Chapter 61
the Kitchen... later
After having split a pot of strong coffee with Nick, Derek had slipped away to the Soviet quartermaster's stores, where he had pulled clean clothes... head to toe... inside out. He had found a razor, shaving soap, and scissors. Now, he felt cleansed... perhaps "reborn" was the better word. Now, he was prepared for what lay ahead. He could carry on.
A warm, alluring aroma enticed him towards the kitchen. He breathed in the fragrance and realized how hungry he was for a decent meal. He pushed open the door and saw that the table was actually set. "What's the occasion?" he asked in surprise. The tableware and utensils might be standard Soviet army issue, but the table cloth was white, the napkins folded, and toilet paper roses sprang from a vodka bottle vase.
Scarcely glancing up from his preparations, Ginge spoke over his shoulder. "Indy didn't believe me when I said I could really cook," he explained. "Me folks owned a pub, the Dog and Duck, in Bristol.... Pop's speciality was bubbles an' squeak and me Mum makes the best Cornish pasties in the West Country. In the army, you learn to keep your trap shut real fast and turn out hog slop... otherwise you spend your whole hitch as a bleedin' cook... and I joined the friggin' army to get outta the damned kitchen... but... what can I say?... Yusuf bagged us a couple of scrawny rabbits... fresh meat... and the kid's been ribbing me.... I couldn't let it pass.
At last, the Brit turned around and his jaw dropped. "What's with the clean cut look?" he asked, studying the precept. Without the long hair and beard, he was hardly the same man. "Might make things a little 'difficult' when we get outta here."
"Perhaps," Derek replied. "We need to talk... but, first I need to clarify a few things that Dr. Harkala mentioned in her notes. I think Yusuf can help. Will you translate?"
"Sure thing, Guv," said the corporal, checking the oven, "after we eat... right?... Then we really talk.... Agreed?"
"Yes," Derek promised.
* * *
A few minutes later, the four men sat around the table. All eyes were on the precept as he took the first bite of the shepherd's pie that Ginge had dished out.
"Mmm...," Derek muttered, nodding his head as he chewed and contemplated the flavor. "Not bad," he said. "A bit gamey, but nicely seasoned... all things considered." He took a sip of water, then asked. "How did you manage the mashed potatoes for the top?... Did you find freeze dried flakes or something?"
The redhead smiled. "No... bit proud o' meself.... The mashed spuds are rice... mashed rice... that is... and some sort of crackers the Ruskies seemed partial to.... Took a bit of imagination, but, if I do say so meself... it ain't 'alf bleedin' bad. You'll keep my secret, right, Indy?" he asked, turning to the SEAL, who was already on his third bite. "I don't want it to be permanent duty."
Nick nodded and grinned. "Sure beats that canned, Russian shit.... 'Bout died of thirst the other day.... Mum's the word," he promised, taking another bite.
Yusuf had watched and mimicked their every move. He had never before sat at a meal in the Western fashion... upright... in a chair. He had followed their lead and had placed the napkin on his lap. "Good," he said in English, as he tried to spear the faux mashed potatoes with his fork.
They slowly finished their meal in silence, savoring each bite. Ginge then rose, cleared the table, and returned with the tea and a small cake. "Another little surprise," he said. "Thought it was about time we had a treat."
"How?" Nick asked in amazement.
"Me Gran-mum's Ration Days Blitz Cake... no eggs... no butter... no milk... not much of anything really... just a little, culinary magic," he joked, as he sliced and served the pastry.
"Yusuf," said Derek. "Ginge... tell him I need to talk to him."
The Brit translated into Pashtun and the boy nodded and grinned... then rapidly replied.
"Has he done something wrong, he asks." Ginge's voice carried the inflection of the boy's question.
"No... just tell him that this is important and that maybe he can help me sort out some of the information in the lady doctor's papers."
Again the soldier translated and Yusuf nodded, then spoke. His voice had taken on a serious tone. "I help," he announced in English.
