Stones of Fire

by Chloe Palov

  Soon, in God’s name, he would prevail. Then, on the battlefields of that most holy of lands, he would triumph. The Ark of the Covenant was the key to victory. As it had been in the days of old when it was used to bring down the walls of mighty Jericho. ‘And so it shall come to pass,’ the prophecies of Ezekiel the road map to success.

  Nothing could stop him. Not the peaceniks. Not the left-wing secularists who railed against religion. Not the passive wusses at the UN. Not even the stalwart Englishman who had proved such a formidable foe.

  Respect for one’s enemy, however, only went so far. Stan knew that there was a special hell for men like Cædmon Aisquith and his degenerate harlot. Soon they would discover that God’s fire was inextinguishable. The flames of hell burning eternally bright.

  ‘And the serpent will be cast into the bottomless pit… so that he should deceive the nations no more till the thousand years were finished.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw a shadow approach. The shadow belonged to Rostov, his communications expert. He rolled down the window.

  ‘What is it?’

  An anxious glint in his eyes, the other man said, ‘We’ve got a problem, sir. Gallagher isn’t answering his cell.’

  The muscles in Stan’s belly tightened. He took a deep breath, striving for a calm he didn’t feel.

  As he silently begged for divine guidance, he saw in his mind’s eye the Tree of Life, not seen since the expulsion from Eden, blossoming atop the Temple Mount.

  Blessed with that calming vision, he turned to his communications expert. ‘Get in the back.’ Then to his trusted subordinate. ‘We’re gonna find ’em and run ’em down.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’

  91

  Ignoring the vibrating mobile phone clipped to his waistband, Cædmon urged Edie to keep moving, the convoy truck no more than thirty yards ahead of them.

  ‘Maybe you should answer it,’ Edie whispered, clearly unnerved by the call. ‘Otherwise they’ll know something’s up.’

  Aware that the end result would be the same regardless of whether he answered the mobile or not, Cædmon made no reply as they continued to creep along at a rapid but cautious pace. A few moments later they were outside the watchtower, the wooden door wide open. Time in short supply, Cædmon yanked Edie into the building’s protective shadow, the two of them huddling together. He peered out, verifying that the truck was still parked on the other side of the tower.

  ‘I want you to go inside and, if at all possible, lock yourself into a room. I then want you to use Gallagher’s mobile to ring the authorities. Understood?’ When she nodded, he handed her the now silent phone. ‘Tell them you’re an American tourist and that you were abducted from your hotel room. Make no mention of the Ark of the Covenant.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I am off to slay the dragon.’ As he spoke, he checked the clip on the Glock automatic. Sixteen rounds. He only needed three. One to blow out a tyre on the truck. One to take out Stanford MacFarlane. And a third bullet to fell the behemoth.

  Hit those three, chaos would ensue and all MacFarlane’s well-laid plans would come to a halt.

  He motioned to the door of the tower. ‘In you go.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No buts,’ he interjected, placing a hand over her mouth. With the other hand, he gently pushed her through the open doorway. Then, hoping she would heed his orders, he pulled the door shut.

  Stay safe.

  His right arm cocked at the elbow, the Glock clutched in his hand, Cædmon made his way around the perimeter of the tower, his plan to approach the truck from the front, enabling him to take out the cab passenger, the driver and one of the front tyres. In that order. And in quick succession. He assumed that, as before, Braxton would be driving with the colonel next to him.

  The plan was brazen. Reckless even. But it was the only option left to him. Under no circumstances could he permit MacFarlane to leave Malta alive. Too much was at stake. Too many lives were in the balance.

  Suppressing his fear, he crept forward. The truck was no more than twenty yards away, just beyond the curve of the building.

  Suddenly, he heard the roar of an engine. The truck was on the move. He fought the instinctive urge to fire his weapon.

  He needed a clean shot. If he botched it, all would be lost.

  Knowing he had only seconds, he charged out of the shadows, coming at the truck from an angle to avoid the headlights. Arms locked in a firing position, he found his first target – Stanford MacFarlane – took aim and pulled the trigger.

