The Grail

CHAPTER 13

Lexina stepped dangerously close to the dark wall. A rounded, black circle of metal had appeared from behind the veil about four feet off the ground. The circle grew larger as the wall slowly withdrew until it was four feet in diameter, then the metal began going straight back, revealing a tube.

“Do you think that is Artad?” Elek asked.

Lexina placed her hand on the end of the tube. “I don’t know. But we will shortly.”

Lexina paced along the black wall trying to control herself. Many lifetimes of waiting were slowly being fulfilled as the wall slid back centimeter by centimeter.

“The world is a very strange place,” Che Lu said. “Who would have thought a year ago there would be a Russian agent and an old Chinese woman sitting inside the most secret place in America?”

She was in the conference room with Yakov. Her attempts to align the grid system with the planet had failed so far, but she felt sure she would eventually get it. When she’d been informed that the next chapter of the manuscript was ready for review, she had put that work on hold. She had not been able to find Larry Kincaid who was meeting with NASA officials over use of the Hubble. She settled down into the chair next to the Russian.

She removed a small leather pouch that was tied to her belt and opened it. Holding it a few inches above the tabletop, she let the contents spill out with a clatter.

“There have been stranger things happen,” Yakov said. “What are those?”

“Oracle bones,” Che Lu said. “They are what led me to Qian-Ling. They were sent to me by a dear friend who is now fighting in Western China.” She picked one up, a piece about six inches long by three wide. “See the markings — a version of High Runes. They were found around Qian-Ling by peasant farmers digging in their fields.”

“And their purpose?” Yakov asked.

“They tell the future,” Che Lu said. She gathered the bones in her wrinkled hands and tossed them.

“What do they say?”

Che Lu gathered them, placed them in the bag and drew the string tight. “They were just a tool used by the Emperor’s soothsayers. I studied them with an old woman — older even than I — who could read them.”

“What did they say?”

“Several things,” Che Lu said sharply.

Yakov chuckled. “So it goes with soothsayers — give several answers and something is bound to come true.”

“Let us hope not in this case,” Che Lu said.

Yakov’s smile vanished. “What did they say?”

“Betrayal. Fear. Death. Darkness.”

“You are right. Nothing good can come of that. But you are also right in that it is just random chance that determines the fall of the bones.”

Yakov checked the clock on the conference room wall. Fifteen more minutes and the team would be landing in Israel. Even if they did find anything useful, time was running out for them to be able to get it to Turcotte. Once the team went through the second gateway of Rostau, they would be out of communication until they reemerged.

The screen lit up with the beginning of the next chapter.

“Let us read,” Yakov said to Che Lu, holding a chair out for her to sit.

Che Lu pushed her chair back. She pressed her hands against her eyes and held them there. Yakov was silent. There was no longer the clack of Mualama’s keyboard — he too was sitting still, looking at the words he had translated. “Well.” Yakov’s voice shattered the silence, but no one went further than that. No one could. What they had just read was so overwhelming in its implications that there was another long silence.

They were all surprised when Che Lu spoke. “Nothing is as it seemed. Nothing.” She looked at the others, dismay all over her face. “Who are we? Where did we come from?”

“More importantly,” Yakov said, “who should we trust?”

“I think we should trust Artad,” Che Lu said. “From this journal, it appears he tried to do good.”

Yakov shook his head. “Not entirely. It looks to me as if both sides were manipulative and deceitful.”

“A war is coming,” Che Lu said. “Do you think we should align with Aspasia’s Shadow? Everywhere he has been, his influence was negative. Artad was only trying to stop him.”

“Why think a side has to be chosen?” Mualama asked. “Perhaps we have to fight both sides and be true to our species.”

“Artad unified China and led the building of the Great Wall,” Che Lu argued. “That is a far more positive thing than Aspasia’s Shadow is credited for.”

“We shall have to see what the rest of the manuscript has to say,” Mualama said.

The runway was blacked out, allowing the bouncer to arrive unseen except by the commando guards wearing night-vision devices. They had the airfield surrounded, guarding against attack out of the surrounding desert.

Turcotte watched through his own night-vision goggles the floor of the bouncer as the pilot gently set down the large containers holding the team’s equipment, released the lines, then floated the craft to the side and set it down. He was the first one out of the hatch, the rest of Graves’s team following.

A small group of men waited for them on the tarmac next to a dim light, just in front of the Combat Talon. Turcotte recognized the flight suits of the talon crew, but there was another man dressed in unmarked khakis also in the group.

