by Tom Haase
Secret of the Icon
Donavan Chronicles
Book 3
by
Tom Haase
www.tomhaase.com
Secret of the Icon
Copyright 2015 by Tom Haase
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Characters, incidents, places and
dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance
to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without the written permission, except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical article and reviews.
All inquires can be made to: [email protected]
The Donavan Chronicles series are the:
Secret of the Thorns
Secret of the Assassin
Secret of the Bibles
Secret of the Icon
And the prequel to the series:
Secret of the Oil
http://www.tomhaase.com
TWITTER = @tommhaase
FACEBOOK = https://www.facebook.com/authortomhaase
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE / CHAPTER 1 / CHAPTER 2 / CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4 / CHAPTER 5 / CHAPTER 6 / CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8 / CHAPTER 9 / CHAPTER 10 / CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12 / CHAPTER 13 / CHAPTER 14 / CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16 / CHAPTER 17 / CHAPTER 18 / CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20 / CHAPTER 21 / CHAPTER 22 / CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24 / CHAPTER 25 / CHAPTER 26 / CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28 / CHAPTER 29 / CHAPTER 30 / CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32 / CHAPTER 33 / CHAPTER 34 / CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36 / CHAPTER 37 / CHAPTER 38 / CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40 / CHAPTER 41 / CHAPTER 42 / CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44 / CHAPTER 45 / CHAPTER 46 / CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48 / CHAPTER 49 / CHAPTER 50 / CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53 / CHAPTER 54 / CHAPTER 55 / CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57 / CHAPTER 58 / CHAPTER 59 / CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61 / CHAPTER 62 / CHAPTER 63
A Note From the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
About The Author
PROLOGUE
At daybreak, the populace of Rome poured into the streets with joy and exuberance. They wanted to spontaneously welcome the victorious Allies. The Fifth American Army, under the command of General Mark Clark, arrived late on the night of June 4, 1944 to liberate the Eternal City, the first of the three Axis capitals to fall to the Allies. The celebrations initiated in the morning by the Roman populous continued throughout the day and now extended into the evening. At sunset the lights of the capitol came on for the first time since the German invasion. The oppressive German occupiers earlier and had fled north.
A balmy evening breeze floated down from the surrounding Palatine Hill and meandered along the Tiber. The allies’ headquarters had moved into an area around the Fortress of San Angelo. The staff officers at army headquarters, after a hard day’s work, decided they would go out and join in the festivities marking the liberation.
Colonel Yuri Alexander Alexandrovitch, the Soviet liaison officer to the Fifth U.S. Army, prepared to depart his desk with the rest of the liaison staff. After uncurling his lanky body from a too small chair, he wished the French liaison officer a pleasant evening and walked off with his aide. The aide, a lieutenant, looked like a weight lifter, with no discernable neck and muscles that almost broke out of his uniform in many areas. Together they strode with purpose toward their target located in nearby Vatican City. To any casual observer they looked like so many other soldiers strolling around liberated Rome.
"What would they think back home with two Soviet army officers going to a Catholic church?" Lieutenant Boris Ivanovich asked.
"I don't even want to think about that," Yuri said.
Yuri noticed the young man kept pace with him. He knew the aide’s duty was to protect him while they were with the American army. The lieutenant had delivered the unopened order received by their communication channels from Moscow earlier that day.
He received with some trepidation this order from Moscow, but now he needed to comply with its instructions as the tasks specified in it demanded immediate implementation. After reading it, he realized that it contained a hidden purpose more devious than he could understand, being a thousand miles from Moscow. He had been with the Americans during the entire bloody campaign to liberate the Italian peninsula. He prided himself on learning the basics of the Italian language, which he believed none of his American counterparts ever attempted.
Someone in Moscow directed that they enter the Vatican and retrieve two items. Yuri realized that it must have great value to the person ordering this operation, but he didn’t know the identity of that person. He suspected his uncle but had nothing to substantiate his gut intuition. Whoever, it must be a high-level politburo member to order such an operation and his uncle held such a position. That realization bothered Yuri. This could be a career breaker or a means to higher promotion.
He carefully approached the specified entrance to St. Peters, observing all the festivities going on in the major streets that evening in Rome. Vatican City had also emptied out to participate in the activities surrounding liberation. Yuri presumed that by going while the celebrations were taking place it would be easier to enter the Papal State than trying to break in later at night or even the next day. In the morning, it would certainly be extremely difficult to gain access into the Vatican. Pope Pius XII planned to hold an open air Mass on the square in front of the basilica and a hundred thousand people were expected to attend. All streets leading to St. Peter’s would be clogged.
Yuri’s orders specified exactly where the object rested and how to get there from the side entrance that staff members of the Vatican used. He had no idea how someone at home garnished so much detailed information. But he speculated the Communist Party must have someone in the German or Italian army with access to this level of knowledge. That person may have provided it to Moscow to purchase for a price or out of loyalty to the socialist cause.
