Chapter 60
the Next Day...
Ginge heard the kitchen door and looked up from his map, which he was recopying to a large sheet of white butcher's paper that he'd found in his searches. "What's up, Indy?" he asked, then he read the SEAL's face. "Ah... you've lost 'im again.... He was in the mess hall for a bit... bangin' away at that old piano....
"You know," the Brit chuckled, "even with one hand lamed up and an out of tune piano with 'alf a dozen dead keys, he ain't 'alf bad. Yusuf hadn't ever heard anybody play piano before.... Not sure if he liked it or not."
Nick nodded and gave a weak smile. He'd heard Derek playing... and had heard the restless frustration vented through the keys. It was that restlessness that worried him. "But you haven't seen him since?" he asked.
"Nope," the Brit replied. "But if he's gone AWOL, he's done it alone.... The kid took off for the horses.... I've got the map... and his pills are right here." He tapped the bottle of Cipro, which sat on the table. "If you find Derek, haul his arse in here. We gotta talk."
Nick nodded again, turned around, and stalked down the corridor towards the makeshift stable. He never got the precept's name out of his mouth.
Yusuf, kneeling on his small rug, looked up from his prayers and saw the question in Nick's eyes. "Cold," the boy cautioned in English, as he pointed down the tunnel that led outside.
Nick shoved open the cave's steel door and slipped out through the narrow crack. Zipping his Soviet parka, he stood a moment to draw a deep breath of crisp, clean air. After having been inside for so long, it was delicious. His flesh crawled, as he stepped through the hologram. "Jesus! It's cold," he muttered. His breath rose in a cloud of vapor. The world that lay before him... the valley, the hills, the mountains... was white and silent.... It was the perfect Christmas card. Even in the sheltered spaces, the snow lay several feet deep. He saw Derek's footprints leading towards the rock formation where they had hidden upon arrival. "At least I'll be able to track him."
He found the other man leaning against the hard rock, his face turned towards the faint, heatless sun. Saying nothing, the SEAL crunched through the snow to stand beside his friend and enjoy the sunshine. Neither of them spoke for several long minutes.
At last, the precept let out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes," he said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, "I think my whole life is a constant replay.... I'm stuck in this... loop.... The geography may change... but whatever I do... whatever battles I fight... win or lose... I always seem to end up back here... in this position.... Perhaps, it's my personal time loop... my personal purgatory."
"It's bad, then?" Nick asked softly
Derek smiled. "When is it not, my friend?" In weariness he leaned his head against the rock and sighed deeply.
The SEAL stepped around to meet his hazel gaze. "You're not alone... you know.... I'm here... and... I'm staying."
"You don't know how much that means to me," the precept quietly responded. "Remember when we first met again... with you all grown up?... I kidnaped you... you know. I needed you.... I needed what I knew you'd become.... We've been through a lot... you and I... in not so very long a time. Often, we have not agreed.... I think many times you've wanted to...." He paused, searching his memory. "What's your phrase?... You've wanted to 'punch my lights out'."
"Yeah, well... sometimes I still do," Nick grumbled, once more turning away to allow the precept to be at ease. "Did you arrange the bar fight to get me arrested in LA?"
A sad smile played over the older man's face. "No.... That was Providence... but I was watching... and waiting... for her to strike.... I knew she would and she did... and here you are.... You're always here... whatever place... or time.... I think you're my gift from Gott."
"Hey, come on...." Under his scraggy beard, a blush crept over the SEAL's face. "...And what are you?... My curse?" he joked.
"Perhaps, I am," Derek replied, wistfully.
"Crap!" Nick snapped back, regretting his joke. "You've got no idea what you mean to people.... No...." He held up a hand to silence Derek's interruption. It was time that things were said openly and plainly, face to face. "Let me finish.... I'm on a roll.... OK?... I do think of you as my father... the father I wanted... the father I deserved.... It took me a while to get that through my thick skull, 'cause I thought you were covering for Pop. You were his friend.... You were the son he really wanted." Bitterness shaded the SEAL's tone. "Finally, I opened my eyes... and grew up.... I realized why my dad thought of you like he did... and when I did that, I realized that my dad wasn't all bad... because I'd grown to feel the same way about you... for the same reasons.... Does that make any kind of sense?
