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Authors: Melinda Snodgrass

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BOOK: Edge of Dawn
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He applied gel to the paddles and laid one in the center of Gold's chest. The other he slipped onto Gold's back just to the left of his spine at shoulder-blade level. There was a whine as the charge built. Gold's eyes closed as the drug overcame him and he slipped into unconsciousness. Grenier triggered the defibrillator, sending the charge through the lawyer's body. The current hit the healthy heart and threw it into defib. Grenier stepped back and watched Gold groan and struggle to breathe as his heart failed. Grenier had stood at the bedside of dying parishioners. He knew what death looked like. He had just never before been its midwife.

He examined his emotions. Waited for the moment of guilt or horror. And felt only a weary emptiness. He noticed his hands were steady as he repacked the defibrillator in the first aid kit in the conference room. Back in his office, he picked up the vial and placed it carefully in his pocket. He took a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it, and wiped away the traces of gel on the man's chest and back. Grenier decided to leave the glass, which had fallen from Gold's hand, and even the wet place on the carpet. It was a heart attack. No one would question that, and it added to the sense that the lawyer had been suddenly struck down by a massive coronary. No one was going to blot up the spilled liquor and test it.

Closing his eyes, Grenier summoned the grief, fear, and sadness. He felt his breath grow short and the sting of tears in his eyes. He picked up the phone. Dialed.

“Nine one one. What is your emergency?”

It was showtime.

 

Chapter

EIGHTEEN

B
Y
the time the second long helicopter ride was over, all Richard wanted was a hot shower and a chance to collapse on any kind of bed. Actually, he would have settled for space on a floor. He was paying for the almost sleepless night and the shock over what he had seen at Hierapolis. At the airport, there were cars waiting, ready to drive them through the maddening traffic of Ankara. The city was situated in a valley surrounded by almost vegetation-free brown hills and high ridges. Modern buildings occupied the valley, while the barren hills were covered with squatters' houses built out of scrap wood, concrete blocks, and tin. On the highest two ridges loomed walled fortresses built from red stone.

Their cavalcade turned onto a large boulevard, and after a sharp right turn they drove up a steep hill. Flower beds filled with red and white flowers forming the Turkish flag dotted the thick green grass. A checkpoint manned by heavily armed soldiers lay ahead. They were waved through. Apparently they were expected. The road dead-ended in a circular cul-de-sac. The cars were parked, the engines shut off. The Lumina refugees climbed out.

Weber surveyed the view from the hilltop and looked toward the massive stone buildings that loomed off to their right. “Impressive, but I'd rather have checked into a hotel and gone sightseeing later,” he said quietly to Richard.

“Since we're fugitives, I think we should probably be grateful and go along with anything our hosts want us to do.”

“Within reason,” Weber replied.

General Marangoz gestured toward a long walkway formed by bricks with grass growing between the stones. “The Road of Lions,” he said proudly. The entrance to this walkway was flanked by stone buildings with statues out front. One showed a group of three women in traditional Turkish garb; the other grouping was a soldier, a peasant, and man in a suit holding a book. They were stylized and reminded Richard of Fascist art. Dr. Trout gave voice to his thought.

“Very Stalinistic,” he grunted.

Chen, studying a placard, said, “Considering when they were sculpted, I'm not surprised.”

They headed down the walkway between stylized statues of crouching lions. There were very reminiscent of Assyrian art. The walkway ultimately debouched into a ceremonial stone-flagged plaza. The gigantic space could probably have accommodated more than ten thousand people. On this late September afternoon, there were only a handful of tourists and a number of heavily armed soldiers marching with slow goose steps through the plaza. At various points, soldiers stood stiffly erect and unmoving before sentry stands. Underfoot, multicolored travertine pieces formed elaborate patterns that made Richard think of the Oriental rug back in his office in Albuquerque.

Straight ahead and up an impressive stone staircase was a colossal square building surrounded by massive colonnades, the Atat
ü
rk Mausoleum. Opposite the building was another colonnade through which they could see the skyscrapers of modern Ankara. The other sides of the plaza were delineated by buildings constructed from the same stone and marked by colonnades.

