings about this whole affair. “If you need me to stay behind and get the details on the FGRs Stanislav is using, I’m more than willing to do it. But please leave them out of this!”
“I can’t do that!” His anxiety ratcheted up a few more notches. “If they’re not continuing the mission, then neither can you!”
“Shit!” I was becoming more and more convinced that silver coin number twenty-two would have to wait for some other trip to Iran...a trip that could very well get hijacked as this one had.
“Why don’t you follow your commitment to Ms. Amy and Alistair, William and just sleep on it?” he suggested. “Who knows, you might see things differently in the morning. If nothing else, you’ll know for sure how to handle this by then.”
After Michael hung up, I thought about my parting words with both my boy and Ms. Golden Eagle. We had just finished our dinner, and one last glass of Cedric’s expensive wine. “Don’t let worry or desperation make your decision for you—make it from that most peaceful place within your hearts,” I told them. “Share it with me first thing in the morning and we’ll go from there.”
Maybe it was the liquor talking after we polished off the bottle. Yet, I felt encouraged when Alistair and Amy wavered in their previous stance to ignore me. They both smiled and told me that they would indeed sleep on it all. No anger or hard feelings, just a quick promise they wouldn’t keep me hanging the next day with their decision.
If only it was true.
Chapter 11
I got out of bed at 3:40 a.m. and waited. Listening and waiting, I should say, on high alert for any door noises and footfalls moving down the hallway outside my room. After nearly half an hour passed in silence, I crept over to my window and peered down into the main parking area below. Other than a few noisy patrons arguing under the gazebo near the main entrance, I didn’t detect anything or anyone of note.
No persons of interest. No Alistair Barrow or Amy Golden Eagle.
Yes, I fully expected them to pull some shenanigans after the previous evening’s standoff. Although my boy would normally accept my point of view after I explained the basis for my position, Amy’s charms had thrown a wildcard onto the playing field. Alistair was bedeviled more than I had ever seen before, which changed the rules on what I could reasonably expect. At least as far as what I could expect to happen with his normally methodical and pragmatic approach to everything.
Ms. Golden Eagle had turned my son into a demure pup, whose strong independent traits had steadily eroded since making her acquaintance Friday morning. In other words, even though he spoke as if he were the same old Ali, his actions made him seem more like a love-starved teenager with a terrible crush on a sexy high school teacher—even though, in this case, he’s twice as old as she.
Considering this observation after they returned to their rooms Saturday night, I resolved to keep a tireless vigil until dawn. Just in case the pair tried to sneak out of the hotel and travel into the Alborz Mountains without me.
Damned straight it wasn’t gonna happen...But, damn, it did happen.
Damned burgundy, from one of the finest French vineyards! And, damned me for being so arrogant to think I could easily outsmart them both!
But it started with the wine...potent enough to prevent me from keeping track of how many glasses I had. It doesn’t take much to intoxicate me. The impairment that followed was more than I bargained for—at least in terms of what it did to my ability to stay awake.
Yes, please join me in saying, “Oh shit!”
Seriously, I must’ve fell asleep around midnight, and then slept like a baby until my alarm resounded for the third time.
Looking back now, they must have slipped out of the hotel well before three o’clock. In terms of being on top of their whereabouts and movements, I never had a chance. Yet, there I was at 4:00 a.m. still listening to the gradual awakening of the Ferdowsi around me, waiting for either Amy or Alistair to try and tiptoe past my room to the elevators. Meanwhile, they were already on the main mountain highway approaching the unnamed small village Cedric told us about Saturday evening.
I never considered they would behave so foolishly, setting out in desperation to try and locate Jeremy Golden Eagle. At least he should be flattered that his little sis was willing to go out on a precarious limb for him. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Thank God I didn’t wait any longer than 4:30 a.m. to venture outside my room, or the result of my impaired common sense could’ve been much worse. My intent was to move quietly to Amy’s suite and then on to Alistair’s room, hoping to confirm the pair still slept. But as soon as I stepped outside my room, something fell upon my right shoulder and tumbled onto the floor. For a moment, I stared stupidly at the Ferdowsi stationery envelope and heavy script favored by my son.
Alistair’s signature.
What the...?
Clever boy, placing the sealed correspondence above my door, delicately perched to fall once I ventured from my suite. He knows I rarely sleep and can awaken at the slightest sound...everything from a quiet whisper to an infant housefly buzzing fifty feet away from my bed.
Sliding a note under my door would’ve earned him and Amy all of thirty seconds as a head start, instead of the near two-hour lead they presently had. I already knew what the note inside the envelope said. No need to look at it, but I did so anyway.
Sorry, Pops. We left without you, since it’s obvious to both Amy and me that you will do everything in your power to prevent us from doing what needs to be done. No offense intended, and I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive us. Please don’t try to follow us, Pops...we hope to see you within a week. All you’ll do by coming after us is royally screw this up, and possibly get Amy and me killed. Love, Ali.”
