“You don’t know much, do you?”
Garlin took a step closer to her and shook his head, a strange smile on his lips. “For someone who has false memories, you’re very sure of yourself. You don’t know who you are. And let me tell you something else you don’t know. You don’t know who Turcotte is either.”
“What do you mean?”
“After we discovered you weren’t who you appeared to be, we checked everyone else. Turcotte’s past—it’s all fake too. He was never in a classified antiterrorist unit in Germany. That charming story he tells about trying to save the pregnant woman… never happened. He’s as false as you are.”
Duncan didn’t believe him. Why that thought came to her with absolute certainty, she wasn’t sure. Turcotte was who he appeared to be. But accompanying the thought was an almost overwhelming sense of guilt, which confused her. What about Turcotte did she have to feel guilty about? That she had involved him in this? But the feeling was much stronger than that.
As Garlin came forward, his hands up to grab her, Duncan stepped back and felt a pinprick of a needle in the back of her neck. She didn’t even manage to turn her head to see whoever had done it before she passed out.
Taiwan
Brutality was being met with brutality. The mainland forces, realizing they were going to be slowed anyway by the defense tactics of the Taiwanese, now resorted to lining up artillery hub to hub along their main axis of advance. They fired a barrage just inside the forward edge of the shield wall, devastating the terrain and killing many of the dug-in Taiwanese soldiers and destroying everything in their path.
But as armies had learned ever since the invention of gunpowder, despite this tremendous effort, many of the defenders still survived. The mainland infantry still had to follow behind the artillery and dig out the survivors. As their commanders pressed them forward so relentlessly, they lost significant numbers to friendly fire, but if there was one thing the mainland didn’t lack it was bodies.
So the slaughter went on. But to Chang Tek-Chong and the others in the Taiwanese high command, the result began to appear inevitable. They could only trade so much terrain before they were pushed into the ocean.
Qian-Ling
Artad cared little how many humans were dying in Taiwan or South Korea. The two assaults were just the beginning. From intercepted satellite traffic he knew the United Nations, the closest thing these humans had to a planetary government, was considering Aspasia’s Shadow’s ultimatum. It was time for a counteroffer.
Mount Ararat
Yakov had not been impressed by the plan he had been given and events were proving him correct. His team had scoured the cliff face and while there were several crevasses, there had been nothing significant enough for him to order the Delta Force demolitions men to do their job. If the mothership was behind the cliff, he had yet to see the way in.
Night had fallen and the men had gathered together in a small depression. No fires, just a cluster of men huddled in the dark. They’d heard gunfire from farther down the mountain just before dark and noted several overflights by Turkish jets. Thus Yakov wasn’t surprised when one of the Delta men reported movement nearby.
Yakov slipped off into the dark to investigate, leaving instructions with the commandos to remain in place. He passed between two boulders, his weapon at the ready, then froze when he heard the sound of an AK-47’s slide being worked. The sound was echoed by several more assault rifles.
He took a step backward toward the hide site when he felt the muzzle of a weapon poke him in the back. Letting his MP-5 hang on its sling, Yakov slowly brought his hands up.
“Who are you?” a harsh voice asked in accented English.
“From America,” Yakov said.
“You don’t sound like an American.”
“I am Russian, but I am working with the Americans.”
The muzzle was pulled away as figures appeared in the darkness, surrounding Yakov. The man who had been behind him came around in front. He was wearing a sheepskin coat and a black watch cap. Definitely not Turkish military, Yakov realized.
“What are you and the others up there”—the man jabbed the muzzle of the gun in the direction of the Delta hide site—“doing here? We saw you parachute in.” “Who are you?” Yakov asked instead, not certain how to proceed.
The man spit, narrowly missing Yakov’s boots. “This is our land. Our mountain. You do the answering.”
“We search for the ark.”
The man’s head snapped up and he said something in a different language. From the excitement among the men, Yakov knew he had broached a sensitive subject. He realized they were Kurdish guerrillas.
“Freeze!” The voice came out of the darkness and Yakov knew the Delta commandos had the group covered.
The man cursed, shoving his gun into Yakov’s face. “You die first.”
“Easy,” Yakov said, keeping his hands up. “They’re friendly,” he called out to the unseen commandos.
Several Delta commandos with night-vision goggles on appeared out of the dark, weapons at the ready. Yakov could see the guerrillas relax as they saw the American flag patch on the commandos’ shoulders.
“Come.” The leader of the guerrillas gestured. “There are others on the mountain.”
“Let’s go,” Yakov said to the Delta men as he followed the guerrillas. They clambered toward the cliff face, then turned right. Yakov was surprised when the man in front of him seemed simply to disappear into the cliff. Edging around a boulder, Yakov saw there was a narrow crack that they hadn’t spotted during their search. He could barely force his way in, then he was in darkness, stumbling forward. The Delta commandos followed, two of them carrying the man with the broken leg.
