by Tom Haase
“I suggest we rent a car and drive to St. Augustine.”
“We could fly. Might get there quicker,” Bridget offered.
“Might, but it could allow someone to track us easier and besides, two hours early to the airport, then a two hour stop in Tampa to change planes and a total flight time of two hours.”
“I get it. In the long run it might be quicker to drive as no one can find where we’re going if we rent the car with cash.”
“Right. Are you sure the man from Granada, what’s his name?”
“Stephen.”
“Are you certain he doesn’t know about this?” She hadn’t told Scott of her suspicion about Stephen.
“Not absolutely, but he didn’t make a copy of the letter you used to solve the cryptogram. By the way, I’m still gobsmacked on how you untangled it.”
“Genius.” She pointed to her head.
“It’s a shame they didn’t have UTM maps or GPS back then. We’d be able to discover to the inch where we have to look. He might have used a sextant.”
“He didn’t use a sextant,” she said. “From my research in the 1490’s period, they couldn’t use one because until 1731. It didn’t exist. I think he may have used a surveying method called metes and bounds. He adapted the system since there was no survey done, so he earmarked topographical features to delineate boundaries.”
Scott got up to refill his coffee. When he returned he asked, “How will we find the exact location he sent to the abbot? We know that St. Augustine is the location he gave in the last letter with the code of where he left it.”
“We’ll need to do a lot of research in the area. It will take a few days to narrow our search. I went online to Google maps and used their satellite image to try to identify the position given in the code. I couldn’t be certain but I picked two areas that might be the spots we’re looking for.”
“I’ve got two weeks before I’m due to report for my new teaching position. When do you have to be back?”
“About the same for me, but this is more important than going back to teaching, don’t you think? I’ll still have to contact them soon. If we succeed there might be a different future for both of us.”
He nodded. “Can I see the translation you came up with? I still find it hard to believe you were able to unravel the code using an old merchant’s secret language. You sure you know how they employed the system? Explain it to me again please.”
She put her napkin on the table and sat back. “As certain as you are from your research that he established a settlement at or very close to the present day city of St. Augustine. Now remember the sixteenth century Spanish captains brought back treasures from all over, in particular, gold from the New World. The king demanded one third of any valuable goods for his treasury. So they devised a method of cooking the books. The manifest listed cargo that wasn’t taxed and listed small amounts of gold or silver. The amount claimed certainly far less than what rested in the hold buried under spoiling fruit or other smelly belongings the custom boys wouldn’t want to dig through.”
Scott nodded as he followed her explanation.
“The letter from the company merchants in the Americas contained a code which the captain delivered on his return from the New World. The letter informed the home office in Spain what they placed on board the vessel and its location. Ponce de Leon used the same code in his letters. Your research clinched it for me. You found out the abbot’s father served as an import/export merchant of the day. I used that as a starting point and researched the Spanish galleon trade with America. Sure enough, one site told me about that code the sea captains used and I used the key I found there to figure it out.”
“Brilliant,” Scott said. “We’ve discovered it has to be close to or in the city of St. Augustine. We know what the items are. All we have to do now is to find them.”
“Nothing to it,” Bridget said as she slapped him on the shoulder. She stood up.
“Let’s get going. Our future awaits us,” Scott said.
“This may not be as easy as we think,” Bridget declared.
57
Miami, Florida - 10:35 a.m.
Jonathan watched both Donavans as they walked toward the port’s exit gate, each sporting Bermuda shorts and yellow T-shirts advertising the cruise line logo in blue. They had their backpacks on and hailed a taxi at the end of the pier. He waited across the street and realized this part of the mission might be easy. Just follow them, keep hidden, and get the goods at the end. Shouldn’t be too difficult. He could be back in Rome in a few days and return to his duties delighted to be getting out of this hide and seek game.
After the cab pulled away, a green car sped past him and pulled up behind the taxi as if tailing it. Jonathan glimpsed two Middle Eastern looking men in the front seat. Damn, the Iranians again. How in God’s name did they do it? Matters became complicated in a nanosecond. Somehow they tracked the Donavans to Miami. Now Scott and Bridget were again in danger. If these guys had followed them here, they would dispose of them after getting the Koran. He could also be expendable, if they learned of his involvement.
Jonathan pulled out and followed in line behind the green Ford Taurus and the taxi. The weapons from Father Hodges might prove their worth. Jonathan had no intention of getting into a gunfight. He would use the guns to provide security, not to deliberately kill.
The taxi pulled in the gate at the Enterprise car rental lot and Jonathan watched the green Taurus go by the entrance. He pulled over short of the lot. The Donavans reemerged with a black Honda Pilot SUV. The green Ford followed them and Jonathan pulled his silver Buick in behind.
He looked at his watch as the cars headed north on I-95. It was 11:35. From his time spent in research on Ponce de Leon, Jonathan guessed the Donavans were now driving to the St. Augustine area.
