The Solomon Scroll

by Alex Lukeman

  "What happened, Nick?" Elizabeth asked. "We heard a dog howling."

  "Sergeant Ramirez had to give a little lesson in animal ethics to a man who thought his dog needed beating."

  "Oh, one of them," Stephanie said. "Some people should never be allowed to have an animal."

  "I think he learned his lesson," Ronnie said.

  A waiter took their orders.

  "The drunken chicken is good here," Lucas said.

  "I always wondered why they call it that," Selena said. "I get this picture in my mind of a bunch of chickens staggering around the barnyard."

  "Probably had more to do with the cook who invented it," Nick said.

  There was a brief pause.

  "I hear you're looking into what happened in France," Lucas said.

  Elizabeth looked at Stephanie.

  "It wasn't me," she said. "Lucas brought it up. I didn't tell him anything."

  "We have some interest, yes," Elizabeth said.

  "So do we." He looked at Diego. "I assume he's fully vetted?"

  Elizabeth nodded. "You can speak freely."

  Lucas picked up a set of chopsticks in a paper wrapper, took them out and broke them apart. He set them down again on the table.

  "That scroll could cause a lot of grief."

  "Have you read it?" Selena asked.

  Lucas nodded. "I read a translation. We think the professor who brought it to Grenoble was murdered because of it. The bomb in his train compartment was Semtex, more than was needed to kill him. Someone wanted to wipe out any evidence that might lead back to them."

  "Who put it there?" Nick asked.

  "That's the question. We traced the chemical signature. The Semtex came from an arms shipment stolen in Serbia right after the Bosnian war. Some of the weapons turned up in Africa not too long ago."

  "Any idea who was behind the theft?" Elizabeth asked.

  "We're not sure," Lucas said. "We think it was a Lebanese arms dealer named Yusuf Abidi."

  "That doesn't mean he's the one who planted the bomb," Elizabeth said.

  "No, it doesn't. We traced the weapons in Africa back to him. It's likely that at some point the Semtex was in his possession. If it wasn't him, he might know who it was."

  "Where does this guy hang out?" Ronnie asked.

  "Beirut."

  "Are you going after him?" Selena asked.

  Lucas smiled. "No, you are. Hey, here comes the food."

  Conversation was minimal while they dug into the steaming platters.

  After they'd eaten, the waiter cleared away the debris. He left a check and a plate of fortune cookies.

  "Cool," Diego said. "Fortune cookies."

  They all took one. Diego cracked his open and pulled out the piece of paper inside.

  "Beware the Ides of March," he said. "That's original."

  "Good thing your name isn't Caesar," Lamont said.

  Selena read hers to them. "A handsome man is in your future."

  "Hey," Nick said.

  "Don't blame me. Can I help it if fate has something in store?"

  "What's yours, Nick?" Elizabeth asked.

  "You'll soon discover the truth about the one you love." He looked at Selena. "Is there something you want to tell me? About a handsome man, maybe?"

  Ronnie opened his. "Mine says I will live long. That's good to know."

  "These cookies suck," Diego said.

  "What did you expect, the wisdom of the ages?"

  "Well, yeah. You know, Confucius and all that."

  Selena looked at Lucas. "It sounds like our future is already planned out. What did you mean about us going after him?"

  "Langley is like a Libyan freighter these days. There are too many leaks. I talked it over with Hood. We thought your group would be able to keep things quiet. If word got out that the CIA was looking into that train wreck the media would be on it like white on rice."

  "What have you got on this Lebanese arms dealer?" Nick asked.

  "He's tight with Hezbollah and they provide protection for him. They're one of his best customers. He's careful to keep them happy."

  "I thought Hezbollah had been brought under control by the Lebanese, except on the border with Israel," Selena said.

  Lucas laughed. "Sure they have."

  "What did you have in mind?" Elizabeth said.

  She sounded annoyed. Acting in place of Langley wasn't part of her job description. Lucas picked up on it.

