'Stretch hasn't been with us for ten years. He's only been with us for three. And he wasn't a part of the original team. He crashed the party, remember. And he represents Israel, not the coalition of the minnows.'
Wizard said, 'But he's really become a part of the team. I know he and Pooh Bear have Arab-Israeli issues, but I'd say he's blended in rather well.'
'And if he hasn't been making secret reports to the Mossad, I'll eat my own helmet,' West said.
'Hmmm, true.'
West threw out another option: 'Pooh Bear? The Arab world is five hundred years behind the West. They'd love to get their hands on the Capstone, and Pooh's father, the Sheik, was unusually keen for the United Arab Emirates to be involved in this mission.'
'Come on, Jack, Pooh Bear would step in front of a runaway bus to save Lily. Next theory.'
'Big Ears trained with Judah at Coronado in the States a few months before our mission began—'
'Freight train,' Wizard said simply.
'What does that mean?'
'If Pooh Bear would step in front of a bus to protect Lily, then Big Ears would step in front of a freight train to save her. And as I recall, you yourself also once went to a US-sponsored training course at Coronado Naval Base in the States, a course conducted by Marshall Judah and the CIEF. That's not even mentioning your mysterious work with him in Desert Storm.'
West slumped back in his chair, thought about it all.
The problem with a multinational team like this was the motivations of its members—you just never knew if they had the team's interests at heart or their own.
'Max. This is not what we need. We're going up against the two biggest fish in the world and getting our asses kicked. We're hanging on by our fingertips.'
He took a deep breath.
'I can't believe I'm going to do this: conduct surveillance on my own team. Max, set up a microwave communications net around this plane. A net that will catch all incoming and outgoing signals. If someone's communicating with the outside world, I want to know about it when it happens. We gotta plug this leak. Can you do that?'
'I will.'
'We keep this to ourselves for the time being, and we watch everyone.'
Wizard nodded. 'I've got another issue for you.'
West rubbed his brow. 'Yes?'
'While you were getting away from Tunisia on that U-boat, I set Lily to work on the Callimachus Text again. It's odd, she says that the language of the Text gets more and more difficult. But at the same time she herself is progressing in skill: sections that she couldn't read yesterday, she can suddenly comprehend today. It's as if the very language of the Text is determining the order in which we can find the Pieces.'
'Uh-huh. And . ..'
'She's read the next three entries—the Mausoleum one came next and it just said, "I lie with the Pharos". The next two entries concern the Statue of Zeus at Olympia and the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus.
'Following on from the ones we've already translated, these new entries confirm a curious pattern: the Text is guiding us through the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World from the youngest Wonder to the oldest. The Colossus, the most recently built, came first, then the Pharos, then the Mausoleum. The next two, those of the Statue of Zeus and the Temple of Artemis, are the next oldest Wonders in the progression.'
'The Middle Wonders,' West said, nodding. 'And you say Lily has now read the entries for them?'
'Yes. And in doing so, she has revealed some very serious problems.'
Wizard told West the situation.
After he'd done so, West sat back in his chair and frowned, deep in thought.
'Damn . . .' he said. Then he looked up. 'Assemble everyone in the main cabin. It's time to make a tough decision.'
The entire team gathered in the main cabin of the Halicarnassus.
They sat in a wide circle, variously sitting on couches or at the desk-like consoles that lined the walls. Even Sky Monster was there, leaving the plane to fly on autopilot for a while.
West spoke.
'Okay, here's the state of play. We're 0-for-2 after two efforts at the plate. In those two missions, three Pieces of the Capstone have been unearthed and we have none of them.
'But we're not completely dead yet. We may not have got any of the Pieces, but so long as we keep seeing the Pieces and accumulating the lines of the positive incantation carved into them, we still have a chance, albeit a very slim one.'
'Very, very slim,' Stretch said.
West threw Stretch a look that would've frozen water. Stretch retreated immediately. 'Sorry. Go on.'
West did. 'So far the Callimachus Text has been an excellent guide. It has led us accurately to the Colossus and to the Pharos Pieces, and the Mausoleum Piece.
'But now,' West said seriously, 'now Lily has managed to translate the next two entries, and we have a problem.'