The tallest of the men in the flight suits stepped forward as Turcotte approached. “Colonel Maher, pilot in command.”

Turcotte took the offered hand. “Mike Turcotte, mission commander.” The colonel didn’t bother to introduce the rest of his crew, instead ordering them to get the aircraft ready to take off. Graves’s team was already carrying the cases containing the TASC-suits and other gear over to the open back ramp of the aircraft.

That left the unidentified man in khaki, who finally spoke. “My name is Sherev.”

“We appreciate being allowed to use the airfield,” Turcotte said.

“That is not why I am here. I am from Dimona.”

Turcotte recognized the name and what was thought to be stored there — nuclear weapons. “What can I do for you?”

“There is a problem we have, that appears also to be your problem.” Sherev paused, as if considering what to say. “Someone in my government has given up two items that I think have something to do with your target.”

Turcotte waited, hoping Sherev would get to the point.

“I would not have allowed this to happen if I had known who was involved on the other end,” Sherev continued, “but I was cut out of the loop. It was only after the items were given up that I discovered who we were dealing with. Have you ever heard of a man named Al-Iblis?”

Turcotte felt a chill come over his body. “What did you give him?”

“Two artifacts from our archives at Dimona. They are known as thummin and urim. They are two stones, the exact nature of which we never ascertained.”

Turcotte remembered Che Lu mentioning those names. “When did he get them?”

“They were delivered to an intermediary in Jordan four hours ago. We were not able to track them further.”

“Why?” Turcotte asked. “Why did you do this?”

“Al-Iblis had Saddam Hussein assassinated as his part of this bargain. There were those in my country — powerful people — who felt the loss of two stones that were apparently not worth anything was an excellent trade.”

“They were wrong,” Turcotte said.

“I feared so. That is why I am here.”

A whine split the air as one of the Talon’s four turboprop engines came alive. Turcotte’s nostrils flared wide as the familiar smell of burning fuel wafted over him.

“What can you do for me?”

“I got you this airfield and you’ll get counter-electronic-warfare support from our experts all the way into your drop zone and we’ll cover the plane coming out,” Sherev said. “We have a bit more experience than your Air Force in infiltrating Egyptian airspace.”

“That will help. We’ll have an AWACS flying support so your people can coordinate through it.”

Sherev handed a small slip of paper to Turcotte. “That’s how you can get ahold of me via secure SATCOM.”

A second engine started.

“How did you know the deal was bad?” Turcotte asked.

“It has been my experience that no one offers something of value unless they can get something more valuable in turn.”

“So what are these stones?”

“They are Airlia artifacts,” Sherev said. “The rabbis believe they are an important part of the garments the High Priest wore when attending the Ark of the Covenant.”

The third engine was powered up, the noise making it difficult to talk, the wind blown back from the blades causing them to lean into it.

Sherev shouted. “It seems as if legends are coming alive.” Turcotte nodded, anxious to be going.

Sherev grabbed his arm. “Have you ever wondered why there has never been peace in this part of the world?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “There are evil forces about — these aliens and their human servants, I think they have spent much time here causing us grief. It is time we got rid of them. Anything you need, you call me.”

“I’ve got to get going,” Turcotte said. Sherev nodded. “Good luck.”

Turcotte ran up the back ramp to the MC-130. The crew chief immediately pressed the button that initiated the hydraulic arms, raising the ramp. Members of the team were opening cases in the rear half of the cargo bay. The front half was separated from them by a thick curtain. It was in that section that a large part of what made the MC-130 different from regular C-130 aircraft was housed. Rows of equipment manned by electronic warfare specialists filled the space. They could find enemy radar and defeat it. They could also help the pilot fly in limited visibility at extremely low level, below the probing fingers of radar.

Turcotte had chosen the MC-130 because it was the best chance they had of getting into the Nile undetected. The two pilots, along with the navigator in the cockpit, were the best the Air Force had.

A hand on his shoulder got his attention. Graves leaned in close so he could be heard above the roar of the engines. “We need to start rigging. Time to drop is only a little over an hour away.”

Turcotte nodded. He staggered and grabbed ahold of the red cargo webbing lining the skin of the airplane as the plane began moving, taxiing toward the end of the runway.

Circling at thirty thousand feet over the Mediterranean, the Airborne Warning And Control System (AWACS) was a modified 707-320B full of electronic equipment rather than passengers. The thirty-foot dome radar on top of the fuselage was able to “paint” a complete picture of the airspace for four hundred miles in all directions, once every ten-second rotation.

