The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (48 page)

“Relax, Captain.” Jessy returned the openhanded salute from the officer. He did it quick and not exactly the way he had been taught to do it at West Point. “We are all friends out here.” Jessy walked up to the captain’s mount and patted the animal on the front leg as if admiring it.

“Captain Jeremy Satterfield, Her Majesty’s Black Watch, on assignment to the Ottoman Empire to assist our ally in road construction.” He turned and this time his salute was directed at Thomas, who merely dipped his head without returning the officer’s courtesy.

“So, you, like ourselves, are engineers?” Taylor asked, turning away from the horse and then approaching the silent lieutenants as they stood ramrod straight. Only the gruff color sergeant had the courage to eye the American as he examined them like a species of insect.

“Us? Oh, no, Colonel. We are selecting a safe route for our engineers. The British armed services like to have our boys protected. We are just the vanguard of an entire British regiment. We have been granted permission by the empire to deploy for security reasons.”

“All of that security for an allied army in a friendly state?” Thomas finally broke his silence. “Must be nice to have such friendly relations.”

“We try to do our best, sir,” Captain Satterfield said as he moved away toward the resting and playful prisoners as they were preparing to board the train once more. The train’s whistle sounded as the first man Satterfield approached just happened to be Corporal Jenks.

Taylor turned away from the three remaining soldiers and looked at John Henry, who tried his best not to pay attention to what Satterfield was doing.

“Good day, young man,” Satterfield said with a smile as he placed his hands behind his back as if he were attempting a normal greeting and conversation.

Jenks only nodded his head and tried to step past the tall and very thin red-jacketed officer.

“I would have thought strapping men such as yourselves would be in the armed services of your country?”

Jenks looked at Taylor, who was watching silently. He turned and faced Satterfield. He removed the dirty hat from his head and scrunched it up in front of him as if he were frightened of the British officer.

“Fight for men like you? I think I would rather break rocks in the desert,” Jenks said in a rough imitation of an Irishman. He was trying to conform to Colonel Taylor’s orders as best he could. “First we are driven from our island by the likes of you and then when we get to America we’re treated no better than dirt and they ask us to fight for them?” Jenks spit into the dust at Satterfield’s feet. The officer just looked at the bearded Jenks and said nothing.

John Henry watched what amounted to a British interrogation of his men. He saw that Jenks held up well as Satterfield turned his nose up at him. Somehow the redcoat had been informed about the men being something other than what they represented. Jenks did well to hide his southern accent, but Thomas figured the officer wouldn’t know the differing dialects of the people of the United States. Hell, even he himself had a hard time distinguishing regional tongues.

“These men, as you may have heard from rumor and innuendo, are in fact draft evaders. Their sentence is to work this railroad. Any other questions can be directed to my second-in-command.” John Henry turned on his polished heels and boarded the train.

Satterfield watched the large American colonel vanish into the train’s second-to-last car. He turned and approached Taylor, who was gesturing for the men to board. He was pleased to see the marine guard mingling with their charges in an attempt to maintain the deception. Jessy turned and nodded at the captain.

“May I offer the services of the United States Army for your transport east? I assure you we can accommodate your mounts and find space among the Irish workers for bedding purposes.”

“That will not be necessary, Colonel, although the offer is most assuredly taken for what it was meant for.” The eyes were the only part of the smile that failed miserably.

“I suspected it would be, Captain.” Jessy did have the eyes for the smile that was present on his face after the offered insult as he picked at the shoddy relationship between the English and their Irish brothers.

“Colonel, the empires, both Ottoman and British, know exactly why you are here. I suspect that the sultan is at this very moment regretting his decision to allow you Americans access to the eastern mountain ranges. Your attempt at gaining access to this abominable myth will cause irreparable damage to America’s international future.”

“Now, you see, you lost me there, Captain. We Americans have the irritating ability not to see things the European way. We stumble along the best we can and try to do what we think is right. Now, we’re here to build a rail line that connects north and south all the way to the Mediterranean. To what myth are you referring?”

