Plague of Coins (The Judas Chronicles #1) (10 page)

‘Well, for you and Amy that would be true, son’, I remember thinking to myself. As for me, it simply meant an immediate transfer from this time and place to another. Of course, in light of the fact I cherish every moment I have with my kid, this would be beyond disastrous. The likelihood of waking up naked in some other country six months from now would be a near certainty, and far too late for me to rescue him or Amy.

“That’s why it will be critical for you to listen closely to my instructions, and make sure you study your itineraries closely tonight,” said Cedric, his tone even. Smooth coolness. “Now, I’m going to ask you all to hold your questions and comments until I’ve had the chance to lay it all out for you. For now, stay focused on getting to the hotel in one piece.”

The plane stopped moving, and the instant it did, he pulled out his 9mm Berretta—Cedric’s preferred choice of weapon—and removed the clip. He handed both items to Kali, after she agreed to place them in safe keeping, until his return to the plane later that night. Then he pushed open the exit door.

Steamed air poured into the plane from outside, affirming what Pirma had advised about the current heat wave embracing Tehran. At the same time, two men wearing dark suits and sunglasses pushed a portable stairway up to the exit. I could tell they were local...Iranian, or, what is more properly referred to as Persian. This is a proud and noble people I have come to admire over the centuries, and definitely not a reflection of the popular leadership this country has known for the past one hundred years.

“Once we get through security, we’ll head downstairs and catch our ride,” said Cedric. “We’ll need to keep up with our escorts, so stay close to me.”

Without waiting for our response he moved down the stairs. Alistair and Amy scurried behind him. I followed them, catching Pirma and Kali’s nervous smiles as Serena closed the jet’s door behind us.

Our escorts nodded to Cedric and then led the way inside the terminal to our designated checkpoint. I had the distinct feeling we were being handled differently than the vast majority of travelers who visit Tehran each year. But that’s something I’ve become quite accustomed to over the years, traveling on ‘U.S.A. business’ throughout the world. Just like my honed awareness that was on the lookout for any snipers or other threats nearby. We were open targets, but my careful scan around us didn’t reveal any menace. No Russians with a grudge just yet. That didn’t mean an expert marksman wasn’t hiding a half-mile away.

As I said, moving through checkpoints like this is now a fairly routine experience for me. However, for Alistair and Amy, they marveled at the cursory bag check and quick stamp of their passports. Such things can take hours, even without the light of suspicion cast upon any traveler in this part of the world.

From there, it took roughly fifteen minutes to get to our ride. A short limousine, beige in color, sat near an airport hotel transport. Its engine idled smoothly. Once we climbed inside, our driver and his assistant spoke briefly with Cedric. Alistair told me the conversation was in Farsi, a local dialect, and the main focus was on our safety, and the need to get us to the hotel as quickly as possible. Before my son had finished his translation, with Amy leaning close to me to hear what Alistair had to share, the limo lurched forward and then raced onto the main thoroughfare. It takes an American a moment to realize that speed and traffic etiquette are totally different overseas. In less than twenty minutes, we screeched to a halt under the veranda to the hotel’s main entrance.

“After you check in, we’ll meet in William’s room,” said Cedric, after a cautious glance over his shoulder. His uneasiness made me a bit tense, but again I didn’t see or sense anyone in our immediate surroundings to be concerned with. “I’ll wait for you all upstairs.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. The look he shot me said enough. Make damned sure my kid and our sweet lawyer from the states didn’t end up with bullet holes in their torsos and heads. Like I mentioned earlier, I’m experienced in taking care of ‘business’ like this, though I find it extremely distasteful.

The desk clerk had been expecting us, and check-in was quick and efficient. Even so, the air around us felt tense…like something catastrophic was about to happen. I made several cautionary glances around the lobby before we stepped into the elevator.

On the way upstairs to our suites on the fourth floor, Amy and Alistair gave me silent worried looks. I think the full realization that we had somehow been lured into a stinking pile of shit had arrived. For their benefit, I smiled. Truthfully, I wasn’t worried about me—other than a moment’s pain, danger and death are mere irritants rather than things I actually fear. But for them, this was more than unsettling. I glimpsed real terror in their expressions, which for Alistair was unusual. I think now that it was Alistair’s fear for Amy’s welfare. As I mentioned earlier, having a female along complicated things.

“Alistair and Amy...set your things in your rooms, and then we’ll talk in William’s suite.”

Cedric stood outside my room with a lighted panatela. Such brazen stupidity, when he acted so cautious in regard to our wellbeing. No similar standard for himself. But then I’ve known this about him for years. He has the luck of a genie, or maybe he’s like the proverbial cat with nine lives.

“Are you hoping for a bigger audience once that cigar sets off the smoke detector above your head?” I pointed to the standard circular model on the wall near my door. Amy’s suite sat between Alistair’s and mine, and she snickered while opening her door. I met Cedric’s mock indignation with a devilish expression of my own. “Hold off on stoking that thing and I’ll get us in here in just a moment.”

“Then quit playing around and open the goddamned door, dude!” he teased.

A few moments later we were all gathered around the table near my window. Dark enough inside the room to turn the overhead light on, I kept the window sheers closed.

“Okay, make sure everyone reads over this several times tonight, so that there are no fuck ups. Am I clear?” said Cedric, after handing each of us a copy of our official itinerary for this mission. “First, we’ll talk about your transportation, which is the only thing not listed on here. There’s a Mercedes SUV parked in the back of this establishment, and inside it, you’ll find all the outboard gear you’ll need while camping in the Alborz mountains. Sam Daniels, our main Middle East contact out here, has already taken care of that. You’ll find plenty of dry food, water, and Gatorade, too—enough to last a week.”

