by Alex Lukeman
Elizabeth gestured at the orange display with it's chilling message. "Rice has called a meeting of the National Security Council in case they did."
"If Tehran uses that Russian warhead, Israel will annihilate them," Stephanie said. "They have enough nukes to wipe Iran off the map."
"What worries me is that the Mullahs might be crazy enough to think they could win with a preemptive strike. The Shahab 3B has a very short launch time and sophisticated avoidance capabilities. Once it's up it would be hard to stop in time."
"Doesn't Israel have Patriot missile defenses?"
"Yes, and their own Arrow 2. But the 3B has a new evasion system. It could get through."
"The pictures are up," Stephanie said.
The monitor image was in real time, from a geo-stationary satellite over Iran. The Badr missile base was east of Tehran in the Central Semnan desert, a desolate, dry wasteland. They were looking at the reason Rice had gone to DEFCON2. Hundreds of heat signatures moved about the base. There was intense activity around the silos.
"They could be getting ready to launch," Stephanie said.
Elizabeth watched the images and the computer readouts on the right of the display.
"If they do," she said, "it's a new ball game."
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Nick and the others lay just inside the edge of the trees, fifty feet away from Harrison's garage. The building had one window on the side. There was a side entry door. A John Deere riding mower was parked out front on the gravel. Nick watched a guard walking his route between the garage and the main house. He'd been watching the man for an hour. The guard had an M-16 slung on his shoulder.
"Same pattern, all the time," Nick said. "He goes past the house, around it, comes back and down the drive to the front of the garage, walks around the building, goes back to the house and does it all over again. It takes him about twenty minutes."
"He looks bored out of his skull," Ronnie said. "Reminds me of guarding barracks filled with snoring jarheads against enemy attacks from crazed Californians."
"Pendleton?"
"Yeah."
"You never know, Ronnie. Might have got invaded from Tijuana."
"Or San Diego."
"Next time he's behind the house, we go for that door."
"I've got my picks." Ronnie patted a pocket. "Looks simple from here."
Five minutes later, the guard disappeared behind the house. The three got up and ran for the garage. Selena felt the gash on her leg open under the bandage as she ran. Ronnie inserted the picks, jiggled the tumblers. The lock clicked. They pulled the door open and went inside. Selena closed it behind them.
The interior was dim with faint light coming from two skylights overhead and a small window on each side. Three shrouded vehicles were parked against the back wall. Ronnie lifted a corner on one and peered underneath.
"An old Bentley," he said. "Collector car."
A Ford pickup was parked near the closed doors in front. Tools hung over a long workbench. It was a typical, neat garage, except for boards and straw packing lying on the floor near a wooden crate by the doors. From where they stood they couldn't see what it contained.
"Think that's it?" Selena said.
"Only one way to find out." They moved forward until they could see the contents.
"It's the altar from the church," Ronnie said. "The front is loose."
He lifted the front of the altar away. The space inside was empty.
"Something was in there."
"They must have taken it into the house," Nick said.
"What now, Kemo Sabe?"
"We go get it. The house is dark. They're asleep. No point in waiting."
"We lost the trank guns," Selena said. "What about the guard?"
"We have to silence him. There's no way we get over there without him seeing us. We'll take him out when he makes a pass behind the garage."
"He should be due any time now," Ronnie said.
"We'll see him go by the window. I'll take him down."
They moved to the door.
They waited in silence. A few moments later the guard passed by the window, headed for the back of the building. Nick gave it a beat, then eased out of the door. The night air was thick with the sound of crickets. The man was just disappearing around the corner.
Nick came up behind him, silent as the mist rising from the ground. The guard sensed something and began to turn, too late. Nick wrapped his arm around in a choke hold. The guard struggled and twisted, making choking sounds as he tried to call out. Nick kept pressure on the carotid arteries. The man stopped moving and slumped, unconscious. Nick dragged him back to the door and into the garage.
Ronnie found electrical wire on the workbench. They hogtied the guard and stuffed an oily rag into his mouth.
They stepped out into the moonlight. The crickets had gone silent.
"The camera on the porch is pointed at the entrance," Nick said. "If we keep to the side of the house, we should be all right."
One of the windows on the side of the house showed a sliver of dim light.
"They're still awake in there. Keep your weapons ready."
"I thought you wanted to wait until they were asleep," Selena said.
"Too late for that. The guard had a radio. He probably reports in on a regular schedule. We have to move now."
"Are we supposed to shoot anyone we see?"
"They didn't mind shooting at us in England."
"We don't know if it's the same people. Maybe Harrison just hired those men."
"It doesn't matter. He's behind it. Don't shoot unless you have to, but don't hesitate if you do."
Selena let it go.
"There has to be a back entrance. Keep together. Go."
They ran across the lawn, away from the camera, to the side of the house.
They bent low under the windows and moved to the back. A wide screened porch ran the length of the house. There was a camera on the corner, pointed toward a short flight of steps. Ronnie took a spray can from his pack, reached up and covered the lens. They went up the steps, opened a screen door and moved to the back entrance, a door with a brass knob. Nick tried the knob. It was unlocked. Harrison wasn't expecting trouble. Nick held up three fingers and counted down. On the third count he opened the door. It led into a large laundry area.
