Solomon's Gold

by Alex Lukeman

  The image changed again. A rectangular shape appeared on screen, near the shoreline with the Gulf, much sharper than the other images.

  "What are we looking at?" Stephanie asked.

  The image is of the remains of an Egyptian Temple. The architectural style dates it to the period of the Old Kingdom.

  "When was that?"

  Generally accepted dates for the Old Kingdom are 2686 BCE to 2181 BCE.

  "Old," Steph said.

  The scan indicates an open area under the temple.

  "What kind of open area?" Elizabeth asked.

  Possibly a natural cavern.

  "Where is this Temple located in relationship to Eilat?"

  It is located eleven point seven miles to the south of Eilat.

  "Do you think that's what we're looking for?" Stephanie asked Elizabeth.

  "There's only one way to find out. Nick is going to have to look at it."

  "That part of Egypt is full of Jihadi types," Stephanie said. "They make a lot of trouble for the Israelis."

  "It's one thing operating in Israel with government approval. It's another to send the team into Egypt. I'll have to discuss it with the president. DCI Hood and I requested a meeting with him, to talk about what we've discovered so far and about New York."

  "What do you think he's going to do?"

  "I don't know," Elizabeth said.

  CHAPTER 35

  Elizabeth and Clarence Hood waited in the White House equivalent of the green room, next to the Oval Office. Hood wore a dark gray suit and a silver tie. Elizabeth was dressed in her usual combination of a black business suit and white blouse, accented by emeralds set in gold earrings and a matching pin.

  "This will be an interesting meeting," Hood said.

  "How so?"

  "For one thing, Corrigan has to consider the probability of a major terrorist attack in New York. He also has to make his first decision involving the Middle East. It will be interesting to see what he decides."

  An aide opened the curved door into the Oval Office.

  "The President will see you now."

  "Thank you," Elizabeth said.

  Corrigan rose from behind his desk as they entered. His broad shoulders and hard features made him an imposing figure in his blue suit, more like a football player than a politician. With Corrigan, you had no doubt that you were in the presence of a powerful man who was assured of himself.

  Ellen Cartwright, Corrigan's Chief of Staff, stood nearby. She'd been with Corrigan from the beginning of his political career, one of the people who'd been instrumental in his election. She was dressed in a tailored red power suit and a string of pearls. Some women wore red as a subtle message of their sexuality. That wasn't the message Cartwright was sending. If her suit had anything to say to someone looking at her, it was don't mess with me.

  Cartwright wasn't what anyone would call a pretty woman. Her face was too narrow, her skull slightly elongated, as if it had been squeezed. Her eyes were oddly slanted, something like a cat's. She wore glasses with thin titanium frames. Her hair was pulled back tight from a high forehead. Corrigan hadn't hired her for her looks. Cartwright was intelligent and politically savvy. Elizabeth thought she looked like someone you didn't want to cross.

  "Director Hood, Director Harker. Let's sit on the couches."

  Corrigan sat down and they took their seats.

  "I read your brief, Director Harker," Corrigan said. "Your people have been getting in a lot of trouble over there."

  "They weren't looking for it, sir," Elizabeth said. "When this sort of thing happens, it means they're getting close to something important."

  "This sort of thing? Does that happen often, Director? No, don't answer that."

  "The Iranians seem bent on stopping anyone except themselves from finding King Solomon's treasure."

  "If it exists," Corrigan said.

  "Yes, sir. Even if it doesn't, this has to play out to the end."

  "The Israeli government has made an official request for your team to back off."

  "With respect, Mister President, the Israeli government is its own worst enemy right now. There's a serious disagreement between people who want peace at any cost and those who see Iran and its surrogates as the principal threat to Israel's existence. The Iranians are not going to stop looking. If that gold does exist, the last thing we want is for them to get their hands on it."

  "What has your team discovered so far?"

  "There is a strong possibility the gold is located in Egypt, right across the border from Israel. I would like to send my team in to confirm the location or eliminate it."