"But I think of you as my Dad too.... Fathers are providers... protectors.... In only a few years, you've grown to be so much more than that. When I left the SEALs, my life could've gone so many ways... most of 'em bad.... You were there for me.... You didn't kidnap me.... You rescued me.... You saw to it that my life didn't go bad.... You helped... you taught, which is what you do best.... You showed me there was a real choice... a real chance... a real cause."
"Choice?..." The precept snuggled into the fleece of his pushtin. "I wonder.... After all... here we are.... Did we choose this... or was it all part of some grand scheme?... We're moved about like chess pieces. Do we really have free will at all?"
Nick hesitated. Uncertain of what to say, he studied the snow on the toe of his boot. Derek's mood troubled him. This wasn't Derek Rayne, the master game player, the man who would battle Satan himself... for the hell of it. This wasn't God's crusader... his mystic warrior. He couldn't let the conversation die here. He had to find a way to keep it going... to turn it. He had to know if that Derek Rayne... that other side of his friend had survived. He looked up towards the sun, and shut his eyes. He uttered a silent plea, "Please... God, help me to help him." He took a deep breath, then chuckled softly, trying desperately to put a nonchalant smile in his voice. "What'll you do when we get home?"
Derek again sighed deeply. "I don't have much choice. I'll have to try to put Humpty-Dumpty together again. Both the Legacy and the foundation are in a hellava mess... and losing Willem.... He might not have been privy to all the secrets of the Luna Foundation, but he was its underpinnings. I don't come close to him in financial ability. To me it's a chore... to him it was a joy." His voice trailed away. "It's not been this bad since World War Two and the Cold War. Back then, Houses and funds were decimated.... The old order was in chaos. It's why my father, when he came to his full status after the War, founded the Luna Foundation.... It was the Wayfarers' Trust reborn. He was considerably younger than I am now.... I hope I have the capacity... the endurance... to do the same."
"You will," the younger man assured his friend, "and we'll all be there to help.... But if you were free... no Legacy... no Luna Foundation... no museum... none of us... what would you do... just for you, because you honestly wanted to do it?"
The precept remained silent. His eyes took on a faraway look. The SEAL had grown certain that his question had been ignored, when Derek finally, quietly replied, "I think...." He hesitated, furrowing his brow in thought. "I think... I'd do one of two things.... I'd resume my father's digs at Kwahu Canyon... build a little house there... high up in the cliffs, where the eagles nest, like those ancient people did.... Someplace where I could see forever.... Maybe I'd get a dog... and a horse, like Luke's mare. I'd dig for my own curiosity and satisfaction... with no one looking over my shoulder. I'd never publish.... I'd never worry about the proper academics of any of it."
"Or...," Nick prompted.
Derek's lips curved in a soft smile. "Or... I'd buy a piece of land in Holland or California... maybe on the Central Coast... down around San Simeon... and raise tulips and ranunculi.... There are some fascinating, wild varieties in Zarek's valley.... I've always wanted to bring life and beauty into the world... not death and darkness.... Who knows... I might even try composing again.... Once upon a time... I wasn't half bad.... I actually turned out a decent piano sonata."
"Sounds a little lonely." Nick placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Couldn't you do all that on Angel Island?"
"No.... No.... That's a different Derek Rayne.... I wouldn't set foot on Angel Island again until they put my ashes into the tomb," he confessed with a slight shiver. "It would be safer for all concerned... and... and," he stammered, "a part of me craves that aloneness.... It's then that I don't feel alone.... It's then that I can permit myself to open up... to feel life... and God... and... and I don't have to raise my psychic barriers to shut out all that 'noise'.... It can be like nails on a chalk board or a radio, playing somewhere... incessantly... soft... low... not quite tuned in. You try to understand, but you can't hear it clearly. Then you try not to listen to it, but you can't help yourself.... Unless one is able to sense that 'noise', one cannot understand how difficult it can be just to endure it... let alone define oneself... separate one's own essence... from all that...." The precept paused to wave a hand towards the broader world. "...all that 'chatter'."