They were in the house.
On the far side of the laundry room was a closed wooden door painted white. Nick cracked it and listened. Then he eased the door open the rest of the way.
A long, carpeted hall led away into the house. Flickering light spilled out from a room on the side. They moved silently down the hall. When Nick reached the open doorway he held up his hand and listened. Inside the room, someone was humming to himself.
Nick knelt down and risked a quick glance around the door frame. The room was a study. Books lined one wall. The windows were covered by cloth drapes. A man sat in a chair, his back to the door. The humming noise was coming from him. The tune was vaguely familiar. It might have been a hymn.
In front of the seated figure was a large, mahogany table, polished to a dark gleam. The light in the room came from a dozen fat candles that filled the room with a deep, rich glow. The light reflected off gold. Resplendent in the middle of the table was the Ark of the Covenant.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
The Ark was a little less than four feet long and covered in thin sheets of hammered gold. It was two feet wide and two high, small enough to fit inside the altar stolen from St. John's. The gold had fallen away in spots, exposing dark wood underneath. Cedar, maybe, Nick thought.
Regular, geometric designs were stamped into the gold. Two golden figures knelt on the lid with heads bowed, their long wings extended toward the middle of the Ark.
The cherubim. Just like in the Bible.
An elaborate, carved railing went around the lid. There were supposed to be rings for poles to carry the Ark, but they were missing. One of the feet was gone. The others were carved
like lion's claws.
They moved into the room. The man in the chair stopped humming. He still had his back to them.
"McKenzie?" he said. "I thought you went to bed." He rose and turned toward the door.
It was Phillip Harrison. His face went white when he saw the guns pointing at him.
"Who...? What are you doing here?"
"Ronnie, watch the hall," Nick said. Ronnie took up station by the door. His MP-5 was a dull black in the candlelight.
"Do you know who I am?" Harrison said.
"Why do big shots always say that when they get caught?" Nick asked. "Like it should make a difference. I know who you are, Harrison. You're someone who's about to spend a long time in a very unpleasant place."
"How dare you."
"That's the other thing they always say," said Selena.
"I don't know who you are, but you have made a very serious mistake." Harrison had regained his composure.
Over his shoulder, Ronnie said, "Can this guy say anything original?"
Selena was looking at the Ark. "It's beautiful," she said.
"Do you know what this is?" Harrison looked at Nick. His eyes had an odd gleam in the flickering light.
He's nuts, Nick thought. Something about the eyes.
"I have been searching for this for years. God spoke to me. He brought this to me. Do you really think He will let you take it away?"
"God talks to you?" Nick said. His ear itched. He reached up to scratch it.
"Nick." It was Ronnie. "Someone coming."
"Selena, cover him. Harrison, you try anything, she'll shoot you. Do you understand?"
"I don't believe you."
"You should," Selena said. "You killed my friend. Sit down." She poked him in the chest with the barrel of her MP-5 and gestured at the chair. It was a persuasive argument. Harrison saw the expression on her face and sat down.
To the right of the door the hall ran along the side of the house and ended at a tee on the far end. The other way led back to the laundry room and the porch. Ronnie saw a quick movement at the tee end. Someone ducked back out of sight.
"Company," he said. "They must have found the guard."
"How many?"
"I don't know. What do you want to do?"
Nick's ear was burning. He tugged on it. A round object rolled down the hall and stopped short of the door.
"Grenade," Ronnie yelled. He ducked back into the room.
The grenade was a flash bang. It went off in the hall with a deafening blast and blinding white light. The warning and being inside the room kept him from being blinded, but the noise and the concussion gave Nick an instant headache. He was dizzy. He reached blindly around the door frame and fired at the end of the hall.
Selena was stunned by the sound. Harrison jumped up and wrapped his arms around her and reached for the gun. She struggled against his bear hug and they staggered into the table. It tipped. Candles fell over and rolled across the floor. One came to rest under the cloth drape, still burning. The ark tilted and crashed onto the floor. One of the cherubim broke into pieces.
Nick and Ronnie fired into the hall. Answering shots came from both ends.
The drapes in the study were old, sewn in a day long before the thought of fireproof chemicals. Shimmering blue fire shot straight up the cloth. Suddenly the window was engulfed in a sheet of flame. The house had wooden floors and ceilings built of dry Maine pine. Flames crawled along the ceiling and found the paper books and wooden shelves. The wall caught fire. The room filled with heat and thick, black smoke. Smoke roiled out of the open door, into the hall.
Selena head butted Harrison in the face. He loosened his grip. She kneed him in the groin. She got her left arm free and brought her fist around and punched him hard in the ear. He yelled. She broke his grip and brought the MP-5 across and slammed it into his head. He went down on the floor, unconscious. On an impulse, she reached down beside him and grabbed a golden piece of the broken cherubim with her left hand.
"Selena!" Nick yelled.
