by Alex Lukeman
"Shit," Nick said. More lights were going on across the way. "Ronnie, Selena. Help me get him into the boat."
They carried Lev down to the boat. Ronnie ran back up, retrieved the sword and Lev's pistol and got in with the others. They pushed off from shore. Nick rowed hard, back to where they had parked by the river. Ronnie jumped out, waded to the bank and pulled the skiff in. They picked up Lev's body and put it in the back of the rental van. They got in and headed southeast, back toward England.
Nobody spoke. As Nick drove, he remembered Lev showing him the pictures of his wife and children.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
It was late at night in Washington. Elizabeth had just gotten home. She took off her shoes and put her holstered pistol on the counter. She made a cup of chamomile tea and stood at the kitchen counter, thinking about another stressful day.
The sound of the doorbell jolted her. She looked at the monitor and saw a man in a dark suit and tie standing outside. He wore an earpiece. Behind him, a black Lincoln idled in the street.
"Yes." She spoke into the intercom. The man held up an ID to the camera over the door.
"Secret Service, Director. The President would like to see you."
"One moment."
It was unusual for Rice to send a car unannounced. Good thing she hadn't undressed yet. She slipped her shoes back on. She clipped the holster back on her waist. She'd have to hand it over when she got to the White House, but she never went anywhere without it. Even at home, it was never far away.
This time of night, the drive to the White House didn't take very long. She got out at a side entrance. She handed over her gun and was given a visitor badge and followed an agent to the Oval Office.
President James Rice was seated behind his desk, writing something.
"Sir, Director Harker is here."
"Thank you, Bill. Come in, Director."
"Mister President."
"Take a seat, Director." Rice's manner was cool. Still mad about Jordan, she thought. Maybe I'm here to get fired. The President looked tired. He always looked tired these last months. Tonight he seemed even more so than usual. His skin had an unhealthy grayish tinge. The black that had been in his hair when he was first elected was completely gone. Rice had aged years since he'd taken office.
"Give me your assessment on Israel," he said. No pleasantries or small talk. Elizabeth gathered her thoughts.
"Sir, I believe Prime Minister Lerner is going to take harsh retaliatory action."
"Go on."
"Lerner loathes Weisner, but this attempted assassination has taken the lid off an old problem."
"You mean Hezbollah."
"Yes, sir. It's highly charged, in a political sense. With the election coming up, Lerner has to act. He can't just send in a strike against a few leaders. That only gets everyone worked up. If I'm reading the situation correctly, he will make an all out effort to remove Hezbollah once and for all."
"That would be unfortunate."
"Yes, sir."
Rice rose. Elizabeth started to get up but he waved her back into her chair. "Don't get up, Elizabeth."
Back to Elizabeth. She breathed an inward sigh of relief. Rice's opinion mattered to her. It wasn't just that he was the Big Boss, or that she operated at his pleasure. She liked him. He had the worst job in the world.
Rice put his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth. "The Secretary of State doesn't agree with you. She thinks Lerner will follow the usual pattern. Send in an air strike, kill a few militants and maybe some civilians and make the point that you can't shoot at politicians in Israel and get away with it. Defense agrees with her. He says Hezbollah will retaliate with some suicide bombings, fire some rockets and that will be that."
"With all due respect, Mister President, I think they're wrong. Weisner now has at least a 50/50 chance of winning the election. He's got the conservative parties and all of the religious right behind him. Lerner's coalition is falling apart. It already was, or he wouldn't have called an early election like he did. The attack makes it look like the Islamists think Weisner is a serious threat. That translates into votes. If Weisner is elected, any hope of a peace settlement goes out the window."
"And you think Lerner will get tough to prove he's not going to take it anymore."
"Yes, sir. The Israelis are also mobilizing along the West Bank. I think Lerner is going to go after Hamas at the same time. Hezbollah is Iran's major surrogate. Hamas is Sunni, but Iran likes the trouble they cause. If Israel neutralizes those groups it will set back Tehran's plans for an Islamic Middle East by years. They can't let that happen."
"I'm afraid I agree with you."
She paused. "There's something else I'm looking at."
"Yes?"
"I've received highly reliable intelligence from Israel about the shooter. He was nobody, a gofer in Hezbollah, the sort of person they use for menial tasks. Not very smart. It seems odd to me he would be given an important mission like that."
Rice stopped pacing and looked at her. "Are you saying you think this wasn't a genuine attempt? That the shooter was a patsy?"
If she said yes and she was wrong, she'd lose whatever credibility she had left. It didn't matter what her successes had been in the past. The nature of political realities at this level meant mistakes could not be overlooked. Whatever she told Rice would have consequences, for her and for the Nation.
Elizabeth took a breath. "Yes, sir. I think it's a set up. Someone wants to push Israel into another war and they want Weisner as the new PM. If they'd really wanted to kill him, he'd be dead."
"If it wasn't Hezbollah, who was it?"
"I don't know, yet. I'm working on it."
"Iran is mobilizing."
"Yes, sir. I saw the satellite intel."
"The last war was barely stopped before it went nuclear." Rice paused, considering what he was about to say. "Langley thinks Iran may have a nuke."
