“A team?” asked Savage.
“Yes,” said Noah.
She lifted her hand toward the tent’s opening. “Please, Mr. Savage, after you.”
He grabbed his case and took the lead, followed by Alyssa and Noah.
Standing under the blaze of the fading sunlight were four soldiers with duffle bags, and a man wearing top-of-the-line clothing and expensive sunglasses. Savage immediately saw that they were ex-military, pegging them as Special Forces. The difficulty of his job just ratcheted up several notches.
Alyssa saw them differently, as brutal-looking apes with the exception of the lean man in expensive wear. Even with sunglasses, she recognized him immediately. “Noah,” she said, beckoning him with her finger, “can I see you in the tent for a moment?”
He nodded.
When they were inside she placed her hands on her hips. The body language telling Noah that she was not happy.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked heatedly. “Do you know who that man is?”
He held his hands out imploringly. “I’m sorry; Alyssa, but I had no choice.”
“No choice? Are you kidding me? That’s Obsidian Hall.”
“I know. But like I said, I had no choice.”
“And why would you have no choice?”
“Because,” said Obsidian Hall, stepping inside the tent uninvited, “He’s the main reason why your father was here to begin with.”
She looked at him quizzically. “What?”
“Your father was here because of me. Isn’t that right, Noah?”
Noah turned toward the floor, as if ashamed.
“Now-now, Noah,” said Hall, patting the old man on the back. “No need to feel down. You did everything that you were required to do.” He turned to Alyssa. “You did well, Noah. You got me in.”
“In? This isn’t a Boys’ Club,” she stated harshly.
Obsidian Hall smirked, his arrogant smile striking a nerve within her. She turned to Noah, this time with a pained look on her face. “Noah, how could you?”
He hesitated, trying to find the words. And then: “When the Vatican initially turned your father down for the endowment, a grant was then written to the government to help subsidize the mission. But the government turned him down as well, and AIAA was floundering. The only grant, I’m afraid, came from Mr. Hall’s company.”
“Did my father know about this?”
“No.”
“Does it matter?” said Hall. “The bottom line is this: Noah sold his soul to the devil to make things work for your father. And your father pulled through. All I’m asking is a small piece of the pie, that’s all.”
“No,” she said adamantly.
“You know who I am. I’m not looking for fame. I already have it. I’m looking for a wall adornment, you might say.”
“You want treasure, is that it?”
He raised his hand and held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Just a little token,” he said.
“No.”
He nodded. “I don’t think you understand,” he said. “Noah here, by doing what he did, is due to make payment to me. If he doesn’t, then something horrible may befall him. Isn’t that right, Noah?”
He never looked Alyssa in the face, too ashamed, choking back the need to sob. When she saw Noah’s condition, she immediately embraced him.
“I just wanted to help your father,” he said to her. “I wanted this so much for him.”
“Your heart’s in the right place, Noah. It always has been. But your judgment on this one…” she let her words trail.
“I know,” he said. “Please forgive me.”
“Touching,” said Hall. “Very… touching.”
She turned on him harshly. “Is that your way?” she asked him tersely. “That you would hurt an old man, just to fill a material need?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much. But no matter how you want to look at it, Ms. Moore, I see it like this: a contract is a contract — good, bad or indifferent. Noah knew what he was getting himself into. And so that you know, he’s been following through because he’s been in constant contact with me throughout your father’s entire affair. Isn’t that right, Noah?”
The old man's response was to maintain their embrace, hoping she’d never let go.
“It’s not all bad,” said Hall. “Your father got what he wanted. I gave that to him. All I ask is to be part of this. That’s all I want.”
“Do I have a choice?”
He paused for a deliberate moment. And then: “No… you don’t.”
John Savage was serving as a centerpiece, surrounded by men who undoubtedly had the capability of staggering violence as they stood appraising him with stares of indifference.
Aussie, in particular, fixed on him while chewing gum the same way a cow slowly and methodically chews his cud. “Well,” he started,” I wonder why we got us here a preacher man. But so that you know, Padre, there’s no hope for me. In fact, there’s a special place in hell for people like us.” He tilted his head at the team in general, speaking for the team in general.
“That’s nice,” said Savage. “But I’m not a priest.”
“Collar you’re wearing says you are,” replied Butcher Boy.
“I’m just an emissary from the Church.”
Aussie cocked his head. “A what?”
“I’m an ambassador, of sorts. A messenger.”
“And what’s the message?” asked Red.
Savage could sense them pressing in from all sides, the volley of questions giving them an indication as to who he was, what he wanted, what he was doing here. “My message is none of your concern,” he answered. “It’s only the concern of Ms. Moore, and that’s all.”
Aussie took a step closer. Behind him were the pillars and amphitheater of Göbekli Tepe. “What’s of concern to Ms. Moore,” he said coolly, “is also of concern to us.”
“I don’t think so,” he returned. When he tried to remove himself from the ring, Aussie and Butcher Boy moved in front of him like two sliding doors coming together, cutting him off.
Aussie looked at him with a hard glare. “I don’t think I like you, Padre.” He then blew a bubble with his gum and impolitely popped it about a foot from the emissary’s face.
Savage took a step back, tightening his hand on the case he was carrying, a formidable weapon. “Is there something I can do for you? Or do you always allow the idiocy of your nature to come forward as you meet people?”
This brought a round of laughter from the commandos. Even Butcher Boy appreciated the banter as he fell back laughing and pointing a he-got-you finger at Aussie. But Aussie was clearly upset, his jaw clenching so that the muscles in the back moved like wires. He took a step forward.
Savage didn’t retreat, but stood his ground, measuring Aussie with the keen eye of a Navy SEAL, ready to use whatever means necessary.
“What’s your name, mate?”
“Savage,” he said. “John Savage.”
Butcher Boy’s eye winked, the name drawing recognition, the man’s face even more so, but recall eluded him like that thing that hangs just beyond the periphery of sight.
“Well, Mr. Savage, so that you know, bloody yanks like you who pop off at the mouth don’t live too long.”
Savage appeared unaffected. This man was highly volatile and dangerous to the core. But he was also emotional, which Savage thought to be a liability, since the man is more apt to react in blind rage rather than with precise and well-calculated decisions. Later he’d determine the aspects of the others, now that he was forced into the position to dispatch everyone in front of him. And place their bodies next to the corpse of Alyssa Moore.
“I understand,” he said, which drew the boastful smile of victory from Aussie.
“Make sure that you do, Padre. And we’ll get along just fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Aussie winked at him with his downturned eye. “Atta boy, mate,” he said. “I’m startin’ to re-like you.”