* * *
In the Honda, Bridgett said, “I promised Anthony I’d call that general in Washington. I got a number from the DIA web site.”
“Go ahead. We’ll be on the road for about five hours.”
Bridget used her cell phone to call the DIA number and after a few explanations of whom she needed to talk with she reached the general’s office.
“I’m sorry Miss Donavan but the general is not here. What is the nature of your call?” a pleasant female voice asked.
“I’m calling about Lieutenant Anthony Mahdi.”
“Give me your number, miss,” the voice said, changing tone and intensity.
Bridget did as requested and the call ended when the person in the general’s office hung up. Three minutes later the phone chirped. Bridget answered it.
“Miss Donavan, my name is General Bergermeyer,” a female voice said. “Please answer my questions and do not say anything more concerning why you called my office because this matter is of great importance. You are on an unsecured cell phone. Do you understand? “
“Sure, but why all the secrecy?”
“I can’t tell you right now, but are you the same Bridget recently in Granada?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re on I-95 out of Miami going to St. Augustine.”
“There is an Air National Guard unit located at Cape Canaveral. The air base is not far off I-95 and you should arrive in about 4 hours from Miami. I’ll meet you. The guard at the main gate will have your name and will escort you. I need to talk with you. Today.”
“Just a second.” She told Scott what the general said.
He nodded, interested in this latest development.
“That’s not too much to ask after what he did for me, General. We’ll meet you there. We’re in a black Honda Pilot.”
“Is your brother with you?” the general asked.
“Yes.”
“I look forward to seeing you both.”
Bridget hit the end button on the phone.
Scott glanced at her taking his eyes off the road, and asked, “What the hell has happened now?”
* * *
Air National Guard Field, Cape Canaveral, Florida
They reached the base in less than four hours. The guard asked to see some ID. After showing their passports, the air policeman requested Scott and Bridget to follow him.
They arrived at a hangar. A small jet sat outside the open doors. As they approached the plane the escort moved away and a female descended the steps of the jet. Scott took a second look because he saw the woman getting off the plane looked like an older Bridget in an army uniform.
“Mr. Donavan, Ms. Donavan, I’m Mary Jean Bergermeyer.”
“Scott,” he said, shaking her hand.
“Bridget, General, pleased to meet you.”
“Please call me Mary Jean. If you will follow me inside the hanger I arranged for some refreshment and we can talk in a cooler atmosphere than out here on the tarmac.” She led the way to a small room with a conference table and some soft drinks, sandwiches, and assorted cookies.
“When you called the office you mentioned Tony Mahdi. I believe you saw him in Granada. He sent me an email from there with the details of what happened. He sent his email to me as Lucky Lady. He regretted your suffering but he could do nothing at the time of the email. He sent another message when he reached Warsaw and told me of your escape and your bravery, Bridget. Would you tell me everything you experienced in Spain?”
“Mind if I get us a drink?” Scott asked. Bridget started to tell her story. When she finished she took some of the drink Scott handed her.
“You know Tony is engaged in extremely dangerous work. The people he is trying to infiltrate are not angels. What he’s doing is vital for all Americans. He’s out on the front lines where it’s just as deadly as in Iraq or Afghanistan. He continually provides valuable intelligence on movements of terrorists in Europe over the last year and has moved up in their circles. Now, however, I have a problem.”
“Did we do something to compromise him?” Bridget asked.
“No. You see, when he returned to Warsaw without the Koran and the two Presidential bodyguards were dead, he came under suspicion.”
Bridget’s heart raced, hoping nothing bad would happen to Anthony, after his efforts on her behalf. She rubbed her nose and then took a drink. “He told me,” she said, “something might happen, but he remained confident the wound he received would be proof of his efforts.”
“To a degree it must have been, but they turned on him and tortured him. Whether with drugs or pure violence they found out everything.”
“How do you know? What did they find out?” Bridget asked, not wanting to hear anything awful.
“We don’t know all, but let me back up. Tony escaped somehow. We’re not sure how, but he managed to get to the Marine guard at the embassy in Warsaw. He identified himself to our defense attaché, informing him what the Islamist tortured him to reveal. Then he collapsed. He’s been in a coma since then. The doctors say that in his critical condition they don’t know if he’ll make it. All this happened five days ago.”
“My God,” Bridget said. “They know about us.”
“I’m afraid so. Could you tell me what you’re doing to cause all this?”
“I don’t think we caused it,” Scott said.
“Maybe not in a direct manner but whatever you’re doing set off a chase by some fanatics. Some recent intercepts indicate they have identified where you are and have sent someone to find you. That’s all I have right now. And please tell me again all that happened to you in Spain. Describe everything please.”
Bridget did.
“Tony emailed they were after the Koran. Is that what you’re after now?” queried the general.
Scott watched Bridget for her reaction. He noticed her give him a slight nod. “Yes, we have information there might be in existence an original or at least a very early copy of the Koran. If it is true then both sides of Islam might be after it. It could contain new verses which could change Islam, perhaps for the better.”
