The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (59 page)

“Transcendentalist scholars have come to the conclusion, as we have discussed before, that the entire world was not flooded five thousand years ago as the Bible says. Thirteen thousand years ago the entire Middle East region was destroyed by what some believe to have been a natural disaster that God allowed to happen. Thus, all of mankind did not perish in the great flood, only those in the Middle East. After the Ark settled into a new land, Noah and his family went about repopulating the Earth, well, as best as they could of course. But modern thought is that a third of the world’s population is directly related to Noah and his descendants. Thus, the family of man is still here”—she cautiously smiled—“in a sense. Azrael’s job was never completed and is he still working. Far weaker than in ancient times, but his punishment from God still intact.”

Thomas stood and took the lamp from the table and walked to a far wall where a few of the ancient animal pens had been. He held the lamp high. They all saw the symbols at the same time. It looked as if the ancient writing had been placed on every square inch of hull from deck to ceiling. John Henry placed the oil lamp next to a missing section of hull. Claire saw what he wanted and then brought the two artifacts over and held them up to the missing planks. They fit exactly.

“This is where our missing pieces of the puzzle originated. Miss Claire has had a chance to decipher the symbols and that is why I called us together.” He nodded at Claire, who returned the artifacts to the table and was happy to do so. She relieved John Henry of the lamp as he returned to his seat.

“We know that the symbols carved into the wood of the Ark were done by Noah himself. After all”—she smiled rather sheepishly—“he signed his work.”

“What does the rest of this say?” Jessy asked, not liking at all the feeling he was getting.

Claire cleared her throat. Since this afternoon when she had transcribed the symbols she had realized that Noah might have had a falling out of sorts with the decision-makers of the time—meaning God himself.

“Gentlemen, all of this”—she moved the lamp from floor to ceiling, revealing an entire hull section covered in the Angelic symbols—“is a curse, not on men, but on Azrael himself. Noah hated God’s angel of death. Noah despised the creature so much that after the Ark had settled, he cursed Azrael to remain on this mountain for eternity. Which was what happened until the professor brought back pieces of the Ark.”

“So this is not a curse keeping men out of here, it’s a curse trapping the angel of death?” Jessy asked.

“You must admit that there hasn’t been any mass kill-off of humankind the way the Bible describes it for thousands of years. Maybe that’s because the Lord’s mass murderer is trapped here.”

“That is the most ridiculous theory I have ever heard uttered,” McDonald said as Claire shot him a sour look. “For one thing, there is no Azrael or whatever you call it. There is no curse and most definitely there is no angel of death.” McDonald reached out and took hold of the two artifacts and exposed them to the bright lamplight. Sergeant Major Dugan looked from the haughty British spy to a very interested Gray Dog. The Englishman picked up the largest piece with the symbols emblazoned upon it and held it high. “I believe this is nothing more than an elaborate hoax!”

Before anyone could react McDonald was thrown backward as if he had been smashed in the chest by a runaway train. His grip on the artifact was lost and the ancient wood clacked to the tabletop as McDonald was thrown hard into the arms of Dugan fifteen feet away.

This time they all saw the shadow as it rose from the deck of the Ark. It stood over them momentarily and then it dissipated to nothing. Dugan and Gray Dog picked up the startled but uninjured McDonald. Both men saw it at the same moment. There were two handprints etched in ice on the man’s fur-lined coat. The size of the hands was the most terrifying thing—they were four times the size of a regular man’s prints. Dugan looked at John Henry as McDonald started to cough from having the air knocked from his lungs. Claire immediately reached for the two fallen artifacts and jammed them deep inside the satchel. Then she sat hard into her chair.

John Henry watched as the Englishman shook off the helping hands of Dugan and Gray Dog and then he bolted from the interior of the Ark without a look back.

“I guess old Azrael dislikes spies,” Taylor said, and then realized just how flat his sudden bout of humor had fallen. Jessy had become angry when Thomas had voiced his suspicions with him.

“For the time being, that satchel stays where it was intended,” Thomas said as he stood.