Derek looked straight into the youngster's eyes and held them. "Do you remember," he asked, "back at the complex when you thought I'd been hurt, you said something that sounded like Zarathustra?... Masruq reacted oddly.... He seemed to shush you and he pushed you away."
The Afghan waited for Ginge to finish, then hesitantly nodded.
"Were you speaking of Zarathustra, whom the Greeks called Zoroaster?" the precept asked.
Upon hearing the translation, Yusuf nodded again. "I spoke of Zarathustra," he agreed. "I do not know the other name."
"What did you say?" Derek questioned.
"It is just an old R'om-vari phrase we use when we are happy or excited," the Afghan explained to Ginge. "It means nothing," he added, looking directly at the precept. He felt as if the hazel gaze could pierce his soul. Could it, he wondered.
"What did you say?" Derek repeated.
The boy instinctively understood by Derek's tone. "Blessed Zarathustra," he replied in Pashtun, without waiting for the Brit's interpretation.
"But you're Moslem," said the older man. "Islam is an enemy of the religion of Zarathustra... what we call Zoroastrianism.... Like Christians and Jews, Zoroastrians are sometimes considered ahl e Ketab, people of the Book, but it did not save them from Moslem invasion and forced conversion. The early Moslem conquerors of Persia drove Zoroastrianism from its birthplace. Many went by sea to India, where they became known as the Parsees, and still exist today.... Did they also come here?" Derek sipped at his tea, while he waited for the lengthy transition to Pashtun.
The tribesman remained silent.
"Yusuf," he persisted. "Why would a Moslem praise Zarathustra?"
"It's just a saying amongst the R'om," Yusuf answered. "That's all."
"Your people were late to convert to Islam," Derek commented. "All the tribes of Nuristan clung to the old ways well into the nineteenth century.... Many tribes were forcibly converted.... What religion did the R'om follow before Islam?"
Sitting across the table from Derek, Nick studied his precept in silence. Damn the man, he thought. He's still playing his cards close to the vest... and he's got hole card... and it's something to do this Zarathustra. The shave... the haircut... hole card or not... does he even have a thought of getting out... of what comes afterwards?... Is there an afterwards?
"Yusuf, this is important. It will go no further than this room," Derek promised. "I swear by Zarathustra."
The boy remained silent for a long moment. A clicking sound echoed from beneath the table. It was Yusuf's nervous fingers toying with his prayer beads. At last, he spoke in Arabic directly to Derek. "Will you swear... on his soul?" He raised a finger to point at Nick.
"Na'am," the precept replied in Arabic. "Yes.... I will swear on his soul."
"Will they?" the boy demanded. He then turned to the SEAL and repeated the question, which Ginge translated. "Will you swear on his soul?" He pointed at Derek.
"Yes," Nick promised. "Na'am.... I swear."
Yusuf then looked directly into Ginge's blue eyes and asked in Pashtun, "Who did you ever hold most dear?"
"Me Mum," the redhead confessed, then repeated his answer in Arabic. "Um-mee
.""Will you swear on her soul?" the boy earnestly asked.
"Yes," was the quiet, but suspicious reply.
"OK," Yusuf said, with a definite nod of his head. "I will answer your questions, Insha'allah." He then turned his chair about so that he could clearly see both Derek and the soldier. First, he spoke to Ginge in Pashtun, then watched closely as the Brit translated. His dark eyes shifted between the two men and shone with an honest cleverness.
Ginge began, "He says, 'It is the secret of the R'om people.... Something we learn with our mothers' milk.... Our valley is desirable.... It is our treasure... the gift from God... but we are not a large tribe. We were warned to remain small and secret for the sake of our home. For safety, we have created a....'" Ginge paused, confused, and spoke directly to the boy... flicking between Pashtun and Arabic. "Ahh...," he finally said, "'...a myth... a legend... of a warrior tribe... protected by the spirits of our ancestors... the Rumi warriors of the great Sikander.' In other words," he commented to Nick and Derek, "...they put some spin on it."