  "Director, I'm sure I don't have to point out to you that I'm the new kid on the block. The last thing I need is an international incident with Egypt. It's one of the few Middle Eastern countries we get along with. Whatever our differences, it provides a semblance of stability in the region."

  "I fully appreciate your position, sir."

  "I'm not sure that you do, Director," Cartwright said.

  Her voice was nasal and sharp, the kind of voice that set Elizabeth's teeth on edge.

  Watch your step. This woman's like a junkyard dog.

  Cartwright continued. "If it becomes known that an American covert team has violated Egypt's sovereignty, it will create a firestorm of criticism. We're trying to get this administration in place against the opposition of people who voted for the other side and don't like us. We don't need the kind of distraction an incident would create."

  Hood cleared his throat. "I'd like to say something, if I may."

  "Go on," Corrigan said.

  "The potential benefit that could come from this mission far outweighs the negatives. If this treasure trove exists and we find it, we'll have performed a major service for one of our most important allies. They'll owe us after that."

  "A chip in the game," Corrigan said. "That's what President Rice called it."

  "Yes, sir, that's right," Hood said. "A big chip."

  "I'd like to point out that this chip, as you call it, is in Egypt. How are the Israelis going to benefit from that?" Cartwright said.

  "The Israelis are quite resourceful," Hood said. "I'm sure they'll find a way. In any event, it's essential that the Iranians don't find it first."

  Cartwright seemed annoyed. "We don't know it's the Iranians looking for it."

  "We do know it's them," Elizabeth said. "We've identified several of their agents, including the woman who worked in New York. There's no question in my mind that Iran is behind the attacks on my team in Israel. They killed several Israeli agents."

  "All the more reason to back away," Cartwright said. "We don't need to take on Iran at this time."

  Corrigan held up his hand.

  "Director Harker, what do we know about this woman who worked at the Museum?"

  "Her real name was Ayala Khorosani. She was born in Iran and trained as an agent of VAJA, their intelligence and secret police apparatus. We believe she was inserted into the Jewish Museum as a way to gain information about the upcoming Jewish World Conference that's being held in New York next week. Director Hood and I believe the Iranians are planning a major terrorist attack against the conference. It's the main reason we requested this meeting."

  Cartwright interrupted. "Are you saying there's going to be a terrorist attack in New York, and you're just now telling us? How long have you known?"

  Corrigan said, "Ellen, please." He looked at Elizabeth and Hood. "You realize I am going to speak at that conference, don't you? What are you doing about it?"

  "That needs to be coordinated with DHS and the Bureau," Elizabeth said. "We wanted to brief you before alerting the other agencies. As to how long we've known, we put it together this morning."

  "Mister President," Hood said, "I fully agree with Director Harker's analysis. Based on what we know, the indications are that there will be an attack on the conference. We could be wrong, but my gut says we're not."

  "Your gut?" Cartwright made a dismissive so
und. "If your gut is wrong, we spend a lot of money and upset a lot of people for no reason. The news will leak. If nothing happens, we'll look like fools. We need more than your gut feeling to act."

  "What will it look like if there's an attack and you didn't do something about it, when you knew it might happen?" Elizabeth asked.

  Corrigan had been watching the exchange. Now he said, "Director Hood, inform Homeland Security and the Bureau and turn it over to them. This is their turf, but since it involves the Iranians, I want you to remain involved. I want continual updates on what is being done. Make sure Ellen is kept in the loop."

  "Yes, Mister President," Hood said.

  "Director Harker. Go ahead and send your team into Egypt. But you damn well better make sure they don't cause any trouble. If they do, I will deny all knowledge of them. Understood?"

  "Yes, Mister President."

  Corrigan stood. The others rose.

  "Keep me informed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Russian ambassador in five minutes."

  A Secret Service agent escorted Hood and Elizabeth away from the Oval Office.

  "You were right," Elizabeth said. "That was interesting."

