6

SOUTHEAST ROMANIA, DACIAN HOT SPRINGS QUADRANGLE

The two richly appointed cable cars were running normally up and down the massive eight-cable system. There had not been one flaw in the computer programming that ran the operation. With the cars operational and the final preparations for the extensive private weekend nearing completion, Janos Vajic was starting to get that horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach as they neared the beginning of what could possibly be the end of his dream.

Janos watched as several workers arriving from the castle exited the cable car. The men seemed to be in a far better mood since the actions of the night before in the mountains high above the castle. As Janos turned away he saw Gina step onto the cable car platform high above the atrium. She held out a flimsy sheet of paper.

“This was just faxed over from Bucharest.”

Vajic took the paper and scanned it very quickly.

“What in the hell is Zallas trying to do to us? He has every known black marketer, gangster, and white-collar criminal in the world on this list. If the press were to sneak in here during the weekend we would never open, and I don’t care if Zallas has the interior minister in his pocket or not. They will shut us down through international pressure alone!” He crumpled up the guest list and threw it over the edge of the cable car platform where it landed in a geranium bush.

“I figure all we can do is keep the security as tight as—”

“We will not be handling the security. The resort security staff is to step aside.”

“What? This is a casino, Janos; we have to have armed security at all—”

“Zallas is handling the security for this weekend. His own people will be here and he says it’s double our normal staff. He said the press will not get to within a hundred miles of Edge of the World.”

Janos could see his general manager deflate. He put an arm around her.

“I have regretted my decision on partnering with this man from the first day. It’s like he never had money before and now he’s crazed about how to spend it. It’s like the trouble with the villagers up in the pass: he sends a backward Russian up there in a pretend hunt, and only he comes back down, but the attacks have ceased. I just don’t understand it.”

“Where is that Neanderthal anyway?” Gina asked as she was led to the cable car that had just arrived.

“Look here,” Vajic said as he gestured out of the large plate glass window in the rear of the car. He was pointing far below to the swimming pool, which stretched five hundred feet in the back of the resort. Sitting by the pool was the Russian. He sat in a chaise longue and didn’t move.

“What’s he doing?” Gina asked.

“He’s been sitting there since the maintenance people showed up at four this morning. He hasn’t moved. He refuses food and water. He just sits and stares waiting for Zallas to arrive.”

“What’s wrong with him, and where are the Romanian hunters that accompanied him?”

“They’re missing. Or at least we haven’t seen a trace of them since they left here last night. He just mumbles about the pass,” he said as he glanced upward along the cables and the mountain beyond. “That’s it. He won’t move until he reports directly to Zallas.”

Gina watched the still and silent man far below. Then she turned to Janos.

“I have the most horrible feeling that we are in the middle of something here that we have no control over.”

Janos Vajic stepped to the front of the cable car and saw the black Mercedes approach from the south. He took a deep breath and then faced his general manager.

“Well, the man who is in control has just arrived.”

As Gina followed Vajic’s gaze she saw over fifty vehicles as they wound their way toward the richest resort in the Eastern world.

The criminal invasion of the Carpathians had begun.

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX, NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

Jack heard the knock on the door and Carl Everett, looking haggard and half asleep, stuck his head inside.

“I’ve noticed that the red Event lights are lit up like the Fourth of July around here. Fill me in on what we’ve missed?”

“You bet. Have a seat, Carl. We need to talk.”

Everett opened the office door and stepped in. He rubbed his eyes and took a seat in front of the desk.

“I thought I lost you for a minute over there. Is Ryan all right?”

“He slammed into his bunk doing mach one. He’ll not be with us for a while, double jet lag and all.”

“What about you?”

Everett didn’t answer for a moment as he took in the colonel.

“I’m pissed at a woman and a double-dealing little Mossad colonel who tried to kill us. But that’s not what’s on my mind at the moment. Can we go off subject for a second, Colonel?”

Jack leaned back in his chair and waited for the shoe to fall. He had noticed Carl had addressed him by his Army rank behind closed doors, something the Navy SEAL ordinarily never did. Collins nodded his head that he should continue.

“I think it only proper that I inform my commanding officer that I have applied for transfer to the new naval surface warfare center being set up at Cape Canaveral.”

Jack’s brows arched as he listened to his second in command, a man he had known in some tough times and a true friend. He knew why this was happening.

“The new euphemism for space warfare center? The surface part of the name has little to do with it. You’re not a shipboard officer, Carl. You’re something far more special than that.”

“Some would say, Colonel. But then again you cut me out of the loop in the search for your sister’s killer. That’s personal to me because I knew and liked Lynn. I think it best that I get on with this new program and see if I can help out some.”

“I wasn’t worried about you and Ryan while you were in Rome. Even when I knew your lives were in jeopardy. I can live with that. I can allow you to go into harm’s way as long as it’s in the line of duty and under the auspices of this department, the one in which you are assigned.” Jack stood from his chair and paced to the door and locked it and then turned and walked to his desk and sat. “I will not lose friends on a personal quest of vengeance when they find enough death around them every damn day right here in this madhouse of history. But that is to be expected and accepted. You dying performing a criminal act on my behalf is not, nor will it ever be, acceptable, Carl.”