"By Rumi.... Do you mean Greek?" Derek prompted.
"Yes," Ginge translated the boy's reply. "People from the West."
Derek nodded his understanding.... His gaze was intense, his face serious. Yusuf continued and the Brit explained. "He says that when Islam finally won the Hindu Kush in the time of his great-great-grandfather, blessings be upon him, the elders knew that they couldn't withstand the fanaticism that came with it. They were afraid that if all their neighbors felt bound to a fatwah... a jihad... against them and believed that they would be protected by Allah, then everything would be lost. So they, too, accepted Islam."
The young Afghan turned to face Derek and anxiously scanned his face. He did not want this man to think his friends... his family... nor himself... were hypocrites. "It is a true acceptance... a true belief...," Yusuf declared in Arabic, hoping that Derek would understand without translation. "We are good, observant Moslems... but when we yielded to Islam, we did not forsake the old ways. As Moslems accept Christians and Jews as People of the Book... thus Allah is the god of Hazerat Issah and Hazerat Ibrahim... so is Allah, the Almighty and All-loving, the same god as Ahura Mazda... and so is Hazerat Zarathustra his prophet to us as Mohammed, peace be upon him, was his prophet to others. As you said... we are also 'of the Book'."
"So... you were Zoroastrian before... followers of Zarathustra?" Derek asked. He then explained to Nick and Ginge, "I didn't know that Zoroastrianism existed to any great extent in the Hindu Kush.... Before Islam made inrodes, it was believed that the religions here were mostly animistic. Legend has it that the R'om are the remnants of Alexander... 'Sikander'... the Great's army, who chose to stay with their local wives, rather than make the long trek home."
"Yes!... Sikander!" the boy repeated, recognizing the name. After listening to Ginge's interpretation, he sought to explain further, again watching both faces. "Sikander... for whom our Khan is named... was our ancestor.... It happened as you say... but the troops who stayed had already forsaken their Greek gods and had became followers of Ahura Mazda in Persia... when victory was made over the great king there."
"Darius," Derek stated.
"Yes... Dari," Yusuf agreed.
The precept took note that "Dari" was the word for the Afghan branch of the Persian language. Was there a link, he wondered.
"They learned of Zarathustra's teaching, while Sikander's army campaigned through those lands," the youngster explained. "Even then, the ways were ancient. Many soldiers had taken Persian wives... others later took wives here, amongst the mountain peoples.... Some had both.... Sikander always encouraged this mixing of blood and beliefs. It was another way of conquest... for his own empire... not a Greek empire... nor a conquered Persian empire, but his own 'new' empire. There are stories of how he tried to destroy the Avesta, Zarathustra's holy book.... Stories that he hated those who worshiped Ahura Mazda and that he tried to wipe it out amongst his army. This is part true and part false. He married the beautiful Persian princess, Roxanne... not in a Greek ceremony, but in ancient ways of her people. He really wanted to destroy the Persian priests... to rid his new empire of their old, powerful hierarchy... to start fresh.... Not to destroy the teachings of Zarathustra, but to cleanse the Fire Temples of the corruption fostered by their allegiance to the Persian kings. Can you understand that all is not as you might have read or heard?... Our history tells different stories."
Derek nodded gravely. "History is as history is perceived," he commented. "Finish your story...."
Yusuf then continued, "Finally Sikander came here. He crossed over the Khyber Pass, but stopped at the Indus River. His army was tired and sick, they would go no further. They wanted to return home... back to the West.... Sikander was forced to yield. Our ancestors knew that neither their new faith nor their wives would be accepted there. Ahura Mazda sent them a vision of this valley and offered them a pact."
As he waited for Ginge to translate, the young man slowly nibbled at his cake, sipped his tea, and watched the ruhani's face. He then continued, "You know the power of vision. I have seen this in you. It is a wonderful, dreadful thing. Ahura Mazda sent his messenger to tell our ancestors that the valley was special... holy. Since the mountains were becoming 'crowded', it needed protectors.... It was warmed by his sacred fires beneath.
