Hammer of God: Alex Hunter 5.5 (9 page)

Hammerson scrolled through a screen of the latest Intel. “We’re blind and deaf in there now. I can use our orbiting hardware to guide you, but we’re just eyes from a long way up. The rest is up to you.”

“Got it,” Alex said. “It’s a weird one, Jack. These … things were not really alive. It was more like someone jump-started a Mac truck. They were all sewn together, no blood, just a weapon delivery system on two legs. Got the strength of a dozen men – hard to kill.” Alex snorted. “No, already dead; make that,
hard to stop
.”

“But you took one down,” Hammerson said.

“Yes and no. I beheaded it, but I didn’t see what happened to the body. Might still be jerking around down there, or worse, having another head fitted, and then coming right back at us.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hammerson spat the words. “These things are hard to see. They don’t show up on thermal, as there’s no body heat. And trying to find a single slow moving person in the entire Middle East is damned near impossible.” Hammerson exhaled. “And now they plan to take their war to the armies of Rome. One goes off in Italy, and we’ve got a world war on our hands.”

“Got to find that Traveler, and find the source. Both need to be totally destroyed,” Alex said.

“Agreed – find them, and take them down, hard.” Hammerson sat back, thinking. After a few seconds, he ran a hand up through his hair. “I can swing the satellites in on this to watch borders and sniff for any high energy particle traces. I’ll arrange for coded updates to get to you, but for the most part you’ll need to go dark when you cross into Iran. They’ve got some pretty sophisticated surveillance equipment in there – mostly Russian and Chinese, but top of the line. As soon as you start talking, they’ll begin to close in on you.”

“Blackout might be a good thing,” Alex said. “From now on, the less you know, the less you’ll have to deny to anyone who asks.”

“Works for me. You got any firm leads?” Hammerson asked.

“Maybe. Adira seems to think she has an idea where to start, but it’s a long shot. She told me that this reanimation process was thought to be a myth or a legend about an alchemist named Jabir ibn Hayyan, who lived over a thousand years ago in an ancient city called Tous – it’s still there today in northeastern Iran. She thinks that should be our first call. Best way in for us is to cross from Afghanistan into Turkmenistan, then drive a few hundred miles through empty desert.”

Hammerson whistled. “Wild West; nothing but a graveyard of fallen military power up there.”

Alex snorted. “Compared to Mosul? Walk in the park. I’ll contact you again when we’re on the ground. Good luck finding that last Traveler.”

“Same to you, and stay alive. Over and out.”

*

“Just you. A smaller team is a faster team.” Adira folded her arms.

“My full team, you and Eli, that’s five; all we need,” Alex said. “We’re better trained, and ready to go.”

“Than who?” Adira snorted. “Too many, and which ones can speak fluent Farsi? Which ones know where the safe houses are? Which ones know how to spot Sepah or Quds commandos on the ground?” She shook her head. “I know you’ll fight to the death, but what good are dead HAWCs to me?”

Alex exhaled. “Sam Reid can speak Farsi.”

Adira raised her brows. “Like an American.”

“Sam and Franks, and Big Brother looking down over our shoulder. You need the Intel.” He folded his arms. “We’re ghosts, and we’re going in, with or without you.”

“The Intel I need, ghosts I don’t.” She folded her arms tighter and narrowed her eyes. “But you have proven useful before, and there
is
something I need.”

She waited, and eventually Alex raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Clear me with Jack Hammerson. I may never go back to America, but if I do, I don’t want him expending any energy getting in front of me.” She shrugged. “And I’d hate to have him send
you
to bring me in.” She smiled, tilting her head. “Or would you like that?”

Alex grinned. “I’ll talk to the Colonel.” He straightened. “So, we’re all good; three HAWCs for the price of one.” Alex half bowed, and then Adira led him to a small table where they sat down and she poured a coffee. He sipped and then looked up at her. “Afghanistan is a risk – bad country in the border regions. Turkmenistan at least pretends to be neutral. Easier in and out.”

She nodded. “Normally true, but it also has more IRG spies than most other countries. Many live and work out in the open, but they are flush with cash, and pay locals handsomely for information. A group of strange-looking people flying in or moving around would attract high-value attention. They’d be on us in an hour.”