  "What did you think of Corrigan's Chief of Staff?"

  "She reminds me of one of those Greek myths. A harpy, ready to tear you to bits."

  "She's Corrigan's personal attack dog. I don't think she's going to last too long."

  "She's not big on people skills, is she?"

  "You'd better watch your step, Elizabeth," Hood said. "Corrigan is under a lot of pressure to create at least an illusion of transparency. Your unit is a potential problem for him, not to mention the budget that sustains you. Cartwright sees you as a liability. She'll do everything she can to undermine you."

  "It won't be the first time someone went after the Project."

  "All the same, you'd better make sure all your ducks are lined up in a row."

  "If Cartwright comes after me, she may find that she's taken on more than she bargained for," Elizabeth said.

  Hood laughed. "I don't have any doubt about who would come out on top."

  "Any luck with that phone number Stephanie found?"

  "Not yet. It's turned off. The last time it was on, a call was made in the Bronx to another burner."

  "That doesn't narrow it down much."

  "No, it doesn't. The number is being monitored. If it goes active, we'll know it."

  "I hate this kind of situation," Elizabeth said. "We know an attack is coming. We can make a good guess about the target. But until someone makes a mistake or until the attack takes place, the only thing we can do is increase security."

  "At least we're fairly sure the target is the Jewish World Conference."

  "That's the biggest guess of all," Elizabeth said. "What if it isn't? What if they're planning to attack somewhere else in the city?"

  "Then we have a real problem," Hood said.

  CHAPTER 36

  The storage unit was cold and uncomfortable. Amin and Hamid had moved the pallet with the air compressors out of the van and had started stripping away the plastic shrink wrap surrounding the cylinders. Amin moved carefully, even though he knew that the canisters with the sarin were in the center, hidden inside two false compressors. They were unobtrusively marked to set them apart from the others. There was no need to worry about picking the wrong ones. Even so, being in the same room with something that brought such a horrible death was enough to make him nervous.

  "Why doesn't Dayoud help with any of this?"

  "Stop complaining, Amin. He's busy. He'll be here soon."

  "I don't trust him. He seems eager to sample the temptations that surround us."

  Hamid pulled away a particularly difficult piece of the sticky plastic.

  "What do you mean? You better hadn't let him hear you say that."

  "You know what I mean. He spends his time looking at women, reading those magazines. I think he drinks liquor when no one's watching."

  "You can't blame him. On our last night, I want to go to one of those places where they dance on poles and drink tequila."

  Amin was shocked.

  "Tequila?"

  "I have heard that it is easy to have a good time when you're drinking tequila. Not like whiskey or that weak beer Americans drink."

  "How would you know about their beer?"

  "Don't be naïve, Amin. Haven't you ever been tempted to take a drink?"

  "No. It is haram, forbidden."

  "Then you're in for a treat. I think Dayoud wants us to celebrate before we strike at the Jews. Remember, in the service of Allah during Jihad, nothing is forbidden."

  Someone knocked on the door of the storage unit. Hamid took out a pistol.

  "Yes."

  "It's me, Dayoud. Open up."

  Hamid put the pistol back in his belt. He lifted the door far enough for Dayoud to slip under and closed it again.

  No one seeing Dayoud would give him more than a casual glance. He was a small man, two inches shorter than Hamid's five foot ten. His hair was black and thick, set with gel that made it glisten. He wore a down jacket that was too big for him, a white shirt and jeans. The cheap cologne he wore was a little too sweet smelling. If anything, he looked like someone who might be lost, not like the vicious fanatic he actually was.

  Dayoud had always been cruel. As a boy, he had tortured animals and bullied his peers, even those bigger than he was. Now he had a chance to inflict one of the worst deaths imaginable on some of the most important Jews in the world. Every time he thought about it, it brought a smile to his lips.

  "You should have had this unwrapped by now," he said.

  Behind Dayoud's back, Amin raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes.