  "Look, we're not asking you to do more than find out what you can from Abidi. Hood has already talked with the president."

  "Why do you need us?"

  "There's been too much negative publicity about Langley in the last few years. We're everybody's favorite villain as far as the press is concerned. We have a leak and until I find out who's talking to them I want to keep a low profile."

  Elizabeth understood about keeping a low profile. There were powerful people with their own agendas who didn't understand what was required to keep the country safe. They wanted all the comforts security brought without any of the responsibility for the uncomfortable decisions that made security possible. Accountability was one thing. Politically correct witch hunts were another. Sometimes the two became confused.

  "You should have discussed this with me before going to the president."

  "I'm sorry," Lucas said. "You're right. It won't happen again."

  "Tell Director Hood I'm going to be speaking with him," Elizabeth said.

  I'd like to hear that conversation, Nick thought.

  "Then you're on board?"

  "I work for the president. If this is what he wants, of course I am."

  Stephanie gave Lucas an accusing glance. "You set this up."

  "I figured you needed something to do."

  "I have plenty to do."

  "You want to tell them?"

  "Tell us what?" Elizabeth said.

  Selena saw Lucas take her hand. He had a foolish smile on his face.

  Stephanie looked radiant. "We're going to have a baby."

  Elizabeth's response took a second or two. "Steph, that's wonderful."

  Nick said, "Congratulations, Lucas."

  "When are you due, Steph?" Selena said.

  "A little over five months from now."

  "Is it a boy or a girl?"

  "We don't know yet."

  Elizabeth looked at her deputy. The pregnancy would complicate things. She'd come to rely on Steph's ability to coax information from the computers and the surveillance satellites that circled the globe. Stephanie managed the complicated communications network that kept Elizabeth in touch with the team in the field. Without her, even for a short time, everything would become more complicated. The baby would change everything.

  I wonder how long she'll keep working? I'd better start thinking about finding someone to back her up, Elizabeth thought.

  Later Nick and Selena drove back to the city.

  Selena said, "Steph looks wonderful, don't you think?"

  "Mm," Nick said.

  "And Lucas. That hard, tough man, all warm and cuddly."

  "Cuddly is not a word I would use to describe Lucas."

  "You know what I mean."

  "It's going to make things difficult," Nick said.

  "Why do you say that? People have babies all the time."

  "Most people aren't computer geniuses who happen to be an indispensable part of an intelligence unit."

  Selena's voice took on a hint of coolness. "I'm sure she'll work right up until the time she gives birth. It shouldn't make any difference at all."

  "What about after? What about when she has to take care of a baby? What if the baby gets sick? All of that is going to affect how she's able to work and the quality of what she does."

  "Why do men always assume that having a baby is going to make the woman into some kind of an idiot? Someone who can't work up to her ability?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "That's what you meant."

  "That's not what I mea
nt."

  "I don't think we should talk about this anymore," Selena said. She turned away and looked out the window.

  The rest of the ride to town was spent in silence.

  CHAPTER 11

  Elizabeth talked with DCI Hood. Then she talked with the president. Two days later the team and Diego flew into Rafik Hariri International Airport in Beirut. In the back of the Gulfstream was an aluminum case with their pistols. They hadn't brought anything heavy with them. Their diplomatic passports in false names got them through customs without incident. They took rooms in a modern hotel in the heart of the city.

  Beirut was effectively divided into three zones, controlled by the different sectarian groups that kept the city and the country fragmented. The Sunni Muslims held the western part, the Christians the East. The Shia Muslims lived in the southern section, run by Iran's proxy Hezbollah. The difference between the three sections was enormous. Where the Sunnis and the Christians were in charge Beirut functioned much as other cities did, with more or less adequate services and a reasonable expectation of order and personal safety. Of course safety was relative. A lot depended on who you were and on which religion you belonged to.

  In the West and the East of the city people were mostly tolerant of each other, regardless of religion. In the South where Hezbollah held power, tolerance was not a word anyone used or understood. Southern Beirut was an entity unto itself. The government stayed away from the area and left the fanatical militant group alone. Nobody wanted another internal war no one could win.

