Keepers of the Lost Ark

by J. Robert Kennedy

Tesfay started the truck and put it in gear, gently easing it forward, the engine struggling with the weight. It took longer than any would have liked, but they were soon in second gear, then third, and at least traveling faster than they would on foot.

  Dawson’s comm squawked.

  “Zero-One, Control. Stand by for new coordinates.”

  55 |

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “Did he just look out the window and up at us?”

  Leroux laughed, Child absolutely correct. The Russian they had identified as Alexie Tankov had clearly done just that. “I think we’ve been made.”

  Laughter rippled through the room.

  “Okay, warn Delta that the Russians didn’t fall for the bait, and are aware they’re being watched.”

  Tong relayed the message, then held up a finger. “Sir, interrogators in New York say they got a number from Fida, but it’s not working. They think it’s a satphone and might be turned off.”

  “Okay, try and track where it’s been and keep monitoring for it, but I don’t think we’re going to need it. My guess is it belongs to Ganno, someone Ganno is planning on meeting, or someone in that house that’s being hit. Those guys he left behind are obviously providing him with cover to escape, which means he’s not only important, he’s got somewhere important to be.”

  “Wherever the Ark is?” offered Child.

  “Exactly. I’m betting he’s going to lead us directly to the professors and whatever they’re trying to preserve.” He turned to Tong. “How far is Delta from Ganno’s current position.”

  “Less than ten kilometers.”

  “Okay, tell them to get a wiggle on, or the Russians could get there first.”

  Child groaned. “Uh oh.”

  Leroux looked at him. “What?”

  “I think we’ve got another problem bigger than the Russians.” He pointed at the screen and Leroux turned.

  And cursed.

  “This just got a whole lot more complicated.”

  56 |

  Ganno Residence South of Aksum, Ethiopia

  Captain Mussa held up a fist, bringing the column to a halt. They were several dozen now, all trusted, reliable men. And all but his sergeant completely in the dark as to why they were here. He stepped out of his truck and surveyed the area. Three positions were firing upon each other, two made up of foreigners, their target a house.

  “They obviously think they know something.” He pointed at the foreigners to the south. “Take out that position, surround the rest.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  His second-in-command deployed the men, the fifties on their technicals opening up on the unsuspecting position made up of what appeared to be Middle Eastern men, their number down to four before his men opened fire.

  And then there were none.

  The second position turned their attention to the new arrivals, and several of his men went down, the others returning fire, eliminating all but two, who quickly dropped their weapons.

  Mussa climbed back in. “Let’s go.”

  His sergeant had them at the second position in moments, and Mussa stepped out, drawing his sidearm. He pointed it at the first survivor. “Where’s the Ark?”

  The man spat at him. “Go to hell.”

  Mussa put two rounds in his chest then adjusted his aim, addressing the lone survivor. “Where’s the Ark?”

  The man held his hands out in front of him, his eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know! We were told it was here!”

  “Then you’re of no use.” Two more rounds in the chest and Mussa motioned for his men to head for the house. He stopped near the front door and holstered his weapon. “Come out now, or die horribly painful deaths!”

  It took a few moments, but eventually four men emerged, their hands up. Mussa stepped up to the first man. “Where is the Ark?”

  “The what?”

  Mussa drew his weapon and put a bullet in the man’s head, stepping over to the next man, now trembling.

  “I-I don’t know!”

  Another round to the head. He moved to the last two, both barely boys. “The first to answer lives. The other dies.”

  Both stared at each other then pointed, a set of fresh tracks visible leading away from the house. “Follow him!” “That way!”

  Mussa sighed, shaking his head. “You both answered at the same time. That makes it difficult.” He aimed at one, then the other, then the first. “I can’t decide.” He shot the first one, and the second smiled, if only for a moment.

  Then he shot him too.

  Mussa headed for his vehicle. “Let’s go!”

  57 |

  Unknown Location South of Aksum, Ethiopia

  “Finally!”

  Acton struggled to his feet, his muscles cramping as the two men returned carrying long poles, wrapped in gold, the fakes worth a fortune if they were built to the same specifications as described in the Bible. He stood back and let Laura take command.

  “Okay, let’s remove the original poles, very carefully.”

  Amanuel relayed the instructions and his men removed the first with ease, the second, broken one, with more trepidation, though successfully keeping it in one piece.

  “Okay, now slide the new ones in.” She watched, then gestured to the others. “Everyone in position.”

  Guns were put on the floor, and their guards became bearers, though it was clear there weren’t enough. They had six men, but needed a minimum of eight. Acton stepped up, pairing with one of the odd men out, and Father Amanuel made for the final pairing when Laura held up a hand. “Allow me, Father. You guide us.”

  The elderly man smiled knowingly, and graciously took her up on her offer.

  “On three,” said Laura, Amanuel counting off in the local dialect, and holding up his fingers for his guests’ benefit. They all lifted at once, and Acton nearly died from shock, the Ark unfathomably heavy. And he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. It was constructed from solid wood and gold, and would easily weigh more than a thousand pounds.

