Ryan and Golding stepped from the car and watched as the two men hesitated and then when they knew they couldn’t stay behind the crowd without being noticed, moved off with the oohing and awing men and women as they examined the lobby of the giant nightclub.
The interior was done like a Hollywood movie set and even Ryan had to gasp at the decor. It was something right out of a Bram Stoker novel. The expense shown in decoration alone proved to Pete and Ryan once and for all that this place required inordinate amounts of cash.
The stage was enormous and rivaled anything seen in Las Vegas. A trapdoor system built along the lines of a Broadway stage for raising and lowering musical sets was in operation as they watched the final touches being put in place for the big grand opening tomorrow night.
“You would think this would be the place you would want to see in operation until you realize the possibility that stolen antiquities may have been the financing plan behind it.”
Ryan had to agree with Pete. This was a wad of money and to come up with that inside a country that was still trying to see if it was viable after the collapse of communism was nearly impossible. Not many banks are willing to loan money when their people are in danger of having no heating oil for the hard winters here. No, bad money was here and on display.
“Wow, I saw his show in Las Vegas!” Pete said as he walked up to the large cardboard cutout of Drake Andrews as he stood clad in a garish purple tuxedo and was crooning to an audience that rarely came to see his shows in the desert any longer.
Pete gave the cardboard cutout one last hug across the shoulders just as if he were a tourist getting his photo snapped with the legendary entertainer. He smiled at Ryan, who only stared at Golding.
“Sorry, it’s just that I’m like an oldies nut.”
“Believe me, between you, Doc Ellenshaw, and the colonel I can never take music seriously again.”
Pete shrugged his shoulders. “Where to now? I don’t see either the captain or Charlie.”
Ryan took a breath and looked around the large nightclub. He shook his head. “Yeah, this was a waste of time,” he looked back at Pete, “but at least we found out Drake Andrews will be here. Come on, we may have better luck outside,” Ryan said, making fun of Pete’s man-crush on the entertainer.
“Well, he used to be big.”
As Pete and Ryan turned to find an exit that led out onto the mountain, the two Zallas men followed them, brushing by the life-sized cardboard cutout of Drake Andrews, spinning it, and then knocking it to the floor where several men and women inadvertently stepped on it.
OTOPENI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, BUCHAREST, ROMANIA
The Russian-made Mi-26 Halo is a twin-turbine heavy-lift helicopter. It is the world’s largest production helicopter and was a source of worry for NATO planners for years before the ancient helicopters fell into old age and disrepair and were shipped off to Russia’s satellite nations just before the collapse of the Soviet Union. The amount of equipment and personnel it could transport is still a source of pride among its builders and designers. As it sat on the tarmac waiting for the last of the equipment and passengers to be loaded, the heavy engines vibrated and shook the old airframe as if it were in a blender.
As he sat in his seat toward the rear of the old aircraft, American singer Drake Andrews glanced over to his agent, who sat staring straight ahead, afraid to move as the ancient Russian helicopter shook, rattled, and rolled as it idled.
“Remind me to kill you when we get back to Vegas in fourteen months,” Andrews said as one of the turbine engines actually backfired, making both men in their expensive clothes jump and yelp.
“I’m not the one that got busted for tax evasion. It was either this or lose that menagerie you call a house in Vegas.”
“Yeah, well that two million bucks ain’t going to do diddly for me if we crash and burn in something the Wright Brothers wouldn’t have climbed into.”
“You should have finished school and not been a child star, Drake. The Wright Brothers built airplanes, this is a helicopter,” his agent said like he was explaining things to a child.
Edwards looked over at his agent and raised a brow. “Are you getting smart with me after dragging me to Romania of all places? That’s ballsy, I’ll tell ya.”
“Paternity suits, taxes, bar brawls, all because you’re mad at the world because it passed you and your show by. Let’s just collect your performance fee and get back to Vegas, okay, then you can fire me. Until then just shut up.”
“How many acts before me, and will they be in line with my program?” he asked as he closed his eyes.
“You have five acts before yours and they will be doing medley comps to set your show up. They’ll do songs from your era, and—”
Drake looked over sharply. “They won’t being covering any of my hits, will they?”
“No, Drake, they won’t, just hits from the sixties, seventies, and eighties, nothing newer than that and certainly not as old as your stuff,” the agent said with a satisfactory smile etched on his face as he too lay back. “As a matter of fact, here are your cover bands now,” he continued with an even larger smile.
As Drake looked up he saw the motliest group of men and women he had ever seen marching into the interior of the old helicopter. They had long hair and looked as if they fell right out of a Volkswagen microbus in 1967. There were sixteen of them and some were women who looked as if they took their clothing, hair, and nail advice from Alice Cooper. Suddenly one of the men broke free from the boisterous group and made his way to Drake Andrews with a killer grin on his face. The clothes the man wore were certifiably different from the $2,000 suit that Drake had on. The long-haired man started jabbering in what Drake could only assume to be Romanian or Russian, he wasn’t sure.
“Whoa, there, slow down, chief,” Drake said as he harshly nudged his agent.
