Yakov had not been impressed by the plan he had been given and events were proving him correct. His team had scoured the cliff face and while there were several crevasses, there had been nothing significant enough for him to order the Delta Force demolitions men to do their job. If the mothership was behind the cliff, he had yet to see the way in.
Night had fallen and the men had gathered together in a small depression. No fires, just a cluster of men huddled in the dark. They’d heard gunfire from farther down the mountain just before dark and noted several overflights by Turkish jets. Thus Yakov wasn’t surprised when one of the Delta men reported movement nearby.
Yakov slipped off into the dark to investigate, leaving instructions with the commandos to remain in place. He passed between two boulders, his weapon at the ready, then froze when he heard the sound of an AK-47’s slide being worked. The sound was echoed by several more assault rifles.
He took a step backward toward the hide site when he felt the muzzle of a weapon poke him in the back. Letting his MP-5 hang on its sling, Yakov slowly brought his hands up.
“Who are you?” a harsh voice asked in accented English.
“From America,” Yakov said.
“You don’t sound like an American.”
“I am Russian, but I am working with the Americans.”
The muzzle was pulled away as figures appeared in the darkness, surrounding Yakov. The man who had been behind him came around in front. He was wearing a sheepskin coat and a black watch cap. Definitely not Turkish military, Yakov realized.
“What are you and the others up there”—the man jabbed the muzzle of the gun in the direction of the Delta hide site—“doing here? We saw you parachute in.” “Who are you?” Yakov asked instead, not certain how to proceed.
The man spit, narrowly missing Yakov’s boots. “This is our land. Our mountain. You do the answering.”
“We search for the ark.”
The man’s head snapped up and he said something in a different language. From the excitement among the men, Yakov knew he had broached a sensitive subject. He realized they were Kurdish guerrillas.
“Freeze!” The voice came out of the darkness and Yakov knew the Delta commandos had the group covered.
The man cursed, shoving his gun into Yakov’s face. “You die first.”
“Easy,” Yakov said, keeping his hands up. “They’re friendly,” he called out to the unseen commandos.
Several Delta commandos with night-vision goggles on appeared out of the dark, weapons at the ready. Yakov could see the guerrillas relax as they saw the American flag patch on the commandos’ shoulders.
“Come.” The leader of the guerrillas gestured. “There are others on the mountain.”
“Let’s go,” Yakov said to the Delta men as he followed the guerrillas. They clambered toward the cliff face, then turned right. Yakov was surprised when the man in front of him seemed simply to disappear into the cliff. Edging around a boulder, Yakov saw there was a narrow crack that they hadn’t spotted during their search. He could barely force his way in, then he was in darkness, stumbling forward. The Delta commandos followed, two of them carrying the man with the broken leg.
Yakov went about twenty feet before the tunnel turned to the right and he saw a dim light ahead, the forms of the guerrillas silhouetted against it. The tunnel widened into a cave, about sixty feet wide by thirty deep. The ceiling was low, forcing Yakov to remain slightly bent over. Two oil-burning lanterns illuminated the cave and the interior smelled of their burning as well as unwashed bodies. There were several women and children inside and they greeted the men with smiles and hugs while casting suspicious glances at the strangers. “Sit.” The man who had first met Yakov indicated a spot near one of the lanterns. Yakov squatted and he was joined by the commander of the Delta commandos.
“I am Kakel,” the man said.
“Yakov. And this is Major Briggs,” he added, introducing the senior Delta man. Kakel shook their hands but his words were less than pleasant. “Americans. You promised us much and you delivered little. You asked my people to rebel in Iraq and then abandoned us. You side with the Turks and let them hunt us down like dogs.” He sat down with a sigh. “This is our land. It was called Kurdistan long before there was a Turkey or an Iraq. Do you know it is illegal for us to speak our own language here?” Kakel didn’t wait for an answer. “Why do you seek the ark?”
“We think it is an Airlia spacecraft.”
“Airlia?”
“The aliens.”
“The gods of old.” Kakel glanced around to see if any of the others were listening. “There is much history on Agri Dagi — that is what we call this mountain. There is the legend of the Ark of Noah coming to rest here after the Great Flood. My people believe we are the direct descendants of Noah. And now you say it might be a craft of these aliens.” Kakel shook his head. “Did you know that Lawrence of Arabia hid in this very cave?”
“No, I did not,” Yakov said.
“There are those who have a different”—Kakel searched for the right word, then shrugged—“sight. Some come here.”
Yakov wanted more information on that, but he knew he had to stay with his priority, so he remained silent.
“We call this the back door.” Kakel pulled the magazine out of his weapon, checked the bullets, then slammed it back in. “Outsiders are not supposed to see this.”
“I thank you for taking us in,” Yakov said.
“There are others on the mountain,” Kakel repeated himself. “Iranians have crossed the border. Many were killed by the Turkish planes, but some still climb up the mountain. They are not far off. Of course that means the Turkish army is close.” He smiled fiercely. “But they have learned not to come into our land. They wait around to catch the Iranians when they try to leave. I assume the Iranians seek what you seek.”
“It is most likely,” Yakov agreed. He saw a twitch on the side of Kakel’s face. Yakov had been around men like this before— men who spent their entire lives hiding and fighting. The stress wore them down, making them old before their time.
“It has been here for many centuries,” Kakel said. “Beyond the time of remembering. Why do you need to find it now?”
“There is war all over the world,” Yakov said. “We think—”
“We have been at war here for a long time. No one was ever interested.”
“It is worldwide. In many places people are dying—” Yakov began, but Kakel again interrupted him.
“There have been world wars before.”
“Not—” Yakov halted, realizing he had been about to say not with aliens involved, but who knew how much the two sides had been involved in previous wars. “The aliens have shown their true natures and come out of the shadows,” he finally said. “The ark holds the thing we need to defeat the aliens.”
“And my people? What good will it do us?” “I do not know,” Yakov answered.
Surprisingly, Kakel smiled, revealing several broken teeth. “I like you, Russian. At least you are honest. We have had too many promises and every one was broken.” He put the AK-47 down. “The legend is that my people, the Kurds, are the descendants of Noah and the survivors of the Great Flood. That we came here in the ancient time, brought by the gods on the ark, which landed on this mountain when the waters receded.
“My father, and my father’s father, and through my family beyond what can be remembered, have lived here on the mountain. He told me, as he was told, that there would be a day when the ark would be needed again. Others have come seeking the ark.”