“I agree. Do you know the city of Tous?” Alex asked.

She shook her head. “I only know the area; it’s in the Mashhad Province. Not much out there – mountains, cold grassland plains, and some nomadic tribes. The city itself is old, like most cities in the area. It’s changed hands many times, even been captured by Alexander the Great in 330 BC. Then almost totally destroyed by the Mongols around eight hundred years ago. It was always a city of poets, sciences, and learning, and a natural fit for an ancient alchemist’s dark magic. I have my network gathering information before we leave, but an interesting thing to note is that there has been heavy traffic in and out of the area lately – by land and air.”

“Crossing into Iraq – by helicopter perhaps?” Alex half smiled. “Looks like our number one suspect after all.”

“Yes, and a good place to start. We leave tomorrow morning, early.” She smiled. “Time for another outfit change; I get to wear a simple abaya. But you and Sam look too much like soldiers to pass as anything else, so … we have some Iranian regular army uniforms.” She grinned. “And please let me tell Casey Franks she will be in fetching all-over black this time, just like me.”

Alex went to turn away, but she reached out to grab his arm. “Not so fast. I have just one more change of clothing for you … and one more request.”

His brows came together, and she tilted her head. “You owe me, Alex … at least for that thing I did for America. I saved your friend Matt Kearns, and probably half the country.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, but then slowly nodded. “Fire away.”

Alex laughed as he stood in the doorway of the Joz Veloz restaurant. He remembered Casey’s face when he told her of their plan, and what she would need to wear. She had at first rebelled, but then realized she’d be able to conceal a lot more weaponry under the abaya than he and Sam combined. She relented, but still looked like she wanted to break something.

Even though Adira had given him a cotton shirt, blue chambrays, and a pair of lofas – casual garb – he still stuck out like a banged thumb, as he near filled the narrow doorway.

He waited impatiently. Adira had gone to speak to the owner, an old friend she had said, and he craned his neck to see into the dining area. It was a small, candlelit décor of flea market finds, with what looked like red wine served in small tumblers. He would have called it cramped; she would have called it cozy. More couples sat at a small bar talking softly or in high backed booths. He liked the place. It was private, and the smell or roasting lamb made his mouth water.

Adira reappeared from the back of the restaurant clicking her fingers to get his attention. He watched her approach and realized he hadn’t seen her out of army fatigues in years. He’d forgotten what a figure she had. She wore a light dress to just above her knees, showing off long, brown legs. She had perfect honey-olive skin, and a hint of makeup made her dark eyes glow.

He stepped inside and she took his arm. A young man nodded to him, and introduced himself as Lev. He led them through to the back, where a single table sat against the wall, with extra space between them and any others.

“Private; our best,” he said.

“The best,” Adira repeated, with a smile and raised eyebrows. She leaned close. “I saved Lev’s father from a bomb attack.”

Adira turned and thanked Lev, and he went to hand her some menus, but she waved them away and spoke rapidly in Hebrew.

“Excellent.” He spun and disappeared.

“I hope you don’t mind; I ordered for us. The house specials.”

Lev silently returned with a bottle of red wine – Yatir Forest, which he showed to Adira, who nodded. He poured, she sipped, and then closed her eyes momentarily.

“Yatir Forest is an oasis in a dry and dangerous land. And this is its finest gift.” She nodded to Lev, who poured them both a tumbler full.

She lifted her glass. “To us.” Alex paused, raising a brow. She smiled. “And to our success.”

He clinked glasses, smiled and sipped. She was right; it
was
a gift. Alex felt her eyes on him, and lowered the glass.

“So, Alex, you found your way home … to Jack Hammerson at least. That is good, I think.” She sipped again, watching him, her gaze intense. “He will forgive me, or at least forget me, yes?”

Alex shrugged. “Hammerson forgets nothing. Maybe he’ll tolerate you. He knew you were in America, and did nothing. And you know he could have.”

“I paid my debt,” she said, lowering her glass. “After the Black Mountain, even my own country wanted me gone.” She sat back. “Like I said, I paid my debt. I
always
pay my debt.”