  ‘Bollocks!’ The Glock had jammed. He pulled back the slide on the top of the pistol.

  The clatter of machine-gun fire erupted all around him.

  Caught in a corona of bullets, he quickly chambered a round, shock and anger hitting him in equal measure.

  A heartbeat later shock mutated into fear as he saw a shaky shaft of green light hit the truck’s windscreen.

  92

  ‘Jesusfuckingchrist! I can’t see!’ Boyd Braxton yelled, raising his arms to stave off the blinding green beam. ‘I can’t see a damn –’

  The truck swerved. Jerking to the right. Then the left. It began to lose speed.

  ‘Put your foot on the gas!’ Stan yelled over the gunny’s foul-mouthed screams. ‘We must fulfil the prophecy! Do not give in to your fears!’

  Averting his head from the burning light, Stan leaned over Braxton and grabbed the steering wheel, knowing that fear was the tool of the devil. Fear was what he had felt that long-ago night in Beirut. When his best friend, his comrades, his CO were ripped to shreds by an Islamist bomb. When he had stood shaking in the bomb’s aftermath, snot dribbling from his nose, piss puddling at his feet. Afraid to grab his weapon and take action. Afraid to do anything other than drop to his knees and beg God’s mercy.

  That’s when the angels came to him. Gabriel and Michael. The same two angels that adorned the lid of the Ark. They took his fear from him, asking only that he take up the Lord’s fight.

  And every day since, he had done just that.

  This day would be no different.

  For he knew no fear.

  He had complete and certain faith in the sanctity of his mission.

  The same faith that had guided Abraham and Moses in their darkest hour. The same faith that had enabled David to face the mighty Goliath.

  ‘You come at me with a sword and spear. I come to you in the name of the Lord!’

  Those were words to live by. Words to die by.

  ‘The battle for the Temple will soon be upon us! Praise be to the Lord!’ he joyfully shouted, retaking control of the truck, steering it straight towards the green beam of light.

  93

  Cædmon ran towards the pencil-thin erratic green glow.

  ‘Turn it off!’ he shouted, able to see that MacFarlane had taken control of the careering vehicle. Able to see that he was steering the truck directly towards the source of the beam.

  Edie turned her head in his direction. With her curly hair wildly blowing all about her, she looked like one of the Furies in pursuit of the wicked among them.

  Her expression resolute, she shook her head, refusing to move out of the path of the oncoming truck.

  Cædmon pumped his legs and arms faster, afraid he wouldn’t reach her in time. Afraid she would meet her end in a hideous fashion. Afraid.

  He only had a few seconds, the whole of the world reduced to his pounding heart, the rat-a-tat-tat of automatic weapon fire, the roar of the powerful engine.

  She was just a few feet away.

  He could do this.

  He could save –

  He was airborne, diving towards her, his arms and legs stretched.

  His heart in his throat, Cædmon ploughed into Edie, knocking her off her feet and out of the truck’s path. The laser flew from her hands, its beam frenetically arcing through the night sky before disappearing as it plummeted to earth. Limbs tangled together, the two of them rolled across the rock
y terrain, the inhospitable surface providing no leaf or blade of grass to soften the impact.

  With no time to inquire about injuries, he rolled to his knees. His finger on the trigger of the Glock, his arms locked in a firing position, he prayed that he had successfully cleared the jam. The truck now moving away from him, he took aim at its rear tyres, permitting himself one deep, calming breath before he fired six shots in quick succession.

  His aim true, he hit the new targets, blowing out both rear driver’s-side tyres, the truck abruptly fishtailing, wildly swaying from side to side as Stanford MacFarlane lost control of the mammoth two-and-a-half-ton vehicle, the truck veering towards the cliff overlooking the sea.

