Judas and the Vampires (7 page)

“My brother followed in his footsteps.” Amy shifted in her seat, letting me know the mention of her brother was uncomfortable territory for her. “Jeremy followed up on all of Dad’s research once he completed his doctoral work at Cambridge.”

“Ah, I remember reading something about him, come to think of it.” Alistair leaned forward and held his right hand as if it contained an imaginary pipe. “So what about you?”

“I followed the same career path to MIT, but it didn’t take with me. At least not long enough,” she explained. “So, when I graduated, I decided to go to law school. After finishing up at Harvard and working for a well-known Fortune 500 company, I went solo.... I now work mostly with upscale corporate clients as a freelance legal advisor, and the rest of my time is spent putting a strong enough case together to bring international actions against Mr. Stanislav.”

“So this is why you’re here—to serve him a subpoena?”

Believe it or not, I’ve found that a lighthearted comment like this can be a helpful icebreaker for some females. But, that sure isn’t the case with an ice-chick carrying a valid axe to grind.

“Petr Stanislav killed my father and mother,” she said, coolly, after turning to face me again. Anger turned her lovely green eyes a few shades darker. “After my father painstakingly spent five years translating an ancient Tibetan text for him, he had my parents tied to an anchor and thrown into the icy depths of the Baltic Sea!”

“I’m so sorry.... I had no idea.” I meant it, lowering my voice to a mere whisper.

Yes, the smart-ass smile also died just as quickly. Especially when my son mouthed ‘you owe me a Hamilton!’. Well, at least this explained why she was coming along with us. I didn’t need to ask her if that’s how she got Michael to give his okay. My biggest concern was how would she react if, and more likely when, we as a trio faced a bevy of assault weapons. Would she falter? Anger and bitterness will drive someone only so far.... It took Alistair several near-death experiences before his nerves steeled enough to where he only lightly worries about the hazards of the job. It’s merely a detestation of such bullshit
for him now. Especially when a trip, like this one, could’ve been relatively free from such concerns.

“It’s okay. But I don’t want to talk about my parents anymore,” she said, and then turned her attention out the window closest to her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is it just you and not your brother that’s journeying to Tehran?” Alistair used his gentle persuasiveness to get her to engage us once more, after several minutes had passed in awkward silence.

“He did journey to Tehran...last year.” She kept her gaze focused out the window. I got the feeling she was near tears...holding it in, admirably. “He disappeared six months ago, right before Christmas. No one would help me try to locate him. When I approached the U.N., they said there was nothing they could do
without proof of a crime. Even Michael couldn’t provide the necessary resources to launch a search for him...until you two came along.”

“Are you saying that your brother’s disappearance and Mr. Stanislav’s activities in the Alborz Mountains are related?”

My question drew an immediate look back to me from both my son and her.

“Yes, I believe they are related...in some way.” Amy’s eyes glistened with tears. “When he last wrote to me, just before Thanksgiving, he said Petr Stanislav had moved some massive trucks into the Alborz Mountains, and that it had something to do with the Tibetan manuscript that Dad worked on.”

“And that’s the last thing you heard from him?” I prodded her gently this time.

“Yes.”

“Did he ever mention anything about the Garden of Eden?”

Alistair posed this question. It surprised me a little since he thinks that aspect of this whole trip is complete nonsense. I hadn’t made up my mind one way or another. The place didn’t have to exist for some nutcase like Petr Stanislav to go looking for it.

“No...he didn’t,” she said. “It was Dad’s idea, that the real Garden of Eden existed somewhere either near or actually inside the mountain range. Despite my brother’s disbelief, I can picture him looking for whatever might be there in the Alborz Mountains. He wanted to vindicate our father’s work, one way or another....” She started to cry.

Alistair beat me to it. He moved over and cradled this beautiful woman in his arms while I looked on. Our thirteen-hour flight to Dubai had just started, and already we had a moment of drama. Or, I should say, surprises
and
drama.