  "It's almost done, Dayoud," Hamid said.

  "This far ahead of the conference, full security is not yet in place," Dayoud said. "We will set up tomorrow. Amin, you keep working on the pallet. Separate the real compressors from the gas. Put them over by the wall. Hamid, you and I will prepare the van."

  Amin shrugged. "As you wish, Dayoud."

  While Amin began moving air compressors off the pallet, Hamid and Dayoud opened the doors in the back of the van.

  "You take that end," Dayoud said.

  The two men took out a long magnetic sign that had been prepared weeks before. It wasn't heavy, but it was awkward for one man to handle it. They held it up near the van.

  Dayoud eyeballed it. "Let your end down a little. All right, that's good."

  They stuck the sign on the side of the van and stepped back to look at their work.

  AZARIA BROTHERS

  HEATING AND AIR CONDITIONING

  A Brooklyn address, a local phone number, and a contractor's license number were listed underneath. It was an excellent sign. The lettering looked as though it had been painted on.

  "Now the other side," Dayoud said.

  This one proved harder to get right, but in the end it was lined up perfectly with the one on the opposite side of the van.

  They stepped back to observe their work.

  "We'll park in the service alley, behind the hotel," Dayoud said.

  Amin set a compressor against the wall and looked at the sign. "Why should they let us park there?"

  "We have a work order from the chief engineer of the hotel to inspect the heating and cooling system. We are to make sure it's in compliance with the new city regulations. No one will think anything about us looking at the machinery and ductwork. It's an official order. It will stand up to anyone's inspection."

  "What if the chief engineer sees us? He'll interfere."

  "The chief engineer has been taken ill. His subordinate is currently in charge. The man is little more than a janitor."

  "How did that happen?"

  "You ask too many questions, Amin," Dayoud said.

  "I'm sorry, I just wondered..."

  "Well, stop wondering. Have you finished yet?"

  "Almost. There is only one more compressor
."

  "Hamid, give him a hand."

  Hamid and Amin wrestled the last compressor over to the wall. Then they moved to the two cylinders containing the sarin gas.

  "Do I have to remind you to be careful?" Dayoud asked.

  Amin reached for the first cylinder.

  "Look out!" Dayoud shouted.

  Amin jumped back in alarm. Dayoud and Hamid began laughing.

  "That's not funny," Amin said.

  Dayoud grinned at him. "Get them off the pallet and move them to the back of the truck."

  He climbed into the van. A metal screen divided the passenger compartment from the cargo area. On the right side of the van was a gray toolbox containing the gear they needed to rig the release of the gas at the right time. A metal rack ran the width of the vehicle behind the front seat. Hamid and Amin lifted the cylinder up into the van. Dayoud moved the cylinder to the rack and secured it with strapping, tight against the screen behind the passenger compartment. He did the same with the second cylinder.

  "God willing, everything will be in place tomorrow morning," Dayoud said. "They won't find it. We'll set the timer for the afternoon of the first day of the conference, when the Israeli prime minister is speaking. The American president will be standing nearby"

  "It will be a great victory," Hamid said.

  "As God wills," Dayoud said.

  CHAPTER 37

  The hotel Herzog had picked for Nick could have been on a beach in any tourist destination. Brilliant white walls glittered in the desert sun. Stepped terraces and wide windows overlooked the Gulf of Aqaba, at the tip of the Red Sea. The rooms were pleasant, clean and modern.

  Nick stood on the patio outside their room, looking out at the mountains of Jordan on the other side of the Gulf. Selena stood next to him, sipping a glass of orange juice.

  "Hell of a strategic location," Nick said. "Israel, Egypt, Jordan, and if you stretch a little bit, Saudi Arabia all come together here."

  "It's always been important," Selena said. "It was conquered by King David when it was part of Edom. Solomon's mines were nearby, at Timna."

  "Solomon's mines? Gold?"

  "No, copper. They still take copper out of there, but most of it is a protected park. It's a big tourist destination."