Everett didn’t look away from Jack’s glaring eyes.

“That’s your mistake, Jack. If you can’t see the basic problem here you are far blinder than you realize. You are making mistakes not only in judgment on how to best go about finding your sister’s murderer, you’re cutting off the sounding boards and genius that make things work here at the Event Group, and that’s the people who believe they are more than just a goddamn team to you.”

Collins was trying to get everything settled in his mind from Everett’s verbal assault. For the first time in his adult life he didn’t know how to proceed.

“This communication you have going with the Frenchman has to stop, Jack.” Everett stood and faced his friend. “Farbeaux may be assisting you because you think he is better equipped to do what you plan on doing, finding the scumbag and killing him. But don’t you see that Henri Farbeaux doesn’t do anything without it benefiting Henri Farbeaux. He will kill you if he gets the chance—make no mistake about that.”

“There is a method to my madness, Carl. He may do what you say he will—maybe just to get Sarah, who knows, but there is one element in this equation you’re missing—that son of a bitch is expendable, you and my friends are not. No more people are being lost on my account. In the line of duty is one thing, dying for something personal is another.”

Everett set his jaw muscles and for the first time that Navy SEAL stare was directed at Jack.

“Transfer request stands. I’m needed elsewhere with everything coming down all over the world.”

Jack Collins took a deep breath and then sat into his chair. He looked at Everett and then down at his desk blotter. He nodded his head in agreement.

Carl Everett came to attention and saluted. Jack looked up and frowned.

“The Navy doesn’t salute indoors, Captain—dismissed.”

Everett allowed his gesture of respect to slip by the wayside. He turned abruptly and then unlocked the door and stepped out of the office.

As Europa sounded a tone over the speaker system embedded in the walls, Jack was staring at nothing. All thought of the past day’s events had slipped into a neutral position. He had just lost one of the best friends he had in the world because of the stubborn streak Sarah had warned him about a million and one times.

“Attention all personnel, as of 1245 hours this date an operational order has been issued by the director of Department 5656 declaring an Event in the Carpathian region of Romania. All departmental supervisors are to report to the main conference room immediately. All personnel are restricted to base and Gates 1 and 2 are now closed. Alert 2 status has been upgraded—full security measures are hereby in effect.”

Jack didn’t hear a word of the supercomputer as she gave the Event alert. His mind was on his friends—the ones he was losing because of his fears and the fear of others above him in rank.

Outside the office the Event teams were forming. The assault on the Carpathians was now an official case file.

The Event Group was now in its element.

PATINAS PASS, CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS, ROMANIA

The moon was bright and the villagers of Patinas were out in the cool of the evening. The village itself would be considered large for most in the region. The census taken in 1980 by the former communist government listed the occupants of that particular protected area as 752. The center square of the village of stone and wood houses was alight with the fire that was built every evening for the families of man to congregate and share stories on the events of their day. It had been a tradition for over two thousand years. The families gathered and laughed and sang and played their string instruments to the delight of the children. Most of the musical instruments were new and shiny and the electric lighting now coursing through the small village even newer than the instruments that began showing up the past two years as gifts from the man who would soon be their king.

As the Romanian Catholic church bell rang just once announcing the hour of nine, all those around the fire and sitting on the grass listening to the music started to say their good nights and good-byes to family and friends. As they all laughed their way to their houses or out of town for their farms and flocks, there was only one who remained behind. The old woman sat in her customary chair after waving off several of her nephews and nieces as they tried to persuade her not to sit out in the damp night.

When the villagers had all left the old Gypsy looked around her at what they had built over the years. She slowly stood and leaned on the wooden cane with the Eye of Ra inlaid in the handle. She slowly turned and looked at the mountain behind her that encircled the beautiful but small valley and pass that was Patinas. Her two different colored eyes fell upon the temple that only she could see. She shook her head. The steam escaping from several open vents along the mountain road leading to the pass high above was a constant reminder that somewhere far beneath the surface of the earth mother nature was cooking up quite a cauldron of fury that someday would be released into the valleys far below—a wrath of prehistoric power that could eventually level the 250-million-year-old mountain range. The hot water vapor from the hot springs that coursed through this particular mountain actually produced enough heat to change the weather conditions during the winter months as the vapors brought a false warmth to the village and the pass above them.

“We should have brought the entire mountain down upon you before it was ever completed.” She jabbed her cane at the darkness above and the mountain it hid in the night. “You are a curse that we should never have dared to lay claim to.” Suddenly her strength was gone and she turned and sat back into her chair.

“It would take more than that rickety old cane to bring down the temple, Grandmamma.”

The old woman closed her eyes and placed her forehead on the cane.

“There was death last night on the road to the pass. You disobeyed me, man-child.”

