Secret of the Bibles: Suspense Thriller (Donavan Chronicles Book 2)

by Tom Haase

  “It may not be first-class travel,” Jonathan said, “but it should get us to Gaza about the same time that the bus arrives at the crossing point into Egypt. What are you going to do if we catch up with Mr. Jake?”

  Jonathan started the engine, looked behind him and to the side, and pulled out into the street. He acted like he knew where he was going, and in a few minutes they were headed toward Gaza.

  “We will get that Bible from him,” Bridget said.

  “You said he was a guy who would help you by reporting your find,” Jonathan said. “Now he's a guy who will never want to let anybody know that he found it. He must have made a deal with Schultz. Are you planning on turning it over to Schultz?”

  “Our agreement for the funding of this question requires us to do that. It's not what I want, but we have no choice in the matter,” Scott said.

  Bridget sat next to the window and gazed out as the buildings in Jerusalem's suburbs passed by. The arrangement with Schultz had always bothered her but came as a precondition for getting the funding. Jake, on the other hand, remained their mistake. Right now one thing stood out, Mr. Schultz somehow knew that his daughter faced danger and tried to warn her to stay away from Bridget in the text message. That meant he wasn't innocent.

  Something else started to bother her about this whole expedition. Why didn't Jonathan want to be caught up in this with them? Could it be that he would try to delay them from getting to the Bible? Was he after the Bible? Was this not just a chance meeting in Jerusalem after talking to him on the phone?

  “Jonathan, we are glad you’re here and are assisting in locating the Bible, but I'm worried. If we obtain the Bible, are you going to try and steal it away from us like you did last time? Is that why you are helping us?” Bridget glared at him.

  Jonathan didn't respond.

  Chapter 38

  Gaza

  Jonathan drove in silence for an hour. He watched as Bridget’s and Scott’s heads started to bob and they eventually slept. The road ran smooth and the night air felt warm. The stars twinkled above the flat landscape.

  After an hour, he estimated from the positioning map on his phone when they would reach the border checkpoint. There they could cross into Egypt. The bus would stop at the crossing, and he hoped it would take a long time for it to clear the border. If it did, they might catch up with the man who had the Bible and relieve him of it.

  Bridget's question still presented a quandary. They had been the ones to get this whole thing going and certainly deserved the credit for that. He, on the other hand, currently ordered to get the book back to Rome without anyone reading or translating any of the text. Staying with them seemed to be the smartest and most logical methodology to follow.

  Her reference to the previous events struck a chord. Their efforts had produced the original text of the Gospel of St. Peter and the Crown of Thorns along with an original of the Islamic holy book. The Vatican paid them well for their efforts and confiscated the material and the relics. Jonathan thought they understood to keep the whole event a secret, but somewhere along the line they made a copy of the documents and released them prematurely. The church retained no option but to deny all their claims and call them a hoax.

  The Donavans were good at finding things. Jonathan knew that, but they were sorely lacking in taking care of their own security. Blatantly obvious tonight, when he killed the crazy man trying to murder Bridget. Once before, he remembered doing the same thing to save this duo, but that happened in Florida.

  That scenario occurred at the fort in St. Augustine in what he now called the shoot-out. The subsequent demise of the Cardinal Secretary of State and his handling of all that followed gained his elevation to monsignor. Now, for the second time, he partnered with them and he again had the mission of securing for the Vatican the object of their quest. Bridget hit the nail when she asked the question—and he could not answer it.

  Many years before, Jonathan worked for the British Secret Service and there learned to follow orders and to keep his mouth shut. His service in the First Gulf War in the British Army and the wound he’d received altered his perception of the world and his purpose in it.

  After attending the seminary and being ordained a priest, he served in a local parish for a few years. Then he’d received a call from Rome after he met the Cardinal Secretary of State at a meeting of the Agnus Dei society, a society that he joined shortly thereafter. The society remained the most conservative arm of the Catholic Church. Its goal, promulgated under the former cardinal, became to reassert the old traditions and establish the church as the primary authority on earth. He remained thankful that the new leadership of the society had redirected its focus and no longer pandered to those long ago days.

  Bridget stirred. She opened her eyes and made contact with his.

  “You didn't answer my question,” she said.” Will you try to take it away from us if we get it?”

  “You know the events that started this whole venture here in Israel occurred when the bishop was murdered. The police have identified the assailants as two local robbers who usually worked on high-end jewels. They were surprised to find them in the bishop's house and using weapons. They said it didn’t match their style. They were jewel thieves. They have no explanation on why they would murder the bishop and ransack his house. The house contained nothing of value in the way of jewels.” Jonathan relayed this instead of addressing her query.

  “That's unusual,” Bridget said. “Maybe someone put them up to it. They must've been after the Bible if there were no jewels to be had. Anyway, you still haven't answered my question.”

  “We'll be there in a few minutes. The first rays of light are just appearing in the east,” Jonathan said and redirected his eyes to the road.

  “You're changing the subject. I can see the light, but I can't hear if you are with us or against us,” Bridget continued, “because I don't want to lose this one, and I'll do anything to procure this treasure and to regain our lives. You can't offer me enough money this time to back off.”