“I know you did. We all have to atone for our sins at some time. Perhaps that’s why we do this …
us
type of people,” Alex said, toasting her.

“You found your way home.” She fiddled with her glass. “Found your way back to Angie, or was it Aimee?” She looked up with a twinkle in her eye. “Everything is good now, huh?”

“Aimee.” Alex nodded. “I found her, but haven’t spoken to her yet. It’s not easy. Things are still … complicated.” He scoffed and sat back. “And look, here I am, nearly eight thousand miles away. Like I said, not easy.”

“I know it’s not easy.” She held his gaze. “That’s because
us
type of people are the only ones that understand
us
type of people.” She slid forward, placing fingers on the back of his hand. She rubbed his knuckles. “And perhaps that’s why I am still a wandering soul.” She turned his hand over, palm to palm. “I missed you. I can say that, even if you don’t remember us, together. But I do.” She smiled sadly. “If I had a wish, it would be to have that time again, just you and me on that beach.”

“Another life,” Alex said.

Lev brought the first platter of food, and their hands separated as he laid it down with a flourish. “Flame seared, peppered lamb on a bed of cous cous.” He bowed and departed.

Alex inhaled the aromas of the spices and roasted meat. “Looks magnificent.”

Adira continued to stare at him with liquid brown eyes. “Yes, magnificent.”

They were speeding away in the car before the helicopter was even out of sight. Alex, Sam, and Eli all wore well worn Iranian Republican Guard uniforms and had perfect IDs, all courtesy of the Mossad Infiltration Division. Adira and Casey had on the dark robes of the abaya and had identification as government functionaries – roles appropriate to be in the company of IRG – on some sort of government sponsored mission.

They would need to drive across the porous border – hundreds of miles of featureless, arid landscape. They followed a broad highway, and in the hours of travel only passed a single truck loaded with wood. It was only when they came to the town of Serhetabat that they knew they were already in Turkmenistan.

Traffic increased, and so did the number of checkpoints, but flashing their identification, while wearing both the uniforms and a disinterested expression, usually resulted in a deferential or panicked look on the faces of the officials. It seemed the IRG was a big player up here, and potentially an impatient one.

More hours stretched as they sped up the broad empty highway. It was another three hundred miles to the ancient city of Mary, and then they were turning west toward the Iranian border. Outside of Tejen they left the highway, following Adira’s instructions, and took to small roads, and then dirt tracks that appeared on no map. The car bounced, lighter now that the fuel was near exhausted, and Alex ached to be able to stand and stretch.

They had lost the sunlight hours back, and when they passed the city of Khvosh Hava, they knew they had only ten more miles to go. Tous was a much smaller satellite town in the northern Mashhad District.

Though they were dressed as IRG with perfect cover stories, any newcomer would attract attention, so they had decided to stay outside of Tous, and instead continued on to Shahrak-e Gharb, where they had booked several rooms at the Abtin Apartments. It was full dark when they rolled in, and their identification was barely looked at, each member of the team was treated with deference.

In the elevator, Sam spoke softly. “It’s like the KGB in old Russia – no one wants you here, but once you are, you’re everyone’s best buddy.”

“
Old
Russia?” Casey raised a brow. “You must have missed the guy currently in charge? It’s the
good old days are back
in there now.”

Out of the elevator, they split in different directions. Casey’s face had dropped when she found out she would be sharing a room with Adira. The last Alex heard from Casey was her warning to Adira that she snored … and loudly.

In their rooms, they immediately felt the pull of fatigue settling over them, and after securing the door and doing a quick bug sweep, they fell like trees onto their beds.

The next morning, a knock on Alex’s door brought Casey into the room. “She snores worse than I do.” She cast Alex a look. “But I’m thinking you know that.”

Alex grunted, as a second knock brought in Adira. She grinned at Casey. “I needed that. A good night’s sleep; feeling good.”

Casey groaned, but then she grinned. “Yeah, and you talk in your sleep. You must have hot dreams, huh?” She winked at Alex.

“What?” Adira rounded on her but Casey waved her away.