“Screw this up?!” I hissed angrily while reading the note again. For the moment, the hallway sat deserted. “Ali, you have no idea what you’re doing...no earthly clue what you’ve already done!”
Fighting the urge to panic while my mind raced, I stashed the envelope inside my jeans pocket. I had already showered and dressed appropriately for the day, thinking I had plenty of time to do so. That was before I ventured from my room.
But the letter changed everything. I ran back inside my room and grabbed the basic things I might need, including my loaded briefcase, laptop, and cell phone. The keys to the Mercedes were missing—probably lifted by either Amy or Alistair last night, though I should’ve noticed this when I set my wallet on my room’s dresser just before I retired.
Shit!
Since I didn’t have a clue at the moment as to how this latest debacle would shake out, I went ahead and arranged storage for my luggage with the front desk. I slipped another fifty dollar bill to the desk clerk to make sure my single suitcase would be waiting for me whenever I returned. Then I hailed a taxi to the nearest rent-a-car establishment, pleasantly surprised to find one open before 5:00 a.m. I doled out two additional Grants to make sure the necessary paperwork got done without any ‘foreigner’ delays. With my chances of catching up to Alistair and Amy dwindling by the minute, I could ill-afford getting caught in standstill traffic at the onset of Fajr.
Fortunately, there were no more delays to deal with. Other than some congestion near Imam Khomeini Square, it soon became just me and a fairly deserted highway on my way into the Alborz. I must admit to a moment of nostalgia, th
inking back to 1979 and the power of the Ayatollah upon the Iranian masses. That was the last time I was here on government business, or at least the last time I did something in Persia for my American overseers.
Silver coin number twelve was the prize for me back then, and that one had been buried deep in the earth, beneath the rubble of a collapsed castle in the Alamoot Valley. Passing through downtown in Tehran back then especially affected me...so many armed soldiers with permission to use ‘necessary force’ to control the masses calling for a Jihad to overthrow the imperialistic powers in the West—namely the United States.
For some reason, the common anger and demand for nationalistic rebellion inspired by Iran’s most powerful religious leader reminded me of when another charismatic ‘teacher’ commanded so much fervor. But that was almost two thousand years ago, when Jesus of Nazareth gave his Sermon on the Mount. Most depictions of that event are far from accurate, especially the ones featuring hillsides filled with the expectant faces of peaceful shepherds, farmers, and the general citizenry of Judea.
It wasn’t so. Many in attendance were restless and hungry for violence that day, despite the optimum conditions, comfortable temperatures, and a sunny sky with very few clouds. Like a nice big company picnic for disgruntled postal workers nowadays, except back then the place was crawling with Roman legions on orders to squash any signs of an uprising by ‘necessary force’. There were enough on hand to herd everyone in attendance into the Sea of Galilee nearby.
That was the first time for me that I witnessed the incredible power of Jesus the speaker, whose soothing voice and words calmed the mass of humanity around him. Even the scowling Roman soldiers became serene. Of course, back then I still thought of Jesus as an incredible teacher and perhaps a prophet, though nothing more.
But back to the present. The sun rising above the Alborz range was an incredible sight—just as spectacular as the sunsets and sunrises I’ve witnessed when traveling along the Rockies in either American continent. The Alborz sunrise made me hopeful that I might catch up to my ornery kid and the young lady who inspired his infatuation. That hope lasted for the better part of the morning, especially once I came upon the rutted dirt road that led to the ancient village Cedric told us about the night before.
The village was as primitive as advertised, and far more austere than anything I can remember ever seeing in this country during the last several hundred years. In fact, in some ways it reminded me of my early journeys across Asia and Africa in the first two centuries A.D. Lots of chickens, sheep, and goats wandering through dirt streets. The houses, mosque, and other buildings were rudimentary, and a pair of ancient wells sat on either side of the mosque.
The men and women were clothed in traditional robes, with the women’s faces covered. Like stereotypes living in an oppressed Middle Eastern land. That is, except for one key difference: these villagers all carried the gleam of joy in their expressions. I got out of my rental to investigate the area, and to confirm the Mercedes I sought and its passengers had come by there earlier that morning. Every one of these people greeted me with kindness.
I was leery of conversing in the newer Persian dialects, but fortunately deciphered enough of what they said. They also understood some of the Arabic terms I gave them. But none could speak or understand English.
Alistair and Amy had indeed made it this far, and the chief of this small populace led me to the northern edge of the village, where a large granite gate had been carved into a mountainside. The artisanship much more refined than anything else in the area, this had to be the hiding place for the cache of weapons Cedric had advised us about. It was just a matter of digging around the thick bushes and overgrown weeds surrounding the gate to find some serious weaponry.
Having tissues that regenerate quickly has so many advantages. Neurotoxins are virtually harmless to me, unless I suppose someone forced several gallons of the stuff down my throat at one time. The only thing for me to worry about was a momentary sting from a threatened insect or the vipers the area is famous for. A small scorpion stung me twice while I dug around the dirt until I located the steel crate carrying the small arsenal promised by Cedric. By the time I brought the crate out to where I could clearly see its contents, the twin wounds from the little monster had disappeared, and complete healing was just moments away.