Yakov went about twenty feet before the tunnel turned to the right and he saw a dim light ahead, the forms of the guerrillas silhouetted against it. The tunnel widened into a cave, about sixty feet wide by thirty deep. The ceiling was low, forcing Yakov to remain slightly bent over. Two oil-burning lanterns illuminated the cave and the interior smelled of their burning as well as unwashed bodies. There were several women and children inside and they greeted the men with smiles and hugs while casting suspicious glances at the strangers. “Sit.” The man who had first met Yakov indicated a spot near one of the lanterns. Yakov squatted and he was joined by the commander of the Delta commandos.
“I am Kakel,” the man said.
“Yakov. And this is Major Briggs,” he added, introducing the senior Delta man. Kakel shook their hands but his words were less than pleasant. “Americans. You promised us much and you delivered little. You asked my people to rebel in Iraq and then abandoned us. You side with the Turks and let them hunt us down like dogs.” He sat down with a sigh. “This is our land. It was called Kurdistan long before there was a Turkey or an Iraq. Do you know it is illegal for us to speak our own language here?” Kakel didn’t wait for an answer. “Why do you seek the ark?”
“We think it is an Airlia spacecraft.”
“Airlia?”
“The aliens.”
“The gods of old.” Kakel glanced around to see if any of the others were listening. “There is much history on Agri Dagi—that is what we call this mountain. There is the legend of the Ark of Noah coming to rest here after the Great Flood. My people believe we are the direct descendants of Noah. And now you say it might be a craft of these aliens.” Kakel shook his head. “Did you know that Lawrence of Arabia hid in this very cave?”
“No, I did not,” Yakov said.
“There are those who have a different”—Kakel searched for the right word, then shrugged—“sight. Some come here.”
Yakov wanted more information on that, but he knew he had to stay with his priority, so he remained silent.
“We call this the back door.” Kakel pulled the magazine out of his weapon, checked the bullets, then slammed it back in. “Outsiders are not supposed to see this.”
“I thank you for taking us in,” Yakov said.
“There are others on the mountain,” Kakel repeated himself. “Iranians have crossed the border. Many were killed by the Turkish planes, but some still climb up the mountain. They are not far off. Of course that means the Turkish army is close.” He smiled fiercely. “But they have learned not to come into our land. They wait around to catch the Iranians when they try to leave. I assume the Iranians seek what you seek.”
“It is most likely,” Yakov agreed. He saw a twitch on the side of Kakel’s face. Yakov had been around men like this before— men who spent their entire lives hiding and fighting. The stress wore them down, making them old before their time.
“It has been here for many centuries,” Kakel said. “Beyond the time of remembering. Why do you need to find it now?”
“There is war all over the world,” Yakov said. “We think—”
“We have been at war here for a long time. No one was ever interested.”
“It is worldwide. In many places people are dying—” Yakov began, but Kakel again interrupted him.
“There have been world wars before.”
“Not—” Yakov halted, realizing he had been about to say not with aliens involved, but who knew how much the two sides had been involved in previous wars. “The aliens have shown their true natures and come out of the shadows,” he finally said. “The ark holds the thing we need to defeat the aliens.”
“And my people? What good will it do us?” “I do not know,” Yakov answered.
Surprisingly, Kakel smiled, revealing several broken teeth. “I like you, Russian. At least you are honest. We have had too many promises and every one was broken.” He put the AK-47 down. “The legend is that my people, the Kurds, are the descendants of Noah and the survivors of the Great Flood. That we came here in the ancient time, brought by the gods on the ark, which landed on this mountain when the waters receded.
“My father, and my father’s father, and through my family beyond what can be remembered, have lived here on the mountain. He told me, as he was told, that there would be a day when the ark would be needed again. Others have come seeking the ark.”
“And have you shown it to any?”
“Those who had the correct symbol. Yes.”
Yakov reached into a pocket and pulled out a Watcher ring. “This symbol?” Kakel pulled a chain from around his neck. On it was attached a Watcher medallion. “Yes.”
“Who were these who came? Was Sir Richard Burton one of them?” Kakel nodded. “Yes.”
“Who else?” “Tesla.”
“‘Tesla’?” The name sounded familiar to Yakov, but he couldn’t place it. “A man named Nikola Tesla came here many years ago.”
“Why?”
“To go into the ark.” “For what?”
“I do not know that. But he had the proper symbol, so he was allowed in.” “Anyone else?”
“As I said, there have been those who had a different sight.” Yakov returned to his mission. “I seek something inside the ark.”
Kakel considered that. “You have the proper symbol. Tomorrow I will show you what you seek. But only after you help me.” “Help you do what?” Yakov asked.
“Does it matter? You want to see the ark, do you not?”
United Nations
“Aspasia’s Shadow lies.” The sound of Artad’s voice echoed through the General Assembly.
“First let me tell you the truths among his lies. Aspasia was indeed the first Airlia to come to your planet. And he did establish a base at Atlantis. And his mission was to protect your planet from the Swarm.
“That is the extent of his truths. Long after he had been sent here, communication ceased with our home world. I was sent to investigate when we didn’t hear from him. It was feared that this planet might have been overrun by the Swarm.
“I arrived to find that Aspasia had become corrupt. He had begun acting like a God and treating your people as slaves who should worship him. He had become fearful he would be recalled and have to rejoin the fight against the Swarm.