They found seats or stood waiting as both Sam and Eli opened large cases. Adira and Casey had their abaya scarves around their necks.

“Are we okay to be in here together?” Alex asked. “With unmarried women?”

Adira shrugged. “If you were just an Iranian citizen, I would say definitely not, and you could expect a visit from the morality police. But they’ll turn a blind eye as you are IRG.” She sat at a table and flipped open a small computer tablet and switched to satellite feed. She then selected the Mashhad District, and drilled down on Tous, but the angle and height of the satellite didn’t allow enough clarity on the images.

“
Ach,
not close enough.” Adira threw her hands up.

“We’ll need to go in – hard and fast,” Alex said.

“Belly of the beast,” Sam said.

“Just the way we like it.” Casey had a twisted grin on her face. “Fight or die.”

Adira nodded. “Fight or die? Yes, and if they take you, you will want to die. And it will be death,
eventually
, after a long and painful few weeks of psychological and surgical torture.”

Alex got to his feet. “Every second we are here increases our chances of being detected. We need to get this over with before the odds shift.”

“Agreed.” Adira stood. “We need better eyes in there first.” She turned to Eli. “Send in Tweety.”

“Onto it.” Eli flipped open his case and was pulling out a small device in pieces which he began snapping together. When he finished, he had what looked like a small bird in his hands, complete with fake feathers.

He laid it on the bed and then went back to the case. He adjusted the lid, which became a view-screen, with a joystick pad and a few other small controls. Adira went to the window and opened it, and stuck her head out momentarily. Then she pulled back and stood aside. “All clear. Let him fly.”

Eli fiddled at the controls, and then three spikes, one on each wing and a third on the tail, started to spin. Blades flicked out, and then like a small helicopter, the bird lifted soundlessly. Eli guided it to the window. On his screen, their room was displayed in high resolution.

Sam clapped his hands. “Now that is cool.”

Alex grinned. “Spy cam, and all wrapped up in a local bird of prey package. We now have our eyes. Nice work.”

“It’s more than just eyes.” Adira nodded. “Shaped like a desert kestrel, and just like them, can hover on thermals for hours. Perfect camouflage for a spy drone.”

Tweety zoomed past Adira, and the group crowded around Eli’s screen as it darted out the window. The drone rose to several hundred feet and zoomed across the several miles of desert to the town of Tous.

It was small, not more than a single square mile, with only a few thousand residents. The structures were a mix of 1950s modern and extremely ancient, dating back thousands of years. Many of the central structures were enormous sandstone monuments; some towering many stories and built from blocks larger than trucks, and all fitted together with barely a seam showing.

“What are we looking for?” Casey asked, putting her hands on Eli’s shoulders and pretending to massage the Mossad agent.

Eli grimaced but kept his eyes on the screen. “Something that doesn’t fit – Northern Arabic script, or something guarded with no clear reason, and of course, traces of high energy particle radiation.” He looked at a small readout on the side of his screen. “So far we have nothing above background normal, but as we have seen from Mosul, even moving the radioactive matter through the area leaves an atomic trace. Tweety can pick these up.”

“Clever bird,” Sam said.

“Israeli tech.” Adira smiled. “Tell Jack Hammerson I’m happy to trade him some.”

There were few people on the street, and Adira started to point out different buildings to the group. “The Mausoleum of Ferdowsi, and that’s the grave of Akhavan-Sales. All just relics now.” She nodded toward a long wall so old it was now crumbling back into the desert from which it had come. “The Darvaze Razan Gate.” She snorted. “It was an ancient barrier and a place of kings and magic. Many wanted to be buried here, simply because it was rumored to be one of the portals to the afterlife,” she went on. “That large structure there is the Harounieh Dome …”

“See that?” Alex pointed. “Wait, back Tweety up.”

“The dome?” Adira asked.

“Yeah, someone’s inside, pulled back into the shadows, but they’re there.” Alex frowned as he stared at the dome. It was a huge foreboding structure, but something seemed to call to him, draw him to it. He blinked and shook his head to clear it.

“Got something.” Adira pointed at the data rolling up the screen. “Tweety sniffed a trace.”