"Long ago, Zarathustra, the Blessed One, had spent years in the wilderness communing with God before his first vision. Finally, Vohu Manah... 'Righteous Thinking'... came to him in the form of a great angel, who carried him to heaven... where all the celestial beings, the Amesha Spentas, instructed him... and he received perfect knowledge of past, present, and future.... At last, he was carried here upon the clouds and shown this place... our valley... with its pure blue lake... and the perfect island that lay in its midst."
"Island?" Derek asked, upon hearing Ginge's interpretation.
"Yes," the boy replied. "We called it the Island of the Fravashi... and built a temple there. The twin to the one that lay below. It is the one below that is the Fire Temple of all fire temples. Zarathustra was shown that place, from whence spring the waters of life.... It is a fiery gateway to the eternal, where Light and Dark are in balance, the finite and the infinite are one, and harmony is absolute.... It was there that he was shown all the worlds... past... present... future... in all realms of existence." Again, he waited and watched. He saw Nick suddenly look at Derek, but the older man did not return the glance. He saw the precept clinch his hand... to cover the slightest of tremors. What words had shaken this man, he wondered. Had Vohu Manah come to him?
"Go on," said Derek, when Ginge had finished and the silence lengthened.
Yusuf poured himself more tea, drank, then continued. "Vohu Manah showed this temple to our ancestors... taught its secrets to a 'Chosen One'... who would be high priest and teach his acolytes the secrets. Only they were allowed to go there.... Only they knew the ways.... Only they could travel the "Fiery Path." The youth saw Nick and Derek pale at Ginge's translation, but why?... What word of his had caused the reaction?... The Omnipotent, All-knowing, and Ever-loving God, by whatever name he wished to be known, was at work here. Yusuf could feel the whisper of power upon the stale air. He gazed directly into Derek's eyes and spoke. "There... in a wondrous temple... the angels themselves worshiped the fire... the life force of the universe... of Ahura Mazda.... The angel told our ancestors to become the guardians of this place... the servants of the flame and the Light... to build the twin temple on the island... and in return he promised in Ahura Mazda's name that the valley would be blessed with winters short and mild, summers long and lush... and the angels would protect us."
"You mean the Fravashi?" Derek asked.
"Yes," the boy replied without waiting for Ginge. "It is said that the Fravashi caused your plane to crash in the year of the Shuravi.... The Fravashi kept the Shuravi away, and before them the Mongols... and the Fravashi scare other tribes so that they do not come. Still we must be careful.... It was shown to the Rumi-Khan in the time of our great-great-grandfathers... so we became Moslem... and we do our duties to God, by whichever name he wishes to be known."
"What became of the island?" Derek asked.
"Many years ago it is said that we displeased God... and he ordered the Fravashi to smite the island... to destroy our temple and make the island sink... but to let us know that he has not forsaken us, he gives us the gift of fish... so that we may take extra time away from our labors to praise his name and works."
Derek nodded. "Yes," he told Yusuf. "I saw this when I was here before. It was a bad winter, even in the valley, and the fish came when most needed. Truly a gift from God."
The boy smiled broadly; his pride shone through.
Derek then turned to Nick and Ginge. "Apparently, there's a fissure at the bottom of the lake.... That may have been what destroyed the island. Every now and again, it belches hot gases. Any fish caught in the rising bubble are cooked by the time they reach the surface. The people then paddle out in their boats and scoop up the fish with their nets. Elsewhere in the world, volcanic gas eruptions are usually poisonous, but this fissure seems to produce a harmless vapor." Derek then turned back to the young man. "The temple... inside the mountain?" he asked. "How do you guard it?... Do you know where it is?"