  And that explained why the poles were so long.

  There should be a dozen carrying this.

  But they didn’t have far to go, and with a lot of grunting, groaning, cursing, and moaning, they managed to move it the several feet needed, and onto the newly constructed platform.

  Acton collapsed on the floor along with the others, gasping for breath. After several minutes of recovery, Laura resumed guiding the process, having Amanuel’s men exchange the fake poles with the genuine articles, leaving the broken one as it was, their object today not to repair, but to preserve.

  They raised the plexiglass walls into place, sealing the sides, then installed the top, locking it in place. Electrical and data cables were hooked up, and Laura smiled at the room. “Well, here goes nothing.” She activated the system from a control panel mounted to the side of the self-contained unit, and sighed. “It works!”

  Acton winked at her. “You sound surprised.”

  “Well, one never knows.” She beckoned Amanuel over. “Okay, the system is running and everything is looking good. It will take a little while for the humidity and temperature levels to reach optimum, but if you keep this running, the Ark should last another three thousand years.”

  Amanuel smiled. “Let’s hope it won’t be that long before man is united under one God, and the Ark is long forgotten.”

  “Let’s hope.” She patted her handiwork. “The equipment will need to be maintained, and changed out every ten years, especially in these conditions. As you’ve seen, it was pretty easy to set up. You should be able to just order replacement parts yourselves, and swap out the units. Brief exposure won’t damage the Ark, but never lift it by the original poles. I’ll leave you all the part numbers you’ll need, along with descriptions so in the future, the modern equivalent can be bought.”

  Amanuel smiled, walking around the chamber, running his hand along its surface. “I’m glad you’re thinking long term. I wouldn
’t have thought of that.”

  Laura chuckled. “We’re archaeologists. Everything is long term for us.”

  Half a dozen men rushed into the room, one whispering something to Amanuel, a deep frown creasing the man’s face as Acton wondered why the additional muscle couldn’t have arrived ten minutes ago.

  “Problem?”

  Amanuel tilted his head. “For me, no, but for you, I’m afraid so.”

  Ganno dropped to his stomach and peered over the rise at the church carved into the bedrock below. He had grown up with these creations, and despite seeing them his entire life, he never ceased to be impressed.

  For he had never stepped inside one.

  The leaders of the Sons of Tamrin never did, though members of their order did when the need arose.

  “Status?”

  “Our man on the inside says they’ve just finished their work. The generator is powered up and the Ark is inside its new crate, or whatever you want to call it.”

  Ganno smiled, sighing. “Then it will be safe from now on. This is a good thing. We owe the professors our gratitude.”

  “You should thank them before you shoot them.”

  He frowned at the wry smile of his underling. “I take no pleasure in killing them. It is my duty. Our duty. The secret must be preserved, or the prophecy can never be fulfilled.”

  “Maybe it’s not meant to be.”

  He eyed the man he considered a friend. “Jesus Himself said it.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. We have a job to do. Are you up to it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what must happen?”

  “The professors must die.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Hey, sir, look!”

  Ganno looked where one of his men was pointing.

  What the hell is this?

  “They are here, aren’t they?”

  Amanuel nodded at Acton. “Yes.”

  “Do you have any weapons?”

  “Only those my men carry, but they’ve never fired them.”

  Acton’s eyes widened. “Never?”

  “There’s never been a need.”

  Laura stepped forward. “Well, we have. Give us the weapons and ammo, then get out of here.”

  Amanuel shook his head. “I can’t leave the Ark.”

  “You’ll have to.” She put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s that order you warned us of, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then they’re not here to destroy the Ark, they’re here for us. Go now, while you can.”

  Amanuel shook his head. “I will try to reason with them first. Stay here.”

  He rushed from the room and Laura took after him, Acton following.

  But it was too late. The old man was already halfway up the stairs to the surface, and they couldn’t risk exposing themselves unarmed.

  “He’ll be okay,” said Acton. “Like you said, they’re not here for him.”

  They returned to the chamber containing the Ark to find a pile of weapons and ammo in the middle of the room, the guards nowhere in sight.

  Acton cursed. “Thanks for nothing!”

  Laura patted him on the shoulder then dropped to her knees, taking a quick inventory. He joined her, picking out the best looking AK-47 he could and handing it to her as she sorted out the magazines, searching for those that were fully loaded.

  There weren’t enough.

  She sighed. “So, what are we going to do?”

  Acton shrugged. “Die, I guess.” He stared at the Ark, a thought occurring to him. “Umm, do you think He might help us?”

  Laura stuffed mags in every pocket she had. “I’m still not convinced He has anything to do with that thing. Besides, I wouldn’t have a clue on how to use it.”

  Acton shrugged. “In Raiders they lifted the top off and all hell broke loose.”

  She gave him a look. “Something tells me it isn’t as simple as that.”

  Acton sighed. “Leave it to God to make things difficult.”

  Laura grinned. “Now He won’t help us for sure.” She wagged a finger. “You really need to watch that mouth of yours.”

  Acton flushed. “Did I go too far?”