“So you are now a believer?” Claire asked as she looked up at John Henry.

Thomas didn’t answer as he quickly left the Ark.

As for Ollafson, he sat smugly down and then stared at the satchel in front of him.

“Maybe we should just blow the whole thing straight to hell,” Taylor said as he placed a gloved hand on the outside of the satchel.

“The angel of death is weak. This is the time to take the Ark while it can only frighten. Any longer and there is no telling how Azrael’s power could grow.”

“Professor, even if we didn’t have some spook running around here killing men, we could never in a lifetime get this hunk of petrified stone off of this mountain. No engineer in the world could accomplish the feat,” Jackson said as he raised his hood and then followed John Henry out. Dugan and Gray Dog followed, leaving Ollafson, Claire, and Taylor behind.

“The most dangerous thing is for an intelligent man to ignore the supernatural,” Claire said as she reached out and pushed the satchel farther away from her. “John Henry is still a nonbeliever and that could cost him.”

Taylor stood and then helped Ollafson to his feet.

“He believes, Miss Anderson, he believes. He just doesn’t know what to do about it. The Point didn’t prepare their soldiers to fight this kind of war. We don’t belong here.”

Claire had to agree. They needed to leave Ararat as soon as possible before Azrael truly awoke and showed them why God was fearful of his own archangel.

24

An hour before the detonations were scheduled to bring down the ice covering the forward section of the prehistoric Ark, Claire had Gray Dog find McDonald. The Comanche took her to where the British intelligence officer was huddled on the far side of the encampment. She thanked Gray Dog for finding him and the young brave looked from her to a cowering McDonald and shook his head.

“His mind runs away; soon it will be gone.” With that said Gray Dog turned and walked away.

Claire hesitated before approaching the captain. He was sitting on a ration case looking into the ice at his feet. What caught her eye was the British-made Webley revolver he had clutched in his hand. The hood covered his facial features and the falling snow covered the fur. John Henry had tasked her to keep a close watch on McDonald. The spy hadn’t uttered a word since the incident and had vanished from the rest of the company. As she watched he cocked the hammer of the Webley back and then uncocked the pistol. Once, twice, three times.

“Steven, they are about to detonate the ice cap.”

The pistol in his gloved hand stopped moving and his head slowly came up.

“You need to leave now,” was all he said. McDonald’s eyes seemed to be blank as he looked past her as if she weren’t there.

“I think you need to talk about what happened.”

“What happened? What happened is that my insides are stone cold. When I was touched I saw all of the countless deaths that have happened on these very slopes.” His head lowered as did his voice. “I am so cold.”

Claire saw that McDonald was close to going insane. The event had affected him so much that he had mentally checked out of the present.

“London will need a full report on what has been uncovered. You need to witness what is about to happen.” She saw that he once more started playing with the gun.

“You file the report for me, Madame Claire.” He smiled creepily and looked straight at her. “It should be quite a read.”

Claire watched McDonald as he lowered his gaze and scary smile and then continued staring at the ice at his feet.

“Where are the artifacts?” he asked, catching her off guard.

“Colonel Thomas is keeping them inside the Ark for the time being, but has plans to get the cursed wood far away from us. He is going to send a marine courier to catch the first civilian transport out of here and get the artifacts back to Washington for safekeeping. Since the satchel has been inside and away from men, there have been no further incidents. Even the weather looks to be clearing somewhat and the mood of the men is far higher than just this morning. I think it’s because the artifacts are not near any men.”

“Do you think Azrael can be contained by the Ark?” He chuckled and that just about did it for Claire. “He only toys with us for now. Soon the killing will begin. But I will stop him, you’ll see.”

As Claire backed away she quickly came to the conclusion that Steven McDonald had slipped into a realm designed by madmen.

*   *   *

The chief petty officer reported to Captain Jackson that the light charges had been placed at the various pressure points of ice covering the find. It should be just enough to crack the roof of the ancient bubble and expose a large section of bow for photography. They just needed the confirmation by the Rebel colonel.