"We live in our valley," Yusuf explained. "We protect it, as it protects us.... The temple is supposed to be beneath the lake... directly below where the island and its temple once were.... That's why the waters are always warm. For many years there were three ways to the Holy of Holies... to the sacred fire and its infinite circle... but time and God's chastisement took that knowledge from us.... Now we travel the way in prayer and ritual. As we have kept our secret, so Ahura Mazda has kept his. He will show us the way again one day, when we need to know.... One day the island and our temple will rise again. It is why we build no buildings lower than the ancient shore line.... All will be as it once was." The young tribesman grew silent, then looked directly at Derek. "Perhaps, he will show us through you... for I know, in here...." He paused to touch his heart. "...that it was he, who brought you here... now."
Exhausted, the precept hung his head for a moment. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, then ran his hand through his hair and rose. Dear Gott, he mused, could that island have been another Angel Island?... Could the fire temple be another portal?
"Well," said Nick, "does this dovetail with Marina's notes?... 'Enlighten us,' as you used to say."
"It seems to mesh," Derek confirmed. "We've got to find this temple."
Yusuf looked over in shock, then spoke rapidly, urgently, looking to Ginge to translate.
"You've hit a nerve.... He might think God brought you here to show the way, but apparently the destination is off limits," said the corporal. "He says, 'We must leave this place. It has been made evil by the Shuravi. It made you sick.... It weakened you and strengthened the infection.... You must not go. You will only find greater evil... greater sickness.... This I have seen.... You will get sick again... and if you go too far, you will find God's wrath for daring to approach his holy of holies.... He has hidden it from mankind... even from his priests... for a reason. God and the Fravashi will be angry. You may be a ruhani'... whatever the hell that is... 'but you have not been chosen from amongst his people.... You have not prepared or cleansed yourself. These take many years... a lifetime.... You are not strong enough.... You will be destroyed."
"Tell him," Derek said calmly, "that if this comes to pass, then God wills it.... My entire life has been preparation. If it is not meant to be, it will not happen."
"You're joking, right?" Ginge asked, turning to the precept. "It's all a bloody joke... this religious bullshit. While the weather's good, we've got to get our arses out of here and our experts in... to tear this place apart and get rid of that chemical cesspool that's down there.... That's real."
"We can't, Corporal," Derek countered. "We've got to find out what else is here.... What it is.... Where it is.... We can't risk not doing so."
"You're talking bleedin' bollocks," Ginge retorted, shoving himself to his feet. "Why the fuck are we doin' this?... They can airlift an army of scientists in here... with whatever they need.... Haz-Mat gear... all the detection shit to find that stuff.... That's what those guys do.... They're trained to do it.... We're not.... They'd come in... seal the place off... or collapse the whole damned mountain down on it."
"No," said Derek.
"I don't get it!... That's a bleedin' fairy story.... Look.... This place isn't airtight," the Brit reasoned. "It's got a bloody barn door and a thing outta fuckin' Star Trek... and there's a damned river blastin' through those pipes.... These caves could stretch hundreds of miles... and we're all walking wounded.... What if we let something loose by accident... while we're playing at being bloody Livingston? We die... nobody knows... then it's loose in the air and water... not a soul in 'ell knows any fuckin' thing about it!"
Yusuf watched the two men argue and now understood none of it. Was the Englishman arguing the position that he'd laid out... about the evil here and the holiness of the temple... or was there something else? He watched the older man and saw an obstinance as firm and unyielding as the mountains themselves. Certainty lay in the hazel eyes... and an age-old weariness... and something else that he could not read. Da'reek Raheen would do what he would do and nothing save God himself would dissuade him. Perhaps, he had been "chosen".... The Rumi-Khan had warned him that this man was not as other men... and he had seen as much with his own eyes. His kinsman had said he was possessed of an ancient, very powerful soul. "Insha'allah...," the boy murmured. "What happens shall happen... as Allah wills." He would say no more to the men, but his prayers would be long and thorough. Perhaps, God would turn a divine ear to his supplications.
