by J. M. LeDuc
CHAPTER 50
Twenty minutes later, the Humvee was gone and the four were strapped into the B1 ready for takeoff.
“Once we’re airborne, Bishop, I need you to get to work translating the words we found back in the Holy of Holies. With any luck, they’ll lead us to the whereabouts of the Ark,” Brent said.
The radio crackled and Q’s voice could be heard saying, “Put your helmets on, boys. We’re thirty seconds from leaving this tropical paradise. I’ll count us down from ten.”
Seven looked at the Bishop. His knuckles were white from holding on to the seat so tight. Seven looked at Brent and smiled. “Some things never change.”
Brent smiled back and then clenched his own fists as Q counted down to one. The force of the B1 going from zero to takeoff speed was enough to not only push your entire body back against your seat, it felt as if your organs were about to implode. I don’t know how we’re not all victims of blunt forced brain trauma, Brent thought as the back of his head became glued to the head rest.
Once at cruising altitude of just over 55,000 feet, the Bishop got to work with the translation of the words. Again as in times past, there really wasn’t anything to translate. Though the words were in an ancient form of Hebrew, he wrote them all in English when he copied them. His God given gift at work.
Brent watched intently as the Bishop read and reread the words written on the page. The look of confusion on his face told Brent everything he needed to know.
“What do you have?”
“Another riddle or something like one. It doesn’t mention the Ark, though I’m pretty sure it speaks of it.”
“Read it out loud, so we can all hear what you’ve found.”
The Bishop cleared his throat and began to read the paper,
“What was east is west. What was dry is wet.
What sat in the center, now sits to the right.
What was for God’s chosen, still remains so.
What was, is. What is, will always be.
What has divided God’s children has not changed.
What was hidden is revealed.
What has been revealed must stay hidden.”
Bishop Jessup looked up from the paper. “That’s everything. What do you think?”
“Let’s break it down line by line and see what we’ve got,” Brent said.
“The first line is ‘What was east is west’. It must be referring to the Ark.”
“Yeah, but it’s very vague. We can assume that east means what should have been its final resting place, the Holy of Holies in the great temple, but where is west?” Brent asked.
“My first inclination would be the Church of St. Mary of Zion in Aksum, Ethiopia, but the messenger told us differently,” the Bishop said, picking up the thread of Brent’s thought.
No one said a word as each tried to think through the possibilities.
“There is just not enough information,” Brent said. “Read the next line and let’s see where that takes us.”
“‘What was dry is wet’. This one I don’t get. Is it meant to be some sort of metaphor or parable? I can’t imagine that the writer of the script truly meant that the Ark is wet.”
“I would tend to agree with you, Bishop,” Brent said. “As old as the ark is, it may not hold up very well if it were to become wet, not to mention its contents.”
“This isn’t going very well, is it,” the Bishop said.
“I don’t think God meant it to be easy. Read the next one.”
The Bishop began to read when Q interrupted them. Through their ear pieces they heard him say they would be rendezvousing with the fuel plane in five minutes. “We’ve got another four hours before we land. This would be the time to rest up, if anyone is so inclined.”
“Roger that,” Brent said. “Bishop, right now sleep is more important than this riddle, so take a break and get some rest. We won’t be getting much once we land.”
Bishop Jessup continued to read over the lines. “I doubt I can sleep, so I’d rather continue with what we’re doing.”
“You need to rest, Bishop, so close your eyes and get some shuteye. That’s an order.”
He reluctantly put the paper down and closed his eyes just as he felt the B1 latch onto the fuel plane. Fifteen minutes later they disengaged and Q turned up the speed. A minute after that Bishop Jessup was sound asleep. Brent took that opportunity to slide the paper out of his hands so he could study it on his own.
Re-reading the first two sentences, Brent felt his satellite phone vibrate in his pocket. Flipping it open he read the message. False alarm; everything’s fine, was all it said. Joan closed the message by signing it Ms. Sibouno. Using Ms. Sibouno was her way of telling Brent that the breach at SIA was now as deep as the inner sanctum. Joan hadn’t used a last name since 9/11 when her mother was killed in the Pentagon bombing and wouldn’t, except in a time like this. The text put Brent into mission mode.
Seven looked over and saw the blank expression on his commander’s face. Seconds later, he wore the same.
“Q, is there any way we can shorten the trip. There’s big trouble back home.”
“I’m stretching this baby to her limits as it is, Colonel. I can mayday for help and get the other agencies involved at SIA if you’d like.”
“No can do. SIA doesn’t exist outside the oval office. Just get us home as fast as possible,” Brent responded.
Seven leaned towards Brent, “What’s up, Colonel?”
“A text from Joan, the inner realm of Headquarters has been breached. I need you to send a message to the squad. Have them meet us at the airstrip at o-three hundred hours. I’ll notify Joseph of the situation.” Thinking for a moment, he added. “Tell Jefferson to keep the rest of the squad in the dark on our time table, until the last second.”
“Why, what are you thinking?”
“Something’s been bugging me from the beginning.” Brent stared into the eyes of his best friend. “The Brotherhood has been a step ahead of us from the very beginning. How was it they were able to ascertain the name of Israeli messenger? No one knew who it was until the Bishop translated the etchings.”