  “Look, there's his bus. I think it’s the one he is on. It has moved to the crossing after clearing the Israeli security point. It is now crossing the border. We might have missed him,” Jonathan said loud enough to cause Scott to perk up.

  “There's another bus arriving from the south. All the people are getting off for the border inspection,” Bridget observed.

  “Let's get there as fast as we can,” Scott said. “Maybe they'll have another line for tourists. We could get through quicker than that busload of people. You know, like a line for bus and one for cars. We've got to catch up with that bus on the Egyptian side.”

  Jonathan gunned the engine, and they pulled to the far side of the bus lane. Getting out of the truck Jonathan said, “They will be suspicious of me here as a Catholic priest crossing into Egypt with a diplomatic passport. I do have another one that I’ll use. But they might already have information from the police on you, Bridget. Let's let Scott go ahead with our passports, and maybe they'll just pass us through.”

  “Another passport. Why doesn't that surprise me?” Bridget said.

  They left the truck and walked to the rear of the bus they parked beside in order to get around it and reach the border checkpoint.

  “Something's wrong,” Bridget shouted. “Look at those men with rifles. They're not soldiers. They're running.”

  The three of them rushed back behind the bus. There they peeked around to see what was happening at the border crossing.

  “I, too, think something is wrong here,” Jonathan said.

  “We better get back to the truck,” Bridget ordered. “Now.”

  The force of an explosion propelled them to the ground.

  Chapter 39

  FBI Headquarters

  “Special Agent Garcia, the deputy Director wishes to see you and your partner,” Liz heard over the phone. Her heart produced a surge of energy that manifested itself in her now shaking hands.

  “We are in
Virginia at the Metro yard and heading to New York to follow up on background on Scott Donavan. Can we push this till tomorrow?” Liz hoped against all that she could make this fly.

  “Wait one,” came the reply.

  “He says he wants one of you here this morning. He needs a personal update for the director,” the secretary said.

  “Okay, I'll be there in about two hours from where I'm at now.” Liz closed her cell.

  Her luck covering for her partner still held. The delay in getting to the assistant directors office would allow her to accomplish the prearranged meeting with the technical people at the Metro workshop. On entering the Metro maintenance complex, she received directions to the technical office.

  “Good morning,” she said to a young man sitting behind a desk filled with what looked like computer components. “I'm Special Agent Liz Garcia.”

  The young man rose and came to meet her. He wore dilapidated jeans and a polo neck short-sleeved light blue shirt. His lower lip brandished a metal stud, and there were two similar items in his left ear. He smiled when he shook her hand.

  “Don't let my appearance fool you. I'm a genius in my field of computer brainpower and intelligence operations,” he said still wearing a smile. “Joe Rupert.”

  “As I explained on the phone, I understand you have the car the bomber used for transporting his stuff. My partner suggested that there might be a way of getting a video from that car,” Liz said in her most professional manner.

  “No video,” he responded.

  “So it was only a thought. We had to pursue it. Thank you for your time.”

  The young man shook his head. “You asked the wrong question,” he said.

  “What?” Liz responded.

  “We don't use video, Special Agent Garcia,” he said in a mocking tone. “The term video went out before I was born.” He giggled as his own joke. “You want the feed that came from that car to our central server.”

  “Will that show me what happened on that Metro car that morning?”

  “Normally the feed would be erased and played over after one hour. I happened to hear that the bomb had gone off and went to find out what trains were in that station at the time and tapped into our server and copied the input before the system recycled.” Joe indicated for her to follow him. They proceeded down a small corridor with shelves of electronic components lining the sides of the passageway. He turned into a room and she thought of the command console in the Star Trek movies.

  “Open file 1455A,” he said. The computer whirled. They were alone in the room. His voice must have initiated the computer to action.

  The main viewing screen glowed brighter, and the images of a Metro car appeared. She noted all the passengers in the car. Scott Donavan sat by himself reading a book. She concentrated on the image of Donavan. Two stops went by. Scott didn't move until the third stop. He got up and headed to the door as the last one getting off at the station. He stopped by the door and picked up a bag. Scott yelled something. She knew what it contained from the subsequent event.

  “Did anyone leave a bag?” Donavan shouted.

  He opened it. She could see his reaction to what he found in the bag.

  She watched as he picked up the bag and ran from the train. He didn't know that a bomb resided in the bag until he picked it up. That became obvious from his actions.

  They were chasing the wrong guy.

  “Back it up, please,” Liz requested.

  On the third time through, she saw the man who dropped the bag as he got off. His facial image pictures were clear on the screen, and she knew that she could get Libby at the bureau to nail down an identity. Her gut instinct had been correct. The Donavan boy didn't profile as a terrorist.

  “I'll need this for evidence,” Liz said.

  “Figured that, so I have a copy for you. If you need the original, I'm sure you can get a warrant. Anything to help,” he said. He gave her a flash drive and led her back to the entrance of the building. She would call her partner with the news.

  She turned to look into the eyes of the young computer genius. “Joe, you are a genius. You may have just saved Scott Donavan's life.”

