The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (16 page)

“Excellent point, mighty Poseidon,” Lincoln said, comparing Welles to the Greek god of the seas.

“Two reasons,” Claire said as she again lifted the first of the heavy slices of thick, petrified wood. “One, this particular piece of wood came from a specific area of the globe. Two, the name inscribed in Angelic Script found on this smaller piece.” She touched the second.

“You’re dancing around the question, woman,” Stanton said in his no-nonsense voice.

“Yes, I guess I am. It’s the theater coming out in me. This first one was recovered by a Turkish explorer in 1827. This second was discovered in 1842.”

“The point, woman!” Stanton said as Lincoln again scolded him for interrupting.

“They were both found on the mountain in Eastern Turkey called Ararat.”

Silence met her disclosure and it confused her momentarily. She turned her attention to the new man in the room, John Henry Thomas.

“It’s the mountain mentioned in the—”

“—Bible, as the resting place of the Ark described in Genesis,” Thomas answered for her. “Most of us went to Sunday school, ma’am.”

She nodded to Thomas and then with a stern look at Stanton she said, “Yes, but maybe more than a few around the table needed to be reminded. Now, the second reason is this.” She held up the second piece. “Placed side by side we have a story. The first states that whoever disturbs the resting place of God’s gift to man will suffer the wrath of heaven and all of its archangels.” Claire Richelieu dabbed her gloved fingertip at each symbol as she explained. “This one is the bridge that completed the theory. It’s a name. You see here where the broken end of the wood cuts off after the dire warning of a curse?” Most leaned forward in their chairs, all except Stanton and Lincoln, to see better. “The name is simple and was the easiest to decipher. The word inscribed on the wood, or stone if you prefer, is the name Noah. Coupled with where these were discovered, the name gives us the true identity of these artifacts. Noah’s Ark is real and can be located just where the Bible said it would be, Mount Ararat. The evidence is right here on this table. It’s a fact the Ark is where I say it is.”

Stanton snorted; Seward turned his head angrily, which he did every time he heard the theory; Gideon Welles laughed aloud but clapped his hands in delight; and Lincoln only smiled. As for John Henry Thomas, he was beginning to feel ill. Claire Richelieu nodded at the professor and then sat as she peeled the white glove from her right hand. Her eyes went to John Henry, who sat stoically silent at the far end of the table.

President Lincoln stood and walked to the cold fireplace and placed his arms on the mantel as if deep in thought. Thomas knew different; it was Lincoln’s famous pause before he told everyone his plan, which he had formulated a full year before sending for Thomas. The president turned and walked back to the table, reached down and took a small book from the tabletop, and slid it down the table to John Henry.

“It’s time to call in favors, John Henry. I figure you owe your president one. That, sir, is a journal. Two years’ worth of entry space. You will take that with you and recover or gather proof of whatever it is upon that mountaintop. You will make it an American discovery.”

Thomas made no move to retrieve the leather-bound journal. He looked from it to the president. Then a look toward Ollafson and then finally Claire Richelieu.

“This, in the middle of a war we may very well still lose?” Thomas was looking at Lincoln as if he had lost his mind.

“As my old war horse here will attest”—Lincoln placed his hand on the thick shoulder of the long-bearded Stanton—“the war will be over in a year. The forces in rebellion have never fully recovered from their Pennsylvania adventure. It’s cut and dried. General Sherman is down south at this very moment explaining it to them.”

“I cannot accede to your order, Mr. President, out of good conscience. I could never do this while men are fighting and dying on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line. I request a combat assignment.”

“Denied,” Lincoln said, almost angered at Thomas’s response. “You will do what is asked, and I have my reasons, Colonel.”

John Henry noticed Lincoln used his rank instead of “my boy” or “John Henry.”