When Yuri arrived at the location specified in the order to enter the Vatican, he noticed the locked gate with no guard. The volume of the revelry in the front of St. Peter’s easily reached his ears. After checking around the vicinity to ensure no one observed them, Boris moved forward and picked the ancient lock with no trouble, and they entered. They followed the directions conveyed in the telegraph and soon arrived in a space located within the heart of the Vatican archives.
"I'm glad we’re doing this tonight, Colonel. Tomorrow, the Swiss guards will be everywhere. Why do they want these things?” Boris asked.
"That's none of your business, nor any of mine. Our job is to acquire them without anyone knowing we participated in anything to do with the items. We must get them back for delivery in our own communication channel. Now be quiet and move," Yuri ordered.
Yuri held a membership in the Communist Party and he remained dedicated to the principles of the Socialist Revolution. He enjoyed his current position because of his faithful service to the motherland.
They moved through an open door and descended the stairs to the archive room specified in the order. Boris turned on a flashlight to assist them in descending the steps.
They found the specified chamber. The silence inside the room almost overpowered them after the cacophony of celebration noises outside. Boris turned on the electric light. I
n a few minutes, they uncovered the labeled storage box containing the items. Yuri pulled the box out and put it on a countertop. He encountered no lock, so he opened it. Inside lay a beautiful twenty-nine centimeter by seventy-nine centimeter icon of the red-robed virgin holding the child Jesus. The background was made of solid gold. The Cyrillic alphabet letters above the child's head indicated his divinity. Beneath the icon lay another of the same size. Both icons were flat bas-relief pictures. The second one contained an image of St. John the Baptist at the moment he baptized Jesus. A gem-encrusted halo rested above Jesus’s head and the Cyrillic annotation of “Son of God” at the top of the icon. Yuri took out a silk scarf and wrapped the icons in it, then placed them under his blouse. At least it covered most of the icons. They were heavier than he expected, solid gold garlanded with precious stone, perhaps weighing three kilos each. He gave the box back to Boris, who put it back in its original position.
Then a noise broke the silence. A man sang somewhere in the hall. His footsteps were now discernable. He approached their location.
Yuri signaled Boris to hide behind a stack of boxes near the door. Boris pulled out his combat knife. Yuri held up his hand to signal for the man to wait. Yuri moved with great stealth to a position deeper in the room, but one from which he could see the door and Boris.
“What the hell? Damn staff left the lights on again,” a voice from the outside hallway announced.
Yuri heard and understood the man. He also seemed to speak as if he already enjoyed more than a few libations on this day of celebration. The man walked into the light of the room. Yuri could see a uniformed policeman, most likely the Vatican police, standing just inside the door. He looked around as if inspecting the room.
Boris started to step out to confront the man, but that would surely lead to the man’s death. Yuri again violently signaled with an upraised hand held in a fist to hold his position.
The rotund policeman staggered a little as he took two more steps into the room and then turned to find something on the wall. His hand reached for the light switch.
“Damn lazy people. They know they have to turn off the lights when they leave. Shit, what do they think I am, a janitor?” He flipped the switch and slowly moved from the room. His footsteps echoed down the hall as he moved away.
“Let’s go,” ordered Yuri. He moved from his hiding place, passed Boris, who fell in behind him, and they used a flashlight to find their way back up the stairs.
The two Soviet officers quickly retraced their steps, closed the entrance gate behind them, and returned to their bivouac area. When Yuri reached his rest area, he removed his blouse and took out the icons. Even in the soft glow of candlelight, he could see the beauty of these holy images. He had studied a little about the history of icons and this type in particular when he attended school. To the best of his knowledge, these icons resembled the artwork from approximately the tenth century and were extremely valuable.
Yuri believed these icons were likely made by a master iconist after the Kievian prince married the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor. The Russian people converted to the Orthodox Church when the missionaries from Constantinople arrived. Those missionaries also brought the Cyrillic alphabet to a culture that had none. They were sent to Russia with the daughter of the Emperor when she married a prince of the royal house of Kiev, the oldest continuously existing Russian dynasty. Yuri knew they must be worth a fortune.
How these priceless icons came to be in the Vatican stumped him. As immensely valuable national treasure of Russia that belonged in his homeland. He knew the Vatican contained many treasures, but the presence of these in their possession surprised him. One scenario came to his mind that might have explained the presence of the icons in Rome. He knew it to be pure speculation, but perhaps one of the monks who went to convert the pagans in ancient Russia stayed on for years and eventually brought the icons to Constantinople.
There existed no doubt concerning the historical fact the crusaders sacked that city in the twelfth century and they could have confiscated it. Eventually, it probably made its way back with the knights to the pope who ordered the crusade. The knights could have presented them to him as a token of their gratitude. That made some sense to Yuri, but so what? It served as pure conjecture. But in the end, he accomplished his mission.