“Damn,” Eddie muttered as he joined Richard. “All this to bury one guy?”

“He was their George Washington. The father of his country,” Cross said.

“Yeah, but
damn.

Marangoz pointed at the massive building. “The Hall of Honor. There is a symbolic sarcophagus inside, but Atat
ü
rk's actual tomb is beneath the building. Come, my comrades are eager to meet you, and you must wish to rest after the journey. I must also report on what happened at Pamukkale.”

Instead of returning to the cars, Marangoz led them into a building on their right. Richard was startled to find himself in a museum gift shop. Any item that could possibly hold an image of the founder of modern Turkey was for sale. Kemal Mustafa's intense blue-eyed gaze stared at Richard from mugs and rugs and key chains and refrigerator magnets, even ashtrays. Three young women, their faces framed by head scarves, stood behind various counters ready to assist any customers. Marangoz nodded at the eldest and led them through a doorway and down a set of stairs.

“The museum commemorates Atat
ü
rk's life and legacy. Perhaps you will tour it after the mausoleum has closed,” Marangoz said to Richard.

“I look forward to that,” Richard said.

They moved through several rooms filled with portraits of Mustafa Kemal and portraits after he became Atat
ü
rk, and depictions of famous battles. They entered a room filled with furniture and a set of evening clothes laid out on a bed as if waiting for the imminent arrival of the man himself. There were numerous black-and-white photos of Atat
ü
rk at various public events. Richard's attention was caught by faces in a crowd at a school dedication. Both Kenntnis and Cross were there. Well to the back and tucked in among others, but it was indisputably them. The date on the photo was 1936.

There was a small door off to one side. Marangoz unlocked it and gestured them inside. They found themselves in a mechanical room filled with the hum from the heating and cooling units and the faint smell of machine oil. Marangoz approached an open area on one wall and pressed several stones in a particular order. A portion of the wall swung open. They quickly stepped through to find a pair of soldiers, one male and one female, at stiff attention on either side of the wall panel. Directly in front of them stood two older men who, judging by their uniforms, were also generals. The soldiers snapped off salutes to Marangoz and pushed closed the wall.

Marangoz made the introductions. “Mr. Oort, please meet General Hasak
Ç
elik, and General Karamat S
ö
zer. We three are the coterie that at present leads I
şı
k.”

Richard shook hands with the men.
Ç
elik was white-haired, and his face was a net of wrinkles. S
ö
zer seemed to fall in age somewhere between Marangoz and
Ç
elik. “Thank you for offering us refuge,” Richard said. “May I introduce my companions. Doctors Tanaka, Ranjan, Trout, and Chen, part of my scientific team. Brook Kna—” He remembered and held back the Armenian name at the last second. Brook looked relieved and grateful. “And Jerry, my pilots. Damon Weber, head of overseas security, my ward Mosi Tsosie.”

“It is our pleasure,”
Ç
elik said, but he sounded distracted, and both he and S
ö
zer were staring only at Kenntnis and Cross.

“You're obviously familiar with Kenntnis and Cross,” Richard said dryly.
We might as well not even be present,
he thought.
And maybe that's a good thing. If they knew just how useless I am.
He shook off the bleak thought and said, “Generals, perhaps if we could retire to someplace more private?”

“Yes,” said
Ç
elik. “Let us show you to your quarters and then we can talk.”

Richard found himself suddenly flanked by Mosi on one side and Weber on the other. The little girl pressed herself against his side. The man allowed his hand to brush briefly across Richard's.

“Are we going to live here? Underground?” the child whispered.

“For a little while,” he said soothingly.

Then it was Weber's turn. “Can we trust these guys?” he asked in an undertone.

“I don't think we've got a choice right now.”

The underground facility forcefully reminded Richard of the lowest floor of Lumina's headquarters. Armories, a communications center, mess hall and kitchen, dormitories. Kenntnis and Cross were offered a private room, but Richard quickly stepped in. “I would prefer that we all remain together.”