  “At home with me or our friends, no problem. With a priest from Ethiopia, who knows nothing but hardship, your argument came off as a little First World.”

  Acton grunted, loading his own pockets with ammo. “I guess so. If we survive this, remind me to apologize again.”

  Laura rose, slinging a spare AK-47 over her shoulder, another gripped in her hands. “I think he’s forgiven you.”

  Acton stuffed the only handgun in his waist. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because he’s going out there to face our enemy, not his.”

  Acton felt sick to his stomach. “Sometimes I’m a putz.”

  Laura patted his cheek. “But I still love you.”

  He grinned. “One last shag before it’s all over?”

  “You’re incorrigible. This is a church.”

  Acton’s eyes widened, having forgotten the location of their predicament. “I’m definitely going to hell.”

  Father Amanuel walked across the hard stone surrounding the church, toward the armed men lining the ridge to its north. Then stopped. One of them rose, a man he recognized from the area, a man named Ganno.

  “You’re a member of the Sons of Tamrin?”

  Ganno walked toward him, his weapon in hand, and nodded as he came to a stop in front of him. “I am.”

  “I must admit I’m relieved. From what I know of you, you are an honorable man, supporting a good wife and fine children.”

  “Thank you, Father, your words do me honor.”

  “Then please do me the honor of leaving this place.”

  “You know I can’t do that. Not until my business here is done.”

  “And that business is?”

  “To preserve the secret.”

  “By killing the professors.”

  Ganno nodded, the pain in his eyes evident. “I’m afraid so.”

  “These are good people, my friend. In fact, they’ve helped us preserve that which is so important to both of us. They’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “No, they haven’t. You did. And now they must pay for your mistake.”

  Amanuel’s heart hammered and his stomach flipped, for Ganno was right. It was his mistake. Yet it had been necessary. “I had no choice. The Ark needed to be preserved.”

  “You could have gained the knowledge by other means.”

  Amanuel shook his head. “No, it was falling apart. God only knows how much longer it would have lasted.”

  Ganno held up a hand. “Father, are the professors inside?”

  There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

  “Are any of your people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I suggest you leave, otherwise you may get hurt.”

  Amanuel thought of what Laura had said. “They won’t just let themselves be killed. You might die.”

  “I’m willing to die in service to my Lord Jesus Christ, as a Son of Tamrin.” He smiled slightly. “And I don’t think two professors from America are going to be much trouble.”

  Amanuel stepped closer. “Perhaps. Unless they have God on their side.”

  Ganno’s eyes flared and he took a step back, clearly shaken, though he quickly regained his composure, or at least a semblance of it. “You’ve got two minutes, Father, then we’re coming in.”

  “We’ve got a final location,” said Leroux as Dawson covered his ear, the roar of the protesting engine loud. “We think it’s going down at the coordinates we just sent you.”

  Dawson checked his phone, confirming receipt. He pulled up the map showing their location relative to the new coordinates. “Okay, we’re about ten minutes from there at the pace we’re going. How many are we facing?”

  “Looks like about two dozen surrounding the location on all sides.”

 
; “We should be able to handle it.”

  “One other thing. Well, actually two. Those Russians are about five minutes out, and you’ve got about fifty Ethiopian regulars headed your way, about fifteen minutes out.”

  Dawson cursed. “Hardware?”

  “Mostly AKs, but they’ve got four fifties mounted on technicals.”

  “No heavy armor?”

  “No.”

  “Any chance of getting help?”

  “Already on the way, but they’re thirty minutes out. You’re going to be on your own for at least fifteen minutes.”

  Dawson cursed. “Well, tell those flyboys to put the pedal to the metal or they’re going to miss all the action.”

  “Roger that, Zero-One, Control, out.”

  Dawson pointed to the road ahead, if you could call it that. “Let’s speed this beast up otherwise we’re going to be in it up to our eyeballs.”

  Tesfay nodded, pressing a little harder on the accelerator. “I’ll try, but she might blow.”

  Suddenly they hit a rut, jerking them to the side, and Niner cried out, skidding down the windshield and over the side. He rolled out of the way and Dawson watched with a grin as the man jumped to his feet and gave chase.

  “Should I stop?”

  Dawson shook his head. “No time. He’ll catch up.”

  And he did, reaching the opened gate of the pickup truck, his hand outstretched.

  Atlas swatted it away.

  “Come on, asshole, pull me in!”

  Atlas smacked the outstretched hand again.

  “I’m going to shoot you the next chance I get!”

  Atlas grabbed the hand and hauled Niner in with one impressive pull, swinging him onto the heap of bodies crammed into the bed of the truck. Niner struggled to find a place to put a foot that wasn’t in someone’s groin, then stabbed a finger toward Atlas.

  “I’m making out with your sister the next time she’s in town.”

  Atlas grabbed the finger, twisting. “You should know it’s my mama that thinks you’re cute!”

  Acton watched as Amanuel descended the steps, resignation of their impending doom written on his face. “I’m sorry, my children, but I failed. You are, I’m afraid, on your own.”