Colonel Mike Zycki was the AWACS commander and his plane’s abilities were supplemented by a secure link to the National Security Agency (NSA), which tied him into the network of spy satellites that Agency oversaw.

“We’ve got Area Five One Six on screen,” one his officers reported. “Wheels up from Hazerim.”

“Status of Egyptian air defense?” he asked his electronic warfare officer.

“Level four. Not quite war footing, but they’re definitely awake, as if they’re expecting something to happen. I’m forwarding what we have to Area Five-One Six. I think I can paint them a clear alley to their drop point.”

“And out?”

“And out.”

“Do it.”

Turcotte slid into the TASC-suit, fighting a momentary feeling of claustrophobia, as the back half sealed against the front half. He’d never liked being in an enclosed spaced. During scuba training, the worst part had been practicing “lock-outs” where he would have to climb into a submarine’s escape hatch, then sit inside while it filled with water, before opening the outer hatch.

He felt the inner padding of the suit mold against his body. His fingers fit into the command pads at the end of the arms.

“Power on,” he ordered.

The screens on the inside of the helmet came alive and he could see the interior of the combat talon, lit with the red night-lights.

“Low light enhance,” Turcotte said.

The screens flickered, then he could see more clearly as the mini-cams on the outside of the suit went to night-vision mode, the computer enhancing the available light. Turcotte had a slightly curved screen four inches directly in front of his eyes that filled his field of vision and on standard view gave him the view that would normally be right in front of him. He could give commands to have the screen display other camera angles.

He also had a small flip-down display halfway between the screen and his left eye that was made of clear plastic on which was reflected whatever data from the computer he wanted. During the testing Turcotte had immediately developed a sharp headache from trying to watch the screen and read the data. He’d talked to Apache gunship pilots who had a similar display built into their helmets and they’d told him it took months to develop the ability to naturally do both. They didn’t have months to prepare for this mission. Turcotte felt a moment of doubt, which he quickly squashed.

Carefully, Turcotte stood. They’d attached an interesting appendage to the end of the legs: a flat platform that extended forward about ten inches. It gave stability like feet, but built into the center of each “foot” was a six-inch-wide hole in which a small turbine fan was mounted — the propulsion device once they were in the water.

Power for the TASC-suit came from banks of advanced lithium batteries built into the armor of the suit. To Turcotte that was the major disadvantage — they had four hours of operating power, then they would need to recharge. They had to be in, rescue Duncan, recover the Grail, and be out on the exfiltration aircraft in less than that time. Graves’s plan, the best his team could come up with during the isolation, had estimated three hours to do all that. But they were working with a lot of unknown variables, such as the rather glaring question of where exactly the Black Sphinx was located and how to get to it. From experience in Special Operations, Turcotte knew everything always took much longer than one planned.

With the aid of the airplane’s loadmaster, a pack was attached to the lower back of the TASC-suit carrying gear Turcotte had specified. Above it was placed the specially designed parachute that would allow them to drop at very low altitude.

Turcotte then had a Mark 98 attached to his left arm. Extra ammo cylinders were strapped along his chest, down to his stomach. He was glad to have the power of the suit, because he estimated he was at twice his normal weight. He checked the hookups to the trigger and sight. The trigger was activated by his left forefinger inside the suit, and the laser sight picture would be duplicated on screen for him.

On his right arm was placed a “hand.” It was controlled by moving his hand inside the end of the arm, which relayed to the metal fingers. Also on the mechanical hand, securely fastened to the middle “finger” with wire, was Kopina’s Watcher ring.

He was ready to go.

“Area Five-One-Six is in the alley and clear so far,” the EW officer told Zycki. He pointed at a spot on his screen. “The only problem spot is this radar site here. They might get an echo from the plane as it hits the Nile.”

“Can you cloud it?” Zycki asked.

“Yes, sir. I’ve got the frequency and I’ll run some interference when the Talon gets close.”

“Any other unusual activity?”

“We tracked a private jet into Cairo five minutes ago that was flying low level on an end run around the Sinai. We’re not sure what that was about.”

“Concentrate on One Six.”

Turcotte was amazed at the technology and what it could do. Sitting on the seat, he could look in all directions without moving, just by accessing the various mini-cams on the exterior of the suit.

Looking about the cargo bay was surreal. Not only because he was viewing it on screen, as if he were taking part in a movie, but also because of the mission they were going on.

Black-suited, seven-foot-tall figures moved about, getting rigged, checking their gear.

A voice came over the FM net. “Twenty minutes till drop.”