Regardless of what would come next, having a woman along for our adventure had already changed the dynamics of our adventure. I just hoped Amy Golden Eagle’s high intelligence, beauty, and determination for justice would help us prevail over the wiles of Petr Stanislav. A villain whom we would soon discover was more cunning and ruthless than Alistair, I, and even our lovely companion would’ve ever imagined.

Chapter 7

Dubai should be dubbed the true ‘Emerald City’. Lots of polished steel, glistening glass windows, and a wealthy mixture of emancipated millionaire businessmen along with their robed brethren. Almost all are devoted to Islam and the fact we arrived at 5:35 a.m. local time that Saturday morning meant we would likely be interrupting ‘Fajr’. For those unfamiliar with Islamic religious customs, that’s the predawn prayer time for devotees to the world’s largest ‘practicing’ religion.

I realize my assertion will certainly ruffle some feathers among the evangelical Christian zealots in the western world. But I’m talking about actual faithful followers and not the occasional churchgoers who make up the majority of Christendom. If one takes an objective view of the past two hundred years, modern progress has eroded the prestige that once flourished within the earthly kingdoms of Jesus Christ. The more modern miracles embraced by the human race, the less need for daily divine revelation to guide one’s path to redemption. In other words, legends of a burning bush won’t impress anybody who’s held an Iphone in their hands. Perhaps when more technological distractions gain a stronger foothold in the eastern world, the score between Christians and Muslims will even out.

Which brings us back to Dubai, and what trillions of dollars and Euros funneled off the Arab oil fields has done for a group of people more comfortable with tents and camels less than two generations ago. And, yes, I should know. I’ve watched it happen with my own eyes.

“So, why must we accompany Ms. Golden Eagle to the Mall of the Emirates?”

Alistair was in a testy mood again when I roused him for the second time the next morning. The rising sun had already seized the lower eastern horizon, promising a scorcher for the desert city.

“Because you promised, don’t you remember?” I found the whole affair amusing. The sordid events from last night, that is, when my boy and our gorgeous cohort talked at length about a variety of academic subjects, imbibing themselves continuously until three bottles of French chardonnay and a liter of champagne disappeared. “You told Amy, and I quote, ‘I’d give
anything
to see someone ski inside the Mall of the Emirates!’”

“I said that?”

The look on his face was absolutely precious—more than any other I’d seen lately. A mixture of confusion, scorn, disbelief, and in the end child-like recognition that revealed all too clearly the missteps in judgment brought on by alcohol excess. A lifelong commitment to bachelorhood left Alistair at such a dire disadvantage to a beautiful and charming woman talking his ear off. After the first few drinks, the flirtation went both ways while I quietly looked on.

A few drinks will rarely leave me the slightest bit tipsy. If anything, it just helps me sleep longer than the two to three hours of rest I normally manage. In truth, whenever necessary, I can skip sleep for days on end—sometimes as much as a week and a half. My body’s regenerative powers not only keep me young and in robust health, but also make the normal necessity of rest obsolete. I doubt that anyone, other than another immortal, can imagine the discipline it takes to lay quietly night after night while other people sleep and my thoughts run rampantly.

“When will the plane continue on to Tehran?”

He sat up while reaching for his beloved day-planner that contained this information. Well, it did until I learned that our exhausted pilots would not be replaced at this juncture. Like my kid and his new gal pal, they needed their rest.

“Just after one o’clock this afternoon, once ‘Dhuhr’ is over,” I said. “That allows plenty of time for the pilots to rejuvenate, and to see how silly you look skiing down the slopes of an indoor ski resort!”

I laughed heartily at his expense—especially after he frowned fearfully.

“But I’ve never skied in my life!” he fumed.

“Precisely!” I countered, gleefully. “All the more reason to get there as soon as possible!”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds!”