  The gun hanging limply from his hand, Cædmon stood motionless, watching in disbelief as the truck reached the cliff edge. For the briefest of seconds its red tail lights twinkled eerily in the darkness before disappearing from sight. A sonorous boom! was accompanied by a bright flash illuminating the heavens. A surreal swansong for a madman and the legendary Ark of the Covenant.

  ‘All was vanity and grasping for the wind.’

  Edie ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

  ‘Oh God! I can’t believe what I just saw!’

  ‘Nor I,’ he whispered, holding her tight.

  94

  As though trapped in a dream from which he could not awake, Cædmon surveyed the wreckage. The explosion having been seen for miles, rescue workers, naval personnel, police and local fishermen had descended in an excited swarm on the rock-strewn beach.

  Like many explosion sites he’d seen over the years, this one had the familiar trappings – yellow tape, black smoke, smouldering hunks of twisted metal. At a glance he saw that no man could have survived the blast. Although that didn’t deter the local police divers, who were plopping salmon-like from the starboard side of a nearby vessel, aided in their search by powerful underwater torches that cast an otherworldly glow through the dark sea.

  ‘He thought he could walk on water,’ Edie, standing beside him, murmured. ‘Boy, was he ever wrong.’

  ‘It’s over. At least for the moment. Perhaps now the voices of tolerance and compassion can be heard.’

  ‘Or, put another way, God works in mysterious ways.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ he grunted, unable to see God’s hand in the violent events that had transpired.

  He and Edie had kept very much to the sidelines, two curious but innocent bystanders. To cover themselves they had told the police they were a honeymooning couple who had ‘got the wild notion into our heads to spend a romantic night at the ancient tower’. And while they had heard a thunderous explosion, they ‘had no idea what caused it’. Coitus interruptus and all that. The lie took, the police not favouring them with so much as a second glance.

  ‘Deheb! Deheb!’ a grizzled fisherman exclaimed as he charged through the surf, excitedly pointing to a rivulet of molten gold visible in the soot-coloured sand.

  Staring at the stream, Cædmon felt like a battle-wearied and defeated knight home from the wars.

  The Ark of the Covenant had not withstood the blast. He had failed in his quest. What was left of the sacred Ark of the ancient Israelites was slowly being washed out to sea. He contritely glanced heavenwards. I gave it my all. But his all had not been good enough.

  Feeling the sting of tears, the crash site turning into a nightmarish blur, he abruptly turned his back on Edie. She’d seen enough. She didn’t need to see him break down and cry. ‘I need to relieve myself,’ he muttered, adding yet another lie to an ever-mounting heap. With a wave of his hand, he headed for the far end of the rocky beach, removing himself from the mêlée and the contorted scraps of smouldering steel.

  His vision still slightly blurred around the edges, he switched on his torch. So I don’t break my bloody neck, he thought irritably as he navigated over and around the tumbled rocks that had over the years flaked away from the imposing cliff. Like so many orphaned children.

  Emotionally and physically drained, he seated himself on a flat-topped boulder. Elbows braced on his thighs, head supported between his hands, he stared morosely at the gently rolling waves.

  ‘How could I have been so arrogant as to think that –’ He stopped in mid-castigation.

  He bounded off his perch and scrambled over several large boulders, manoeuvring onto his stomach so he could better see the golden object wedged between two mammoth pieces of limestone.

  He shone his torch into the crevice.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  There, upended, was an elaborate golden lid measuring approximately two-and-a-half by four feet.

  The lid to the Ark of the Covenant. What the ancient Hebrews had called the mercy seat.

  Affixed to the lid were two winged stern-faced figures. The cherubim, Gabriel and Michael. ‘I will meet with thee and will commune with thee from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim which are upon the Ark.’

  Without a doubt, it was the most spectacularly beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  ‘God does truly work in mysterious ways,’ he murmured, thinking that the cherubim were traditionally associated with the primal element of fire.

  How ironic.

  Utterly bedazzled, he stretched out a hand. Just as quickly, he withdrew his arm, suddenly recalling the fate of the hapless men of Bethshemesh. Worried that a residual spark of the Ark’s awesome power might still inhabit the golden lid, he rolled onto his back and gazed up, silently asking, begging, permission.