Nick shook his head. Had his friend changed so much... or had this always been there, lying hidden beneath the surface? "But you love the house.... Could you really leave it?"
Derek smiled. "The house...," he sighed. "We do seem to belong to each other, don't we?... But it's the inhabitants, the family, that I love.... You... Alex... Rachel... Kat... Dom.... Don't pay too much attention to my ramblings.... I'm just tired."
"So what about a family of your own.... Take my word, you'd make a great father. Maybe with Maggie?... You could adopt.... Or Alex... She cares for your sorry ass, you know. Maybe there's someone you haven't met yet?... How long's it been since you really... seriously... thought about that part of life?"
"Alex was very angry with me," said the precept, recalling the emotions that slammed out at him in the lobby of London House. "She wants to talk, when we get back home.... I think she wants to leave... but her loyalty holds her."
"Ummm...," Nick muttered. "She was talking about a leave of absence... to maybe take over from Ingrid at 'NewBe'... until someone permanent can be found. Ingrid wants to return to the convent and Maggie's overwhelmed. Interesting... since Alex and Maggie aren't exactly bosom buddies."
"They must all feel that I've left them in the lurch with New Beginnings." After a thoughtful silence, he added, "Perhaps... it's to be near Officer Jackson?... It might be a goot move for her.... He's a good man.... They'd make a good couple."
A rumble echoed in the distance... from somewhere. "Bombing?" Derek asked, using the moment to change the subject.... Sometimes things just hurt too much....
"No," the SEAL replied. "Maybe an avalanche somewhere high up... over the ridges." He blew on his hands and stamped his feet. "Let's walk.... Ginge explained the concept of brass monkeys to me."
The corner of Derek's mouth tweaked upward. "He's a very basic individual, isn't he?"
"Yup... but he's right.... There're some 'bits' you really don't want to get frost bit."
Derek acquiesced with a tilt of his head and the raise of an eyebrow. "Didn't you put on your regulation skivvies to protect such 'bits'?... I would assume that the Russians knew how to make the best... and from the contents of that video, it seemed to be a lesson our predecessor took to heart."
"He was an energetic guy...," Nick agreed, "multi-talented, in fact.... 'Cept I've seen bigger... and better."
"Have you?" Derek's eyebrow arched even higher as he purposely misinterpreted his friend.
"Sure... every time I take a leak." The corner of the SEAL's mouth quivered, but he kept a straight face as he glanced around for a suitable spot. "Speaking of which...."
"Mmmm...," Derek grunted. "I wonder... why does talk of such things suddenly make one's bladder announce its presence?"
"Power of suggestion... maybe?... Like running water."
The two men stood side by side, both careful to look straight ahead, as they relieved themselves. As the SEAL readjusted his clothing, he felt a weight in his jacket pocket and smiled at the cleverness of his own hunch when he'd grabbed the items along with his coat. "Hey!... I forgot!" he said, producing a small bottle of vodka. "Wanna belt?... It'll warm your innards..." ...and do you a hellava lot of good, Nick thought. A drunk Derek Rayne might not be such a bad thing. He smiled again, wickedly.
"That would be goot." Derek reached for the bottle, took a generous swig, wiped the top, and handed it back to his friend.
Nick took a deep swallow, then coughed. "Jeez," he said. "That's matured pretty good."
Derek shivered and rubbed his arm. "We should head back.... We have a job to do."
"What about Marina's notes?" the SEAL asked. "Did you translate them?"
"Yes... yes, I did. It's not goot." Derek dry washed his face and wearily rubbed at his eyes. The feel of his beard annoyed him. "I'm going to shave before we make a start."
Surprised, the SEAL looked closely at his friend. "But... what if we need to... to blend... later... when we get out of here?... Maybe Kincaid won't be able to get in close enough to pick us up.... You do plan on leaving, don't you?"
"Of course, I do... but I don't think I'm going to worry about blending just now," the precept replied. "After all, I got into Afghanistan without much of a beard... and it's become a distraction that I can no longer afford.... I need to concentrate on Dr. Harkala and her endeavors. As I told you, Marina left the Legacy to marry... and to pursue her career in DNA analysis. The pages you found are fragments.... I suspect they were notes for the preparation of a report to someone... perhaps the Politburo... maybe the UN... or possibly the Legacy.
