“I really missed you,” Turner whispered. He returned her warm embrace, succumbing to the fragrance of her sweat mixed with the scent of her perfume. Feeling her body against his, he looked deeply into her fiery blue eyes and saw the longing look that he had so naively failed to recognize for so many months.
“Alright you love birds, get a room,” Samuel said sarcastically, walking past them in the direction Saune and his man had gone moments earlier. He stopped when he saw them returning.
“Well, the good news is that lunatic is dead,” Saune reported. “The bad news is he succeeded in sealing us in here. Most of the access tunnel has collapsed, and what’s left doesn’t look too healthy. We’re lucky he didn’t set that thing off in here or we’d all be dead.”
“This keeps getting better and better,” Samuel brooded as he took one of the flashlights and began walking towards the access tunnel. Turner, brought back to the reality by the situation at hand, reluctantly released Maria’s embrace and walked over to his father.
“I take it these guys weren’t just your run of the mill looters,” he said to his father, who was gently feeling the gash in his temple with his fingers. “They were definitely pros.”
“We’re pretty sure that they were from the satellite relay facility located on the ridge above this site. It’s owned by Bishamon Corporation, a Japanese business,” Eli responded. “Carlos warned us about them, but I didn’t think they were cold-blooded murderers.”
“Why in the hell would a scientific research facility want to kill all of you?” Turner asked, brushing the dust off his arms. “Unless…maybe the complex is not exactly a legitimate facility?”
“Drugs maybe?” Samuel offered, returning from his inspection of the cave-in.
“Seems like an extremely elaborate cover just for drugs, Samuel,” Eli countered.
“Well, whatever the reason,” Turner said flatly, “you must have gotten too close to something that they didn’t want you, or anyone else, to see.”
“That would explain why they went to so much trouble making this look like an accident,” Saune said, kneeling next to the dead Japanese man that Turner had eliminated. “They could have easily shot us all at any time. Did you manage to neutralize the target that left the cave before you came in?” the Captain asked as he pulled the AK-47 from the man’s death grip.
“Just knocked him out, I’m afraid,” Turner replied, looking at his friend Samuel. “But, when he wakes up, he’ll most likely believe that they have succeeded in their plans.”
“Believe they succeeded!” Samuel stated incredulously. “From the looks of things, I’d say they hit a home run, amigo. There's no way were going to be able to dig our way out of here. It’ll take days for rescue crews to get to us and there's no guarantee that the rest of our little casa here won’t collapse in the process.”
“We don’t have too many other options open to us,” Eli offered flatly as he walked over to the backpack containing the papyrus next to the amphora. “We might as well get comfortable.”
Eli opened the pack and carefully lifted out the ancient parchment. He held it up to the lantern for a better look.
“What’s that, Dad?” Turner asked as he and Maria move closer to inspect the item in Eli’s hand.
“We found this in that amphora in the crypt, just before those cretins interrupted us,” Eli replied. “Thinking it was just looters, I stuffed it in my pack for safe keeping. Care to have a look?”
“Not exactly good, sound archeology,” Maria said, chastising the elder Turner in a joking manner.
“That’s my Dad,” Turner offered with a grin to his father.
“We might as well take a look. We certainly have plenty of time on our hands.” He knelt down closer to the parchment and then very carefully, began unrolling the ancient document.
“Would you have a look at this?” Eli exclaimed. “The text is in Aramaic just like the one Maria and Samuel found. How’s your memory in ancient Aramaic, Son?”
“A little rusty, but I’ll give it a shot,” He grabbed the lantern and set it down next to the ancient parchment. After being lost for almost two thousand years, he could see the ancient papyrus was amazingly well-preserved and missing only a few fragments. Turner began a slow translation of the text as the rest of the group listened intently from the gloom of their rock prison.
‘“I, Simon, a Disciple and follower of our risen Master, Jesus of Nazareth, write this as a last testament to my fate, and to tell all, the privilege bestowed upon me by my mentor, Joseph of Ramleh, so many years ago.