  Lebanon's civil war had destroyed large parts of what had once been a beautiful, cosmopolitan city. Parts of downtown had been restored in an effort to preserve what was left of the Parisian style French architecture, and attempt to reassure a slowly reviving tourist trade that all was well. The effect was something that would have seemed at home on the strip in Las Vegas. The streets were clean and reasonably modern. The garbage was collected. The streetlights worked. That was more than could be said for the area south of the unofficial dividing line.

  Yusuf Abidi lived in the southern part of the city, on the top floor of a crumbling twelve story building. The bottom two floors were leased out to a charitable organization that formed a front for Hezbolla. It provided a convenient conduit for some of Abidi's shipments. Hezbolla was one of his best customers.

  Small arms, ammunition, explosives, heavy machine guns, Russian rocket launchers and the like were the staples of Yusuf's trade. From time to time, he negotiated larger deals for older models of Russian tanks, armored vehicles, antiaircraft batteries and heavy weapons, along with the occasional French fighter jet or two. Authentic end-user certificates purchased with large bribes protected the more obvious transactions.

  Most of the large items went to Africa, where regional warlords and dictators happily blew each other's people to pieces with Abidi's products. They had an insatiable appetite for AKs, of which there was an endless supply. The bread-and-butter of his business was the daily hardware of death in the Middle East. For Abidi, the rise of ISIS had been a gift from Allah.

  Business was booming. All in all, Abidi was a happy man. He wouldn't have been as happy if he'd known he was being watched.

  On the third day after they'd arrived Nick, Ronnie, Diego and Selena sat in a black Mercedes with tinted windows, watching the entrance to Abidi's building. The street in front of the building was narrow, in poor repair. Several seedy looking Hezbollah fighters lounged in front, their AKs openly displayed. The façade of the building was pockmarked where bullets had struck it sometime in the past. The architecture was completely forgettable. The building looked solid, unlike most of the others on the block. Under Hezbollah control Southern Beirut was a sprawling slum. The entire block looked like a perfect candidate for urban renewal. Nick kept the windows rolled up and the air conditioner on against the heat and the clinging stench coming from piles of uncollected garbage lining the curbs.

  Selena wore a full head scarf and a shapeless dress that concealed her regular clothes and reached to her ankles. Long sleeves covered her arms even in the heat of the Lebanese summer. Her conservative Muslim look blended in. She would draw little attention. The dress was hot. At least it had the advantage of hiding her pistol.

  The men wore casual clothes indistinguishable from the locals. Nick's tan and a three-day stubble concealed some of his foreignness. At a quick glance, Diego and Ronnie could pass for being from somewhere in the Middle East. The tinted windows of the Mercedes made it difficult for anyone to see in.

  The plan was to isolate Abidi and question him. They were still in observational mode. They had to wait for the right opportunity. So far it hadn't occurred. Everyone on the team wore transceivers that allowed them to communicate with each other and by satellite link with Elizabeth and Stephanie back in Virginia

  "I don't understand why talking to this guy is such a big deal," Diego said.

  "You're not supposed to understand." It was Ronnie. "It's beyond your pay grade."

  "Yeah? But not beyond yours?"

  "It's a big deal because the president is concerned," Nick said. "He has to know if the treasure is real or not. It's potentially real trouble. Temple relics would strengthen the Jewish claim on the Temple Mount."

  "So?"

  "Anything that validates Israeli control of Jerusalem is like a time bomb. If it goes off, it will take the Middle East with it. If we can find out who Abidi sold that Semtex to, we'll know who has the scroll. Then we can figure out what comes next."

  In Virginia, Elizabeth and Stephanie were monitoring a live shot from a drone circling high above Abidi's building and the car where the team waited. Elizabeth Spoke into her headset.

  "Abidi should be leaving any time now."

  "Copy," Nick answered.

