The Kafir Project

by Lee Burvine

  "Yeah, I can see that."

  "No, no, it's a safety deal." Gibson indicated Harris. "She's got to shut this all down by some kind of procedure. Otherwise there could be an explosive event."

  "A what?"

  "The goddamn thing can blow up. So she's gotta stay here a few more minutes to do this thing. I'm thinking we let her finish."

  Merriweather looked back and forth between Harris and the other two suspects. He shook his head. "She's playing us. She's trying to give her buddies in there a chance to pull something."

  A red light flashed on the console.

  Harris jabbed a finger at it. "There. This is exactly what I was talking about. The liquid helium's starting to boil. I have to stop the shutdown process, and start re-cooling. Right now while there's still time." She reached for some controls.

  Merriweather pointed his weapon at her. "Don't move. Don't touch anything unless you're told. You're under arrest, you understand?"

  She didn't flinch. "Hey, you're putting us all in serious danger. You understand that? There's gonna be an explosion here in a few minutes, if you don't chill out and let me do this the right way."

  Merriweather looked like maybe he'd change his mind. He kept glancing back and forth between the two rooms. "Screw it. We're moving her in there with them." He nodded toward the other room. "Let's go."

  "You're making a big mistake," Harris said.

  "You, shut up. And you, Junior," he turned to Gibson. "Cuff her."

  CHAPTER 29

  HANDS ON HEAD, Rees watched through the Plexiglas as two men-one considerably older than the other-handcuffed Danni in the Core's control room next door, and then led her out into the hallway.

  Rees turned his head slightly toward Morgan. "Who the hell are those guys?"

  Morgan had her cop face on. "Stay calm, Rees. See the blue jackets and the badges? They're federal agents. They're here to arrest us for whatever laws they think we broke. Understand? These are not the bad guys. Just cooperate. We'll be all right for now."

  "Okay. Okay, just cooperate." Rees knew he was talking as much to himself as to Morgan. "But whoever's behind killing Fischer set this up. We're being framed or something."

  "Probably. And we'll deal with that later. Not here. Not now. We're not trying to shoot our way out of this. We don't want to hurt them, and they don't want to hurt us."

  Rees hoped like hell she was right about that second part. "Okay. I'm with you. Stay calm. Cooperate."

  The two agents and Danni had reached the anteroom's thick, Plexiglas door. The older one said something to Danni, and pointed at the locking mechanism with the red lever. She said something back to him. He opened the door.

  As they all came in, Morgan spoke up. "I'm DCIS Special Agent Kerry Morgan. I am armed. My service weapon is in a shoulder holster. ID is in my jacket."

  That announcement seemed to throw the men off. The younger agent looked to the older one, like he was waiting for direction.

  The senior agent quickly regained his composure. "Both of you, down on your knees. Keep your hands on your head." He pushed Danni out toward them. "You. On your knees, next to them."

  Rees felt a little awkward sinking down without his arms for balance, but he managed. So did Morgan and Danni.

  The older agent gestured at Morgan and spoke to his partner. "Get her weapon."

  "What are we being charged with?" Rees glanced over at Morgan. She shook her head very slightly at him. "I mean, we're cooperating here. Fully. I just want to know."

  "The sale of classified materials," the older agent replied. "You have the right to be silent, and if you have any sense at all you'll use it."

  He kept his gun on Morgan and recited their Miranda rights. His partner carefully reached into Morgan's parka and removed her gun from its holster, then fished through her pockets and got her ID.

  The older agent reached out a hand. "Give me that weapon."

  His partner handed over the gun.

  Morgan spoke up again. "That weapon is cocked and locked. There's a round chambered."

  "I know what cocked and locked is agent Morgan." The older agent glanced at the ID. He checked something on the gun.

  Then he turned and fired point blank into the other agent's face.

