by K. T. Tomb
“Miss Phoenix,” Dubois said in resignation, “I will show the ring to you, but I doubt that it is what you are seeking. It is a very common ring that only has power within legends. I can assure you that it is nothing but a medieval artifact that has been with the church from its beginning.”
“Nevertheless,” she replied.
Mister Dubois led the way through the ornate sanctuary and through a small door behind the altar. From there, they were led down a series of halls before arriving in a small study, which, in spite of being a medieval church, was finished in very fine modern furnishings. A very ordinary door concealed the door of a vault after Mister Dubois told them to make themselves comfortable and the table and went to open the door.
“This is highly unusual,” he mumbled. “But given your credentials…” The sentence faded off as he started working the combination lock on the vault. After a few moments, he pushed down the vault-door handle, which made a loud, deep click, before he pulled open the thick metal door.
Mr. Dubois pulled a small box out of the vault and brought it to the table. The box was very plain, nothing like the one that held the Moroccan Ring. Mr. Dubois did not show nearly the same reverence that Fr. Soliman had either, though Phoe thought she noticed some hesitation and a slight quiver to Dubois’ hands as he raised the lid and set it aside. “The ring, Miss Phoenix,” he said, pushing the box toward her.
The ring was identical to the decoration above the door outside; however, cast in tarnished silver and gold, it took on a completely different significance. For one, the subtle shadows that were created by the entangled branches, making up the star points created the illusion that the ring was quivering as the light reflected off of it.
“It’s incredible,” she whispered.
“It is, indeed,” Phillips said, moving up behind her and Jonathan. The two were leaning over the box, totally entranced by it, until they heard the metallic slide of a pistol being cocked. The two of them turned to face Alfred Guy Phillips the Fourth grinning at them with a pistol in his hand. “Now, how about we pass that right on over to me, shall we?”
In the same instant, Phoe’s phone rang and everyone froze in place. Raising her eyebrows as if asking for permission, she started to reach for the phone. “If I don’t answer it, they’ll think something is wrong.”
“Very carefully,” Phillips replied. “But be very careful about what you say or there might be an accident. Be sure to deny that you’ve found anything. It will be better for the future of you and your associate.”
“It’s Peter,” she said, reading the screen on the phone. “He’s getting back to us about a question that we posed earlier.”
“Well, then?” Phillips gestured as he spoke, waving the gun slightly.
Jonathan tensed, seeing an opportunity to attack.
“Ah now, little man, careful,” Phillips warned him with the weapon directed at him.
Jonathan set back and remained motionless as Phoe answered the call.
“We’re coming up empty,” Peter said. “You sure that we haven’t hit another dead end? None of it is checking out or coming together on our end.”
“You’re probably right, it probably is just a dead end.” She looked up at Phillips inquiring if he was happy about her response.
Phillips nodded and then mouthed, “Wrap it up.”
“Where are you, now?” Peter asked.
“We’re inside the church, but it’s sort of creepy, so I’m pretty anxious to get out of here,” she responded, thankful that she was able to work the code word in so naturally.
“He’s there now?” Peter asked. “Okay, give me the word and we’ll come.”
“Yeah, Jonathan I have hit a dead end here, so we’ll meet you back in Marseille.” She disconnected the call and replaced the phone in her pocket.
“Well, done,” Phillips smiled. “You might have just saved your lives. However, I’m going to have to take your phones. Cell tracking and all, you know, at least until I have enough time to disappear. You understand that I can’t have the two of you knowing where I’m going or what I want with the ring.”
“Are you going to kill us?” Jonathan asked. He had an odd way of being direct in the strangest situations.
“Of course not. I’m not a brute. However, let me assure you that if you do not follow my instructions to the letter that I will not hesitate to shoot you, understood?”
Phoe and Jonathan nodded. Maxim Dubois only sat quietly with wide eyes. He didn’t understand a single word of what was being said, but the gun was communicating very clearly with him.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Meet you in Marseille’ had been the code phrase that she and Peter had come up with to let him know that she and Jonathan were in danger. Had she used ‘Barcelona’ in place of ‘Marseille,’ then Peter would have known that everything was okay, but that they needed to regroup. Without their cell phones, which were lying crushed into a thousand pieces on the floor inside the church of St. Maurice, Phillips had assumed that they could not be tracked. What he didn’t know, however, is that Peter had insisted on putting tracking devices in the waistband of their pants, just in case their cell phones were destroyed. Once again, Peter had been right to be overly protective.
After getting the ring in his possession, Phillips had ordered them to move silently down the long, narrow passage to a smaller door that opened to the rear of the building along a narrow alleyway. Waiting for them was a small panel van. Two men quickly jumped from the van, secured their hands with heavy zip ties and placed black hoods over their heads.
“Listen, Phoe.” Phillips hadn’t used her common nickname before that moment and she was pretty certain that it was one last insult that he wanted to extend to her. “Thank you for helping me get this. You are certainly a valuable asset to the Vatican. No hard feelings, okay?”
