by Rob Jones
THE
REVELATION
RELIC
OTHER TITLES BY ROB JONES
The Hunter Files
The Atlantis Covenant (The Hunter Files #1)
The Revelation Relic (The Hunter Files #2)
The Titanic Mystery (The Hunter Files #3) COMING SOON
The Joe Hawke Series
The Vault of Poseidon (Joe Hawke #1)
Thunder God (Joe Hawke #2)
The Tomb of Eternity (Joe Hawke #3)
The Curse of Medusa (Joe Hawke #4)
Valhalla Gold (Joe Hawke #5)
The Aztec Prophecy (Joe Hawke #6)
The Secret of Atlantis (Joe Hawke #7)
The Lost City (Joe Hawke #8)
The Sword of Fire (Joe Hawke #9)
The King’s Tomb (Joe Hawke #10)
Land of the Gods (Joe Hawke #11)
The Orpheus Legacy (Joe Hawke #12)
Hell’s Inferno (Joe Hawke #13)
Day of the Dead (Joe Hawke #14)
Shadow of the Apocalypse (Joe Hawke #15) COMING SOON
The Avalon Adventures
The Hunt for Shambhala (Avalon Adventure #1)
Treasure of Babylon (Avalon Adventure #2)
The Doomsday Cipher (Avalon Adventure #3) COMING SOON
The Cairo Sloane Series
Plagues of the Seven Angels (Cairo Sloane #1)
The Raiders Series
The Raiders (The Raiders #1)
The Harry Bane Thriller Series
The Armageddon Protocol (A Harry Bane Thriller #1)
The DCI Jacob Mysteries
The Fifth Grave (A chilling Wiltshire crime thriller)
Angel of Death (A chilling Wiltshire crime thriller)
THE
REVELATION
RELIC
THE HUNTER FILES
№2
R O B
J O N E S
For my son Tom, an adventurer at heart
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Other Books by Rob Jones:
The Hunter Files
The Joe Hawke Series
The Cairo Sloane Series
The Avalon Adventures
The Raiders Series
The Harry Bane Thriller Series
The DCI Jacob Mystery Series
CHAPTER ONE
Summer, 1988
They had driven through the day, crossing a large part of the Sinai Peninsula and not reaching their destination until sunset.
It was a hard, dangerous route, and Vladimir Neverov cursed in the back seat of the GAZ-69 as they bounded down yet another sand dune. The old Soviet-built four-wheel drive was a relic from the production line back in Gorky during the Krushchev Thaw, but the journey had been hard-going and it felt like the rear suspension was about to give up the ghost.
The young KGB officer aligned his compass rose with their present position and rotated the scratched glass housing until the arrow was oriented to the north. Then he turned the map and compass together until he had the final bearing. Like the rest of the team, he was keen to reach the final destination before full dark. Back in the Moscow winter, serious men in dark suits were anxiously awaiting them to report back with their findings.
“Update.”
Neverov turned and saw his boss, Mikhael Grudinin. Another serious man in a dark suit, only this one was sitting beside him on the other side of the GAZ. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
“We’re almost there, sir.”
Grudinin shook his bald head and stared out of the window at the endless sand. “Damn this place. I could be at home now, sitting in front of a plate of kurnik.” His mind drifted to the heavenly smell in his kitchen when his wife prepared his favorite savory dish, a delicious dome-shaped pie stuffed with chicken, eggs, onions and kasha. “Instead I am here. I hate these cursed missions.”
“Sir?”
“You think I joined the Committee to chase stupid superstitious shadows out in the deserts of Egypt?”
When he said Committee, he meant KGB, and from the tone of his voice Neverov guessed his boss had not joined it to search for holy relics.
“What makes you think we’re chasing stupid shadows, sir?”
Grudinin huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head at the poor naïve fool sitting next to him. “You have a great deal to learn about this world, Volodya.”
Neverov was surprised to hear the old man suddenly use the shortened version of his name, but kept his shock concealed from the much older, jaded man.
“And what do I have to learn, sir?”
“The stories in the Bible are just that – stories. Scary stories designed to keep gullible people like you in line.”
Neverov wasn’t so sure, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
In the front seat of the GAZ, beside the driver, the Greek archaeologist leading the mission laughed and shook his head.
“Is something amusing you, Professor Samaras?” Grudinin asked.
“Nothing at all, Colonel.”
A tense pause. At the steering wheel, Agent Medinsky reached the bottom of the dune and struggled to navigate a bend in the rocky track. Dropping down into second for extra torque, the old engine growled and belched a cloud of dark blue diesel fumes into the air behind them.
“Please, Professor,” Grudinin said. “You can speak freely in here.”
Samaras turned and propped his elbow up on the back of the worn leather seat. “You really think God is just a fairy tale?”