  Instead of a heavenly dispensation, he saw the sins of his life flash in quick succession across his mind’s eye like so many cue cards.

  ‘Sod it.’ He rolled back onto his belly and shone his torch into the crevice. Teeth clenched, he shoved his hand into the rocky fissure and committed the unthinkable – he placed his hand upon the lid of the Ark of the Covenant.

  When nothing untoward occurred, he slowly inched his fingers along the rim, detecting some sort of ornamentation. He adjusted the angle of the torch, enabling him to inspect a small incised figure that had the body of a man and the head of a falcon.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He sat upright. ‘Have a look.’ He extended a hand to help Edie onto the boulder. Then he directed the torch beam at the golden lid.

  ‘It’s the lid!’ she exclaimed, nearly toppling back off the boulder.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I thought,’ he replied, knowing he was about to burst a very large bubble. ‘Do you see that row of markings on the rim?’

  She inched closer to the crevice. ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Those are Egyptian hieroglyphics.’ Reaching into the crevice, he pointed to a line of incised characters. ‘This is a rough translation, mind you, but I believe the etched inscription reads, “Ra-Harakhti, supreme lord of the heavens”.’

  Edie immediately snatched the torch out of his hand and directed the beam into the fissure, evidently needing to see for herself. ‘But I don’t understand… Why are there Egyptian hieroglyphics on the Ark of the Covenant?’

  ‘Because it’s not the Ark of the Covenant. It’s an Egyptian bark.’

  ‘An Egyptian bark,’ she parroted, clearly stupefied. ‘But… are you absolutely certain?’ she demanded, the woman a hard nut to crack. ‘And what about the two angels on top?’

  ‘Isis and her sister Nephthys, I suspect. As you may recall, the ancient Egyptians were the originators of a sacred chest known as a bark. Furthermore, I believe an Egyptian bark was the model used by Moses in creating the fabled Ark.’ He took the torch from her shaking hand. ‘It would seem that Galen of Godmersham uncovered an Egyptian bark, not the Hebrew Ark of the Covenant.’

  Tears cascaded down Edie’s cheeks. Soon followed by a burst of raucous laughter.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ she bellowed.

  At hearing the spot-on impersonation, Cædmon grinned.

  ‘Come here, love.’

  95<
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  As she stepped onto their hotel room balcony, Edie pulled the two halves of her bathrobe closer together and tightened the belt, there being a damp but invigorating chill in the air. Overhead, a few stars were still visible, shimmering specks of light flung haphazardly across the pre-dawn sky. Glancing up, she sighed, always amazed by the breathless expectancy that heralded the arrival of each new day.

  ‘Enchanting, isn’t it?’ Cædmon said as he joined her on the balcony. Having just emerged from the shower, he was attired in an identical fluffy white robe. He handed her a cup and saucer.

  Catching a heady whiff of bergamot, Edie smiled. ‘Earl Grey. Lovely. Yes, it is enchanting,’ she agreed as she seated herself at the small table in the corner of the balcony.

  So enchanting, she wasn’t altogether certain she wanted to leave. At least not yet. After the violence of the night just passed, she needed some down time. Some stress-free, kick off your shoes, sleep till noon, I’m not answering the telephone down time. She didn’t know, however, whether Cædmon would be joining her. Other than a brief discussion of what time the hotel breakfast buffet opened, no mention of the future had been made.

  Cædmon seated himself next to her. Suddenly nervous, Edie stared at the horizon, the sky now tinted a soft pink. Like the inside of a seashell. On the wharf a few industrious fishermen were already out and about, tossing huge nets onto whimsically painted boats.

  ‘When I was little, I used to think that the stars went into hiding once the sun came up. Of course, being older and wiser… Well, actually, I’m not exactly certain what happens to the stars come daybreak, so just forget I even brought it up,’ she said, waving away the silly thought, realizing she was rambling.