Taylor inspected the charges and declared them good. The navy had done a fine job of making sure they didn’t blow off half the mountaintop—pretty good even for Yankees. He conferred with Corporal Jenks, who was an expert at explosives, having blown many a Union train vault to seize gold meant for Union payroll.

“Are the charges adequate in your humble opinion, Corporal?” Jessy asked as he made his way back to the safe zone well above the blast area.

Jenks had not spoken kindly ever since the death of the mess steward. Taylor figured the man was confused as to how he was supposed to feel. Grandee had saved the lives of every southern man inside that cave. What was bothering the corporal, in Taylor’s opinion, was the question every man has to ask himself—would I have done the same for him? Jessy figured the corporal felt his answer to that particular question was somewhat lacking in the area of honor and it was affecting him.

“Yes, sir, them navy boys did a fine job. Should be no problems that I can figure.” Jenks nodded his hooded head and then started to leave with Taylor to the safety area.

“Jenks, I believe you would have done the same thing as Grandee.”

The tired corporal stopped and looked at his colonel.

“How do you figure, sir?” he asked with hope etched in his eyes.

“Because you’re one of my boys, and my boys do the right thing. That’s why we ended up in a prisoner-of-war camp and old Jeb rode off to glory.”

“I don’t see it, sir.” The mournful words showed Taylor how deflated the corporal was.

“Every man asks himself if he would give his life for his fellows. When the thought strikes me I find myself saying I would, but inside I think I may fold up at the wrong time.”

“That’s the way of it, sir.”

“I was told you tried to go back for Grandee. Is this true?”

Jenks lowered his head and said nothing.

“I think I would have to base my opinion on that act, not the failings of a good soldier suffering from survivor’s guilt.”

“I truly wanted to save him, sir. I guess my failure is that I didn’t treat Grandee as a man would treat another. My failure is there, sir. And I think in the end that is why we have already lost this war, Colonel.”

Taylor watched as Jenks walked away and then followed as he realized the backwoods corporal was right. The South had no right to win the war and Grandee’s death proved it.

*   *   *

“Did you find him?” John Henry asked Claire upon her return.

“Yes. I believe he is a danger to himself. Perhaps you’d better come clean about his identity and arrest him.”

“That means exposing you as a triple agent. Your career would effectively be over.” John Henry looked down at her and saw that she was possibly not sad at the prospect. Her smile was out of place for the subject matter.

“That was decided when I heard the professor’s student was murdered”—she gestured at the spot where the Ark lay beneath—“over this.”

“Decided?” Thomas asked as she finally looked away from him.

“Yes, my letter of resignation was delivered in triplicate to the war department, Allan Pinkerton, and the president before we sailed. It’s effective upon my return.”

John Henry responded in a way that would confuse him forever. “Good.”

Claire’s brows rose underneath her hood, which she quickly pulled down. She looked at Thomas with a questioning face.

Thomas cleared his throat and then nodded his head and walked away so suddenly she was left staring at the spot where he had been standing.

“Uh, why is that good?” she asked his retreating backside and slightly under her breath, but she knew he hadn’t heard her question.

“Fire in the hole!” came the warning from the navy.

Claire shook herself out of her short trance as she thought about John Henry’s strange response. She moved to a spot where Sergeant Major Dugan and Gray Dog were hunkered down behind several upturned sleds.

“Do you find that the colonel can be a little odd at certain moments?” she asked as she leaned in close to Gray Dog.

Sergeant Major Dugan gave her a queer look and then stuck his gloved fingers into his ears, as did Gray Dog.

“Missy, I find the colonel odd at all times, now you better—”

The explosion shook the ice they stood upon. The quartered sticks of dynamite detonated and sent a long crack line extending a hundred feet downhill and then shooting back up the mountain, almost a perfect oval in shape. Then the world gave way.

Claire heard a tremendous crash as if every chandelier in Washington fell and broke at once. She cringed when she and the others were inundated with ice and snow as the earth settled back down. Dugan smiled and looked at Claire and Gray Dog.

“Well, let’s see if we just blew thirteen thousand years of history to hell, shall we?”