As she was being roughly ushered into the back of the van, something clicked in her head and everything started to make sense. When she heard Phillips giving his final instructions to their new escorts in Farsi, she knew instantly that she was right.
“Wait!” she called out, just as the door of the van was about to close.
“Did you have some other comment to make?” Phillips asked.
“You were in Marseille,” she announced.
“Very good,” he replied with a chuckle. “You’re even smarter than I thought.”
“You do realize that they’ll track you down in connection with that. Simon knows that you were there and…”
“Watch yourself, Phoe,” Phillips warned. “I intend to let you live, given that I’m about to disappear and with the power of Solomon’s Seal to boot. However, too much speculation might bode ill for you both.” With that, the door was slid shut and the thick sound of it being locked told her that Phillips was finished talking.
They rode in silence. There was no point in talking and Phoe’s mind was running a hundred miles an hour to try to connect all that had happened. Phillips had used her to get the ring. That was the most obvious part of it all. He’d played his part well and kept her and the entire team fooled. You ought to have known, Phoe. That creepy hidden thing had you tipped off from the beginning.
The more difficult thing for her, however, was how Phillips had slipped past Simon. Simon would have never put her in that sort of danger… would he? Of course, the fact that she had been used as bait in Marseille was weighing heavy on her mind at that moment. Had Simon Kessler changed loyalties? It seemed unlikely, but twice within a few weeks of each other, he had placed her in a potentially lethal situation. They really were going to need to have a serious talk.
Either Simon was playing fast and foolish, or Phillips had been good enough to get around his background checks. Being the son of an aristocratic household in Great Britain likely had a great number of perks attached. Perhaps Phillips was able to get the ear of someone who could keep his background looking rosy, or perhaps he had never done anything up until that point; anything that cou
ld be linked to him directly.
So, why now? Why does he want the Seal of Solomon? What purpose could it possibly serve?
The van stopped before she was able to finish the thought. Once again, their none-too-gentle escorts got them out of the van and moved them quickly through a doorway and down a flight of stairs. Phoe could tell by the musty smell that they were in a basement. They were ordered to sit against a wall on a very cold stone floor and then they heard the sound of footsteps retreating up the stairs.
“Phoe,” Jonathan said in a low tone. “I thought you said he was supposed to have our back.”
“Um, yeah,” she replied, knowing that Jonathan was making a very poor attempt at a joke. She might as well return the favor. After all, they were alive and, thanks to mother hen Peter, they’d likely be rescued inside of an hour. “My bad, huh?”
“How did you know it was him in Marseille?” Jonathan asked.
“It just all sort of clicked into place; a gut feeling. Something that I should have listened to more clearly, evidently.”
“Why do you think he wants the ring?”
“I haven’t had that gut feeling yet.”
“Do you think that’s the real ring?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“How do you know? Another gut feeling or do you have something to back it up?”
“Well, it started as a gut feeling, but it started to fit in with everything and it just makes sense.” Phoe began to tell Jonathan how when Dubois had mentioned the King Louis the Sixth and the decoration looking like a lily, it had all clicked into place and she’d drawn the connection between Solomon and Sheba.
“That is pretty convincing,” Jonathan replied.
“Yeah, well, too bad it won’t help. By the time we get out of here, Phillips will have disappeared completely. If he can get around Simon’s background checks, he can disappear.”
“I don’t think he’ll get far,” Jonathan said.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, because Jeremy and I rigged up a little gift for him. The sort that keeps on giving. Not to him, but to us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Unless I miss my guess, Jeremy is tracking him as we sit here in this nasty place and speak.”
“You put a tracking device on him?”
“It wasn’t easy, but yeah, we did.”
“Jesus, Jonathan, I could just kiss you right now,” she gushed. “How did you know?”
“Well, since you went with it earlier, let’s just say, gut feeling.”
“Miss Phoenix,” Mr. Dubois finally broke into the conversation. “I do not understand what you are talking about. Are you trying to come up with a way out? Is someone going to come for us or are we going to be murdered?”
It hadn’t occurred to Phoe, being lost in her own problems, that Mr. Dubois had absolutely no possible understanding of the situation they were in. Realizing that he needed some reassurance, she filled him in on the fact that the rest of the team would be rescuing them soon.
“Miss Phoenix,” Dubois said after her explanation. “We have a much larger problem than being rescued. You see, I lied to you before. That is the authentic Seal of Solomon and it is very powerful. I fear that in the hands of evil, it could inflict much evil on the world.”
“Yes, Mr. Dubois,” she said, hearing the first sounds of her team’s arrival as they breached the door outside. “We are well aware of that already.”
Chapter Eighteen
International Newswire, London Times
The United States Department of State has updated the Worldwide Caution to provide information on the continuing threat of terrorist activities and violence against its citizens and interests throughout the world. This is in the wake of terrorist attacks by those either directly affiliated with terrorist entities, copycats, or individual perpetrators. The warning is to serve as a reminder to U.S. citizens of the need to maintain a high level of vigilance and take appropriate steps to increase their security awareness.