She ran to the door, coughing, clutching the piece of ancient wood, her MP-5 in her right hand. She smelled her hair curling from the heat. She looked back. The Ark was burning with golden light.
"Harrison," she said. She started back into the room. Part of the ceiling came down in a cascade of sparks and flame. Nick grabbed her arm.
"Leave him. Go left. Lay down fire as we go."
They went out the door, guns blazing. The hall was choked with smoke. Bullets came from beyond the smoke, smacking into the walls. They ran. A round smashed into Nick's armor and knocked him down. Ronnie pulled him to his feet.
Nick felt sharp pain with every breath as he ran. Cracked a rib, he thought, for sure.
They reached the back porch. Behind them, the hall filled with dense smoke. Flickering, orange-red light glowed in the choking clouds. Shots from outside ripped through the porch screens as they burst through the back door. Glass shattered behind them. Ronnie and Nick fired at the same time and a voice cried out. Selena triggered a burst and her gun locked open. She couldn't hold onto the piece of the Ark and load a magazine at the same time. She let the MP-5 hang from its sling and drew her pistol and began firing at moving shadows as they ran for the woods.
Then they were in the safety of the trees.
Behind them, the house burned with fierce, roaring flames. The fire broke through the roof. Glass blew out of the windows as the flames raced through the upper stories. Nick had never seen anything burn so fast.
No one was shooting at them anymore. They moved farther back into the trees.
Then the house exploded. The burning roof lifted into the air. A column of flame a hundred feet high erupted into the night.
"Holy shit," Ronnie said.
They ducked as debris whistled through the woods and burning pieces rained down from the sky.
"Must have had something nasty in the basement," Nick said.
They waited. No one came after them. The sound of big diesel engines starting up came from the direction of the water.
"McKenzie's boat," Nick said. "He's leaving."
Ronnie looked a question.
"No, let him go," Nick said. "We'll let someone else worry about it."
He coughed and gasped and bent over in pain.
"You're hurt," Selena said.
"Armor saved me. But I think I've got a couple of broken ribs."
He looked at her. Her face was blackened, one side of her hair was singed.
"Let's find a boat and get out of here," Ronnie said.
Nick looked at the fire raging where the house had been. "The Ark is gone."
"Not all of it." Selena held up the piece of the broken cherubim.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
The piece of the Ark lay on Elizabeth's desk. It was the kneeling figure of a cherubim, minus the wings. They had broken off when the lid struck the floor.
The figure was carved from a solid piece of wood, finished with a flat base. Some of the thin gold covering remained, some had been lost in the mad dash from the burning house. Now was the first time they'd all had a chance to examine it.
But it wasn't the first time Selena had looked at it. She hadn't even told Nick what she'd found.
"It's hard to believe you found the Ark and now it's gone," Stephanie said. "It's a terrible loss."
"Maybe it's not quite what you think," Selena said.
"What do you mean?"
"Director, take a look at the bottom of the cherubim, on the lower right corner. You have to look close."
Harker picked up the fragment and turned it over. She peered at the lower corner.
"I don't see...wait a minute." She got a magnifying glass out of a drawer and held it over the piece.
"This can't be right. There's something written here." She read it out loud.
Bernardus fecit me anno domini MCCCVII.
"That's Latin. What's Latin doing there?"
"Exactly," Selena said. "It says 'Bernard made me
in the Year of Our Lord 1307'."
The silence was electric. Nick found his voice.
"You mean the Ark was a fake?"
"Yes. That inscription was under the cherubim, where no one would ever see it. The ark we saw was made in 1307, by someone named Bernard. Probably a Templar."
"Why make a fake?" Ronnie said.
"Deception," Selena said. "1307 was a bad year for the Templars. De Molay suspected treachery. I think they had the real Ark and he ordered a copy made in case King Phillip and the Pope managed to seize the Templar treasure. The letter was probably meant to throw them off the scent."
"But they never found it."
"No."
"Then it may still exist," Harker said.
"Along with the rest of the Templar treasure."
Nick started laughing.
"Want to share the joke, Nick?"
"Sorry, Director. All those clues we followed. For a fake. Harrison went to a lot of trouble chasing it down and got himself killed. All for a fake."
The alarm on Elizabeth's desk beeped five times. The display turned red.
DEFCON1.
Elizabeth's phone rang. She picked up, listened, set it back down.
"Stephanie, pull up the Iranian missile base."
Stephanie's fingers flashed over her keyboard. The monitor lit with a live shot of the missile base at Badr. There was frenzied activity on the ground.
"The silos are hot," Nick said. "Look at those heat signatures."
"They're going to launch." Elizabeth was pale. "If they've mounted that nuke, all hell is going to break loose. Steph, give me a split screen over Israel. Rabat-David Air base, in the north."
A second picture appeared on the screen. Rabat-David was one of Israel's major air bases, home to a large part of the Israeli Air Force. Planes were taking off at a steady rate. Nick saw dozens more waiting.
"They're putting everything into the air," Nick said.
"Switch to Egozi," Harker said.
Egozi military base wasn't on the tourist maps of Israel. It was where the Israelis kept their nuclear missiles in underground silos.