  CHAPTER 30

  Two months earlier-Jerusalem

  THE SUN WAS up but the air still cool as Joshua Amsel walked the narrow cobblestone street that formed part of the Via Delarosa, the traditional route of Christ's journey to Golgotha.

  Amsel's regular two-man security detail walked close by, in front and behind. Their job was simple.

  Prevent the most hated man in the Muslim Quarter from being killed today.

  The next phase of the project was well underway. Amsel wouldn't be able to keep its true aims from his top man for very much longer. That put them at a critical juncture that in fact worried him more than the actual threats against his life.

  A young Muslim boy, perhaps on his way to one of the nearby madrassas, passed Amsel and his escorts coming the other way.

  Amsel offered a smile. "Sabahul khayr." Good morning.

  The boy continued in silence, without so much as looking up.

  Amsel had caused a number of families here to be displaced from homes and businesses. With the help of the Israeli government and military, of course.

  The locals despised him and for good reason. Fortunately, they had no idea what he was really doing.

  If they did, they would literally tear him limb from limb.

  * * *

  AMSEL PASSED THROUGH the dig site's perimeter checkpoint and headed into the temporary structure erected to store and protect the raw, unsorted materials.

  His lead research technician looked up from a four meter long table covered with thousands of dun-colored material fragments. "Hello, Josh," he said.

  "Good morning, Randy."

  Though still in his forties, Randolph Osborn was a fragile man who hobbled when he walked. A three-inch platform on his left shoe made up for a congenital difference in leg length. The result of a genetic anomaly that also rendered him slight of build. To look at him, one wouldn't naturally consider that the weight of the entire world might one day rest on his narrow shoulders.

  Amsel knew otherwise. He also knew that the day was not so far off.

  The material on the table there looked like so many worthless bits of dirt and stone. Osborn was transporting one tiny piece at a time into an isolation chamber. Then scanning the material. Then moving on to the next piece. A laborious, painstaking process.

  Amsel crossed over to Osborn's side. "How are we doing, Randy?"

  Osborn selected a fragment of material from the table with a pair of long tweezers. He dropped it into the isolation chamber. The chamber itself looked rather like an incubator for preemies. "Oh, I'd say we're about fifteen percent through the samples we have sorted. Very different matrix here than in Bosra. Dense and heterogeneous."

  Osborn initiated a scan. Together the two men watched a computer screen that displayed the results. They waited. After about thirty seconds, the reading came back negative. No relation to the target signature.

  Osborn tossed the fragment into a collection bin at his feet. He picked up a new sample, and loaded it into the chamber.

  "Not quite like lifting a three kilogram codex out of a small target area," Amsel commented.

  Osborn made a scoffing sound and initiated another scan. "Not hardly."

  They watched and waited again for the results. And again negative. This sample had also failed to show the proper signature. Osborn tossed it in the waste with hundreds of other bits.

  As Osborn continued his work, Amsel let his eyes wander over the thousands of gray and brown fragments spread out on the table. Somewhere in there lay an historical artifact of unprecedented importance. Without the additional technology that Fischer had created here to identify it, it would be impossible to sort it from the worthless r
ubble.

  The target zone represented quite a large space to investigate this time. The material they were after had been broken up and scattered throughout the geological matrix.

  Outside this temporary building, Amsel's men continued to extract more raw material from that same zone. About twenty meters down brought them to the time period they were after. The centuries had laid layer upon layer of dust and soil upon their target. Though originally it would have lain less than a meter from ground level.

  Shallow by any estimation.

  Another scanning sequence completed. Again negative. Osborn patiently repeated the procedure and launched yet another scan.

  "Well, I'll leave you to your work then." Amsel turned to go.

  "Have you got a minute, Josh?"

  Something in Osborn's voice immediately told Amsel that he would make the time. "Nothing pressing at the moment. What's on your mind?"

  Osborn turned and faced him directly. "I don't have your level of clearance on this project. And that's probably just as well. But I was briefed on our objective. I understand what we're doing here. And I have no problem with it. In fact, I'm proud to be a part."