Throughout, Nick had remained quiet. He agreed more with Ginge... and even with Yusuf.... Some things were not to be touched... and he felt sure this was one. "Let sleeping demons lie," Derek had once said. He knew that the Legacy would find a way to work with the military, but his allegiance lay with his precept... as did his faith. "Derek...," he said, at last. He met the hazel eyes and read all that lay there. "You're asking for a hellava lot of trust."
The older man straightened and squared his shoulders in a manner Nick knew well.... Derek Rayne was ready to do battle. "Yes... I am," the older man replied, holding his friend's gaze. "If you can't trust me... so be it.... I'm going... alone, if necessary.
"Corporal Jones... thank you for a fine dinner," he added, then turned and strode from the room.
Ginge stood, open-mouthed. Finally, he turned to Nick. "Indy, we gotta get the 'ell outta here... now.... Let 'is Lordship go off exploring by himself."
Nick sat quietly, while Yusuf rose and began to clear the table. Decisions had been made and the boy feared they were not the right ones, but that was between the ruhani and God.
"Indy?... You're not goin' along with that crap, are you?" the soldier asked, flabbergasted.
Nick looked up at Ginge and, in that moment, in the SEAL's eyes, the redhead looked barely older than Yusuf. He had to bring the Brit around to being a willing ally... somehow. "We've got to go with him.... I told you I don't always agree with Derek, but I always trust him.... He's earned it... a thousand times over." Nick paused a moment. Ginge needed to know more. He had the right to know more. "OK...," he sighed. "Someone sent Dr. Harkala some unknown samples for DNA analysis. It was from something that they weren't even sure had DNA."
Nick read the disbelief in the soldier's face, but he persisted. "Well. it did... have DNA... sort of... and she analysed it... got her scientific 'jollies'.... Then, she wanted to sort out the genes... so she started testing.... She inserted various genes into bacteria and viruses, then injected those into test animals.... Evidently, she was too damned successful.... Whatever happened... she got scared shitless.... Her notes ended with her plan to go deeper into the caverns. I think Derek thinks that she was going to try to find this temple with the flame and maybe take her 'creations' there.... Maybe to store them... maybe to destroy them... but we have to find out if there's anything down there... before anyone else knows about this."
"Indy... that's their job," Ginge insisted. "We're fuckin' amateurs.... How much worse can it be than Ebola or MS spliced into a cold virus?... Derek's playing you.... He wants to play God."
"I'm an expert on Derek Rayne," Nick countered. "I know he's playing me... like his piano.... But take my word... he's not worried about Ebola or plague.... He's worried about giving a whole new class of 'nasty' to the 'boffins'... literally opening the gates of hell." The SEAL finally rose. He slowly stepped around the table to plead his friend's case. "Look at that place down there.... You think our side doesn't have places just like that?... Do we trust 'them'... the paranoid idiots who stockpiled that crap... or the great, scientific geniuses that can't resist Pandora's Box... can't resist creating the 'unspeakable' just to see what'll happen?... Do we give them something that might be a hellava lot worse?... New toys to play with... new ways to kill.... Something that might have a mind and aggenda of its own. Think about it.... Explain it to Yusuf."
The corporal looked down at the SEAL in angry silence.
"I'm not gonna to pull rank this time," Nick said. "Trust me, Ginge.... Trust us... and pray to God that you never have to find out why." Reading the soldier's uncertainty, Nick pushed himself to his feet and pressed on. "Is there any reason why you shouldn't trust Derek?... He came in here... when nobody else did.... He came on his own... when he was already in bad shape... risked his own life and came close to losing it... to save our asses... and, in my book, he did it. Who do you want to see playing God... them... or Derek?... We owe him, Ginge... the way one soldier owes another... buddy to buddy."
"He came to save you," the Brit softly countered.
"Yes," Nick agreed, "...and you got lucky.... You owe him... and that's the
reason you'll go with us... not because you agree, but because it's a debt of
honor that a SAS man should feel honor bound to pay."
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