Elizabeth was stunned. She had no knowledge of an Iranian nuke. She had seen nothing to indicate Tehran had succeeded in building a weapon.
"How could they have built a bomb?" she said.
"They didn't. CIA thinks they've gotten hold of a Russian warhead built in the 80s. It was designed for an SS-13 missile but could be modified to fit the Shahab 3. That missile could hit Tel Aviv or Haifa."
"Do the Israelis know this?"
"They do not, nor am I going to tell them just yet. It would lead to rash actions on their part."
"You mean a preemptive strike against Iran."
"They are certain to react in that way."
"Sir, that is a disaster. The Mullahs are unstable. If they have a nuke and it looks like Israel is going to drive Hezbollah from Lebanon, they'll use it. Israel would retaliate with their own nukes."
"Exactly. We are currently at DEFCON 3. If Lerner invades Lebanon, I will go to DEFCON 2. If it looks like Iran is getting ready to launch a strike, I will inform the Israelis of what we've learned."
"Sir, I am sure he is serious."
"I don't like the way this is headed. There's too much risk of a nuclear war. I might be able to stop Lerner if I can show him Hezbollah is not behind this attack on Weisner. You say the assassin was a patsy. Prove it, Elizabeth."
"I'll do my best, Mister President."
"Do it quickly, Director. I don't think there's much time left."
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Phillip Harrison III leaned back in the comfortable chair in his Boston office and worked to control his anger. The damage was done. Getting angry wouldn't help or fix things. Interference by the Project meant changes had to be made. It was annoying to deal with.
First they had eliminated Anderson, a man he'd relied on for years. It was inconvenient to lose such a valuable resource. Harrison had other sources inside Langley, though none were field agents. Good for gathering intelligence, useless for more difficult kinds of work. Anderson had been good at that. The way he'd dispatched that French mob boss and cleaned
up afterward was a perfect example.
Then there was the mercenary he'd contracted with, the man who was supposed to handle things in England. He was dead too, along with his men. Another failure, but also a potential source of exposure eliminated.
Harrison was about to interview a replacement, a man named Nigel McKenzie. He came highly praised by Arthur Croft. The arms merchant said he was ruthless and reliable. It was a solid recommendation.
McKenzie had been an officer in British Special Forces before an incident in Iraq had forced him to resign his commission. Now he ran MKTA Security, a company that provided services to a small number of wealthy clients. McKenzie's employees joked that MKTA stood for Must Kill Them All. If you had trouble with unruly locals at your mines in Africa or South America, or needed someone to discourage the people who wanted to steal your oil, you called MKTA. Once they arrived on the scene, problems quickly ceased.
Harrison wasn't sure what had happened at Pembroke. No one had survived to report back. He didn't think the Project had found anything. The Ark was still out there somewhere and they'd keep looking for it. He simply had to follow them until they found it. He decided to hire McKenzie to finish the job the others had failed to accomplish. Harrison didn't like to lose. The Project had blocked him at each step of the way. It had become personal.
His secretary came into the office. "Colonel McKenzie is here, sir."
"Send him in."
McKenzie didn't so much as enter the room as fill it with his presence. He was about five ten, a solid, wide man, with shoulders like a bull. His face was hard and brown and dry from years spent under open skies and tropical suns. He moved with contained violence that smoldered behind blue eyes cold as a glacial lake.
Harrison liked him on sight.
"Please, sit down, Colonel."
McKenzie sat. "Nice office." He looked out at the panoramic view of Boston.
"Care for a drink?" Harrison said.
"After we talk, perhaps. Croft said you had an interesting proposition."
McKenzie's voice was thick with an echo of Scotland.
"Colonel, do you know who I am?"
"Enough. I know you are a wealthy man. I know you are having trouble with some, mm, discreet operatives of your government."
"That is correct. They are members of a small intelligence unit."
"What sort of trouble are they making for you?"
"Arthur said I could trust in your discretion. Is that true, Colonel?"
"Please do not insult my intelligence, Mister Harrison."
"Of course, I apologize. I am seeking an object of some antiquity. These people are also looking for it. They have managed to stay ahead of me so far and have also eliminated several valuable assets of mine."
"Ah."
"To be plain, Colonel, I want them eliminated in turn. And I want that object, if they manage to find it."
"You want me to terminate them?"
"That is correct."
"It will be expensive."
"As you said, I am a wealthy man. As long as you propose a reasonable price, there will be no problem."
"I'll need specifics. Who they are, who they work for, where they live. All that."
Harrison slid a folder across his desk. "All in there."
McKenzie nodded. He appreciated efficiency.
"What is this object?"
"Does it matter?"
McKenzie grinned. "Not really. The fee is two million Euros. Half now, half on completion to your satisfaction. One million Euros as a bonus if I secure this...object for you."
"You have considerable faith in your ability," Harrison said. "You understand, failure is not an option."
McKenzie smiled.
"Agreed," Harrison said.
McKenzie took out a pocket notebook and wrote down an account number from a bank in the Caymans. Harrison took the paper and looked at the name of the bank.