Satterfield remained silent as Taylor held the man’s eyes with his own.

“Suffice it to say, Colonel Taylor, you will not be allowed to succeed in stealing what most assuredly is not yours.” Satterfield turned and made for his horse. The jangling sword at his side made for a dramatic effect as he mounted. “You are a long way from your home, Colonel. Stop this madness and return there before you cause a stir America can ill afford at this time.”

“I think you’ll find we don’t think that far ahead, Captain. Good day, sir.”

Satterfield did not wait for Taylor to finish before he wheeled his horse around and started whipping it back to the south.

The only man to remain was the sergeant, and he was staring at the three up and three down stripes of Dugan, who had taken an interest in the exchange between nations. The two gruff sergeants held their gazes upon each other and then the British color sergeant winked, as if he and Dugan shared a link that only they had. Then the sergeant turned his mount and rode after the officers.

Jenks stood next to Dugan.

“I don’t think my acting convinced them of nothin’,” he said.

Dugan watched the riders as they shrank in the distance.

“Those boyos know exactly why we’re here, Corporal, make no mistake about that.”

“If that’s the case, I would feel much better with a gun in my hand.”

Dugan laughed hard and loud. “Yep, right after I give you command of a regiment.”

Jenks spit again and then shook his head.

*   *   *

“What do you think?” Taylor asked when he joined John Henry and Jackson as they watched the British ride off from the darkness of the rail car.

“You know what I think. The whole damn world knows why we’re out here and if we’re not careful this could turn into a real shooting war.”

Taylor laughed and then surprised John Henry by slapping him on the back.

“Maybe that’s what old Abe wanted all along, ya think?”

Thomas watched Taylor walk away as the train whistle sounded and the first charge of the steel wheels started them forward once more.

“I sure hope he’s wrong,” Jackson said as he stepped up. “Because all we have as a backup plan is the
Argo
, and that, Colonel, will not be enough.”

Jackson walked away and left Thomas alone. Once more John Henry stepped outside and then leaned outward between cars. The mountain was growing larger. It seemed he could see a weather front on its summit and wondered if the risk was worth the reward. As he thought about this, Ararat stared back at the approaching Americans with a silent face. Her peaks and valleys awaited the incursion by an unbelieving species that knew no bounds in their arrogance born of success.

As he watched, it seemed the shadows that grew onto the plains in front of the mountain range lengthened, as if reaching out to embrace the newcomers.

John Henry knew Ararat’s embrace would be a cold one.

PART FOUR

THE GOLDEN FLEECE

The gods are best served by those who need their help the least.… as to why I leave temptation and traps for mortals? It is so the gods can come to know them, and men may come to know themselves.

—The Greek god Zeus, from
Jason and the Argonauts
(1963)

17

TALISE, EASTERN TURKEY, THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE

The end of the Ankara line was just as the words described—the end. The bleak landscape gave credence to the rumored ghostly aspects of the region. The station at Talise was nothing more than two ramshackle huts and a water tower. There was a siding for the locomotive to be turned back west, but that was all. The onetime village of Talise had been wiped out by smallpox nearly four years before and the remaining homes had collapsed under the onslaught of the severe winters in eastern Turkey.

As John Henry scanned the work going on around him he felt as if he had started to regain the strength he had before his assault at the hands of Claire’s supposed curse. Thomas had refused all questions from the officers around him about what had frightened him so. How could he explain to them the reliving of the day he’d found the mutilated body of Mary? They would never understand the horror of what he had seen. War in the east could not compare to the compassionless way in which men survived in the west.

He was approached by Lieutenant Parnell, who saluted as he made his report.

“Lieutenant,” John Henry said as he returned the salute.

“Sir, I have dispatched the two couriers north along with our bandleader to meet up with the Black Sea contingent to escort them here if needed. The telegraph is up and running, but we have a break in the line somewhere between here and the town of Iziz, the hamlet where the northern line ends a hundred miles from here.”