“No, one still lives. The message I wanted to deliver was delivered and the men that were with the filthy Slav paid the postage on that message. There will be no man allowed above that ridiculous castle. Never again will men come this way without invitation.”

The old Gypsy raised the cane an inch off the ground and then brought it down again as she turned to look at her grandson. The man was dressed in a bright red shirt with his ever-present head scarf, this one royal blue in color. His black beard and leather pants gleamed in the light of the rising moon. As he watched, the old woman forcibly calmed herself.

“You have been missed at the fire lately. You seem unaware that your family misses you. And for one who has delivered such magnificent gifts to the people it would seem you would be more interested in the activities here than down there,” she said as she jabbed her cane down the mountainside.

The young man snorted and then shook his head. “To sit around and sing old Gypsy songs that are just as much a lie as the ones we tell of the ancient times? No, I have no more interest in lies. It’s far past the time to be mere caretakers to riches and the knowledge of the old ones. It’s time we take what we have earned. And giving out a few small gifts as you call them is what a future king of the Gypsies does for his people.”

The old woman couldn’t argue the point.

“How many of our young men have you taken from the villages below?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“Enough to protect what is ours.”

“You have been in the temple recently.”

The man laughed. His grandmother always knew his fascination for the temple and what that place of magic held for him. Even as a small child he would wander into the mountain and sit for hours, sometimes days, just to speak with the guardians of the temple, his friends, the Golia, and marvel at the temple and plaza that surrounded it. She knew his love of the massive building blocks the ancient artisans built for a people that would never see it. He always thought about the sacrifice of his people for the good of men and women that had shunned the Jeddah since a time before the Exodus.

“Do not bother to hide your activities with another lie. Sister arrives on the morrow and she will discover what it is you’ve been up to, Marko.”

The man turned and the smile was gone.

“Yes, for the first time in many years we will see the sister, child, and the truth will be found out. I do not know what deal with what devil you may have made but sister will know what to do. I pray to God you have not been lying to me, Marko—or the Golia.” She smiled as she took in her grandson. “They are not quite as forgiving as this old woman.”

“You send her away for years to learn the ways of the Jewish state and to keep an ear to the ground about the temple and what’s hidden there. But I am left here to never see the real world. Never will I venture into the cities and live the real life that my sister was chosen for.”

“Marko, she was better equipped, more even-tempered to do the duties I have laid out for her. It’s not that I do not—”

Marko held up a hand, stopping his grandmother’s lie from continuing. He did manage to force a smile.

“It will be good to see sister again.” He turned and started walking away while looking up at the camouflaged temple. “It has been a very long time and I have indeed missed her.”

As she watched Marko walk away with his fists clenched into tight balls of anger, a small lamb that had come into the village from the flock outside the main gates bleated as he approached. Her grandchild kicked the small animal and it squealed and fell to the ground.

The old woman slowly got to her feet and went to the lamb and placed her aged hand upon it and stopped its hurtful bleating. The old woman stopped petting the frightened animal when the lamb’s eyes grew wide and the lamb regained its feet and bounced away toward the open gate. The old woman knew the beast was poised right behind her. She slowly and carefully turned.

The black-furred Golia was sitting on its hind haunches and was looking straight at her with its long ears up in a nonaggressive stance. As she examined the giant wolf she saw the yellow eyes take her in also with just as much curiosity.

“You have grown so, Stanus.” She slowly took a step forward and raised her hand to the animal’s jawline and used her short, broken fingernails to scratch the new leader of the Golia.

Stanus tilted its huge head to the left as the old woman scratched lightly. The eyes never left her age-lined face. As she scratched the alpha male as she had done on a million other occasions her hand slowly started to rise toward the left side of the animal’s face just below the ear. Stanus saw the movement and lightly growled and then raised its right paw to its face. She watched as the fingers slowly curled open and extended outward and was so large that the slim fingers and razor-sharp claws wrapped completely around her small wrist and hand. As the beast lowered the offending hand from its muzzle it came up on all fours and backed away a step and then sat once more on its haunches. The yellow, intense eyes never left the old woman’s face.

“Your trust is as empty as your den in the pass. Do you even know what Marko is up to, or are you just going along because you finally get to vent that stored rage you have deep inside—not unlike my grandson?”

The wolf tilted its large head to the right this time as it listened to the woman speak. She could see that the respect the animal had toward her was still present. She suspected that Stanus was conflicted. She was even receiving small bursts of knowledge streaming from the new leader of the Golia but she couldn’t understand the animal’s consternation. She smiled at Stanus as she looked up into those yellow eyes that stood a whole head higher than her entire height.

“How are the babies?”

The wolf whined deep in its chest.

“You haven’t been to the pass, have you? You’ve been with Marko.”

The low growl sounded once more.

“Whatever he is doing is against the will of his queen, and also against the family of Golia. I need you, Stanus, in the days ahead. We have to—”

The Golia suddenly jumped from its place. The giant leapt over the old woman and then jumped again and cleared the stone wall that lined the small village and vanished silently into the night.