He flicked a switch, projecting Lily's translations of the next two entries of the Callimachus Text onto a pull-down screen. They read:
The Statue of cuckolded Zeus,
Cronos's Son, the false deity.
While his statue was immense, his power was illusory.
No thunderbolts did he wield, no wrath did he bear,
No victory did he achieve.
Indeed, it was only the Victory in his right hand that made him
great,
Oh winged woman, whither didst thou fly?
The Temple of the Huntress,
In heavenly Ephesus.
The sister of Apollo, Ra's charioteer,
Has never let go of her Piece,
Even when her Temple burned on the night of Iskender's birth.
Through the exertions of our brave brothers,
It has never left the possession of our Order.
Nay, it is worshipped every day in our highest temple.
Zoe saw the first problem immediately. 'There are no clues in these verses . . .' she said with dismay.
'There's nothing for us to go on,' Fuzzy said.
'More than that,' Stretch said, 'the writers of the first verse didn't even know where the Statue of Zeus went. This is a total dead-end.'
'You do always argue the negative, don't you, Israeli?' Pooh Bear scowled. 'After all they've done, have you no faith in Wizard and Huntsman?'
'I believe in what is achievable,' Stretch shot back.
'Gentlemen. Please,' Wizard cut in. He turned to Stretch. 'It's not a total dead-end, Benjamin. Close, but not total. The Zeus verse is indeed disappointing, as it offers no clues at all to the location of its Piece.
'But the verse about the Temple of Artemis—the goddess of the hunt and, in Greek lore, Apollo's sister—is actually quite clear about the location of its Piece of the Capstone.
'It states that, through the efforts of its priests over the ages, the Artemis Piece has never left the possession of the Cult of Amun-Ra. It even gives us an exact location: the highest temple of the Cult of Amun-Ra. Unfortunately, this means that the Piece is almost certainly already in the hands of our European competitors.'
'What do you mean?' Sky Monster asked. 'I didn't realise that the Cult of Amun-Ra was still around. I thought it died out. What is it and where is its "highest temple"?'
'Why, Sky Monster,' Wizard said, 'the Cult of Amun-Ra is most certainly alive and well. Indeed, it is one of the most widespread religions in the world today.'
'A religion?' Big Ears asked. 'Which one?'
Wizard said simply: 'The Cult of Amun-Ra, my friend, is the Roman Catholic Church.'
'Are you saying that the Catholic Church—my Catholic Church, the church I have attended all my life—is a Sun-cultV Big Ears asked in disbelief.
Very Irish and hence very Catholic, he spun to face West—who just nodded silently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
'Come on,' Big Ears said. 'I read The Da Vinci Code, too. It was a fun book and it had a great conspiracy theory, but this is something else.'
Wizard shrugged. 'Although its everyday followers don't
know it, the Catholic Church is indeed a thinly veiled reincarnation of a very ancient Sun-cult.'
Wizard counted the points off his fingers:
'The virgin birth of the Christ character is a direct retelling of the Egyptian legend of Horus—only the names have been changed. Look at the vestments Catholic priests wear: emblazoned with the Coptic Cross. But 2,000 years before that symbol was the Coptic Cross, it was the Egyptian symbol, ankh, meaning life. Look at the Eucharistic chamber on any altar: it is in the shape of a dazzling golden Sun. And what is a halo? A Sun-disc.
'Go to Rome and look around. Look at all the obelisks—the ultimate symbols of Sun worship, pointing up at their deity. They are all genuine Egyptian obelisks, transported from Egypt to Rome by Pope Sixtus V and erected in front of every major church in the city, including St Peter's Basilica. There are more obelisks in Rome than any other city in the world, including any Egyptian city! Why, Liam, you tell me, what word do you say at the end of every single Catholic prayer you utter?'
'Amen,' Big Ears said.
'The Ancient Egyptians had no vowels in their writing. Amen is simply another way of spelling Antun. Every time you pray, Liam, you intone the most powerful god of ancient Egypt: Amun.'
Big Ears's eyes went wide. 'No way . . .'
Zoe brought the conversation back to the point: 'But the Artemis verse says that its Piece is worshipped every day in the Cult of Amun-Ra's highest temple. If what you say is true, then the highest temple of the Roman Catholic Church would be St Peter's Basilica in the Vatican in Rome.'