Grudinin stared at him, inscrutable and cold. “I am an atheist, Professor. So, yes.”
“Ah, a good Party Man.”
“It’s a personal conviction.”
Samaras nodded and grinned. “Of course. I apologize.”
“But you disagree with me?” asked the Russian.
“I am a true believer, Colonel. So, yes.”
Grudinin managed a smile. “And you have every right to believe in whatever you choose.”
“But what if it’s more than just belief?”
The young Agent Neverov watched the conversation going back and forth like a tennis match.
“Explain,” Grudinin said flatly.
“What if I have seen things and t
ouched things that prove to me that the stories in the Bible are true?”
Grudinin thought for a moment, determined not to be caught out. “The stories being true would not necessarily prove the existence of God.”
“What if I have seen things that prove to me God is real?”
The Russian colonel shook his head. “No, no. You’re just being provocative.”
“I think maybe when you see what’s in the Tomb of the Disciple you will have to ask yourself some serious questions. Maybe even completely change the way you see the universe.”
“But what exactly do you think we are going to find out here?” Neverov asked. “My briefing notes were vague.”
“Deliberately so,” Grudinin said with a knowing smile.
“But Professor Samaras seems to have an idea, sir.”
The Greek man laughed. “I have searched for the Tomb of the Disciple my entire career, young man. If we find what I think we might find, then our lives are about to change forever.”
Neverov leaned forward like a curious child. “But what might we find?”
Samaras nodded at Grudinin. “Something he doesn’t want the Americans to find.”
Grudinin laughed. “If you mean something that will help us end the Cold War in our favor, once and for all, then perhaps, but I remain sceptical.”
“Some say we will lose this war,” Neverov said, earning a sharp look from his superior.
“How can we lose against the Americans?” said Grudinin, wagging a finger of admonishment in the young officer’s face. “And I wouldn’t talk like that if I were you. Moscow has a way of hearing everything a man says.”
Samaras sighed. “If we find what I think we’re going to find, I would be less worried about the Americans and more worried about…” he pointed his finger up at the sky. The truck rocked them all back and forth as Medinsky pulled it around another bend, tires slipping and skidding on loose scree.
Grudinin laughed, but this time it was laced with uncertainty. He changed the subject. “Just because General Patrushev thinks the end of the world is out here somewhere, hiding in some crumbling scroll or inside a bottle, I end up spending three weeks away from my family. How much further is this damned place, Agent Neverov?”
Back to formal titles. Much better, Neverov thought. He turned back to the folded paper map in his lap. “Not much further, Colonel. Two or three miles.”
As they moved further south, they gained elevation and the sand gave way to a rocky landscape of feldspar and volcanics. The military vehicle struggled to climb another hill. The driver shifted down to first gear to increase torque as the tires slipped on the rock chips and orange sands. Spying a shallower gradient to the north, he spun the wheel to the right but they quickly hit a patch of much softer sand. The entire vehicle lurched violently to the right.
Almost tipping over, Neverov gripped onto the back of the seat in front of him as Medinsky struggled to control the problem. The map slipped off the KGB officer’s lap as he stared down the steep slope of the hill. If they tipped over, the roll to the bottom would be a brutal lesson in desert driving and probably write off their vehicle, not to mention the possibility of killing someone.
For a terrifying moment everyone on board was certain they were going over, but then Medinsky finally negotiated a safer passage and brought the GAZ back around to more level ground before finally cresting the peak of the hill.
Neverov breathed a silent prayer, but his gratitude for still being alive was cut short by a breathtaking view stretching out to the west as they drove down the slope on the other side of the hill. The Egyptian sun was a blood-red semi-circle, cut in half by the desert horizon, and its soft, hot light was streaking across the ancient sands and lighting this desolate world a mellow amber.
The bleak landscape grew dark fast, and Medinsky switched on the headlights as they drew closer to their goal and the end of their mission. Neverov pulled the map and compass from the footwell and brushed the sand and grit from the creased paper. Realigning the compass on the map, he was relieved to see they had arrived.
Relieved and terrified.
Still new to the KGB, he wondered if every mission would be as unnerving as this one. Even his boss, the hard-nosed Yury Grudinin, fresh off the plane from Moscow, had worked hard to hide his nerves as he gave the briefing to the select group of field agents. The file, marked OB - Особой Bажности – raised a few eyebrows when it landed on their desks. Russian for Particularly Important, this was their equivalent of Top Secret, and the highest level of secrecy in the Soviet Union. Most work that came their way was usually a classification or two below this level so they all knew something critical to their nation’s security was at stake.