The Gypsy queen turned and listened as the mountain came alive with the sound of many Golia who were not inside their dens or in the temple. There were more and more howls coming from the dark in recent months as more and more Golia defected to Stanus and Marko. It was not the fact that Marko wanted better for his people—as she was responsible for her grandson’s rebelliousness because truth be told she herself had been fighting with tradition and ancient superstition for most of her years to allow the people to be free of the curse placed upon them three and a half thousand years before. She and Marko just clashed as to the best way to free their people.

The ground shook and the night became a silent and bleak artwork of desolate landscape that screamed against the sign of the times. The howling awoke the night world of the Carpathians and brought every villager for miles around to their windows to close the shutters of their humble homes and farms.

PALILULA, SERBIA, THE DANUBE RIVER CROSSING

The woman known to Israeli intelligence and the Event Group as Major Mica Sorotzkin was sitting and watching her reflection in the train’s filthy window. She saw the bloodshot eyes accompanied by the dark circles underneath and then she closed them against the worn and tired reflection. The raven-haired woman turned away from the nighttime countryside of Palilula, Serbia, as the train passed over an ancient trestle across the Danube. She closed her eyes and felt much safer as she entered Romania for the first time in nine years.

The car in which she rode remained virtually empty even though at the last stop before the Danube the train had made an unscheduled stop as over a hundred soldiers were escorted onto a few of the forward passenger cars. They were Romanian and they carried full field gear and packs and looked as if they were going on manuevers. The soldiers settled into their seats three cars forward and the weary woman thought nothing of them again.

Behind her closed eyelids she tried to bring to mind the memory of her last day in Patinas. How she had cried with a broken heart when her grandmother sent her away. First she had missed four years sacrificing her childhood for schooling in Prague under an assumed name. When that was complete her grandmother awarded her with another painful banishment—under her new name she would enter the military academy and finish her last two years of higher education. The academy just so happened to be in Israel. She was accepted with her new identity into the top secret military program called Talpiot. The academy is Israel’s most selective institution and accepts only fifty students a year. The school trains its students in physics and other sciences that most military-funded academies skim over. Its mission is to produce future leaders of the Israel Defense Forces who are not only capable of changing the “act first” attitude of a hard-line military, but to finally transform their armed forces into a model of efficiency.

She had performed so well in her two years at the Talpiot Academy that she drew the attention of the Mossad. The chance meeting was in the plan the whole time with the guidance of her grandmother, who seemed to be wiser than her years and always claiming that she was sending her to do the work of the people and it was something that her grandmother had had to do when her age so many years before, the only difference being that the queen had studied at Oxford and Cairo. They both had left home to learn the ways of the modern world to help protect the people.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window once more toward the distant mountain range hidden in the darkness beyond the clean and cold waters of the Danube. As her eyes scanned the darkness the dimly illuminated farmhouses along the train tracks slowly started coming to life for the hardworking folk of the soil-rich Danube valleys.

Mica half smiled as she realized that she was nearing her home and felt happy for the first time in years. She didn’t turn away from the smile that was returned in her reflection but did notice that the face had changed over the nine years she had been gone. Not that it had aged badly, but because her face was now showing the worries for her people far more than when she had been a child. Now she was slowly learning that the mountains could no longer be protected. She would have to break this news to her grandmother.

The worry over the fate of the temple and the men and beasts who protected it faded as she thought about setting foot in the pass once more. It was a place where she used to run and play with animals that lived in myth and legend. The Golia awaited her return and she anticipated rekindling the friendship that was lost when she was sent away.

Lost in thought, she was taken aback when she felt someone slide into the seat next to her.

“The general never realized just how good you were. But I knew as soon as I transferred you to Rome and put you on the trail of the lost legends you would dig up something to assist the righteous and bring what is ours back home.”

Mica turned away from the outside world and looked right into the face of Lieutenant Colonel Ben-Nevin. The pistol he held was low and aimed upward; its barrel, as well as his crooked smile, never wavered.

“Colonel, you and the people you follow have been listening to fairy tales that never had a basis in fact. Your kind has left Israel backward and alone in the world, and if it weren’t for the power of a few carefully chosen friends Israel would be nothing but a barren dustbowl today.”

“And this is coming from a tried-and-true patriot? I think not, Major.” The gun came up a little further. The woman slowly moved her eyes to better assess her situation, which was not a good one. The train’s car was nearly empty with the exception of a young boy and of all things he was accompanied by a goat. Welcome home, Anya, she thought to herself as she looked at the small boy at the front of the car and immediately regretted leaving her small cousin back in Rome, but she had thought it safer for the seller of oranges to stay safe for the time being.

The colonel watched her as she studied her situation and he smiled wider than before.

“Do not attempt it. I have over fifty men awaiting our arrival. You will lead us to the treasures of the Exodus so the true patriots of Israel can take back the people’s heritage.”