The precious gifts of our Lord entrusted to my care are now safe from the hands of the unbelievers, who seek their destruction. I pray that to whom may find this that your heart would be of one with mine.
Death draws close to me now. I know I will die here, far from home and the loved ones I once knew, but I pass on from this life secure in the knowledge that I go to paradise with my work here in this world complete.
I and my travel companions, and fellow believers, Titus and Philemon, fled our home land long ago as word of the treasures in my possession reached those in Rome, who seek us, and persecute other believers even unto the pain of death for our faith.
After many years in relative safety in Thera, we were betrayed by one of our own to the Romans and narrowly escaped with our treasured possessions. We traveled far and eventually found refuge in Mauretania under the rule of Ptolemy, king of Mauretania, and vassal of Rome. They welcomed us, and even under the constraints of Roman jurisdiction, let us share the Gospel to many. We repaid their kindness applying our trade as merchants. We were then commissioned to lead an expedition to the Isles of Bliss to the west off the coast of Mauretania to establish trade with its people.
Knowing my death comes soon from illness, and that my journey is soon finished, Titus discovered a resting place for the Master’s earthly vestiges, and there they now lie in the hopes that one day, men will come to cherish them.
The Teme of this Island of Ninguaria, whom we attribute as being their king, has allowed my friends to intern my body in his family catacomb when my passing comes. These people have offered so much kindness towards us; though they are a strange and heathen culture, we are much in their debt.
Titus and Philemon have sworn before God to guard the secret of the resting place, which holds our Lord’s gifts to the world, until the time is once again favorable.
To you that find this and seek the truth, know that you will find the Master’s cup; his last meal with his Disciples, the symbol of his Divinity. The crown of thorns, that adorned the Master’s brow, which was the symbol of his humbling before God, and the last written word of our Lord, the symbol of his humanity and ministry to us on earth, on Junonia beneath the Hands of God.
May you who find them use them to his honor and glory, Amen.”’
The group stared at one another in stunned silence for what seemed like minutes after Turner finished translating the papyrus. Eli broke the silence.
“This is absolutely incredible; a document actually penned by Jesus. Just think of the implications to the historical community.”
“Or the consequences of what it might say,” Samuel interjected. “Why would he go to so much trouble to hide that, along with the cup and crown of thorns, from the world?”
“Simon states that he was protecting them from nonbelievers that would destroy them, along with a fledgling Christianity,” Maria added, watching Turner stare intently at the lantern flame flickering in the cave’s dim light. “At the time of Ptolemy’s rule of Mauretania, or what is now Morocco, Caligula was Emperor of Rome and thought of himself a God. He wouldn’t have thought twice about eliminating any competition at that time. What better way to crush a threat than to destroy its symbols?”
“Well, it seems like he went to an awful lot of trouble to hide them all the way here in the Canaries,” Samuel said, now also curious as to Turner’s pensive look.
“I think I might know where they are!” Ma
ria exclaimed excitedly after a few moments of reflection. “Our Simon wrote that the artifacts rest on Junonia. We know that the ancients called these islands the Isles of Bliss, or the Fortunate Islands, due to their favorable climate, and they named La Palma Junonia.” She kneeled down and drew a crude map of La Palma on the dirt with her finger.
“Located here,” she said as she poked a dot with her index finger on the crude map, “on the western flank of La Palma is a rock formation that was once in the shape of hands clasped together. Today it is called the rock of the Blessed Virgin, which was partially destroyed in the volcanic eruption occurring in 1949. A fault as wide as twelve feet was created by a landslide along that ridge as a result of the volcanic activity adjacent to the rock, but it’s still recognizable today.”
“A lot of good that does us being trapped in here,” Samuel said morosely, reminding them of their current predicament. “There’s no way out of here.”