"It seems that Gregor Dedenko, the precept in Moscow, continued to use her as a private, 'scientific' consultant. Perhaps, he was worried that the Ruling Council might discover what he was up to," Derek explained. "Some questionable material had come into his possession.... He knew Marina was working here... doing research into biological weapons for Biopreparat.... He sent her samples.... apparently organic matter... supposedly of a demon.... Gott knows where he got it... or even what it was. She was to test it... to see if there was such a thing as demonic DNA."
Derek sighed heavily and turned back to face the sinking sun. "I have to believe they were searching for something that could be used against evil.... I cling to the same hope about my own father.... But to do that, Marina had to identify it... to test its effect... to verify that she had the right sequences. I think it started as intellectual curiosity.... I pray so."
"Jesus, Derek.... Don't tell me.... Damned academics.... Don't know when to stop!" The SEAL took a deep drink from the vodka bottle.
The precept nodded. "Once she saw that the samples did have something that could be called DNA... she started trying to identify genes... and the slippery road began... with a bunch of 'what ifs'. Demonic DNA was inserted into a variety of viruses and bacteria... that were then injected into various test animals." Derek massaged his temple, trying to sooth away the beginnings of a headache. "Nick," he continued. "I can't even begin to guess what's in there... what we have to destroy.... I don't know where she took it or what happened. Those notes end with her decision to explore deeper.
"Those maps we found at the pumping station... the old one that had been stuck to the others... and the scrawl on the back of the topographical map. I don't know how they got down there, but they were Marina's. Dedenko sent her the one, then she did what Ginge has been doing.... She continued to explore... and added to it on the back of the other map. She implies that the Kremlin knew of the map and of her work with the 'suspect' DNA... and that this place has something to do with an ancient, Zoroastrian fire temple, which I suspect that old Legacy symbol marks. She wondered which came first... the chicken or the egg. Had exiled Zoroastrians found the place and it suited their beliefs, or could this place actually have been the source of Zoroastrianism.
Nodding, sagely, Nick leaned against the rocks and allowed his friend to slip into his professorial mode.
"Zarathustra was from northern Iran," Derek continued, "but so little is known of his life. Did he visit this place?... Or did he psychically 'see' this place?... Or was he divinely shown this place?... She regretted that it wasn't her field and that they might never know.
"Personally, I think that the fire temple, or whatever it is, is the source of the constant flow of heated water, which was why the Soviets built this complex here. The facilities could be totally concealed with an internal source of perpetual energy. It could also be the source of the warm water and heat bubble in the R'om Valley.... You know these caverns could extend that far.... I think Marina came to believe the same and hoped to destroy her creations at the temple."
The SEAL chewed on his lip and nodded again. "When you said, 'We've got a job to do'.... Do you mean 'we' as in you and me?.... Are we gonna keep Ginge and Yusuf outta this?"
Derek hesitated and once more looked away.
"What!" Nick snapped. "You can't be serious!... You think you can handle this by yourself!"
"No...," Derek replied. "I'm not a fool.... I don't know what we're facing... yet.... I need Ginge's languages, just in case we find more Russian... and I need your help.... But... there might be a risk to you, in particular.... One that you don't know about.... When I was in the coma... and linked to the 'other' place."
"You mean the 'other' Legacy... the 'other' you and me?"
"Yes." The precept smiled. "I know what people think... that it was all in my mind... but I believe it.... I have to."
"So do I," Nick encouraged, emphatically.
"That 'other' Nick... he was exposed to a demonic parasite... called the Mephisto Strain.... It was an infectious evil that almost killed him.... I was away... oddly... in this part of the world... with Ian.... We were climbing... Chogori.... Mt. Godwin-Austen," he clarified, seeing the question in his friend's eyes. "K2... fulfilling something like my last wish before we... me and my 'host' self... returned to Angel Island to begin our grand game against the demons of the portal.... You had been investigating a case of possession near Jenner... at the mouth of the Russian River.... Alex saved you."