Seven spit into an empty cup. “That can only mean one thing.”
“Exactly,” Brent said. Thinking, he added, “I have a better way of keeping a grip on the situation. I’ll forward the instructions to Joseph in Endowment code. That way, we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
Seven smiled, a drop of tobacco juice dribbled from the side of his mouth. “That’s why you’re the boss, always thinking ahead.”
No one spoke as Brent sent the message into cyberspace.
“Under the circumstances,” Seven said, “I take it landing this beast is out of the question.”
“Yeah, it looks like the padre isn’t going to care for his homecoming all that much.”
“Looks like it,” was all Seven said.
Brent and Seven spent the next two hours going over the scenarios and the different ways of getting into SIA without being spotted.
“Just how vast do you think the Brotherhood of Gaza is?” Seven asked.
“We have to go on the assumption that they have infiltrated all aspects of headquarters.” As the words were coming out of his mouth, Brent pulled his phone out and messaged Joseph. Looking at his watch, Brent shook his head. “That was way too close,” he said.
Seven plugged his lower lip with tobacco. “What was way too close?”
“In one of her earlier messages, Joan had said that Joseph was going to attempt to gain entrance to headquarters at 2:00 a.m. to do a bit of recognizance. He was going to pretend that he was part of a nightly clean-up crew. If we’ve been infiltrated, they would know who Joe is.”
Seven peered at his watch and saw that it was 1:45. “You’re cutting it close. You don’t think he’d enter early, do you
?”
“Not if he’s thinking rationally, but he knows that Maddie and Chloe are there so he might be acting on emotion. If he is. . . let’s just pray that he isn’t,” Brent said.
CHAPTER 51
“It looks like we’ve got a visitor,” Caleb radioed.
“Does anyone recognize the vehicle?” Red responded.
“No sir,” answered the security guard. “It doesn’t belong to anyone who works at headquarters or the Think Tank.”
Caleb continued to watch from his vantage point, outside of headquarters and Mike, the guard did the same from behind the security desk in the lobby. They both watched a van pull into the parking lot, but just when it seemed as if it was going to stop, it made a three point turn and drove off.
“Stand down,” Caleb said, “just some old man who probably got lost on his way home.”
“Standing down,” Red replied.
Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he watched Joan as she continuously tried to trace the whereabouts to the Arks of the Endowment and Enlightenment by going through all the files on Brent’s computer.
“I’m not getting anywhere with this,” she said. “Colonel Venturi is not that tech savvy to have placed the whereabouts of the Arks on his computer.” Feeling the cold steel of Reds gun against the back of her neck, Joan sucked in a quick deep breath. Regaining her wits, she continued before he could say anything. “Scaring me is not going to make me think clearer, so if there is any chance of finding any information on this hard-drive, may I suggest you remove your gun from my head.”
Red slowly backed the gun away from Joan’s skull. “I remember you now. In the Vatican, you always spoke your mind, but did it in such a way that even the pontiff was not offended. I thought then that you would make a very nice addition to the Brotherhood. . . but then again, you are a female and that one fact alone makes you ineligible for training.”
Red spun Joan’s chair around, looked her straight in the eyes, and spit on her. “We would rather have a dog among our ranks than a woman. You are only good for one thing and I don’t have time for that right now.”
Without any show of emotion, she wiped her face. Joan so wanted to give it right back to him, but glancing at Maddie and seeing the look in her eyes, she knew not to push her luck.
“Are you sure that there is no other place on that computer where the location might be found?” Red scowled.
Shaking her head, Joan was about to speak when Red raised his Sig 9mm and aimed it right between her eyes. “Because if there isn’t any place else to look, I really don’t need you around anymore. The more hostages I have, the greater the liability I carry. You are more use to me dead than alive if you can’t find something on that computer.”
“I’ll say it again, Colonel Venturi is not the tech savvy, but there is one other place I can think of looking.” Joan had one ace up her sleeve and now was the time to play it.
“And that would be?” Red asked, waving the gun back and forth in front of Joan.
“The vault,” she answered.
Red’s eyebrows rose in curiosity, “What vault? Tell me more!”
Both Maddie and Chloe started to shake their heads vehemently to try to get Joan to stop. Being that they were both tied to a chair and gagged, it was about their only way of showing protest.
“I’m sorry Director Oliver, but I don’t want to die,” Joan said as tears started to run down her cheeks.
“Aw, isn’t that sweet, but if you don’t tell me in the next few seconds about this vault, I am going to chop Mrs. Venturi’s hand off.” Red pulled her hand, stretching her wrist. “Maybe, I’ll just shoot it off.”
Red moved his pistol away from Joan and put it an inch away from Chloe’s wrist. She tried to jerk away from it, but was tied to tight to the chair. Her movement just made the ropes cut into her that much more.
“My patience has worn thin,” Red screamed. “I will ask you one more time; where is this damn vault?”
Joan looked at Maddie who was vehemently shaking her head to try to get Joan to stop talking.