“Drake Andrews, hey everyone, here is Drake!” the man screamed at the top of his lungs to be heard over the increasing engine noise of the vibrating helicopter. “Oh, we look forward to making everyone ready for the big Mr. Drake Andrews, you see, we make men and women hungry to hear you.” The man smiled and slapped Drake on the shoulder sending him into his agent next to him. The American watched the enthusiastic young man move forward toward his seat.
Andrews stared at the large group of men and women who were doing everything from wrestling in the aisles to pounding on the window glass to see if it would hold. His eyes widened when one of the Russian band members was escorted to his seat after offering the pilots a bottle of vodka.
“My God, I’ve died and this is hell. I just didn’t realize that hell would be 1967 Haight-Ashbury on an old and broken-down Russian helicopter.” He turned and looked at his smiling agent. “The guys warming up for my act are the Manson Family!”
His agent couldn’t help, after all the years of hell Drake Andrews had put him through he was finally getting some payback.
“Remind me when we get home to fire you, and then I’m going to kill you!”
PART THREE
THE GOLIA
Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.
—Curt Siodmak, The Wolf Man (1941)
13
PATINAS PASS, ROMANIA
The old and battered panel van traveled slowly up the road. Anya wanted them to stop at the small village before reaching Patinas so Mikla could be taken care of. Marko however wanted to get Mikla back to the pass as soon as possible. Not only to get him help, but to also keep Stanus at bay. The giant Golia had only been seen once since the encounter in the woods and that was but a brief moment when Marko observed the wolf watching them from a large crevasse in the mountain while blending in almost perfectly with the dark geologic makeup of the area.
With Mikla taking up most of the floor space in the van the crowding was nerve-wracking to say the least. Anytime someone would move inside the cargo compartment Mikla woul
d raise its large head and growl with his eyes narrowing and his ears laid back. The sight was enough to make even Anya nervous at being closed in with the wounded Golia.
“Are you going to tell me about your American friends?” Marko asked as he rewrapped the bandage around Mikla’s ankle. His eyes never rose to meet his sister’s.
“This man saved my life in Rome.” Anya looked at Everett and then just as quickly her eyes moved away.
“So you bring him home like a stray cat?” Marko said as he tore the very end of the cloth wrapping and then tied it lightly around the wolf’s ankle. Mikla for his part only winced. “As you can see, little sister, we have more than enough stray animals running around.” He patted Mikla on the head as lightly as he could. “As for you, Mikla, I would advise you to stay clear of Stanus for a while.” Marko eased back when Mikla raised its brows and growled very deep in his chest.
Anya looked quickly at Carl and Charlie and wondered if she should broach family business in front of the two men. She then looked at Marko.
“Why did Grandmamma bring me home?” she asked as her eyes drilled into Marko’s.
“I can no longer answer for the reasons why our grandmother does anything. It may have something to do with my investments for our people.”
As her brother answered, a look of stunned surprise crossed Anya’s features. The emotion wasn’t lost on Carl.
“Investments?” Her eyes shot toward Everett, who sat and watched the exchange as the van hit a bump in the old dirt road that shook Mikla and made him whine. “Marko, the people need only themselves and the Golia. We lack for nothing.”
“We lack for nothing because we have never had anything. This will change. Grandmother’s ways are the old ways. And I will not discuss this in front of uninvited guests.” He looked at Everett alone and his brown eyes held no compassion for the American even though he had saved his sister’s life.
“Tell me, what has changed in three thousand years that would make your people start selling off a heritage you have been guarding since the time of Joshua?” Carl ventured just to see the look on Marko’s face.
Next to Everett, Charlie winced as he knew that information shouldn’t have been readily available for any American to just read in a history book. Either the captain knew what he was doing or Ellenshaw feared they may have invited this rather unpleasant man with the strange eyes to slide a knife across their throats—something he looked quite capable of doing.
Marko patted Mikla one last time and then straightened and sat leaning against the sidewall of the van. He took a deep breath and looked from Everett to his sister.
“And suddenly this man you just met knows all there is to know about the…” He smiled. “Our people.”
Anya didn’t hear what Marko said, her double-colored eyes of green and brown were on Carl and they didn’t move.
“Yes, suddenly he seems very informed.” Her left brow rose as she took in the large American. The silence was palpable.
“We try not to go into anything without first knowing the basics.” Everett said, allowing his own sight to adjust to Marko. The two men sized each other up and they both found they could not read the other’s ability.
The Gypsy raised his left brow and then he reached up and toyed with the hoop earring as he thought.
“We?” Marko asked as a smile seemed to break slowly across his lips. “By ‘we’ I take your meaning to encompass your four friends staying at the resort? Friends that have already stood out like coal on a snowy landscape, so much so that whoever you and your people are have brought the unwanted attention of a very unsavory man who just happens to own the resort.”
“And suddenly you know an awful lot about us, or at least enough to know what that unsavory character is doing. Or should I say, Dmitri Zallas—your business partner?”