That was Ms. Golden Eagle. When we both turned to look at her, my son and I both gasped slightly. Radiantly beautiful. That’s what popped into my mind, anyway. Our luxury jet included a full bath, and her flowing curls were still damp from a recent shower. She was dressed in designer jeans and a blue silk blouse. Like a high classed debutante, she looked ready to do some serious shopping...but not so much the skiing she and Alistair had previously discussed.

“We may not have as much time to do everything we talked about last night.” She moved to the seat across from Alistair and placed her tote bag underneath. “I overheard the pilots say they expected to resume our journey at twelve-thirty this afternoon.”

“Well, it’s almost eight o’clock now. So if we get a move on it, we can decide on where and what to do over breakfast,” said Alistair, getting up from his seat.

He grimaced while stretching his back...always a little tight for him in the morning. He rubbed his temples while he leaned back, and I could tell he was fighting a headache, no doubt brought on by last night’s wine and champagne.

“Go ahead and take your shower and once you’re ready I’ll get cleaned up.” I thought it would be best for him to go first in hopes the water immersion might ease his physical discomfort. “In the meantime I’ll arrange for transportation to the mall.”

I thought I might encounter some resistance from our independent female, but she nodded approvingly for me to make the arrangements. With the assistance of the lovely Kali, I arranged for a taxi to be waiting for us outside the airport terminal. As soon as Alistair had showered and dressed, I took a quick shower. Attired in similar khaki shorts and a summer shirt to what my son wore, we exited the airplane flanking Amy on either side.

No doubt we looked a sight—two casual tourists with a fashion model in between. Other than a self-conscious glance by Alistair over his shoulder, we soon reached the taxi waiting for us. I must admit that I was quite impressed by Ms. Golden Eagle’s poise and ease in all of this. In no way a pompous bitch, she seemed to relish our company. Social time with the Barrow males was going well. But I looked forward to her reaction to the great outdoors when we all were roughing it in the Alborz wilderness in the next day or so.

“Take us to the Mall of the Emirates,” she told the driver, her tone sweet but with enough assertion to encourage our driver to get us there without delay.

Along the way, she pointed out the buildings and other sites the city is most proud of—most of them created within the last forty years. When we reached our destination, for a moment I worried about getting lost inside the immense structure. It’s the largest mall outside North America, and certainly the most posh shopping area in the world. Time could slip away easily in a place like this.

“Some of the finer restaurants are not far from here,” Amy advised, once we stepped inside the main entrance. “Or, we could pick something up in the food court ahead of us.”

“You’ve been here many times before, I take it,” I said, admiring the exquisite craftsmanship surrounding us. “What’s the best option that will allow us plenty of time to have a look around? I heard you tell the driver to come back for us at eleven-thirty.”

I glimpsed the fifty-dollar bill she handed him, too. American money spends just as well in Dubai as in the U.S. Anything smaller than a Grant might not have insured our driver’s cooperation--especially with Dhuhr coinciding with our return to our jet.

“Well, to avoid waiting for a table and what not, the food court would be quickest.” She smiled at us both while removing her sunglasses. Those beautiful eyes, again, set off magically by an impish glint. “If you’re still dying to hit the slopes, Ali, we’ll need time to get you outfitted with skis and a snowsuit.”

I guess they had gotten a little closer than I previously thought. My son has never cared too much for his nickname, and yet there she was addressing him like they had become best buddies. The age difference didn’t seem to affect her opinion about him, and although she had surely noticed my admiring glances, her attention paid to Alistair was on a different level. A
higher
level. One that completely escaped him, or perhaps he played it coy to avoid assuming too much. Lord knows he would hate looking like a dirty old man.

The lucky devil!

Not that I hadn’t enjoyed a few salacious flirtations with the trio of stewardesses while Amy and Alistair slept on the plane. Nothing serious, mind you. But the promise of something more was there for the taking—should I desire more than the mere pecks on my cheeks and forehead the three young ladies delivered. So many centuries of conquest and foreplay made so much of this boring for me. Yes, I never thought it would happen either...but it has happened. This only deepens my pain when I think about Beatrice in her nursing home bed...waiting to cross over to the other side.