Anya Korvesky didn’t bother to look at the weapon because she knew how ruthlessly men of the colonel’s religious bent acted toward women. They were backward and only thought about their precious religious tilt. Most Israelis were now content to live in harmony with those around them, but others were far more resistant to making peace with people who didn’t care for the heavy-handedness of Jewish rule in the occupied territories. The colonel was part of an organization called Masada’s Patriots, named after the small mountain once laid siege to by the Roman army to settle a small revolt two thousand years before. She wondered if the colonel realized that every one of those long-ago patriots had committed suicide to escape Roman justice. Perhaps it was time to refresh Ben-Nevin’s memory on that point.

“You know there is no place you can ever run to and hide. General Shamni will burn any asset, kill any informer, he will take your group hostage in order to track you down and the law be damned.”

“And you, a favorite of his? Your betrayal will not sit well with the general just as mine will not. I’m afraid we are both in the same boat.” The look on his face was that of a cat staring at a caged canary. “Only, I have many friends and very powerful allies.”

Anya chanced a look around but still the only occupant of the car was the little boy and his goat far to the front. At four-thirty in the morning there just wasn’t any help to be had.

“This can all be so easy. We would be hailed as the man and woman who recovered the history and treasure of the chosen people, to prove to the world that, yes, God was once on our side and here is the proof,” Ben-Nevin said as his eyes widened and his breathing got heavier.

“It’s nothing but old wives’ tales to keep the people believing in their past when we should be looking toward the future. There is no gold and other treasure. There are no artifacts to prove God was once in our corner. There may be those who have scratched the truth but it will do them no good.” She looked the colonel straight in his eyes and didn’t flinch when he raised the pistol a little higher. “The Ark of the Covenant has been lost since the dawning of the Hebrew homeland—gone, Colonel. The treasure of the Exodus never existed. You have placed a warrant of death on you and your followers’ heads and every Israeli asset the world over will be out to track you down and kill you.”

“You can fool the general, Major, but I and my people are not as naive as many others. We know the truth. We know what Joshua did and we are destined to bring the truth back home to Israel despite what the general’s and prime minister’s traitorous moves are.”

“The general is a good man and so is the prime minister. They will never allow you to continue.”

“Good men always get better people killed. He and his kind will do anything to stop us from gaining the right to live—live and expand the borders of Israel.”

“And you think the recovery of some trinkets will allow the Jewish people to rise up and take control of everything? The people are not what you think they are, Colonel. They have evolved from the days where a few fundamentalists can whip them into patriotic frenzy. That policy had its place and its time. Everyone pulled together, and now you wish to take them apart, split the nation.” Anya leaned in toward Ben-Nevin, actually stunning him enough that he raised the gun fully into her face. “I’ll tell you, Colonel, since I have been with the Israeli people I have learned one inescapable fact—they like living, they also like to see their sons and daughters come home without having a bomb go off on their bus. Mothers, fathers, and grandparents like peace and are willing to break with tradition to have it. They actually like living … stupid bastards.”

“Some of us aren’t as dedicated to righteousness as others in our group. Some of us still like the finer things in life.”

“I know your kind, Colonel,” she looked away for the briefest of moments, “because I have a brother not unlike you. He would also bring the world crashing down because of something he believed in above all else. But even I don’t believe he would be capable of selling out his own people as you are doing.”

“I don’t seek the treasure,” he lied with an expert’s persuasiveness and Anya saw it in his eyes. “Israel needs living space and the way to achieve it is to make other lesser people realize that God has always been on our side.”

She smiled, knowing the colonel trapped himself.

“Adolf Hitler, 1928. Your grasp of history is admirable, Colonel Ben-Nevin. I wonder if your efforts to create Lebensraum, or living space for the people, will find as much enthusiasm as Hitler’s did in the thirties and forties. I seem to remember him butchering millions of our people to achieve that living space. He even attempted to track my people down thinking we knew such a great and devastating secret involving our shared ancestry.”

“Hitler was a maniac. And by your people I am assuming you mean the Gypsies?”

Anya smiled and arched her eyebrows.

“That’s just about as much of a history lesson I can take for one night, so why don’t we—”

The colonel realized they were no longer alone. The small boy with the goat was now standing in the aisle and staring at Ben-Nevin.

“Go away, child. Take your goat and sit down.”

The boy was about eleven or twelve and was looking from the man to the woman, who just now realized who the child really was. She hadn’t recognized him at first, and to carry a goat along? Things had remained as crazy in her small village as they always had been and she knew the boy’s arrival had been her grandmother’s doing.

“Excuse me,” the boy said in halting English. “Aunt Anya?”

Anya smiled back and then relaxed as she knew who the boy was now. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and tried not to show her weakness, but she knew she was nothing but a real woman and not the trained Mossad agent she thought she was. Anya now realized how much she had missed her home. As she studied the boy she nodded her head and the child’s smile widened.

“Hello, Georgi, do you know you look just like Kinta, your cousin who lived with me in Rome?” Anya said, smiling even wider as the boy of twelve did also. “He’s there right now but will be home by next week I hope.”