'That is my conclusion too,' Wizard said.
'Welcome to Problem No. 1,' West said. 'If the Artemis Piece is in St Peter's Basilica, it could be anywhere in there. The cathedral itself is a behemoth, the size of about seven football fields, and beneath it is a labyrinth of tombs, crypts, chambers and tunnels. For all we know, it could be on display in a crypt, worshipped every day by only the most senior cardinals, or it could be embedded in the floor of the main cathedral, twenty feet underground. Searching for a golden trapezoid in there would be like searching for a needle in a mountain of haystacks. It could take years, and we don't have years.'
'And Problem No. 2?' Zoe asked.
Wizard said, 'The Zeus piece. As you said before, this verse gives us absolutely nothing. Beyond the usual legends we have no way of knowing where it is.'
A silence fell on the room. This situation had not been anticipated. The Callimachus Text had served them so well so far, none of them had thought that it would completely fail them on the later Pieces.
'So what do we do?' Zoe asked.
'There is one option,' West said solemnly. 'But it's not one that I'd take lightly.'
'And that is . . . ?'
'We get outside help,' West said. 'Help from an expert on the Capstone, perhaps the greatest living expert on it. A man who has
devoted his life to pursuing it. A man who knows more about the Seven Ancient Wonders than anyone else alive.'
'Sounds like a guy we should have consulted 10 years ago,' Fuzzy said.
'We would have if we could have,' Wizard said, 'but this man is . . . elusive. He is also psychotic, clinically insane, in fact.'
'Who is he?' Sky Monster asked.
'His name is Mullah Mustapha Zaeed . . .' West said.
'Oh no, this is outrageous—' Stretch sat upright.
'The Black Priest of Kabul—' Pooh Bear breathed.
West explained for the others.
'Zaeed is Saudi by birth, but he's been linked to dozens of Islamic fundamentalist terrorist groups as far afield as Pakistan, Sudan, and Afghanistan, where he was sheltered by the Taliban until September 11, 2001. A qualified mullah, he's a teacher of fundamentalist Islam—'
'He's an assassin,' Stretch spat, 'responsible for the deaths of at least twelve Mossad agents. Zaeed's been on the Red List for fifteen years.' The Mossad Red List was a list of terrorists whom any Mossad agent was permitted to shoot on sight anywhere around the world.
'If the Mossad can't find him, how on Earth are we going to find him at such short notice?' Zoe asked.
West looked to Stretch as he spoke: 'Oh, the Mossad knows where he is, they just can't get to him.'
The tight-lipped expression on Stretch's face said this was true.
'So where is he then?' Pooh Bear asked.
West turned to Stretch.
Stretch practically growled as he spoke. 'Mustapha Zaeed was picked up by US forces during Operation Enduring Freedom, the invasion of Afghanistan after 9/11, the one that toppled the Taliban regime. In early 2002, Mustapha Zaeed was taken to Camp X-Ray, the temporary terrorist prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He's been there ever since.'
'Guantanamo Bay,' Zoe repeated. 'Cuba. The most heavily
guarded, most secure military compound in the world. And what— we're just going to stroll in there and walk out with a known terrorist?'
West said, 'Naval Station Guantanamo Bay is designed for two things: to keep the Cubans from retaking it, and to keep prisoners in. Its guns are pointed landward and inward. That leaves us one open flank—the sea side.'
Zoe said, 'I'm sorry, but are you seriously thinking of sneaking into Guantanamo Bay and busting out one of its inmates?'
'No,' West said, standing. 'I'm not planning on sneaking in at all. No, I suggest we do the one thing the Americans least expect. I suggest we launch a frontal assault on Guantanamo Bay.'
NAVAL STATION GUANTANAMO BAY
SOUTH-EASTERN CUBA
17 MARCH, 2006, 3:35 A.M.
3 DAYS BEFORE THE ARRIVAL OF TARTARUS
Naval Station Guantanamo Bay is a true historical oddity.
Born out of two treaties between the United States and Cuba made in the early 20th century—when the US had Cuba over a barrel—Cuba essentially leases a small chunk of its south-eastern coast to America at the obscenely low rent of US$4,085 a year (the actual price mentioned in the treaty is '$2,000 in gold per year').