“Very good, Lieutenant. Are you clear on your own orders?”

“Yes, sir. I am to remain here with half of the men, one hundred and three charges. We are to slowly work our way eastward toward Ararat for obvious reasons. We’ll make a grand show of laying ties, as per our mission. I will await any orders from you from the summit.”

“Remember your rules of engagement, Lieutenant Parnell. You are not to open fire unless fired upon by any outside force, and then it is only to buy time to disengage. If approached by representatives of the sultan, you must not, under any circumstances, engage Turkish forces.”

“And other forces?” the young and straight marine asked worriedly.

“I’ll leave that to your good judgment, Lieutenant.” John Henry smiled at the eager officer. “French, German, or British, if they so much as frown at you I would show them how tired you are from all this traveling and stomp their asses if the opportunity arises. Other than that, keep the men ready and their horses inside the train. No one is to know our capabilities. Are your rules of engagement clear?”

“Not at all, Colonel,” Parnell said facetiously as he watched the long line of horses and pack mules as they were made ready by the one hundred and twenty men that would accompany Thomas and Taylor to the summit. “I’ll try and do my best, Colonel.”

“That’s all any of us can do, son.”

Sergeant Major Dugan came toward the two men as Thomas turned and instead of returning the final salute of Parnell’s, he nodded and shook the boy’s hand.

“Let’s hope we don’t have too much explaining to do to our grandchildren when they ask what we did in the great rebellion, huh, Lieutenant?”

“I must admit the thought of making it out of here and having grandkids thrills me to no end at the moment, sir.”

“I knew you were a levelheaded young man. Good luck, Lieutenant.” John Henry buttoned the top of his fur-lined greatcoat and accepted the reins of his horse from Dugan. He saw Gray Dog ride up and wait for him. Even the Comanche had a long fur-trimmed coat on over his leather skins. Dugan mounted with a nod to Parnell.

“Lieutenant,” Dugan said with a tap to the brim of his cap.

Parnell watched as John Henry spurred his large mount forward. The golden piping lining his saddle blanket was clearly visible with its two crossed sabers in the corner. Parnell could see that John Henry Thomas was now in his element.

*   *   *

As the colonel rode along the long line of men, horses, and wagons, he saw Claire at the front of the column. He reined in his mount and sidled up next to her horse. A few snowflakes fell from the bleak sky and settled on her thick coat. Thomas had to smile at the bulky and very unfeminine clothing Claire was forced to wear. The fur hat was the topper, and John Henry had a hard time keeping his face straight. McDonald had settled in next to Claire and looked far more miserable than the Pinkerton agent. Thomas was enjoying this to no end.

“I can see you two are as snug as bugs in a rug.”

Claire looked his way. Her nose was starting to tint red but her eyes were clear. They told John Henry his ill-suited humor was not going over well at all.

“Don’t fear, we only have fifty-odd miles of barren terrain to cover.” He smiled but turned away before Claire could focus her angry eyes on him. “Isn’t it nice to be on a horse again?” he said loudly as he, Gray Dog, and Dugan spurred their horses forward to take up station next to Taylor at the front of the civilian column.

Thomas smiled at Jessy, and the Rebel colonel returned it with an uneasy one of his own. He glanced over at Dugan and Gray Dog and the sergeant major just shrugged his shoulders as he was used to the exuberance of John Henry when it came to his chosen profession—cavalry officer. Both Dugan and Taylor knew the man to be the most gifted cavalry tactician West Point had ever turned out this side of Robert E. Lee himself.

“Column, forward!” he called out loudly as he waved his gauntleted right hand in the air and then extended his fingers toward their dark destination—Ararat.

*   *   *

The American expeditionary force moved onto the Plain of Mount Ararat. The summit now rose seventeen thousand feet above them. As the column advanced to its ultimate goal, a tune was started by none other than the naval mess crew. As they moved east men started picking up the old favorite, and soon the words were clear to John Henry at the front of the column. Why that particular old tune, Thomas would never know.