“Is that how long you expect this to take?” Alistair voiced his concern almost absently, while flipping back and forth between the first and last pages. “What happens if things don’t go quite the way you expect? Will the agency be ready to help out at a moment’s notice?”

All great questions, my boy, and each one was borne from experience. Our Chilean disaster from two years ago came to mind the quickest.

“Not only will we be ready, but we’ve equipped you with satellite cell phones, radios, and three flare guns in case you need us.” Cedric handed the Mercedes’ keys to me. “But we believe you should be in and out of Stanislav’s camp with the information we need within two to three days—four to five days tops. Oh, remember the cameras. You’ve got em’ in your wristwatches, and in the top button of your jackets—aside from the cell phones and the standard Nikons we’ve already packed inside the Mercedes.”

“It says here that I’m supposed to let Stanislav take me hostage, as a ruse to get me close to the FGRs?”

I think we all heard the fear and skepticism in Amy’s voice as she flipped back to the first page.

“That’s correct,” Cedric confirmed, his serious tone gaining a compassionate edge. “Now, I know this might be worrying you, given what we all know about Petr Stanislav. But, you’re going to have to trust us on this, Amy. We’ve done a ton of research on this cat, and we’re certain he will make every effort to assure your comfort while he seeks new information from you regarding your father’s research.”

She nodded slightly—a sure sign she wasn’t completely buying what he told her about her parents’ murderer.

“And you expect for these Russian assassins to look upon my feigned expertise in the same light as hers?” Alistair in no way hid his disdain.

He wasn’t buying anything at this point. Yet, I sensed he fully intended to go along with the plan. The strange power of a damsel in distress had gained the upper hand on any concerns he had for his own welfare. Or, he knows from experience that I’ll risk all life and limbs to save him.

“Yes, I do,” he said, emphatically, and then reached over and grasped Alistair’s shoulder. “You will be protected by your extensive knowledge of this area, the people, and your ability to navigate through Sanskrit.”

“There’s Sanskrit involved here?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, there is,” Cedric confirmed. “Our sources have told us that Stanislav is having trouble finding experts who are adept at this sort of thing. Apparently, Stephen Golden Eagle’s enslavement and demise at Stanislav’s hands has infected the academic community throughout Europe against this tyrant. Since he can’t pay enough to lure someone here, he should be eager to enlist your help, Alistair.”

Now my son was the one nodding, his expression a little hopeful.

“But we’re counting on William to keep close surveillance from just outside their campsite. If ya’ll get in trouble and we need to rescue you, then he and I, and the rest of our Iran contingent will swoop in and get you and Amy out of there. We have plenty of manpower and ammo to pull it off successfully.”

“What kind of ammo will we have to work with?”

My question this time. My comrades at the CIA had better have provided enough weapons and ammunition to clear out this entire rodent nest if it came to that. A few pistols and a rifle wouldn’t cut it, in my opinion.

“Well, since I know how you are, man, I made sure there are plenty of Glocks, assault rifles, grenades, and even a rocket launcher,” he advised, shaking his head I’m sure at my love for dangerous toys. “But you won’t find them in the SUV. They are safely hidden in a little town located in the Alborz foothills.”

“What’s the place called?” I tried to picture it. This wasn’t my first trip to Tehran, as I may have mentioned before. In Alistair’s lifetime, it was my third. But I’ve been here at least a dozen times during the previous nineteen centuries. “It’s not Karaj or a village like Gazor Khan?”

“No. Those locales are not even close to where you’ll be. This particular place doesn’t even show up on a map, and the locals actually refer to it as ‘a town with no name’,” explained Cedric. “These people speak only the oldest Persian dialects. They are averse to all modern conveniences, including plumbing and electricity. Perhaps with a population that has never risen above two hundred souls, maybe there isn’t a need.”

Count me among those who strongly disagree with this thinking. Despite spending nearly two millennia without them, I’m a huge fan of ‘modern conveniences’.

“And that’s where I’ll find our modern weaponry, huh? Did you store it all inside a burlap sack?”

This time, my question was as biting as it looks, although delivered with another shit-eating grin. It seemed like a terrible idea to stash an arsenal in a town where it would stick out like a sore thumb. Especially, since it could land the three of us in an Iranian prison for ten years.

“You’re going to have to learn to trust me, too, Willie boy.” Cedric snickered more in amusement than irritation. “You would think after working so long together you’d know me way better than that! The damned weaponry you’re referring to is stored inside a steel carrier, which is hidden next to an ancient Persian Shrine that looks like a big granite gate. You can’t miss this thing, since it’s about twenty feet tall and carved into the side of a mountain just outside the village. All you’ve got to do is follow the map included with your itinerary, and it will lead you right to it.”

“What kind of shrine is it?” Alistair had his nose buried in the map Cedric mentioned.

“We really don’t know.” Cedric set his empty manila folder inside his briefcase and closed it. Our little meeting had come to a close. “The local folks don’t think much of it—or at least they rarely talk about it to outsiders. The area around it is badly overgrown with thick brush, and loaded with all kinds of vermin that you’ll need to watch out for—”

“Vermin? What kind of vermin??”

If ever there was a deal-breaker for my son’s involvement, this was it.

“Snakes—poisonous ones. Vipers.”

“’Vipera’, you mean.” Alistair moved into his most natural defensive position, dipping into his broad academic knowledge. Light beads of sweat suddenly appeared above his brow line. “That’s how the natives living in and around the Alborz refer to these nasty creatures!”

“It could be worse,” countered Cedric. He set the locks on his briefcase. “There are scorpions and spiders, too.”