Forty-Eight X (36 page)

Lemuria was a myth that men had tried to make into a new reality. Julius Wagner was too much the scientist to bring himself to destroy a new species, so he placed the remaining DNA of the first humanzee in Stanford’s cryogenic storage facility. For the time being, Lemuria would remain a myth.

S
even years later, Link McGraw had his star. He was a brigadier general assigned to direct another peacekeeping mission in Southern Somalia. For decades one warring clan after another fought for a dwindling piece of fertile land. And year after year, the United Nations or other benevolent states would send soldiers to try to stop the slaughter. But the land was clearly dying. A country that had always been principally desert was being enveloped by more desert with each passing year. When there weren’t monsoons and floods, there were droughts or dust storms. It was almost always intolerably hot. And there was always famine. Unless the world poured its wealth into irrigating a desert and educating people to care for the land, this country would never see peace. Short of that, McGraw knew he was on a humanitarian mission that would never end.

His troops had retaken Kismayo Airport. Located ten kilometers northeast of the city, the airport had been a former Somali air force base. Over the years it seemed just a pawn traded back and forth between governments, warlords, and peacekeepers. This week it was McGraw’s turn to control the derelict airfield. The roads in Southern Somalia were in terrible shape. Resupply along those routes was always dangerous and unreliable. With the airfield, he thought his men would be well supplied for a while.

The airfield bordered the ocean, and there was a strip of jungle to the south. He took a couple of Humvees and, with helicopter support, headed south to check his perimeter defenses. When he arrived, he found two platoons of his men well dug in and spaced. They had their backs to the airfield and the sea and were well prepared for any assault from a jungle area in front of them. But they were behaving strangely. They were tossing MREs, their ready-to-eat rations, into the tree line.

“Cavanaugh, what are you doing?”

A lieutenant popped to attention and saluted. “Sorry, sir. We were just trying to lure them out again.”

Instinctively, McGraw pulled his M9 9mm Beretta pistol.

“There’s no hostile contact, sir. They’re monkeys.”

And then he saw them—several chimpanzees, mothers with their white tail-tufted babies clinging to their backs. They grabbed the treats and darted back into the jungle. McGraw knew that the Pan troglodyte species of chimpanzee was native to eastern Africa. They were also rare and endangered. Feeding them would do no harm.

“All right, carry on.” And McGraw turned to leave.

“You’ve got to see this one, sir.”

The lieutenant retrieved one of his RLW (ration, lightweight) meals. Unlike MREs, these were precooked, dehydrated, and hermetically sealed packages. Unless the food was mixed with water, it tasted like and had the consistency of wood chips. And it took some doing to open them, as well. He tossed the RLW like a hand grenade into the woods. A moment later, a larger animal came out, a male, at least six feet tall. McGraw watched, entranced as were his men, as the chimp advanced to retrieve the packaged food. Chimps had arms longer than their legs, and stooped over, they traditionally “knuckle-walked.” This one did not. It stood more upright, and when it did “knuckle-walk,” it never let its right hand drag the ground. And then the animal did something even more remarkable; it picked up the RLW, tore open the package, and began spitting inside to “water” the contents. The chimp then mashed up the moistened contents and squeezed the contents into its mouth.

McGraw knew that chimps were smart. They often copied favorable behaviors. Was this something the animal had been taught? McGraw surprised his men when he began walking toward the animal.

“Sir,” the lieutenant called after him. “Be careful. They might be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” McGraw replied facetiously. “I know my monkeys.”

The general holstered his weapon and walked steadily forward, the animal eyeing him every step of the way. He stopped when he was but a chimp arm’s length away. Was this one of his troops? No, this one was too young, maybe six or seven years old. The two creatures—man and ape—stared at each for a long moment. The chimp then turned and walked away. McGraw was about to depart as well when he had one more thought. He retrieved a candy bar from his pocket and threw it at the chimp. Although the animal had its back to him, it turned quickly, caught the treat in midair, and simply walked on. Was it just good timing, McGraw wondered, or was it synesthesia? No matter, he thought, that was a past life and he had to be back at his base camp before dusk. His covering choppers overhead nearly drowned out the call, but he was sure he had heard it and he turned again to peer into the jungle overgrowth.