“Ah, the boy who rescued the Americans—the child selling the oranges!” Ben-Nevin said, unable to hide his surprise. “You never cease to amaze me, Major. To have a child from your home on duty in Rome and you managed to keep it from the Mossad; you are far more resilient than even I thought.”

Anya turned to face the colonel. “I am human. To have someone from my village kept me sane and on track to what I needed to do.” She lowered her eyes for a moment. “And I have made my mistakes but having my nephew’s help makes me realize what’s important, just like this child right here.” She smiled and looked up at the boy again, ignoring the colonel. “Yes, I am your great-aunt. Did Grandmamma send you here?”

“That’s enough,” Ben-Nevin said as he reached out and grabbed the boy by the arm. “Save family reunion time for later. He will come with us when I meet my people in Bucharest.”

The boy just looked at the hand holding his arm. At the same time the colonel saw his eyes raise and then the goat bleated and tried to step backward in the aisle. Its eyes widened and then it fell to the floor of the car and tried to get beneath the seat it was near. The colonel saw the smile on the boy’s lips widen even further and his eyes moved from the hand on his arm to an area behind Ben-Nevin’s shoulder. A loud, low-throated growl sounded from behind him. The colonel actually felt the moist, warm breath on his neck.

Anya didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow her young great-nephew had gotten one of the Golia on board the deserted train. She slowly turned her head and saw the animal sitting in the train’s aisle. The yellow eyes were firmly placed on the back of the colonel’s head. For his part, Ben-Nevin only swallowed and then slowly turned his head to see the giant black and gray furred animal sitting menacingly behind him.

“My God,” he whispered as his gun slowly started to come around.

“That,” Anya said with authority, “is not a good idea, Colonel. The beast would have your severed hand in its mouth before you could pull the trigger.” Anya sat further up in her seat and then looked more closely at the Golia. Her eyes widened when she saw the notch missing from the right ear. She remembered as a little girl how the animal became scarred in a fight with its older and far more aggressive brother, Stanus.

“Georgi, is that Mikla?”

The twelve-year-old boy nodded as the wolf whined and then flicked its ears in recognition of its name, but the yellow glowing eyes never left those of the colonel.

Anya smiled as she turned back to face a Golia pup that was born just two days after herself. They were so close in age that her grandmother always included the black wolf with the gray-tipped ears and tail to her yearly celebrations. She loved the memory of the small wolf at her side with his ridiculous head scarf–birthday hat on. The giant wolf paid her no mind, as it was the vibes coming from Ben-Nevin that held its attention.

“This is impossible, what is this creature?”

Anya slowly reached over and relieved the colonel of his weapon and then pointed it at him.

“An old and dear friend that I have missed.” She smiled and then saw that Mikla had turned his head and was now watching something far beyond her nephew’s head and shoulders. She heard the low growl start deep within Mikla’s throat. His ears slowly lay down and Anya knew that someone was coming and the giant Golia sensed it. Anya chanced a quick look up and her heart froze.

“It seems we are about to have company, Major—whatever your real name is,” Ben-Nevin said as he also looked up and saw the soldiers coming down the aisle of the car in front of them. They were laughing and joking and one of the Romanian troopers had a large bottle of vodka and the three soldiers kept looking behind them as if they were sneaking away for a nice nip of the strong alcohol.

This time there was no mistaking the menace in Mikla’s growl. The colonel cringed as he sensed the wolf change positions behind him. He closed his eyes as the growl became far deeper and far more menacing than moments before. The soldiers had reached the door of the car and were about to enter the connection to their own. Mikla took one leap and was in the center of the aisle ten feet in front of Anya and the boy as she kept the colonel covered with the gun.

“No, Mikla!” Anya shouted as the soldiers opened the door to their own car just as the giant beast took four more large strides toward the connecting door. Anya saw that the Golia was not going to obey, he sensed danger from the soldiers and was ready to defend her and the boy and there was nothing she could do or say that would dissuade the massive beast. Anya stood from her seat. “No, Mikla, no harm!” she shouted in the silent car.

Instead of obeying Anya, the wolf hopped onto its hind legs and the three people in the car heard the cracking and the popping of the bones as the hip and pelvis started to make the shift that gave the Golia its heaven-sent ability to climb straight up any wall, mountain, or building. First one hip popped and shifted, sending the beast to the right as its articulated fingers took hold of the two seats closest to the aisle. It used the seat backs as a stabilizing factor as the thigh bones fell into place in the secondary socket; this straightened the animal’s spine and aligned itself for the change enabling it to walk upright. The legs became stronger, longer and that brought the wolf into proper proportions to stand as a man.

Ben-Nevin could not believe what he was witnessing. His eyes widened as he saw the beast could not even stand to its full height because of its size. The ears were laid back against the wood paneling of the car’s ceiling and the growling intensified to the point that the Golia vibrated the windows around them.