Marko swallowed and then looked from the American to Anya. The sad look in her eyes told him that she saw what he was doing. Marko always dreamed of his people being normal. That they could also be human, live side by side with the rest of the world, and he always told his dreams to his baby sister, who used to be sympathetic to those dreams. But as he looked at her now he knew Anya was now just as his grandmother was—dedicated to keeping the old ways intact.
“Marko, what have you done?” Anya lowered her head, no longer able to look her brother in the eyes.
“I did what many leaders before me should have done. Why would these so-called leaders of a nation keep us in abject poverty while the rest of the world thrives? Our lives have never changed. We are still subservient.”
“And the Golia?” Anya asked.
Marko smiled for the first time and he placed a gentle hand on the back of the resting Mikla.
“They are strong once more. They do not need us to live. They are home, and they will remain. Now we shall join the world as a people and live the way we should have for these many years. We owe others nothing.”
“Let me tell you, my friend, as a man that has been in that real world you’re talking about, I’ll tell you this, it’s bleak at times and everyone, and I do mean everyone, fights for survival out there.” Everett pointed toward the wall of the step-van. “And from what I can see out there this is a real home—the only kind of home that ever made sense. Don’t just toss that away for a few of the finer things, because, buddy, the finer things are right in front of you.”
Ellenshaw was stunned to silence and looked away. Anya on the other hand was looking at Carl as if a light had been shone on his features for the first time. She tilted her head to the left and studied him until he looked her way and then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Marko glanced at his sister and didn’t care for the way she watched the American when the van came to a stop.
Anya looked up and knew she had finally returned home to Patinas. And as the doors of the van were thrown open the mountain came alive with the sound of the Golia as their howls rent the daytime skies of the Carpathians.
THE EDGE OF THE WORLD HOTEL AND RESORT CASINO, PATINAS, ROMANIA
Jack watched Sarah on the grounds of the hotel just inside the sprawling pool area. The geologist had made sure she wasn’t being spied on by the one sunbather, obviously a woman not interested in the goings-on with the underworld inside the casino. Sarah bent at the waste and stuck a small thermometer attached to the thinnest of wires into the chlorinated water. She looked at the readout on her small watch. The expensive equipment was some of the only tools Jack and Sarah had left to them after their trucks had been diverted to the south.
“Well?” Jack asked.
“A one-degree rise since eight this morning.”
“Short stuff, they obviously had to have known this was a seismic area, or why in the hell would they build it here?”
Sarah slowly and expertly replaced the small probe and the wire spooled neatly into the watch base.
“The simplest and best explanation could be they just didn’t check. Remember, this area was under government control for close to two thousand years. I don’t imagine many seismologists or geophysicists have been nosing around this region.”
“You mean they just skipped over the land’s geologic appraisal?”
“Jack?”
“Yeah,” he said as he looked to the distant front gates at the milling news reporters and protesters who still remained despite the slowly moving black clouds coming their way.
“What do you think the cost of this resort is?” she asked as she looked around the vast property.
“Niles placed the estimate at somewhere in the two-and-a-half-billion-dollar range for the resort, the castle, and the property. Plus no telling how much was spent on bribes to get the land.” He turned away from his view of the far-off front gates and then faced Sarah. “Why do you ask?”
“Why would he built it here, it’s that simple, he had to have known this area was seismically active, he had to.”
“What in the hell are you getting at?” Jack finally asked.
“He could have bought property anywhere in Romania, and better, more access to the resort, why build in the middle of nowhere?”
“Because you said it yourself, the land was cheap.”
“No, Jack, the land wasn’t cheap. It’s all in the reports. Possible bribes to the interior minister, negotiating with the locals for use of the roads. No, Jack, he could have gotten by with half of his money spent. No, he bought here for a specific reason.”
Jack turned away and examined the men and women walking through the resort on the far side of the glass. His gaze wandered from the casino to the restaurant and then to the giant atrium.
“Do you think he knows about the Jeddah? Maybe not Alice’s wolves, but the Jeddah themselves?”
“Why would he care?” she asked.
“Remember what the reports said about the ancient tales of the Lost Tribes? The disgraced professor in Los Angeles said that one of these tribes was rumored to be carrying the vast treasures of countless campaigns from the Exodus. The biggest rumor was the one about the great temple being erected in a far-off place that housed the greatest treasures of not only Egypt, but of the ancient Hebrew people.”
“Jack, that’s stretching it somewhat, isn’t it?” Sarah said as she realized that not even she could fathom someone risking that much money over a rumor.
“What would the antiquities alone be worth?” he asked instead of answering her.
“Priceless. You couldn’t place a worth on something like that. The cultural and historical aspects alone are worth … worth…”
“Far more than two and a half billion dollars I would say.”
“Still too thin, Jack, so thin I could see through it. I mean two and a half billion dollars in the hand is worth far more than speculation of trillions in the bush.”
Jack looked down at Sarah and smiled as he shook his head. “Nice turn of phrase, short stuff.”
“I have my moments.”
“Still, things just don’t add up. This place will make money, there’s no doubt of that. But I just don’t see our Russian friend as a real hotel entrepreneur, do you?”
Carpathian: Event Book 08 Page 36
