“You don’t understand,” Savage returned.
“What’s to understand?” she asked heatedly. “You admitted that you were sent to kill me.”
He turned away. He couldn’t dispute that.
“Well, Ms. Moore,” said Hall, standing in the feeble light, looking grimy in his pee-stained pants. “Welcome back to the conscience world. Have a headache, do you?”
“I’d say piss off, but it looks like you already did that.”
His smile quickly vanished. “You will be far more cooperative from here on in, is that clear?”
“Or what? You’ll shoot this idiot sitting beside me to make your point? Go ahead. Be my guest.”
“Or perhaps I’ll shoot them,” he said, directing his stare to the two senior archeologists. “Their blood is now on your hands.”
“You’re a bastard,” she said.
“So the papers say,” he agreed. “But no matter what you think of me, Ms. Moore, I get what I want. And I want you to lead me and my team to the chamber below.” He looked at her with apathy; his voice holding the same measure of detachment as his gaze. “In ten minutes,” he told her categorically, “we move. So get ready.”
“What’s to get ready for?” she said. “You want me to put on a dress?” She could tell that she was getting to him — could see the brewing annoyance on his face.
“Ten… minutes,” he stated. And then he turned and walked away.
“I’ll say this for you,” said Savage. “You got guts.”
“Shut up.”
Ten minutes later they were on the move.
Eser and Harika were forced to take point with a lamp in each hand, acting as the first line of defense. They were terrified and quiet, as they had been throughout the entire journey, their rock in Noah now gone.
Aussie and Butcher Boy stayed on their heels to provide protection, keeping a vigilant eye forward. They were the second line of defense.
Carroll helped Red along, who appeared as gray and shiny as the tallow of wax. Dark rings circled his eyes. His face shone with sweat and when he swallowed, he did so with agony. It was as if shards of broken glass were sliding down his windpipe.
Alyssa and Savage were in front of them, being prodded along with the point of Carroll’s weapon as Carroll half dragged, half carried his brother with his other arm. Hall took the rear, believing that the danger was in front of them and not behind.
Occasionally, Alyssa took glances at Red and noted the symptoms of toxic poisoning. “Your friend needs a doctor,” she told Carroll.
“He’s not my friend. He’s my brother.”
“You’re not friends with your brother?”
“Keep moving.”
The tunnels and corridors appeared endless in the constant dark. They took steps that were slow and cautious with Aussie and Butcher Boy keeping their weapons held at eye level, pointing the mouths of their firearms between Eser and Harika and into the darkness.
“Ms. Moore,” Hall said. “Are we simply walking hallways? There has to be some sort of passageway that leads below.”
“We’re almost at the room of the Crystal Bull,” she said.
“The Crystal Bull. How intriguing that does sound.” Whatever. “And what is the room of the Crystal Bull?” he questioned further.
“My father believed that this pyramid is a temple glorifying nature and the surrounding fauna when the garden was actually a land of fertility and fruitfulness, the true Garden of Eden. The beasts depicted on the pillars in Göbekli Tepe symbolize the area’s one-time abundance of them. The bull, in some cultures, is the symbol of fertility. It’s also the first room. But there are other rooms of worship. How many, I don’t know.”
“See that, Ms. Moore? Already you’re earning your stay… You’re just a plethora of information, aren’t you?”
“You’re just a plethora of information, aren’t you?” she mimicked.
Ten minutes later, Aussie and Butcher Boy stopped the Turkish archeologists from moving forward. With the same stiff rigidity, they held their weapons raised and their trigger fingers flexing, then resting firmly, with more than half the pressure needed to pull the trigger.
Alyssa looked at Savage who stood ramrod straight and appeared just as intense, the man a barometer to danger. “What?” He turned his ear toward the veil of darkness as if to pick something up — a sound perhaps. “What?” she repeated.
“There’s something in there,” he finally whispered. “And it’s coming closer.”
The great beasts moved with prudence, having witnessed the power of their enemy.
They had seen one of their own go down in the throes of a firefight, their instincts tuned to the fact that these creatures were deadly in their intent to commit mortal damage. So they held back and assessed the situation, their instinct of territoriality so tremendous they were practically driven to suicide runs as an ironic act of self-preservation.
They grouped as hunters and began tapping their raptor-like claws in communication, their frills absorbing and deciphering a complex language of sounds.
…tap-tap-tap… tap-tap-tap… tap-tap-tap… tap-tap-tap…
And then there was a cry, a shrill, the mouth of the beast opening wide and crying out. In unison, they pulled back as if they were of a collective mind and found comfort within the shadows.
From behind the dark veil they watched. They waited. And when instinct finally tells them that the feel of the hunt is truly in their favor… Only then will they attack.
Butcher Boy was looking at the colorful cartoonish screen of the thermal imager. “They’re gone,” he said.
“Move forward. Move slowly. And keep your bloody eyes and ears open.” But when the Turks balked, Aussie prompted Eser with the point of his automatic weapon by pressing its end against his back and giving him a goading shove forward. “Let’s go, mate. We ain’t getting’ any younger.”
Butcher Boy kept his eyes on the imager screen. The corridor was clear but his senses remained heightened. Just because he couldn’t see anything didn’t mean that it wasn’t there. He had learned that in the Philippines when his military unit had taken on a guerilla faction with Muslim ties. The rebels used the jungle fauna as camouflage and hid in plain sight, remaining unseen until it was too late for some, the price of blindness costing the lives of good men.
Within thirty meters they had come upon a small opening to the right, a passageway.
“Ms. Moore.” Butcher Boy waved the imager back in forth across the opening. Nothing — everything appeared clear. Alyssa moved to the fore of the line with lack of prudence, her lamp held out in front of her. “Careful,” cautioned Butcher Boy.
“It’s all right.”
“Nevertheless, Ms. Moore,” Hall interjected, “caution should be a practiced virtue.”
The ramp way was set at a forty-five degree incline, leading into a chamber. Suddenly she could feel the insect-like skin crawl of excitement, the tickle along the edge of the scalp line. Casting vigilance to the wind, she pressed forward with her lamp throwing out a strong circle of light.
“Ms. Moore!” Butcher Boy sounded genuinely concerned as he reached for her and missed. “We don’t know what’s in there!”
“I do!”
After taking the short passageway, she entered a circular chamber capped with a vaulted ceiling. Standing sentinel in the center with the hoof of its foreleg held aloft and its head held high in boldness, stood the life-sized monument of a bull cast in clouded crystal quartz.
She moved closer with a hand held out to rest upon the corded flank of the beast, to touch its sculpted perfection. It stood upon a large plinth of black silica. The points of its horns held the sharpness of ice picks, its mouth was ajar, the image of bellowing domination. Its fore hoof was raised and seemed about to paw the earth, to strike it, to create a groove. It was the pose of unbridled strength and power.