  "I am as well. But this is not what you needed to tell me."

  Osborn paused. "That objective, as I was briefed on it ... has it changed?"

  Amsel liked Osborn. He was a good scientist, and beyond that he always appreciated the bigger picture. In fact, he was displaying that ability right now. Sooner or later a man like him would look up from the ship to the stars and see that the course had been altered.

  "No, Randy," Amsel said. "The objective hasn't changed."

  "Then what's going on here. Because something has changed."

  "Yes."

  "But not the objective?"

  Amsel inhaled slowly and shook his head. It was time. "Not our real objective, Randy." Amsel paused.

  "Go on."

  "Unofficially, what we're doing right now, here, was planned from the start. It was Fischer's idea and I agreed to make it happen. Fischer's agenda is his own, not the Defense Department's."

  "And your agenda?"

  "My own objective is simply to learn as much as is possible in our field by using this technology while we still have access to it. There was never a good reason to look at nothing but the sixth and seventh centuries."

  "So then the other materials we recovered back in Tel El Dab'a, those weren't really test runs. That was part of your ... what, wider investigation?"

  "I'm sorry about the dishonesty, Randy. It was done to protect you."

  Osborn showed Amsel a cold smile. "Very thoughtful. Who else is aware of what you're doing?"

  "Apart from Fischer and myself, just one of our historians. There are three of us engaged in the expanded project. Or four now. That's up to you."

  Osborn's face hardened. "And what if I don't want to be involved? I can just walk away from all of this? And then what happens?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, will it be a car accident? A suicide? Maybe a mugging gone bad. That always looks pretty random."

  Amsel waited a moment to make clear that his reply was a considered one. "Randy, all I can do is to give you my word. Nothing like what you're suggesting would happen if you choose not to join in this work."

  "That's another thing. What exactly is this work? What are we trying to accomplish, beyond our mandate? Obviously I can't continue in the dark like this."

  Amsel shook his head. "No, of course not. But are you certain you want to know?"

  Osborn didn't blink. "I think you want me to know. You had to figure I would suspect something eventually. So please, Josh, let's stop pretending you didn't plan for this very moment. Probably a long time ago."

  Amsel noticed something behind Osborn. The latest scan had finished. The results were up on the computer screen.

  This fragment's signature matched their target. They had their first piece of the artifact.

  Osborn must have seen it on Amsel's face. He turned around and looked at the screen.

  His eyes lit up. He shook his fist. "We got you."

  As cool a customer as he could be when he wanted to, Osborn could not contain his joy of discovery. Exactly what Amsel had been counting on. Like himself, Osborn had a passion for history that approached an obsession.

  And he had just shown his hand. He was all in.

  CHAPTER 31

  REES INSTINCTIVELY SCRAMBLED backwards, away from the deafening explosion of the gunshot.

  The younger DCIS agent fell onto his back there in the Core's anteroom. He sputtered a couple of times and stopped breathing.

  The older agent turned the gun on Morgan. "You just stay where you are." And then said to Danni, "Were you bullshitting about that explosion?"

  Danni's face had gone about four shades paler. "No."

  He nodded. "I didn't think you were."

  The older agent backed away, keeping the gun trained on them. He opened the Plexiglas door and stepped outside. Then he closed it and pulled that red locking lever.

  Moments later he was gone down the hall.

  Morgan ran over to the younger agent and checked his neck for a pulse. "He's gone."

  "Kerry," Danni said, "get his key. Get his handcuff key." Her voice was just a couple decibels shy of a scream.

  Rees looked down at the man's face. The bullet had entered under his left eye. It made a surprisingly clean, circular hole. "Shouldn't we do CPR?"

  Morgan was hunting through the agent's coat now. "Even if we got his heart restarted-and that's about a ten percent chance-we can't call for help in here. He would just bleed out on us."