“The war was the simple part of this equation. The peace is what will be hard fought. Imagine yourselves, Americans all, how you would feel after losing a war, which Americans have never done before. We have beaten back the world’s most deadly power not once, but twice. The thought of losing is inconceivable to most Americans, north or south. Hatred will rule the land for three hundred years. Unjust sanctions will be placed on the South—sanctions I want to avoid at all cost. This”—he pointed at the two pieces of petrified stone—“can save precious time in our endeavor to bring true peace to the nation. You, Colonel Thomas, will bring back that prize on the mountain for the nation or proof that it truly exists, and the men that will assist you in doing this will help solve that reconstruction problem I have referred to.”

“You have lost me, sir,” John Henry said as his jaw muscles clenched.

“I imagine I have.” Lincoln nodded at Stanton.

Edwin Stanton slid a thick piece of paper down the table and it landed in front of Claire Richelieu, who picked it up and handed it to Thomas.

“That is a roster of Confederate prisoners of war. The war department has selected one hundred and twenty individuals under the command of an officer you may know. These prisoners will be given the opportunity to participate in this … this … miscarriage of military spending. These men are offered as a goodwill gesture by their commanding officer, General Robert E. Lee. You will be in overall command.” Stanton sniffed and snorted as Lincoln watched Thomas for reaction.

“Lee signed off on this?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, he knows as well as we that the war for the South was essentially lost at Gettysburg.”

John Henry Thomas knew he had to delve back into his history and current events of world politics.

“You do realize that this amounts to no less than an invasion of the Ottoman Empire? And the last I knew they were busy forging alliances with England and France. They are nervous as they watch their empire being reduced by thousands of miles each and every year. And we’re just going to sneak in and steal what amounts to their property? We’ll be ending one war just to enter a world war soon after.”

Lincoln, instead of disparaging Thomas and his argument, laughed for the first time. “You see, gentlemen, this is the right man for the job at hand. He understands what’s at stake for this country.”

“I wasn’t agreeing with you, sir, I was warning you of what will happen.”

“Yes, and we do have a way around that. The Ottoman Empire, or in this case a little closer to home, Turkey, is trying to push itself into modern times. They have begun a massive railroad buildup and infrastructure construction inside their nation. The United States, ever a friend to the Empire, has made a gift of a thousand miles of railroad, which will connect their eastern provinces with Constantinople and the northern Black Sea. This gift is from the people of the United States on the anniversary of the birth of their leader, Sultan Abdülaziz. He has gratefully accepted this gift.”

“Your force will pose as civilian engineers that will lay out the route of said railroad, one east from the capital and the other south from the sea,” Seward said proudly, as it was he who had thought up the ruse. “While you and your second-in-command will be official Union Army engineers, the president thinks enough of his railroad years soaked into your head to pass muster on that account.”

“Force?” Thomas enquired.

“With the Rebel prisoners, you will be in command of two hundred army, marines, and naval personnel,” Stanton finished for Seward. “Much more if you count the crews of the vessels involved.”

“Colonel, this will have a most healing effect on this country. The nation, together, will bring back the grandest prize in the history of the world. I cannot stress enough that a successful expedition by two warring sides will show that no matter the differences between us, we are one, and forever will remain so.”

“Hear, hear,” said Gideon Welles as he rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. This elicited sour looks from both Stanton and Seward.

John Henry felt as if he were a rat trapped in a maze of confusion. He suspected that everyone, including his old friend Abraham Lincoln, had lost their minds in taking resources from a war that in his opinion was far from over. These people were underestimating the war prowess of Robert E. Lee. Thomas knew the man personally and also knew that even if the war was eventually lost due to his setback at Gettysburg, Lee would fight a war of attrition, which was what they were all taught at the Point … fight until the other side tires of war.

“Along with this dubious command, who else is a part of this expedition?” Thomas asked, avoiding the subject of everyone being absolutely insane. “These two?” He gestured at Ollafson and Madame Richelieu. “Why not ask Jeff Davis to join also? That should add even more credibility to this mission.”

“That’s about enough, Colonel,” Stanton said angrily. “I may not back this plan as well as maybe I should, but listening to serving line officers fighting the legitimate chain-of-command has come to be quite tiring.”

John Henry knew he had possibly gone too far. He nodded with a resigned feeling of being ambushed. He was more afraid of being labeled a shirker of presidential orders like his enemy, Little Mac.