The soldiers were in the space that separated the cars and were swilling the vodka and laughing. The Golia let loose another growl that froze the colonel’s blood in his veins.

“Mikla, leave them be! Come—”

Ben-Nevin reached out and took hold of the weapon he had been relieved of moments before. He turned it on Anya and pushed her back and was about to turn the weapon on the Golia when he felt the pistol ripped from his hand, taking three fingers along with it. The colonel looked up in shock as the animal had moved so fast that he never realized he was being assaulted. The wolf stood over the smaller man with the gun clenched inside the massive hand of the animal. The beast sniffed at the weapon in its left hand and then the yellow eyes slowly rose to meet the frightened and shocked eyes of Ben-Nevin.

Anya saw what was going to happen and jumped over the seats and scrambled between the Golia and the man it was about to shred to pieces. Before she could do anything to save the man she despised, the door at the front of the car slowly opened and they all heard the laughter of the Romanian soldiers as they started to enter the killing field.

“Mikla, home, now!” she shouted as loud as she could as the door remained halfway open as the three soldiers hesitated momentarily to swig some more vodka.

The beast turned its large head to the right and saw the soldiers. Anya could tell the Golia was confused as to which threat to take first. The massive head swung back to the Israeli Mossad colonel, who fell to the floor of the car and threw his arm up over his face splattering his suit with blood from his damaged hand. The animal raised the pistol it held by the barrel and closed its hand around it and then threw it to the back of the train car. Mikla leaned in close to Ben-Nevin and began opening its jaws wide. The teeth were straight and clean and they were the largest the colonel had ever seen. Then as suddenly as the action had started it stopped as the beast straightened and turned and looked at the soldiers as they finished their drink. The beast growled heavily and then started to turn toward the oncoming threat to the woman and the boy.

“Mikla, home!”

The Golia turned back and faced Anya and then reached down in a flash of movement and snatched up the boy and his goat in one muscled arm. Mikla then easily tossed the boy and dangling goat onto its back and then looked at Anya and growled, angry it had been called off from killing the soldiers. Its ears came back up and the creature with its massive strength reached out and took Anya by the arm and tucked her under its shoulder and then took one large step toward the wall of the car, kicking out with clawed feet the three seats between it and freedom. Mikla brought its muscled right leg up and kicked out once, twice, and then a third time into the glass and wood lining the window. The entire section of aluminum and wood framing separated from the train leaving a gash eight feet in diameter. The beast leaned out of the car as the wind caught its fur. Anya’s, the boy’s, and the goat’s eyes widened as the Golia leaned out into empty space as the train sped along. Mikla howled and then pushed off from the car, and the Golia and its frightened cargo fell free into the early morning darkness.

The Golia hit the ground at fifty-six miles an hour but the great beast never lost its footing as it caught the hardpan of the feeder road next to the tracks. The giant beast yelped in pain and then vanished into the breaking dawn.

The soldiers came through the open door and felt the wind before seeing the frightened and bloody man lying in the aisle. Their eyes went to the eight-foot hole in the side of the train car and the vodka bottle slipped out of the grasp of the man standing in front of the other two.

The next thing they knew their platoon sergeant was standing next to them. He looked at each man in turn and then bent over and picked up the half-finished vodka bottle. His eyebrows rose in a silent condemnation. The Romanian army sergeant just pointed back the way they had come.

“I think that just about covers drinking on duty—let’s go.”

PATINAS PASS, CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS

The old woman held on to the side of the temple entrance where man-made materials met the natural stone of the mountain. She held fast as the air of the dawn cooled her face after the heat inside the massive structure. Madame Korvesky knew eyes were on her from just off the trail leading down into the mountain. The Golia were there and were watching her; some with only mild curiosity, and then there were the others with malice-laced thoughts. She knew these were the younger Golia—the males and few females that seemed to set out away from the rest. One of these was Stanus, who she knew was on his high ledge above the temple where he lay alone and watched everything occurring around the giant temple structure and the camouflaged opening that led deep into the mountain.

The heat inside had become unbearable for the old Gypsy to take at her age and now she was paying the price for staying so long inside. She managed a deep breath and felt the pain in both her legs from the ten thousand steps it takes coming and going from the depths of the great temple. She would have to make it home and drink as much bitterroot tea as she could stomach in order to ease the pain that would nearly cripple her when she awakened later. The tea alone she knew would probably kill her or constipate her so bad she would wish she were dead. She took another breath and then raised the flowered print dress to a spot just above her right ankle. It was purple and black and she knew that if it wasn’t broken it was a close imitation of a break. She could barely place any pressure on the ankle and foot without streaking jolts of pain shooting up her leg.

As she placed her cane carefully and took her first tentative steps down the small dirt trail that led into her village she heard the laughter of men somewhere ahead. It was only a few steps later that her grandson appeared on the trail with four of the men that had been his constant companions the past six years. Three were from their village but the fourth was from a farm more than fifteen miles away. She trusted none of them. Her grandson stopped and the talk between the Gypsy men ceased as they all took in her ragged and unhealthy condition. Marko looked shocked and then moved to her side as the other four men half bowed to the Gypsy queen and then faded off the trail and into the trees that lined it.