“Semp fah,” he heard the voice say again.

Hidden in the woods, behind myriad of shades of green, he glimpsed patches of gray. And then, for the briefest moment, he saw the eyes—an older chimpanzee was looking back at him.

“Semp fah,” the general said and he raised his right hand slowly to his brow—a salute, a hello, and a farewell.

After her miscarriage, Fala and Joshua settled in Cyprus. America, they both felt, was, well, too American—too arrogant, insular, and full of materialism. They also wanted to separate themselves from the turmoil of politics in the Middle East but yet be near to the heart of their interests, Mediterranean culture and archaeology. Cyprus was perfectly located for their work—an island cradled between the ancient cultures of Rome, Greece, Egypt, Israel, and the Islamic empires of the Middle East. They had a small home in the hills overlooking Nicosia, the capital. With the exception perhaps of Jerusalem, Nicosia was the only divided capital city in the world, the north controlled by Turkish Cypriots and the south by the Greeks, with the United Nations holding a demilitarized green zone between them.

Being neither Greek nor Turkish, they found themselves welcome in both worlds. Krantz also found himself welcome back into the world of Israeli intelligence and often flew home to consult. Although there were no more antique weapons that required his expertise,
Aman
found his ability to think “out of the box” useful.

“What do you think?” General Echod asked, handing him a document with lots of blacked-out redactions, but whose language and source were clear. What he was reading came from American intelligence.

“Refugees fleeing small communities in the lower Juba region of southeastern Somalia are reporting the area as under the control of a new warlord. Contacts have been minimal… atrocities… casualties… their leader… a heavily bearded black man… stutters… wearing a camouflage garb… known as Colonel Maimun.”

IN THE UNDERGROUND OF
contemporary Eastern Europe lies a treacherous world contaminated by more than Chernobyl radiation and industrial hazard waste. As communism collapsed, the foothold of the social order gave way to a lurking subculture of child pornography and human trafficking in prostitution.
Traffyck
, as they say.

A former runaway and nightclub stripper, Mariya Nemeth was a discontented only child raised by her Hungarian mother in an Orthodox background. She pulled herself from the dredges of wretchedness to attend business school and marry Viktor Patolichev, a man she believed had abandoned his shady past. One day Mariya learned his past was present. Viktor had been murdered, a consequence of his sex trade operations.

When private investigator Janos Nagy, ex-militiaman, enters her life to probe the case in Kiev’s Podil District, Mariya knows she has met the real passion of her life, a lover immersed in the romance of Gypsy culture. From Chicago’s Humboldt Park to the Romanian Carpathian Mountains to the bleak abandonment of Ukraine, a frightening chain of events threatens to end Mariya’s life as the truth unfolds. Together they must combat perversion and pleasure deemed unacceptable by educated society.

Savvy and perceptive, only Janos can protect her… if it isn’t already too late.

ISBN# 978-160542105-6
Hardcover
US $24.95 / CDN $27.95
Thriller
Available Now
www.michaelberes.com

No maps. No checkpoints. No support crews.

Darwin’s Race is the most ambitious adventure race ever attempted, pitting twelve hardened racers against each other and the daunting elements of the world’s deepest and unexplored gorge. The first to reach the top of the 22,000-foot Kuk Sur will claim a $2 million prize and the first summit of one of the last remaining unclimbed Himalayan peaks.

Conner Michaels, haunted by his brother’s mysterious death on Kuk Sur six years earlier, decided to come out of seclusion to lead one of the teams and to once and for all determine what happened to his brother. On his team, Preston Child, the millionaire financier of the race, and his beautiful daughter, Malika, harbor their own dark reasons for descending into the gorge. And hotshot television producer Terrance Carlton, bent on a ratings bonanza, outfits each racer with a shoulder-mounted camera for live broadcasts around the world.

But as the racers plunge deeper into the legendary gorge, death follows. And as the carnage mounts in the treacherously remote mountains, the racers—and millions watching the tragedy unfold on television—realize the mist-shrouded gorge is not as uninhabited as they believed.

ISBN# 978-193475507-5
Mass Market Paperback
US $7.95 / CDN $8.95
Thriller
Available Now
www.myspace.com/BrianUllmann