Endgame: The Calling (39 page)

“If I can’t win, I’ll make sure Jago does.”

“What will be will be.”

She smiles, climbs into the passenger seat of the Peugeot. Renzo hugs Jago one last time and whispers in his ear, “Don’t be stupid and fall in love. Not until the end is past.”

“Too late for that,” Jago says.

Renzo smiles. “Then I’ll see you in hell, brother.”

“I don’t believe in hell.”

Renzo’s face darkens, and he takes a long pull straight from the bottle. “You will, Jago Tlaloc, Olmec Player of the 21st. You will.”

Gobekli Tepe.

Man’s first known temple, surrounded by barren fields as far as the eye can see. Discovered in 1993 by local shepherds, the complex had lain dormant, intentionally buried by some unknown culture for some unknown reason, for at least 15,000 years. Since its discovery, a mere 5 percent of it has been unearthed, and radiocarbon dating places its provenance in the 12th millennium BCE. This is before pottery, metallurgy, animal husbandry, agriculture, known writing systems, and the wheel. It predates by thousands of years the next comparable stonework structures concentrated in the Fertile Crescent to the south and east. Yet there it is, arriving out of the darkness of the last ice age as a complete mystery. It is a fully formed temple, a fully formed city, a vast array of sophisticated structures dozens of feet across consisting of multiple limestone monoliths, each cut to exact proportions, and each weighing between 10 and 20 tons. Some believe that the monoliths themselves, each one a single rectangular column capped by a 2nd rectangle balanced on top, are the representations of men or priests or gods.

Or perhaps they represent something—or someone—else.

No one knows who made it.

How it was made.

Why it was made.

No one knows what knowledge passed through the minds of its makers.

No one knows the extent of their enlightenment.

No one knows.

Açgözlü Akbaba Tap
na
, Temple of the Consuming Vulture, Turkey

Baitsakhan puts his hands on the dashboard of Maccabee’s Audi A8 and leans forward. “What the hell is this?”

“No idea.”

Jalair stops the car. It is nine p.m. and the sun is down. A cloudless purple sky stretches in every direction. They have seen nothing for miles. Only a few cars on the road going in the opposite direction. And now they have finally reached the ancient monument buried in the sand of southern Turkey, the ancient monument of Maccabee Adlai’s clue that they decided to investigate. Each of them—Maccabee, Baitsakhan, Jalair—expected to find a dark archeological site. At most, they expected a few security guards and maybe some students or professors camping out.

Instead, dozens of cars and five charter buses are parked in the lot. People their age mill around drinking and smoking. Some of the women are in head scarves, but for the most part everyone looks urban, modern, and free. Most people are wearing colorful glow-stick necklaces. Some are dressed up like club kids—spiked hair, baggy pants, elevator shoes, piercings, jewelry, lots of skin. Music booms from over the rolling hills. Blue, green, and purple lasers dance in the sky, strobing, streaking, sweeping.

“A party?” Baitsakhan asks humorlessly.

“Yes, I believe that’s what this is,” Maccabee says drily.
I bet he’s never been to a party in his entire life.

“We came here because of your clue,” Baitsakhan hisses at Maccabee. “It better not be a waste of time.”

“You didn’t have any better ideas,” Maccabee snaps back.

They get out of the car. Maccabee unbuttons his shirt to the middle of his chest, revealing a long golden chain with a smooth silver sphere the size of a roulette ball weighing it down. He’s going to fit in perfectly. Baitsakhan and Jalair, who look like gypsies, couldn’t care less about their appearance. Maccabee approaches the closest group of partiers and, in perfect Turkish, asks where they can get some glow necklaces. The kids point over the rise of the hill. He asks how long the party’s been going, who’s DJing right now, if there have been any police or army guys, if everything is going well. He nods and slaps shoulders and breaks out a quick dance move. He high-fives the guys and turns back to Jalair and Baitsakhan. His smile melts once the revelers can’t see him.

“These morons call themselves Meteor Kids,” he says. “They’re here to, quote, ‘Celebrate the end where it all began.’”

“That’s funny,” Jalair says.

“What’s funny?” Baitsakhan asks.

“That they’re right,” Maccabee says. “It’s ironic.”

“I don’t get it,” Baitsakhan says.

Maccabee and Jalair share a look. It is their first look of camaraderie.
He’s so young, knows so little, believes he can simply kill his way through Endgame,
Maccabee thinks.
He will only be useful for as long as a closed fist can be useful.

Jalair opens the trunk and pushes aside a heavy piece of black canvas, and they tool up. Each conceals a pistol in his pants and extra clips, a knife. The blades are ancient and ornate and very sharp. Jalair snaps a leather whip to his belt. Baitsakhan slings a gun belt over his shoulder and across his chest. It has gas canisters and four grenades on it.

Maccabee looks at Baitsakhan. “Really? You look like you’re going to war.”

“These people all look like lunatics; they’re not gonna notice.”

Maccabee keeps his expression neutral.
You’re the lunatic,
he thinks. He wonders just how far he should take this alliance with the bloodthirsty brat.

Perhaps, just maybe, when he emerges from the Temple of the Consuming Vulture, he will do so alone.

Açgözlü Akbaba Tap
na
, Temple of the Consuming Vulture, Turkey

Christopher and Kala stand in a stone circle 12 feet across. The circle is in a depression. Six monoliths, arranged at even intervals around the circle, tower over them like sentinels from the ancient world. Carved into the stones are clear, concise reliefs of snakes, birds, cats, lizards, scorpions. Part of the circle is still buried in red earth. A 7th monolith is toppled over and half covered by a mound of untouched sand.

Kala, toting a small flashlight, closely inspects this last giant hunk of stone.

Christopher is awestruck. “Are we really supposed to be in here?” They cleared a low wire fence and removed a laughable wooden barrier at the edge of the hole before jumping in.