As the United States and regional partners commenced military action against the Islamic extremist groups, which have dubbed themselves the Raqqa Caliphate, it is feared that in a response to continued airstrikes the organizations associated with the Caliphate might attempt to take some measure of vengeance on U.S. citizens. Authorities from the U.S. Department of State believe that there is an increased likelihood of reprisal attacks against the citizens of the U.S. or those of the other coalition nations, especially in the Middle East, North Africa, Europe, and Asia.
Kidnappings and hostage events involving U.S. citizens are likely to become increasingly prevalent as Islamic extremist groups increase attempts to finance their operations via kidnapping and ransom operations. U.S. citizens have been kidnapped and murdered by members of terrorist and violent extremist groups in recent months and authorities believe this will only increase with the added pressure of the coalition forces’ air campaigns being carried out in Syria.
Examples of high target areas for kidnapping include high-profile sporting events, residential areas, business offices, hotels, clubs, restaurants, places of worship, schools, public areas, shopping malls, and other tourist destinations abroad where U.S. citizens gather in large numbers, especially including holidays.
U.S. citizens are reminded of the potential for terrorists to attack public transportation systems and other tourist infrastructure. Extremists have targeted and attempted attacks on subway and rail systems, aviation, and maritime services.
Credible information indicates terrorist groups also seek to continue attacks, especially upon U.S. interests in the Middle East and North Africa. The U.S. government remains highly concerned about possible attacks against its citizens, facilities, businesses, and perceived U.S. and Western interests. Private U.S. citizens are strongly discouraged from traveling to Iraq, Syria, or any other country where Islamic extremism is prevalent.
No part of Syria, which is considered the home base of the Raqqa Caliphate, especially the city of Raqqa itself, should be considered immune from violence. The security situation remains dangerous and unpredictable as a civil war between government and armed anti-government groups continues throughout the country. There is an increased threat from extremist groups whose tactics include the use of suicide bombers, kidnappings, small and heavy arms, and improvised explosive devices (IEDs). Violent extremists from various countries operate in Syria and may be planning attacks against the United States and other Western targets…
Several points of irony had struck Phoe as Captain Sanchez brought her private jet off of the runway and turned it toward the east. The first was remembering the sight of the Mediterranean spread out before her as she and Jonathan were being led out of the house where they’d been kept. Peering across the Golfe du Lion, in the direction of Marseille, though she hadn’t considered it at the time, was a little over 100 kilometers away. They had traveled extensively over the past several weeks and ended up almost where they had started. The second came as she looked out at that same Golfe du Lion and realized that they were headed directly into the mouth of the lion.
“You’re certain it is Syria?” Peter asked Jeremy, who was tracking Phillips’ progress on his computer.
“Unless they’re going beyond to Iraq or Iran, yes,” Jeremy responded.
“Iraq would be better than Iran, but neither is going to be rolling out a welcome mat,” Eric mused.
“You saw the U.S. State Department’s World Wide Travel Caution, right?” Jonathan commented and then began to recite one of the lines from the report. “No part of Syria, which is considered the home base of the Raqqa Caliphate, especially the city of Raqqa itself, should be considered immune from violence. So, where do we go? Syria. And I’m going to put money on Raqqa itself.”
“Gut feeling?” Phoe winked at Jonathan and grinned.
“Gut feeling,” he responded in kind.
“We’ll know pretty soon,” Jeremy said. As always, his face was buried
in the screen of his computer and his hands were rapidly clicking on the keyboard and working the mouse as he conducted every sort of research necessary to prepare Phoe and the rest of the team for whatever they might be getting themselves into.
“How are we going to play this, Phoe? We’re going straight into the lion’s mouth and we may not stand a chance. How quickly do you think Kessler can get us some support?”
“I already made that call,” she replied. “I’m thinking pretty quickly, but I think it would be better if we can be a little more on the discreet side and try to get to Phillips before he has a chance to do anything drastic.”
“That’s just ridiculous, Phoe,” Peter objected. “Do you think he’ll listen to you?”
“Peter, you’ve got to look at this another way. If we go storming in there with a group of special forces, as much as I’d like to, then everyone is going to know about the Seal of Solomon and there will be all sorts of shit to deal with afterward. We have to get that ring back quietly.”
“Quietly isn’t going to happen,” Jeremy spoke up. “It’s Raqqa.”
“Shit!” Jonathan exclaimed, he wasn’t taking any joy in the fact that he’d been right. Neither was anyone else.
Phoe pressed the intercom button that connected her to Captain Sanchez. “I’ve got that change of destination that I mentioned earlier for you.”
“Where?”
“Raqqa, Syria.”
“Hijo de perro. That’s going to take some doing, ma’am.”
“I’m putting in a call to Simon. He’ll get us hooked up.”
“Yeah,” came the terse response.
Phoe took out the back up phone that she kept on the jet and pressed Simon’s speed dial number.
“What you got, Phoe?” Kessler answered quickly. He’d, no doubt, been expecting her call.
“He’s in Raqqa.”
“Oh, lovely. However, we should have assumed as much.” Simon whistled. “I’ve got your help package at the ready. They were just waiting for a specific location. Can we patch them into Jeremy’s link?”