  Chapter 40

  Israeli-Egyptian Boarder

  The devastating blast rocked the bus to a point Bridget thought it would turn over onto them. That bus also saved them.

  “Get moving,” she shouted. They all got to their feet and shook off the ground dirt. “Move!” She led the way to the rear of the bus.

  Dust particles, sand, body parts, and pieces of metal, still filled the air. The screams of people reached her ears. The devastation inflicted on the police-custom's border post defied comprehension. A minute ago the building with its officers and the throng of Israelis waiting to cross into Egypt provided a scene perpetually replayed at any crossing point in the Middle East. Now it belied understanding on how it could be gone.

  “Get back,” Jonathan said. He grabbed Bridget and Scott by the collar and pulled them back. A second later the sound of automatic weapons firing filled the air.

  “What the hell is going on?” Scott asked,

  “My best guess is that a ground assault is now taking place,” Bridget said. “I saw a group of armed men appear to our right as soon as the bomb detonated. They’re rushing the post, but we’re in danger. They’ll likely kill everyone here.”

  “But there is nothing left except the dead, wounded, and a few stragglers,” Jonathan said.

  Bridget tried to pull away from Jonathan and look around the edge of the bus again. A cascade of bullets hit the side of the bus, and she jerked back.

  “Shit!” she yelled. “They spotted me.”

  “He tried to tell you, sis. Damn, you're stubborn,” Scott said.

  Bridget watched with wide-eyed fear as Jonathan pulled the pistol from his belt and pointed it in her direction. She ducked and he fired. A man with an AK-47 and a kafir wrapped around his head was in the act of targeting them. The man toppled, releasing his weapon as he fell.

  “There's so much shooting going on. Let's make a run for the border. The Egyptians won't shoot at us after seeing this mayhem,” Scott suggested.

  “I agree,” Bridget said. “Besides, these assholes don't attack over there.”

  Bridget reached down and grabbed the rifle from the fallen man. When she stood, another attacker, dressed like the dead one rounded the corner. She raised the rifle and fired three rounds into the head of this newest threat.

  “Okay, everyone in the truck,” Jonathan ordered. “We've got to get out of here. The Israeli forces may not get here in time to save us.”

  Scott jumped in the passenger side as Jonathan piled in the driver’s seat. He started the engine. Bridget hopped into the cargo bay of the small truck. She faced to the rear and aimed her weapon. The truck sped toward the guardrail at the Israeli crossing point.

  As they emerged from behind the bus, a hail of bullets came after them. Jonathan kept increasing the speed of the truck, but some rounds hit the back panel of the truck, one shattered the glass and the side mirror exploded. Bridget tried to stabilize herself in the truck bed, took aim at some targets with rifles, and fired. She kept pulling the trigger until she heard the clang sound of the bolt ramming backward and not returning forward. Out of ammo and she had no new magazine to insert. She watched as two men fell from her cascade of bullets and many others scattered.

  The front of the Ford pickup took the impact of the lowered rail and kept going toward the Egyptian side of the border. No more rounds came near them. Bridget threw the rifle overboard before they reached the Egyptian checkpoint. No use in pissing them off with a woman firing at what could only be other Arabs. She looked into the truck cab and saw that both men were okay.

  Jonathan slowed the vehicle and waited for the soldier to raise the barrier. A young soldier raised it, but four others pointed rifles at the cab. Jonathan and Scott put up their hands. Bridget jumped down and raised her hands.

  “Will they shoot us
?” Scott asked.

  “I don't think so. We're not doing anything threatening, and we're not dressed like the terrorists we just left. Just move slowly, and we should be all right,” Jonathan said with his Scottish accent coming to the fore. He undoubtedly thought it would help in meeting the Egyptian guards.

  “These guys are going to shit when they find out you're a Vatican diplomat,” Bridget mumbled.

  “It might be the thing that saves us.”

  Chapter 41

  Egypt

  The dust on the highway splayed into the air behind them. No other traffic followed on the road from the border crossing point. The sun now baked the three in the cab as the wind and heat from the desert freely flowed into the truck. Jonathan pushed the remnants of the bullet-ridden glass out to reduce the possibility of flying shards doing any damage.

  “I can't believe you got us through. But it did take an hour. How did you do it?” Scott asked in a loud voice to be heard over the incoming wind.

  “Even here, a diplomatic passport can't be messed with,” Jonathan said. “The repercussion of impeding an accredited diplomat is substantial. I told them I was on a mission for the Pope and needed to be in Cairo as soon as possible and that you two were my assistants on this mission. They bought it, but I think the officer in charge delayed us just to show his authority and position.”

  “I hear the Scottish accent is toned down,” Bridget said. “Now we have to catch up with that bus.”

  “My accent as you call it has its purposes when needed, and the guards were able to recognize it. That helped in adding credibility as no one born in Israeli nor any Palestinian is likely to speak with such a distinctive voice,” Jonathan said. “I need to take a rest.”

  “You've been up all night. Let me drive,” Scott said.

  After a stop at the side of the road, they continued the journey to Cairo.