“Maybe there is, Samuel,” Turner offered quietly, still staring at the flame of the lantern. “We’re going to walk out of here,” he announced to the startled look of the others in their basalt-rock jail.
“I don’t see where you’re going, amigo,” Samuel said. “Look at the lantern’s flame,” Turner said, pointing at the burning wick.
“Only moving air could make the flame dance like that in here. We start walking that way,” he announced, pointing toward the back of the cave. He was pointing to the small entrance to the darkened, foreboding lava tube that led upward into the depths of the long-silent Volcano
8
At the Bishamon facility, Robert Pencor paced back and forth in the office of Yagato Osama like a caged lion. Expecting things done in a timely and orderly fashion, Pencor was furious that the lone physicist, Yashiro, somehow managed to escape. To add to his growing anger, there was no word from the assault team sent hours ago to eliminate the archeology team.
“Relax, Robert,” Osama said from his chair as he nervously eyed the phone on his desk. “You can rest assured that my men will not fail in their task.”
“Have they caught the scientist who escaped yet?” Pencor asked, still pacing.
“Not yet, but he has nowhere to go and will most likely be lost in that lava tube and never found, or….”
“Or, he could find a way out and reveal our plans,” Pencor shot back, halting in his tracks and staring menacingly at Osama. “That cannot be allowed to happen because according to your scientists, only one more day is needed to release the fault successfully.”
“Yes, Robert, that was unexpected. The ground sensors we placed on La Palma indicate that the core temperature is rising at a much more rapid rate than anticipated. Using the magma chamber deep beneath the island like a gigantic pressure cooker is a far more controllable means of executing our plans than just having it totally erupt without control. It is—”
The buzzing of the phone interrupted his thought and he quickly picked up the receiver.
“Yes?” he said, staring intently at Pencor as he listened. “Bring him in,” he said, and then hung up the phone.
A few moments later the door to his office opened and two armed guards entered, followed by the young assault team member that had been knocked unconscious by Josh Turner outside the lava tube.
He regained consciousness moments after the explosion sealed the cave and was confused as to what had transpired. He assumed all the others died in the cave-in, and the one who hit him over the head died inside as well.
I dare not tell Osama that I was rendered unconscious, he thought as he entered the room, politely bowing to his superior.
“What is your report?” Osama barked at the man, now wearing a tan jump suit supplied to him by the men in the SUV that killed Paulo.
“We were successful, Oyabun. The archaeologists and their guards have been eliminated as you ordered,” he said stiffly. “I was ordered to stand sentry near the tunnel entrance when I heard the sound of gun fire from within. Before I could return inside, an explosion occurred and knocked me backward.” He lied as he continued, “The flames from the C-4 set my clothes on fire as I proceeded in to help, but the ceiling of the cave started to collapse so I ran out and threw myself on the ground to extinguish my clothes.” Growing more confident in his fabricated story, he continued. “After removing my smoldering clothes, I checked all the tents for anyone hiding. I found no one other than the two guards we eliminated outside, so I waited for the support vehicle to arrive. I helped them remove the dead guards and clean up the blood, so that no evidence of anything unusual would remain, other than the cave in.”
Finishing his report, he looked downward to avoid the probing eyes of Yagato Osama. He nervously awaited a response from the Yakuza leader.
“Are you certain they are all dead?” Pencor asked, staring coldly at the anxious soldier.
“Yes, sir, I guarantee they are all buried under tons of rock. None of them could have survived. My comrades, unfortunately, were killed in the process.”
“You have done well,” Osama said to the young Yakuza soldier, relieved that the mission had been completed. “Take him back to his quarters so he can get cleaned up.” The two guards politely bowed, then escorted the man out of the room and shut the door behind them. The two men were left alone once more.
“You see, Robert? I told you not to worry. My men have sworn to succeed, or die in their duties.”
“But what of your men who were buried in the cave along with the archaeologists? Won’t that raise questions when they are found?” Pencor asked.