"An excellent choice. They are quite secure."
Harrison had a computer monitor on his desk. He pulled a keyboard out and entered a string of commands. He turned the monitor so McKenzie could see it. Then he pressed send. 1,000,000 Euros was transferred from one account to the other.
"I think I'll have that drink now," McKenzie said.
After the man had left, Harrison thought about the meeting. He considered the money well spent, if it brought results. Now that he'd taken steps to get things back on track he could relax a bit.
At least the operation in Israel had gone as planned. Weisner had moved ahead of the Prime Minister in the polls. Harrison didn't really care who won the election. He'd achieved his goal, to provoke a visceral response on both sides of the Middle East equation. War was inevitable, whether the Ark was found or not.
If the Project located the Ark, McKenzie would take it from them. Harrison prayed every day that they would find it. Whether they found it or not, they would soon cease to be a problem.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Lamont looked like someone had added a little too much cream to the coffee color of his skin. A clear tube fed oxygen to his nostrils. But he was out of danger.
Nick finished telling him about Lev Gefen and the firefight at the castle.
"He had kids? That's a damn shame." Lamont's voice was weak. His breathing was labored. A monitor beeped quietly in the corner of the room.
Nick nodded. "I liked him. He reminded me a little of Korov, that same kind of attitude."
"What happens next?
"Selena is checking on the sword we found. Maybe it leads somewhere. If not, we don't have any other places to look. We're done."
"How are you and her getting along? Before I got hurt, seemed there was some tension between you."
"You picked up on that?"
Lamont laughed. It turned into a fit of coughing. Nick held a cup of water with a straw to his lips.
"You're kidding. Hell, Nick, you two are really obvious. We all know when something's going on."
Nick looked out the window.
"Ronnie said you were living apart again."
Nick looked back at his friend. "Yeah. Seems like a good idea right now. I've been tossing around a lot at night. Keeps her awake."
Lamont let that pass. He knew about Nick's nightmares. He also knew Nick had started seeing a shrink. He didn't say anything about it.
"Sometimes I wonder what the hell we're doing together," Nick said. "I don't know what she wants from me."
Lamont was surprised. Nick never talked about Selena, not to him. Not to Ronnie, either, as far as he knew. Nick kept things to himself. They all did. It went with the territory.
"What do you want from her?"
"Damned if I know. We kind of got caught up in everything and one thing led to another. I don't know where it's supposed to go."
Lamont said nothing.
"Anyway," Nick said, "if we get a lead from that sword we'll follow up. Selena found a bit of gold in the cave. She thinks it was part of the covering on the Ark."
Lamont was relieved Nick had changed the subject.
"The Bible says it was covered in gold, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"You think it might still be around?"
"If it was in the cave when the guy with the sword was killed, that's only a few hundred years ago."
"Might as well be yesterday."
"My guess is that the dead swordsman was killed protecting it. Or trying to steal it, either way."
"Makes sense."
"The question is who took it and what did they do with it. They could have stripped it for the gold."
"I don't know, Nick. I mean it's the Ark. Everyone knows about it, at least everyone Christian or Jewish."
"Or Muslim. But there weren't any Muslims in Pembroke back then."
"I don't think anyone would just destroy it for the gold."
"You have more faith in humanity than I do."
"If you find it, it would help make Gefen's death worth something," Lamont said.
&nb
sp; "There's that, I guess. I don't think it would be a lot of comfort to his wife and kids."
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
It was a day full of sunshine in the New City of Jerusalem, a perfect contrast to Ari Herzog's dark mood. He waited for Rachel Gefen to open the door. He'd brought a woman with him, another Shin Bet agent. He thought it would be good to have a woman along when he told Rachel of her husband's death. Lev had been a friend. Ari and Lev and Rachel had shared good times together. Ari felt that he had to be the one to tell her, but he wasn't looking forward to it.
Rachel opened the door. She was a handsome woman, not exactly beautiful, with strong, square features that spoke of her Polish ancestors. Her hair was her best feature, dark and lustrous, falling to her shoulders.
"Ari." Rachel was surprised. "What brings you here this time of day?"
"Are the children here, Rachel?"
"No, they're in school. Who is this with you?"
Ari looked at his companion. "This is Rebecca."
"Our daughter is named Rebecca." She looked at him. Something passed over her face. The warmth of seeing him went out of it.
"It's Lev. You're here about Lev, aren't you? Why isn't he with you?"
"Rachel..."
"Why isn't he with you?" Her voice rose.
"Can I come in?"
"No. Where's Lev, Ari?"
"I'm sorry, Rachel."
"I won't hear this. I do not want to hear you say you're sorry. Where is Lev?"
There wasn't any way to make it easy. "The chevra kaddisha is with him."
The holy society was a group of unpaid volunteers who prepared the body for burial.
Rachel's hand flew to her face. A loud wail came from her throat. Ari stood helpless, unable to do anything for the wife of his friend. Rachel leaned against the door and began sobbing.
"Rachel..." he said.
Rebecca put a hand on his arm. "Let me, Ari." She went to Lev's wife. "Come," she said. "Let's go inside."