“And the good professor will sit this expedition out, my boy,” Lincoln said with a kind nod toward the man who had found the artifacts.

“On the contrary.” Ollafson looked as if he were a big-game hunter and his quarry had just entered his killing field. “I beg to disagree with you, Mr. President. I and my assistant will be coming along. You need us.” He nodded toward Claire. “Both of us.”

“You’ll do as you are told, sir.” Seward glared at the Scandinavian professor as he flipped a long ash from his ever-present cigar. “And be pleased that we have acceded to your wishes about this whole endeavor.”

The professor didn’t respond; he only leaned over and brought up another parcel. Even his young assistant was surprised as she eyed the oilcloth as it was laid upon the table.

“What in the Sam hell is that?” Seward asked. Lincoln raised his scraggly brow and watched as the professor played out his hand.

“The final piece of the puzzle, gentlemen, and the reason you have no choice but to include my assistant and myself passage on this voyage.”

“We do not like surprises, sir!” Stanton said as he slapped his hand down upon the tabletop.

“Which is exactly what Colonel Thomas will get if you allow this expedition to commence without us.”

“Okay, Professor, show us your hole card,” Lincoln said.

“Without me, everyone going to that mountain will die, just as my colleagues died five years ago.” Professor Ollafson unwrapped the last parcel and everyone, with the exception of Claire Richelieu, leaned forward.

“My God,” was all she said when she saw the writing.

Ollafson smiled. “No, but maybe God’s executioner.”

*   *   *

The only person in the room who understood what she was looking at was Claire Richelieu. She was flabbergasted to say the least. For a spy with her credentials to be fooled by the old professor stunned her. He had held out from her the most important information imaginable. The symbols that were etched into the stone made her weak in the knees. Could Ollafson be putting one over on not only her but the learned men around the room? Was he running the bluff of all bluffs?

“I was notified this evening that a student of mine was murdered for this.” He waved his hand over the petrified wood. “This is the artifact that we recovered on the expedition of 1859. Many men died to get this out. Yes, we two are going, only because without us you will not be able to decipher the old tongue of the angels. We”—he placed a hand on the suddenly shaken Claire—“will go, and you must allow it to give the colonel here every advantage.”

“Please, Professor, explain the ace that you have just presented the game. We are most curious, I assure you,” the president said as he kept his dark eyes on the man from Harvard rather than the artifact he had just presented.

“The assassins of my student presumed I had passed this on for safekeeping. They were wrong and my dear student paid horribly for my bluff.” His eyes went to Lincoln. “It is now obvious I had been watched without knowing.”

Madame Richelieu felt the twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach for the young man’s death at the hands of her colleague from the French army. If she couldn’t keep her calm she felt that everyone in the room would know her complicity in the unseemly matter. As she looked at the scripture on the ancient wood she shuddered and prayed it was a hoax by the old man.

“The symbols depicted upon the wood reveal that you may be dealing with far more than you realize inside the glacier where the Ark is entombed. I said that on the last expedition, we had been attacked—well, not only attacked, decimated. Forty-seven men. From the summit of that black forbidden rock to the lower valleys, we were assaulted at every elevation until our assailant weakened as we came closer to the sea.”

“All right, my good professor, I’m sure you have Colonel Thomas’s attention. You sure have mine. So tell us, sir, what does this particular artifact tell you?” Lincoln asked, hoping to call Ollafson’s bluff on the validity of the plank and its feigned or real significance.

“It only adds a name to the entity giving the curse its power and backing according to the wishes of the Lord God himself.” Ollafson glanced at the stunned Claire Richelieu. “Please, Claire, since this is also new to you, and by the look upon your face, just as shocking, perhaps you can explain to them the symbols I have kept from everyone, including my closest advisors and colleagues.”

The woman cleared her throat and stood on shaky feet. She nervously looked at John Henry, who watched silently. She couldn’t help it—for some reason she felt the colonel could see directly through her ruse. Not only Thomas’s suspicious gaze, but Ollafson’s duplicity also gave her doubts.