With tears of fear streaming down her face, she mouth the words, “I’m sorry,” and then looked back at Red. “The vault is in the bank, but we can’t gain access to it until it opens at 9:00 a.m.”
“This vault is big enough to hold the Arks?”
“Bigger,” Joan answered.
Red peered at his watch. “That gives us seven hours before we can reunite the Arks. I suggest you ladies try to get some sleep. Tomorrow the world, as you know it, changes forever.”
Red’s men moved the girls inside Maddie’s office and arranged them so that they were lying on the floor. Red stepped away to make a call to Omar. Maddie listened closely to Red’s conversation hoping to gain knowledge about the mysterious Omar. When the conversation ended, Maddie shifted her attention to Joan who was lying next to her. Making sure no one was watching, Maddie gave her a wink and tried to smile from under the duct tape. Both Joan and Chloe winked back at Maddie.
When Red finished his call, he ordered his men to stand guard just outside the doors to the office. He then turned out the lights and told everyone to get some sleep. As the girls closed their eyes, they each silently prayed for the Covenant team to arrive before morning.
As an unsteady calm descended over headquarters, Joan felt for her sat phone hidden in her back pocket. Even though her hands were duct taped together, she was able to fumble for her phone and send a quick text to Brent. Feeling the phone vibrate, she knew the message was sent into cyberspace. Everything that she could control, she had. Now it was in the hands of the Phantom Squad and ultimately, God. Joan closed her eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER 52
Brent’s concentration was broken by the beeping of his phone. Checking it, he read Joan’s message and smiled. Seeing his expression, Seven asked him what was going on.
“Joan sent me a message. She managed to direct Red to the vault.”
Seven put a pinch of tobacco in his bottom lip and grinned a packed lipped smile. “That’s one slick girl. She would make a good squad member.”
Brent nodded back, thought about it and said, “God has her just where she needs to be,” hesitating, he added, “for now.”
Seven spit into a paper cup and nodded, “for now.”
Four hours later, Q came over the radio. “This is your flight attendant speaking. We have twenty minutes until all passengers will be deplaning, please put your tray tables in the upright position and ready for departure.”
Brent and Seven smiled at Q’s words.
Brent looked at Bishop Jessup and then back at Seven. “You want to tell the padre of our landing plans?”
Seven’s smile grew at the prospect. “I’d be my pleasure, Colonel.”
Brent laughed as he gathered all the papers and readied himself for return to terra firma. “Just wait until the last minute. I don’t want the Bishop any more stressed than necessary.”
Fifteen minutes later, Seven nudged Bishop Jessup, “Sleeping beauty, time to rise and shine.”
He stirred, surprised at how deeply he’d been sleeping. Looking at the grin on Seven’s face, he suddenly became nauseous.
“What are you smirking about?”
Seven spit and wiped his mouth. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”
“Oh, God.”
“The good news, we’ll be home in just a few minutes. The bad news, we’ll be arriving by the same method we arrived in Israel.”
Bishop Jessup shook his head and mumbled, “Dear God, get me home safe and I promise to never to follow these two ever again.”
Brent and Seven chuckled at his words.
“Same plan as before, Bishop,” Brent said. “When Q gives the word, he’ll drop this bird out of the sky. As soon as he hits the basement, he’ll give us a countdow
n and then the bottom will drop out from below you. Stay relaxed and we’ll see you in the Cove.”
“Stay relaxed, are you out of your. . . ”
“Thirty seconds to drop,” Q interrupted.
Before the Bishop could finish his thoughts, the fighter dropped out of the blackened sky. As it dropped, his stomach rose. Just as it seemed like he would lose whatever was still in his digestive tract, the B1-B leveled off.
“On the count of three,” Q said. “Three.”
Before the word was even finished, the bottom of the jet opened up and the covenant team dropped from the sky.
From below, the rest of the squad—Jefferson, Fitzpatrick, and Scarlet—watched the chutes open and they could almost feel the impact as they hit the airstrip. They ran toward the team before the parachutes even had time to float to the ground. Seven and Brent were unbuckling from the ejected seats when the squad reached them.
“Go help the Bishop,” Brent said as Jefferson approached him.
Bishop Jessup wasn’t as badly shaken up as he was the first time, but he still had a hard time catching his breath. When Jefferson approached him, his rib cage appeared to be fully distended and he was only able to take very short shallow breaths.
“You didn’t hold your breath before impact, did you?” Malcolm asked.
The Bishop, wide eyed and a little peaked nodded as he gasped for air.
“Why didn’t you do as the Colonel instructed and breathe normally?”
The Bishop’s eyes grew so wide that they almost popped out of their sockets. “I . . . wasn’t . . . given any . . . instructions,” he gasped.
Malcolm laughed under his breath as he unstrapped the Bishop and helped him stand up. Wrapping his large arms around Bishop Jessup’s torso, he instructed him to go as limp as possible. Making a fist with one of his enormous hands, he placed it under the Bishop’s rib cage and then cupped it with his other hand. With a quick forceful movement he pushed in and upward and then released his grip. The Bishop’s breathing started to normalize quickly.
Able to take a deep breath, he looked up at Malcolm and said, ‘What did you just do?”