The next day he packed the icons into what would be the equivalent of a diplomatic pouch and sent them off to Moscow. Duty performed.
No news appeared of the incident until three months later when Yuri read about a Vatican robbery in a newspaper. The police listed no suspects and no knowledge of the location of the stolen pictures.
CHAPTER 1
Present Day
Near Roanoke, Virginia
11:55 PM
The cold began to seep into his bones. Matt Higgins shivered even with the down parka jacket he wore. He and his partner watched this farmhouse since early afternoon using a hidden position high up the hillside behind the building. He looked up to see a completely clear sky with the stars and the moon easily visible and they provided enough light to see down into the valley.
"How long are we going to stay here?" FBI Special Agent John Hades asked.
"The Intel said it should go down tonight. Whatever this is. They got that from a source." Matt shifted and put the infrared glasses back up to his eyes. We’re only supposed to see if the intelligence is accurate and report back. I reckon that way they can validate the source of the information. I don't see any movement down there."
The trees on the Blue Ridge Mountains rustled with the cold wind, part of what the weatherman called the Arctic vortex that descended upon South Western Virginia the day before. Then the temperature plummeted a good forty degrees since midafternoon.
Matt looked around their position. He believed it completely hidden from anyone looking up from the valley below or from the road leading to the farmhouse that meandered up from the end of the valley. No other road led in or out. The dilapidated wood-framed house stood by itself with only one other building, a small barn approximately thirty meters away. There did not appear to be any animals on the farm. He felt secure in their observation position.
"Hear that?" John asked.
Matt listened but didn't initially hear anything. Then he slapped John on the shoulder and said, "Yes, they're coming."
John picked up his AR-15 automatic rifle with a telescopic sight and checked to make sure he had a chambered round. Both then checked their revolvers just to be sure. Matt elected to carry a handgun. He glanced at John and regretted he made the earlier decision not to carry a rifle.
Suddenly, lights went on in the farmhouse. They witnessed no movement inside the building since their arrival in midafternoon when they climbed over the hill from the reverse side to approach their current position unseen. The lights of a vehicle, presumably a truck, from the noise it made on its approach to the house, were now clearly visible.
"God, I can't believe they were in that house the entire time and made no noise, no motion, nothing that we could see," John said.
"I told the SAC we needed more manpower for this operation. He told me to observe and we could do that with only two. This is supposed to be just a meeting between two groups to work out some details. At least, that’s what they think. I'm going to scoot down the hill to get closer and you've got that rifle to cover me." He glanced over at John but couldn’t see his bright red hair in the dark. His short stocky figure almost invisible with the winter clothes covering him.
“No, you’re not. That’s not our mission.”
“I’m technically in charge here and you are the trained FBI sniper so, yes, you cover me. Got it?” He pulled his hood up to cover his head.
"Watch your ass. Turn on your com gear so we’re in communication at all times. My infrared scope may not be as effective if they keep those bright lights on," John said.
"I'm going down because I’m worried this may be a major part of something big and it may take place tonight. If
any weapons are involved they might be gone before we can do anything about it. That report said these guys are some type of Jihadists training many homegrown followers. It's too late to call for backup now. Wish me luck," Matt said and then moved off and descended the hill.
When he reached a place at an elevation equal to the top of the farmhouse, he stopped. He held a clear vision of the entire area to his front with open territory between him and the building. This should be easy, he thought.
The noise of the vehicle grew louder as it approached. He could now make out the outline of a truck. To his surprise, it appeared to be an old five-ton army truck. It drove up to within a few feet of the front steps and stopped. The main headlights were extinguished. A porch light on the farmhouse came on and the front door swung open.
Matt cautiously moved to a position where the front porch became visible. The overhead light provided sufficient illumination for him to make out a tall man of Caucasian stock. The driver of the truck stepped down and surveyed the area. He gave a signal and four men got out of the truck’s rear.
“Are you seeing this?” Matt asked.
“Affirmative,” came the answer over his com link.
“I’m going to move in closer,” Matt said.
“Wait. Don’t do that. Remember we are only on a recon. You’ll get us in trouble,” John insisted. “Hold it. There’s another guy coming out on the porch and he’s armed.”
“See him. Moving down for a closer look. Might be able to get a photo with my iPhone,” Matt said. He didn’t have a good camera, a definite oversight on his part.
He moved down the hill and across the open area in a low crouching position, ensuring no sound emanated from his passage as he carefully watched the men alighting from the truck near the porch. He saw they all carried rifles. They didn’t look around, no doubt assuming they owned all the firepower they needed. Matt reached the near side of the house by tiptoeing. He inched along the plank siding to the corner of the house.