None of them could have guessed just how critical it was, and not just to their own nation but to the entire world. Critical, and so bone-chilling that three of the men had begged to be transferred off the mission after reading Grudinin’s vague outline of the task to come. Hints, nudges and winks moved slowly along the dull, underheated corridors of the Lubyanka. Even young Neverov had considered walking away, but he knew success in such a terrifying task would please people at the very top of the Kremlin and all but guarantee his future in the Communist Party.
“We’re here,” Neverov said. “According to our briefing notes, we have reached the location of the tomb.”
Samaras’s eyes lit up like lanterns. “I see it – hidden in that crevasse over there!”
Neverov squinted into the gloom. “It’s barely visible.”
“But I know what I’m looking for,” the Greek man said.
Grudinin tapped Medinsky on the shoulder. “Kill the engine and get the men to set explosives at the entrance to the tomb. I want this done as fast as possible. American satellites are due to pass over the area in less than thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
Neverov climbed out of the GAZ just in time to see the sunset lighting the peak of Mount Sinai. A desert valley wind whipped along and cooled the sweat on his brow. His skin prickled as he imagined Moses taking the Ten Commandments from God on that very peak. Not that he would ever tell Colonel Grudinin he’d had such a thought.
To his left, Agents Medinsky, Lugovoy and Gubenko had set the explosives in a narrow gully at the base of what the briefing notes had described in technical Russian as an alluvial apron. It just looked like a crumbling ridge of loose rocks to him. The three men clambered back up over some boulders and reported back to Grudinin.
“Everyone behind the GAZ,” the Colonel said.
When he gave the order, Gubenko triggered the explosives and blasted several tons of Egyptian granite out into the purple twilight. When the dust and rock chunks had settled back to earth, they all saw an oval-shaped aperture in the rock around five and a half feet high.
“Smaller than I thought it would be,” Lugovoy said.
Gubenko spat on the sand and sniffed. “Who gives a damn how small it is?”
Samaras smiled. “The average height of a man during the Bible age.”
Grudinin was already padding up to the entrance. “We must hurry. I don’t want the satellites seeing us here. Professor Samaras, you’re up front with me.”
“Should I watch the truck?” Neverov said.
Grudinin laughed. “You think the goats will take it somewhere? No, we can leave the truck.”
They entered the hole and followed a narrow passageway into the side of Mount Sinai. The evidence that it was manmade was everywhere – chisel marks in the rock and even some scuffs left behind by the sandals of those who had carved it out. There were no twists and turns, just a long, straight tunnel inclining deep down inside the mountain. After a ten minute walk they found a small room-size chamber filled with chests and stone idols.
Samaras blew out a deep breath. “Look at these idols!”
Grudinin pushed a button on his digital watch and lit up the time. “Forget about the idols and search the chests. Time is running out.”
&
nbsp; His men got to work, roughly prising the chests’ lids off with crowbars and quickly going through the contents. Gold coins, plates and goblets and uncut gems spilled out onto the dusty floor, but none raised even a flicker of interest in Grudinin. Then, Neverov gasped. The Russian colonel walked over to him and looked down into the chest he had been searching.
“My God.”
“Literally,” Samaras said.
Neverov noticed Medinsky and Lugovoy each take a step back. Gubenko, on the other hand, moved closer, his eyes wild with untamed curiosity.
“But what does this mean?” Neverov asked.
“Yes, Dr Samaras,” the Colonel said. “Can you tell us what we have here? Have we found what General Patrushev is looking for? Only you are qualified to authenticate it.”
Samaras tottered closer in the chamber, his dark unblinking eyes fixed on the cache before the tomb raiders. As he drew nearer, he brushed past Medinsky’s arm and knocked his flashlight onto the floor. The KGB man swore at him in Russian, but the archaeologist was too enthralled by the glittering haul that he didn’t notice.
“Well?” barked Grudinin.
Samaras picked up an impressive statue of an ox and began to study the inscriptions and images painted on its surface. Carefully turning it in his hand and checking the reverse, his lips bent into a nervous smile. “Yes, this is the work of John the Apostle.”
“You’re certain?”
“I have spent the last thirty years studying for this moment, Colonel.” He blew a powdery dust from the glaze to reveal a dull sheen and a little more of the inscription. “It’s magnificent.”
“And you’re totally certain?”
A quick nod and then his eyes swivelled back to the statue. “Yes, I am quite sure.”
Grudinin needed no further proof. “Lugovoy, take the statue from Professor Samaras and get it back to the truck. Gubenko and Medinsky, go with him. Prepare us for the journey out of this hellhole.”
“Sir.”
Samaras’s eyes sparkled in the yellow glow of the flashlights. “What we have found here will change the world, Colonel. All of our lives have just changed forever. We are about to go on a wonderful journey into a new era of enlightenment and belief.”