The guns, grenades, and rocket launcher were all intact, which heightened my worry for my missing companions’ welfare.
Nearby tire tracks in the sandy dirt confirmed the presence of a recent visitor that morning. If it was Amy and Alistair, I wondered why they bothered to drive here through the rutted terrain, and yet leave the weapons untouched. Perhaps it had something to do with the vermin in greater abundance than Cedric had warned us about. I know for a fact my boy wouldn’t come within five feet of a verifiable lair of such critters.
Increasingly worried about their well-being, I hurriedly stashed most of the weapons inside the trunk of my rented Volvo. When everything was loaded up, I confirmed the direction where the Mercedes was headed and continued my pursuit of Amy and Alistair.
The road’s terrain became more and more eroded, and I almost slid off into a deep ravine as I followed the ancient trail deeper into the mountains. Just to make sure I remained on the right path, I stopped the car several times to check the tire tracks in front of me. Soon, I came across other tracks that made me nervous...tracks from several vehicles, and one with unusually large tire tracks.
Stanislav’s camp must be somewhere close by. That thought alone quickened my pulse.
I need to get to them before he strikes first!
I slowed the car and rolled down the windows, so I could listen. At first, it was an instinctive response. Maybe it had something to do with the road’s winding course that steadily carried me to higher and higher elevations, with a drop-off of several hundred feet on one side of the road. That would make most folks nervous, I’m sure.
But that wasn’t it. It was the feeling I had just entered the lair of some deadly predator...like a mayfly drifting into a spider’s web.
Then I heard it. The sound of thunder moving through the earth. Not quite a quake, but certainly a disruption within the earth’s crust.
Ah, shit! …Make that double-damn-it shit!!
The proximity of the sound announced it couldn’t be further than a mile or two ahead of me...perhaps on the other side of the next bend.
I looked for the closest cluster of thick evergreens to ditch the Volvo, and cut the engine as I coasted in behind a large boulder. Yeah, this was a tough decision, since my fatherly urges told me to drive on further like the proverbial bull in a china shop and recklessly deal with whatever menace I found there. Just as long as I retrieved my two stray pups. Right?
Yes, and get us all killed in the process—me temporarily, and Amy and Alistair permanently. So I had to be smart, and patient, using careful precise planning.
Arming myself with a Glock, machete, and a Bushmaster ACR—my weapons of choice—I set out on foot while I plotted my course of action. From the sound of things, I would certainly encounter someone working for Petr Stanislav within the next fifteen to twenty minutes, whether that was his mercenaries on patrol, his scientists using their FGRs to dismantle a mountainside, or the Russians’ actual ‘home away from home’. Any of the three would do, though I doubted I’d actually find the Soviet camp this close to the fusion ‘blasting zone’.
I jogged quietly around the bend, while hearing and feeling another rumble through the ground beneath my feet. I also heard truck sounds in the distance that were getting closer. Bracing myself for the sound of human voices, I searched the hilltops for lookouts or snipers.
While scanning the areas above me, I damned near missed seeing a smoldering vehicle just ahead of me, sitting in the middle of the road and right before the next bend. Impossible to tell what make or model it was, I could tell the automobile had been fairly new. Silver paint along the back panel had escaped the intense heat and flame
s, which consumed the rest of the vehicle body.
My heart raced.
All evidence said the vehicle had once been a car of choice. One that fit certain specifications—my specs—for what I liked to travel in when serving my country overseas. When I reached the burning wreckage, the circular hood ornament was still intact, though blackened from the fire that probably died over an hour before.
The car looked as if a grenade, or more likely, a launched missile from a mercenary’s shoulder had destroyed it. Survivors were unlikely.
The Mercedes that had transported my precious son and the girl whose charms he couldn’t resist was now a burning mass of metal, glass, and toxic fumes from melted upholstery.
There was no chance for survivors...no chance for either of them.
Chapter 12
I wasn’t sure what to do next. Normally, that’s not an issue for me.... But, presented with the likelihood that my son was dead nearly paralyzed my mind. My initial thoughts muddled, the only thing I could discern was an urgent need to check the vehicle for bone fragments—praying to God Almighty I didn’t find any. The intense heat had destroyed all other evidence of Alistair’s and Amy’s presence. Shielding my eyes from the early afternoon sunlight, I peered into where the front seats once were. Smoldering gray ashes sat in twin piles. Were they made up of charred human remains or merely the stuffing from a pair of bucket seats?
I dug my hands into the closest pile, where glowing embers burned away the outer flesh from my fingers. Gruesome, I know, but even before I had fully withdrawn them from the vehicle’s marred interior, my hands had almost finished their healing. The searing pain nearly gone, all that needed to reappear were the fingernails and soft hair across the backs of my knuckles. An amazing transformation, I’m sure, but one that brought only meager solace. No bone fragments negated the likelihood that Amy and Alistair were present in the vehicle when it was attacked. That could be good news. However, the absence of physical evidence didn’t prove they survived either.