Since the treaty can only be terminated by the agreement of both parties—and since the US has no intention of agreeing to such a termination—what it amounts to is a permanent US military outpost on Cuban soil.
The Bay itself is situated at the extreme southern tip of Cuba, opening onto the Caribbean Sea, facing away from America. Occupying both of its promontories is the US base, and it is very very small—maybe six kilometres deep by ten kilometres long, its twisting and turning landside fenceline barely 25 kilometres in length.
After all that, its most well-known feature (apart from appearing in the Tom Cruise movie A Few Good Men) is its status in International Law: for as far as International Law is concerned, Guantanamo Bay does not exist. It floats in a kind of legal limbo, free of the constraints of the Geneva Conventions and other troublesome treaties.
Which was exactly why the United States chose it as a prison for the 700 'stateless combatants' that it captured in Afghanistan during Operation Enduring Freedom.
The Bay itself bends northward like a fat slithering snake, bounded by dozens of inlets and marshy coves. Its western side is known as Leeward, and it contains little of interest except for the base's airstrip, Leeward Point Field.
It is on the eastern side of the Bay—Windward—where all the real activity takes place. This is where the various Marine barracks and prison complexes are situated. An inactive airfield, McCalla Field, occupies the eastern side of the harbour entrance. Further inland, there are administrative buildings, a school, shops and a housing estate for the Marines who live on base.
Further inland still, at Radio Range, in the dead heart of Naval Station Guantanamo Bay, you will find Camp Delta. (Camp X-Ray, with its notorious open-air chain-link cages, was always intended to be temporary. In April 2002, all of its detainees were shipped to the newly constructed Camp Delta, a more permanent complex.)
Camp Delta is made up of six detention camps: Camps 1, 2, 3, 4, Echo and Iguana. Camp 3 is the 'SuperMax' facility. Only the most dangerous prisoners live in Cam
p 3.
Prisoners like Mullah Mustapha Zaeed.
In short, Camp Delta, nestled in the centre of the world's most heavily fortified base, is a maze of cinder-block buildings and chain-link fences, all topped with razor-wire and guarded by stony-faced US Army Military Police.
It is a forbidding installation, one of the bleakest places on Earth.
And yet after all that, only 500 metres from the Camp's outermost razor-wire fence is something you would find only in an American military base: a golf course.
With two heavily defended airfields to choose from, naturally West aimed for the golf course.
'I know Gitmo . . .' he said, standing in the cockpit of the Halicarnassus as it roared down through the night sky, descending on Guantanamo Bay.
After a quick refuelling in friendly Spain, they had soared off over the Atlantic, commencing the five-hour flight to Cuba.
'. . . I went there once, after some wargames my country did with the CIEF. Believe it or not, I actually played on the golf course— Christ, a golf course in a military base. Thing is, there aren't many trees and the last few holes—the 16th, 17th and 18th—run end-on-end, separated by only low bushes. They're wide and straight and long, about 450 metres each. About runway length. What do you say, Sky Monster? Think you can do it?'
'Can I?' Sky Monster scoffed. 'My friend, give me something harder next time!'
'Great.' West made to leave the cockpit. 'See you down on the ground.'
Ten minutes later, West strode into the lower hold of the Halicarnassus, dressed entirely in black and wearing his back-mounted carbon-fibre wings.
Zoe was waiting for him, also dressed in black, also wearing a wing-set. The tight form-fitting bodysuit brought out the best in her slender figure. Lean and shapely, Zoe Kissane was beautiful and fit.
'I hope you're right about this,' she said.
'Surprise is the key. Their guns are pointed at the Cubans and at their 700 prisoners. The Americans don't think anyone is stupid enough to take Guantanamo Bay head-on.'
'Nope. Only us,' Zoe said.
'Have you checked out Stretch's satellite image of Camp Delta?'
'Three times,' Zoe said. 'The intel from Mossad says that Zaeed is in hut C-12 of Camp 3, solitary confinement. Hope we can spot it in the dark. Is there anything Mossad doesn't know?'
Seven Ancient Wonders jw-1 Page 16