"And?..."
"It could mean that you're more susceptible to such things," Derek replied. "You might be at risk, if we get close to something similar."
"Bullshit!" Nick swore. "That wasn't me.... I'm probably less at risk than you are.... You've been possessed... in this world... remember?... If you carry your analogy forward, I'm more likely to be immune... since my dimensional twin fought the infection off."
The precept shook his head, grasped the vodka bottle that Nick handed over, and took long swallow as he struggled with the logic of that proposal. It defeated him.
"Indulge me," said the SEAL, drawing upon one of Derek's patent phrases. "What's AI-86?"
"AI is Angel Island. Eighty-six is the year, nineteen-eighty-six," the older man explained. "It's the ID of the prototype of our first hologram, which was the prototype of all those used by the Legacy. After seeing this one, I feared that, perhaps, our security had been breached."
"Thanks for leveling," said Nick. "Let's walk a bit. I don't want to go back in yet "
"Yes," Derek agreed. "We need to remember how goot... how beautiful... the world can be... to refill our reservoir of resolve."
* * *
At last, Derek took a final slug from the bottle, then upended it. "Empty," he announced with disappointment.
"S'alright," Nick assured him. Reaching into his jacket, the younger man produced another bottle. "Keeps the cold at bay... don't it?"
"Jah... I always preferred brisky... or wandy," the precept confessed. "But, jou know, dis is growing on me."
"'Wandy'!... What the hell's 'wandy'?"
"Brandy." Derek took special care to emphasize the "brrr" sound. "I said 'brrr-andy'." He tutted at his professorial best. "I think you have had too much, Mr. Doyle."
"That right?" Nick took a swallow from the second bottle. "In that case... ain't no sense in holdin' back, is there?"
"I guess tomorrow will be as goot a day as any to finish our task." Derek agreed. He paused, swaying, to gaze at the white, unmarked snow. "Do you know at school... we used to write our names in snow like this... so clean and smooth."
"Boy, that must've been a fun place!... What else did you do for kicks?... Polish the silver?"
"But we did not use our hand to write... well...." A wicked grin crossed the precept's face. "...Not directly... anyway. We fiss'd our names."
"You 'fissed' your name?... Is that anything like pissing your name?" Nick's face broke into a wide grin. The thought of little Derek Rayne "weeing" his name in the snow delighted him... and what delighted him more was that Derek Rayne was snookered. "We used to make bets on who could piss the highest up a wall," the SEAL admitted. "The tall guys had a definite advantage... unless your spigot had a pretty good pump behind it, which mine did."
"I wonder if I could still do it," Derek considered, reaching for the bottle once more.
"You gotta be kiddin'," Nick laughed. "I dunno, Derek... age is creeping up.... Bladder control's one of the first things to go.... Then the hair... then the teeth.... 'sides... don't wanna freeze any 'bits' off."
"I am not old," Derek proclaimed with indignation, "and my bladder is just fine. I'll show you." He returned the bottle to the SEAL, positioned himself in front of a slope of virgin snow, spread his legs, and chewed on his lip as he concentrated. "Here we go...." A fine, amber stream carved a shaky "D" into the drift. "Derek... you are...." He grinned triumphantly as steam rose from the whiteness. "Match dat."
"No problemo," Nick countered, his voice slightly louder than intended. "The honor of the US Navy's at stake."
Both men stood surveying their handiwork. "Yours is not an 'N'," Derek protested, chugging more of the clear liquor. "It looks more like a 'Z'... Zick.... Zick.... Dat sounds like a Dutch name."
The SEAL reached for the bottle and took a long pull at the vodka. "It's an 'N'... but from a different direction. 'Sides... yours looks like Dick, not Derek.... Dick written with a dick," he laughed.
"What the fuck!"
Both men turned around to see Ginge and Yusuf standing behind them.
"What a fuckin' example to set for the kid!" Ginge grinned.... So these two
were human after all. "Zip up, guys.... Jack Frost don't just nip fingers and
toes." He turned to the young Afghan. "Yusuf... coffee... not tea.... Strong
enough to grow hair on a snowball.... Come on, you two...."
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