  Their target usually left the security of his building at about eleven in the morning for his office in a warehouse near the port. He would stay there until three or four in the afternoon. After that, his movements were unpredictable until he returned to his apartment some time in the evening.

  As they watched the building a new, white BMW 760i pulled up to the entrance. The driver sat in the car while two bodyguards emerged, carrying submachine pistols. They were large men, unsmiling. They looked up and down the street. They saw the Mercedes and passed over it.

  "Skorpion vz61s," Nick said. "Nasty."

  "Old and efficient," Ronnie said.

  Diego nodded at the car. "That beemer's top-of-the-line. Twelve cylinders, over five hundred horses."

  "My kind of car," Selena said.

  "There he is," Nick said.

  Abidi came out of the building. He wore a light beige suit and dark glasses. He was an unimposing man, with black hair and an olive tinted complexion. His shoes gleamed in the sunlight. One of the guards held the rear door open until Abidi had gotten into the car. The bodyguard closed the door, walked around to the other side and got in. The second guard got into the front. The car pulled away, headed for the harbor. Nick pulled out after him.

  "Target acquired, moving," Nick said.

  "Copy that," Elizabeth answered. "We see you."

  They followed the BMW through heavy traffic. The white car continued past the point where Abidi normally turned off toward his warehouse. It kept going, headed south.

  The shabby high rise buildings of the city gave way to flat roofed slums two and three stories high. The street was potholed, dirty. Emaciated dogs lay unmoving in the sun or rooted in piles of trash by the side of the road. Bearded men carrying rifles seemed to be everywhere, watching the Mercedes go by with suspicious eyes.

  The flag of Hezbollah flew from almost every building, a stylized assault rifle in green against a bright yellow background. Red and green letters in Arabic completed the design.

  "Hezbollah country," Nick said. "I don't like this. If something happens we're outgunned."

  "What does the Arabic on the flag say?" Ronnie asked.

  Selena said, "The main logo under the rifle
says Party of God. The rest of it says they'll be victorious and that they are the resistance in Lebanon."

  "Yeah, right," Diego said. "Resistance to what? They're the main reason this country is so screwed up."

  "Where's Abidi going?" Ronnie watched the white BMW ahead.

  Traffic was light along the highway. Nick dropped back. It was easy to see the distinctive white car.

  "How would I know? Maybe it will give us an opportunity to grab him. Director, are you following?"

  "Affirmative, Nick. Stay back and don't engage. Let's see what he's up to."

  "Copy."

  On the open highway the big BMW carrying Abidi picked up speed. The Mercedes was a rental, older. Nick hoped it was up to the task. It was 104° outside. He kept a wary eye on the temperature gauge. Off to their right, the blue Mediterranean swept by, the kind of view tourists died for. In Lebanon, dying for a view could turn out to be more than just a phrase.

  They had only gone a few miles from the city when they entered another stretch of slums. The BMW slowed before turning in toward a walled compound. The car pulled up in front of a massive iron gate set in a high wall. Beyond, Nick glimpsed a large villa. He continued past for another mile until he was out of the built up area and pulled over to the side of the road.

  "Director, can you get any info on that villa?"

  "Not yet. Wait one."

  In Virginia Elizabeth said, "Steph, focus on that building."

  Stephanie touched her keyboard. The drone camera zoomed in on the compound.

  "Nick," Elizabeth said, "I don't know who's in there it looks like it's heavily fortified. There's a guardhouse. Two men patrolling. Razor wire on the walls."

  "Who owns it?"

  "I'm on it," Stephanie said.

  She entered a string of commands, using the drone to pin down the location and from there a specific address. That led to a string of documents.

  "I've got records. They're in Arabic."

  "Send them to Selena," Elizabeth said. "Selena, I'm sending you something for translation."

  Stephanie pressed a key. In Lebanon, Selena's phone played Love Me Tender.

  "Elvis?" Ronnie said.

  "I like him."

  "Retro," Diego said. "I would've figured you for something a little newer."