The generals looked to Cross, who shrugged. “He's the boss,” the homeless god said.

They were shown into a room with ten bunk beds. Richard led Mosi to a bed at the far end of the room and in a corner. “We're going to make you a little tent, okay?” She nodded. Her features were pinched and tired. She grabbed his sleeve. “I'm hungry,” she whispered.

Richard felt like a fool and a brute. “Of course you are. Let's take care of that right now.” He turned back to the three generals. “My ward hasn't had anything to eat since breakfast. Can we get her something?”

Cross perked up at the mention of food. “Yeah, chow! I'm good with that.”

“Of course,” S
ö
zer said. He said something in Turkish to a young woman guard. “Tamay will take her.”

Eddie saved Richard from rudeness by stepping in before Richard could object. “Hey, we're scientists, which means we're a lot like starving locusts. How about we all go and find some chow while you go off and have the big boss confab?”

Tamay looked to S
ö
zer, her expression questioning. The general nodded. The four scientists, the pilots, and Mosi followed the woman. Both Tamay and Mosi had matching ponytails of long black hair.

Richard caught Cross by the back of his T-shirt as he tried to join the parade. “Uh-uh. I think we need both you and Mr. Kenntnis.”

“Fuck. Oh, okay.”

Richard glanced at Weber. “Damon, you should get something to eat.” Weber gave him an exasperated, disbelieving, and affectionate look that left Richard with a warm glow in the center of his chest. “Not happenin'. I'll eat when you do.”

The generals led the foursome to a high-tech conference room. Richard guided Kenntnis to a chair, and the big man sank down obediently.

“What is wrong with him?” Marangoz asked.

Richard, realizing he needed to command this situation, moved to the head of the table. He remained standing as he swept the three uniformed men with a glance. “He's been mentally damaged. But let me brief you on the situation.”

It took a while. Walking them through the events that had led to the opening of a full gate between the dimensions, the spin glass trap, the activities of Lumina after the gate had collapsed, the insurrection of his officers. “So here we are, and we appreciate you granting us asylum while we regroup.”

Ç
elik steepled his knotted and age-spotted hands and leaned forward. “When we agreed to shelter you, we were under the impression we were doing this for Mr. Kenntnis. We were unaware of the seriousness of his condition.” He glanced at the hulking, silent figure in the chair.

Cross started to respond but subsided when Richard held up a hand. “General, with respect,
I
lead Lumina. Mr. Kenntnis placed the company in my hands prior to the time he was injured. What my team requires is access to high-level scientific facilities. It is our understanding that Ankara University can supply what we need.”

“For what purpose?” S
ö
zer asked.

Since they didn't know about the sword, Richard saw no reason to enlighten them, but he had to give them some reason for that access. “They are searching for a way to reverse the damage to Mr. Kenntnis. Surely a worthy goal.” He gave them a thin smile.

The three men exchanged glances and nodded. “It will be arranged,”
Ç
elik said.

“Excellent.”

Weber stepped in. “Next point. He,” Weber indicated Richard, “needs a secure way to communicate with his staff back in New Mexico, and I need a way to talk to my team in Africa.”

Richard nodded in agreement. “And it needs to be airtight. Our enemies knew we were headed to Ankara, but I'd rather not pinpoint our exact location.”

“Not a problem,” Marangoz said. “Our computers are not linked to any outside computers, and we have primitive landline phone service that is under constant guard so no one can place a tap. We also have encrypted satellite phones. For e-mail we put messages on a flash drive and take them off-site. We have a van with a burst transmitter built in. Messages are returned to us the same way.”

“How do you monitor for incursions?” Weber asked.

“That we can do from normal military facilities, and we have our people scattered throughout the various branches of the service,” S
ö
zer said.

“Smart.”

“And paranoid. We know what we're facing,”
Ç
elik said.

“There have been reports in the press of arrests of top military officers by the Islamist government. Is that just the normal tensions between civilian and military control, or are these moves really designed to get at I
şı
k?” Richard asked.

BOOK: Edge of Dawn
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