“We battled. There was much death and destruction, which I regret. When neither side could completely gain the upper hand and we feared an escalation of the combat would send out signatures into space that would be picked up by the Swarm we came to terms on a truce.
“His base at Atlantis was to be destroyed and he was banished to our base on Mars. Before I destroyed Atlantis, I rescued as many of your people as I could. I came here to Qian-Ling and went into a long sleep.
“The atrocities committed against humanity by both sides throughout that long sleep cannot be laid at my feet. They were reactions by my guardian computer and my Shadow against actions by Aspasia’s Shadow.
“But I am awake now. You have killed Aspasia for which I give you great credit. But you will not be able to destroy his Shadow without my help, which I offer freely. And after we have destroyed him, I will assist you in moving forward in technology in order to join the rest of the peace-loving sentient species in the universe. You have seen the mothership and know we are far more advanced than you. There is much I can give you that will make life on your planet many times better.
“The Chinese government has already joined me. Do not let old enmities stand in your way. You must come together as a species if you wish to join the other sentient beings of the universe.
“And there are greater dangers beyond this planet. You will need my help to face those threats. The Swarm is still out there destroying planets like yours. You cannot face them alone.
“Aspasia’s Shadow threatens all of you. He has corrupted many humans with his nanovirus. He wants all of you back under his thrall. To worship him. I want you to join me as equals.
“The choice is yours, but make it quickly. Events are moving and there is not time for you to waver.”
The transmission ended. An explosion of debate roared in the Assembly Hall. Given what was already happening in Taiwan and South Korea, Artad’s words weren’t exactly greeted with applause. Still, though, there were those countries that saw Artad’s offer as a chance to ally with the enemy of Aspasia’s Shadow. Perhaps it would be the lesser of two evils?
The debate went on.
South Korea
General Carmody slipped the gas mask over his head as the helicopter slowly descended. The nerve agent that had been spread over Seoul would most likely have already dispersed, but he was taking no chances. The Blackhawk landed on the Tongjak Bridge over the Han River. There were bodies everywhere and no sign of life. Carmody slid open the cargo bay door and, with the aid of the crew chief, off-loaded the nuclear weapon.
There were sixteen bridges over the Han. Four within view of this one. Carmody opened the plastic case and punched in the arming code for the bomb. He set the delay at fifteen minutes. The other Blackhawks were doing the same thing in a pattern designed to destroy all sixteen bridges. It was a desperate act, but one that Carmody felt had been forced on him by the use of nerve agents.
He got back on board the helicopter and the pilot began to take off. It was then that he noticed the squad of men moving through a street a quarter mile to the north. The men wore protective suits and gas masks—North Korean versions. They carried AK-47s and were headed toward the bridge, drawn by the sound of the helicopter.
“Land again,” Carmody ordered.
The Blackhawk touched down. Carmody opened the door and went over to the bomb.
He heard shots, then the door gunner on the Blackhawk returning fire. He entered his code on the keypad. Then he accessed the timer code. 14:21 and going down. Carmody hit the scroll key and the number rapidly went down until he reached :10.
Then he waited as the last seconds ticked off.
CHAPTER 15: THE PRESENT
Mount Everest
It was most definitely not dawn. That was Turcotte’s first thought as Morris nudged his shoulder again. He felt like he’d tied one on the previous evening and then spent the night in a snowbank while being suffocated. His head was pounding and his body was stiff
and chilled to the bone. Turcotte opened his eyes. Ice-covered rock was less than six inches in front of him. The sound of his breathing echoed loudly inside the oxygen mask. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so bad, but then again his brain wasn’t working very well so he couldn’t really trust his memories. He did know from his various training and combat experiences that misery tended to fade in the memory and never seemed as bad looking back as it really had been.
A shaft of light penetrated the dark as Morris put a headlamp over his forehead and turned it on. The medic was doing something and his action stirred Turcotte to move. He unzipped his sleeping bag, careful not to drop it, shoving it into the pack dangling next to him. He pulled out his own headlamp and put it on. He was amazed as Morris handed him a hot cup of coffee. The medic has chipped out a small ice ledge in the side of the ridge and set up his stove. Turcotte knew how difficult it was to operate under these conditions and he was deeply grateful for Morris’s extra efforts. He took a sip, then twisted, handing the cup to Mualama.
He noted that Morris was looking up in the darkness, trying to see the route he would lead them on, the headlamp penetrating about forty feet up. There was no wind, for which Turcotte was grateful. The cold was so extreme it was sheer pain on any exposed skin and he knew a minute of exposure would cause instant frostbite.
Mualama passed the cup back and began packing his gear. Turcotte had spent a good portion of his life in the field in all sorts of conditions, but he’d never spent a few hours sleeping at twenty-five thousand feet clipped to the side of a mountain.
“Grab hold of the mountain,” Morris advised as he reached down for the safety lines he’d attached.
Turcotte looked down. His legs were dangling and he was supported only by the lines. He kicked and dug the toe of his crampons into the ice. Morris had put his pack on him while he slept and Turcotte felt a moment’s embarrassment to be taken care of like that. The medic had done the same with Mualama. Looking at the African in the darkness, the older man’s face, what little Turcotte could see, was haggard.
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