“It will take weeks to dig the bodies out, if ever. By the time they do, which I doubt will happen, we will be long gone. Add to that the events that will transpire in one more day and little attention will be paid to a few unfortunate archeologists buried in a cave-in,” Osama replied with a sense of self-confidence as he poured a cup of tea. “The dead National Guardsmen brought back by our support team will be dumped in the ocean on the supply flight leaving in the morning. They will never be discovered. All traces of our activity will be eliminated.”
“That only leaves the matter of the scientist that escaped earlier,” Pencor countered. “I’ll relax when he is dead as well. We can’t afford any more of these mistakes, Yagato.”
“You underestimate our organization’s resiliency, Robert. Our Yakuza organization is much more thorough than our predecessors,” Osama said. “For years, the AUM Shinrikyo Religious Sect in Japan secretly worked with the Russians developing the Scalar weapons that we have now perfected. Their work was sloppy and careless, risking everything in the name of their ideology. Their leader was a mad man, bent on destroying himself and the organization’s long hard work with their foolish gas attack on the subways in Tokyo back in 1995. If it were not for our operatives implanted in the AUM sect at that time, the Scalar weapon data would have been seized by the authorities and all would have been exposed.
“The EM plasma guns they used then were inefficient as well, and could be traced due to their use of what the Russians called the ‘Woodpecker Grid’. It was their crude way of targeting the weapon. They also lacked the funds to enhance the technology after the fall of the Soviet Union. After 1995, we took over the development of the Scalar weapon research. Thanks to your funding, Robert, we have perfected the weapon so that its only signature is measurable with an EM detector,” Osama said, bowing politely to Pencor with a false flattery that usually worked on Pencor’s enormous ego.
“My friend,” Pencor said, for the moment somewhat relieved, “once we have seriously disabled the economy and infrastructure of the United States and have introduced to the world our means of eliminating its dependence on oil, we will be rich beyond our wildest dreams. No doubt, your organization will rise to power in Japan with you as its leader.”
“No doubt at all,” Osama replied with little emotion.
“The industrial Zero Point Generators I am developing will forever change the strategic and economic face of the world. We will totally
control the world’s power needs,” Pencor gloated with a smug smile, vainly staring at his reflection in the mirror on the wall. “Oil will no longer be a viable market. It will become more uneconomical to produce or refine once we start supplying countries with the ZPGs. Those who oppose will sing a different tune when the oil starts drying up and their lights start going out. America will no doubt resist, as I expect, and I will take great pleasure in bringing them to their knees,” he concluded as he began to laugh maniacally.
Osama smiled politely, knowing that he had made a deal with a deranged and dangerous man, but the ends would justify their current unholy alliance.
I won’t need this lunatic much longer, Osama thought as Pencor continued to laugh, not much longer at all.
“One smaller item, Yagato,” Pencor said, brought back to reality. “Once the final phase is in motion for the weapon, I want the rest of the scientists disposed of. Do you understand?”
“The remaining scientists on site will get a first-hand demonstration of the Mind Snap gun, my friend,” Osama said with a grin. “As you so eloquently stated, there will be no loose ends.”
9
During the assault on the archaeological site by the Bishamon hit squad, the rented CJ-5 sat in the dark on a small rise overlooking the access road. Alton Burr had been there since sunset, brooding and pondering his next move. He had seen the Land Rover pass earlier, headed for the site, and watched in morbid fascination as upon its return, it was forced over the high embankment by the dark SUV.
Deeming it prudent to remain hidden for the time being, he heard the muffled explosion coming from the location of the dig site.
Now, sitting in his Jeep, he thought of his earlier confrontation with Eli Turner; how it infuriated him to the point of taking drastic measures. He ran his fingers over the stock of the 9mm Glock on the seat adjacent to him. He thought with zealous righteousness that he was destined to protect the world from the lies that would come once Turner’s discovery became public.
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