“What are you doing up here, Grandmamma?” Marko took her by the arm and held her as the talk of his men faded from ear.

He waited to speak again until the men had vanished. “You were in the temple?” His tone was still one of concern but now it was also laced with suspicion.

“I believe I am still allowed the freedom to come and go from my own temple, am I not?” She looked up at him and even managed a smile but she soon lost the will and the strength to produce either the smile or to keep her head held high.

“I must get you home and into your bed, you old foolish hen,” he said as he placed his arm around her and started her back down the trail. He grew silent as he walked. The sun was broaching the eastern edge of the mountains before he spoke again. “Stanus is quite agitated tonight. I think you could tell that from the fire pit this evening. I think one of his young ones is missing.”

The old woman didn’t respond. She just kept her walk slow and easy while using her cane as much as possible to lessen the pain in her right ankle.

“Of course it’s the male pup, Mikla. He always was surly and the only brother Stanus has a hard time controlling.”

The old woman walked in silence.

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing in the temple so late and without escort?”

“I could not sleep. And yes the encounter with Stanus tonight was the reason. I had to pray on it some. The alpha is conflicted about something.” She slowed and then looked upward into the dark features of her grandson. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, man-child?” She knew she had caught him off guard and turned the tables on him because Marko stopped and then stepped away from her so he could see her fully in the false light of dawn.

“With all of the changes in the valley below and even upon our own mountain, do you expect Stanus not to be confused? He will settle down, you will see. Now, do you know Mikla’s whereabouts?”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly refusing to play this game with her own flesh and blood. “I do know where Mikla is.”

Her right leg gave out completely and she collapsed almost to the ground before Marko’s strength stayed her fall. He lifted her up and carried her to a small outcropping of stone that lined the trail. He removed her sandal and saw that her ankle was swollen at least five times its normal size.

“What have you done? Did you fall on the great steps?”

“Oh, it’s only twisted; I do worse sometimes tripping over my own feet.”

He looked at her and then removed his blue head scarf and started wrapping the horribly swollen ankle.

“Twisted? If it’s not broken I would be surprised, Grandmamma.” He finished tying off the wrapping and then placed his elbows on his bended knees and then looked at the Gypsy queen. “Where is Mikla and what did you do to him to make your ankle swell like that? Is the Golia all right? Do I need to send Stanus to retrieve him?”

“That would not be a good task, as Stanus is not at all popular with Mikla and a few of the other pups. And Mikla needs no help getting home; he’s with two very reliable people.”

“What have you done?”

“Protected the future of our people the best way I knew how. Now help me get home so you can make me some bitterroot tea because I just cannot stomach the smell,” she said as she used his strong shoulder to pull herself off the rock.

Marko said nothing in response. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, as the old woman had the longest stubborn streak in her since Moses himself. He took a deep breath and knew he had to slow down her suspicions until he was ready for what needed to be done. He remained silent all the way home.

*   *   *

One hundred and eighty miles to the west three forms lay in a drainage ditch beside a deserted feeder road. The boy was sleeping soundly after their crazed exit from the train and Anya hoped he wasn’t in some form of mild shock. Her two young nephews, thanks to her grandmother, had saved her life twice in the past twenty-four hours.

It was Mikla she was most worried about. The Golia lay on its side and was licking the right rear paw and ankle. The beast had landed awkwardly when he jumped from the side of the car. The speed of the train was something the Golia was not familiar with and it had caught the great animal by surprise when they had landed hard. Mikla barely managed to keep his footing but soon had to stop to go on all fours until he had to rest his leg.

“Poor Mikla, it’s my fault for making you run when all you wanted was to hold your ground and protect us.” She reached out and ran her hand along his side. The giant wolf looked up and then whined and licked her hand. The young Golia held Anya’s eyes for the longest time and then with the articulated fingers of its right hand extended and the claws gleaming in the sunshine, Mikla reached up and took Anya’s hand and held it tight. The prehistoric wolf suddenly winced and closed its softly glowing yellow eyes and released Anya’s hand as it lay its head down into the grass.

“We’ll rest the best we can today and start out again tonight after it gets dark.” She rubbed his thick fur once again. “Maybe we can get you another train ride, maybe on top this time, huh?” she said with a smile and a hard rub of the black wolf’s fur. The ears popped up with their gray tips and she knew the thought of riding on a train, while his first trip didn’t end that well, still excited Mikla enough that he wanted to do it again. She knew his thoughts at extreme moments like this and his being excited and happy was easy to pick upon. But she wasn’t sure if Mikla was excited about the train or more to the point that he was nearing home.

The giant Golia laid its head against Anya and was content to close its glowing yellow eyes that were now fading to green as the sun started to rise higher.

Mikla had done the task he was sent out to accomplish and for the day at least the beast was content as he lay with those he was sent to protect.