  Rees raced to the Plexiglas door and turned the handle. It wouldn't open. The locking mechanism on the outside apparently overrode the inside handle.

  Meanwhile, Danni had struggled to her feet. "Just get the damn key, Kerry, and get me outta this shit. We have to go. Now!"

  Morgan pulled an ID folder from the man's coat and flipped it open. Rees could see it clearly enough from where he stood. The man was DCIS. Her own agency again.

  Morgan pocketed that ID, and took her own ID wallet back from the dead man's hand. She grabbed a key off his belt, rushed over to Danni, and removed the handcuffs. Danni let them clatter to the floor.

  Rees stood there shaking his head. "I don't get it. Why didn't that guy shoot us too? I'm not complaining. I'm just confused."

  Danni rubbed her wrists. They were already ringed with red where the handcuffs had pinched her. "He's making it look like an accident. That's why he locked us in here. He interrupted the shutdown sequence."

  Rees flashed back on the older agent's parting words. Were you bullshitting about that explosion? "Oh, shit. We have to get the hell out of here."

  "That's what I've been saying!" Danni hurried over to the rack of parkas. "He asked me if there was another way out. I told him no, but we can still go through the Core. If there's enough time left."

  Morgan pointed at the anteroom's Plexiglas door. "There's no way to get that open?"

  Danni threw on a parka and shoved her arms through the fat sleeves. "Not now. The liquid helium's starting to boil. It's gonna rupture the cooling system, and the safety program knows that. We could override it from out there in the control room. Not from in here."

  Morgan grabbed the dead man's gun. She slid it into her own shoulder holster, and zipped up her parka. Then she looked at Danni. "Time. What do we have?"

  "I don't know," Danni pulled on a glove. "Less than ten minutes. That's a rough guess."

  Rees ran over to the huge door that led to the Core. "What's the key code?"

  Danni pulled on her other glove. "Twenty-six, twelve, seventeen, ninety-one."

  Rees punched it in. A moment later he could hear the mechanics inside clicking and humming. An indicator light over the door changed from red to green.

  Danni and Morgan joined Rees there at the door. Danni pushed a button. T
he heavy door swung open silently under its own power.

  A blast of super-cooled air spilled out from the Core and splashed into Rees like an invisible liquid. The cold soaked through his parka and gloves like they weren't even there. He shuddered. "Hoo, man! That's ... pretty damn intense."

  "It gets worse." Danni's breath hung in the air in front of her, a white cloud of condensation. When the door had opened wide enough, she stepped through the swirling fog into the Core.

  Rees followed her in. Morgan came right behind.

  Rees felt all his muscles clench in response to the icy air. His body trying to generate heat by burning extra calories. Against this intense cold, that was like putting your hands out to stop a freight train.

  Stacks of modular electronics and hundreds of lighted read-out displays packed the tight space. Like the cockpit of some advanced aircraft, but stretched out into a long tunnel. The engineers had laid out the tunnel itself in a spiral that they were following inward.

  Some of the machinery they rushed past looked familiar to Rees, but all out of scale. He noted part of a standard H3/H4 dilution type cooling system, but something like fifty times larger than anything he'd ever seen.

  On any other day he would have a million questions for Danni. Today all he wanted to know was whether or not they were going to make it out of there alive.

  He raced along behind Danni as she led them through a narrow space between stacks of gold foil wrapped machinery. This section of the Core looked like it had been assembled out of spare satellite parts.

  "Someday," Rees announced through chattering teeth, "I want a real tour of this place. It's amazing."

  Puffs of condensation floated back over Danni's shoulder. "Sure. Someday. If it hasn't blown up, and we're not all locked down in a black site in Romania."

  Rees and the others moved at a near run. It had only been a couple of minutes since they entered, but the vicious cold inside the Core was like a hungry animal. Biting at every little gap in his clothing, trying to drink the precious heat from his body.