“Are you searching for anything else?”
Again Scott waited for Bridget. This time he saw her eyes shift left. “Just some religious Latin texts. That’s all.”
At least not a total lie, Scott realized.
“Who was the man Tony told us you were with in Granada?” the general asked.
“That would be Stephen,” Scott said.
“What or who is he?”
“We don’t know exactly,” Scott said. “He appeared out of nowhere and helped me right up to the time Bridget and your lieutenant came out of the house where they held Bridget.”
Bridget remained silent about her suspicions about Stephen’s identity.
“So you had two Iranians after you, a friend who helped you about whom you know little. Is that about it?”
Scott nodded at the same time Bridget did. It all sounded so bizarre and unbelievable.
“You were the last Americans to see Tony before he reached our embassy. That’s why I needed to meet you.” She stood up. “May I suggest that these people who were after you in Spain are most certainly after you again? If Tony gave up all the information he had, then they’re now tracking you for sure. Believe me they have extensive networks and experienced computer experts. Even though you may cover your tracks by paying with cash, they can hack the cruise ship line’s passenger lists, the car company’s rental list. You understand where I’m going? You’re not in the clear. Bridget, you know what they’re capable of and if Tony hadn’t been there you wouldn’t be here now.”
Bridget stood and faced the General. “I owe him my life. You’re his boss and he thought the world of you. But now we’re in America. We’ve come this far and we’ll find what we’re looking for. It’ll be a momentous academic achievement and the whole world will benefit, not just some religious sect of Islam or a splinter group of Christianity.”
“Nobly said, young lady. I wish you luck in your search. If you think I can help, or you remember anything you think I need to know about your captors, please call me. We intend to follow up on the information you have provided. You and Tony didn’t leave anyone alive to interview. From what I can determine that demonstrated heroic action by you both. Here is my direct line.” The general smiled as she handed Bridget a card with the number. “You’re quite a formidable, young lady.”
The general stood up and smiled as she said, “I congratulate you again on your bravery. But due to your attitude about being in America, I want to give you some advice. I hope you take it in the spirit it is offered. Be warned, you might be in America but bad things can happen to good people, even here.”
58
North of Jupiter, FL
Interstate 95
Scott moved the Pilot to the inside lane on the interstate. He didn’t want to dodge traffic while they talked. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he raised his eyebrows in amazement when he saw the road almost clear behind them.
“What did you think about with the general?”
“She’s a unique person. I liked her.” Bridget gazed out the window. The flat Florida countryside flew by. The orange orchards were on one side and what she took for grapefruit on the other.
“I bet. She’s exactly like you.” Scott displayed a grin while saying this.
“What do you mean?” She whirled back toward him ready to pounce if he pissed her off.
“She’s almost your twin in appearance and has an almost magical power of presence.”
“I’m much younger.” She pouted.
“But I bet you’ll be as gorgeous as she is when you’re her age.” Sometimes he attempted to be nice, considering the way she looked at him a second ago.
“Gee . . . thanks, I think.”
“We must figure out other things. Like how do we isolate the location of the relics and the manuscripts?”
“We have to unravel where all these numbers will lead us.” Bridget paused a few moments before she continued. “I may have discovered the translation using the information found on the Internet about the Spanish commercial
tricks, but I haven’t discovered what they mean in this case.”
“Now we have some time, tell me what your best guesstimate is?”
“I think the numbers are for an angle and for an azimuth,” Bridget said.
BANG.
The car shook with a resounding thud on the rear left side. Scott glanced at the speedometer, 65 mph. He glanced at the rearview mirror as the car swerved toward the ditch on the side of the road.
Bridget yelled.
Scott fought to control the car and kept it from plowing off the road.
Glancing out the side window, he saw a green car driven by what looked like two dark skinned occupants and decreased in speed to come even with them.
BANG.
Another thunderous impact racked the car.
“What the hell was that?” Bridget shouted. She turned to look over her shoulder.
The attackers were were closing at an alarming rate.
We’re doomed, he thought as he continued to struggle with the steering wheel, trying to keep his car under control.
Heart thumping, Scott floored the accelerator. The car shot forward but the green car kept pace and again came even with his window. The green car moved over. He guessed they were going to ram him, trying to force him into the roadside gulley. He took the initiative and swerved toward the green car.
More than one could play at this game.
The other car mimicked his moves and he abandoned his idea of ramming them. They, however, didn’t quit and without warning swerved back toward Scott’s Honda. He tensed his muscles and concentrated on driving to stay on the road. The attacking car had the speed and the angle to plunge them into the roadside ditch at 90 miles per hour. They might not survive such an event. He slammed on the brakes. The other car matched his maneuver and bore down on his exposed rear fender.
BANG.
As the car slowed under the maximum breaking pressure of his foot, Scott heard an explosion. The car beside him swerved and dropped back. As it receded in his rearview mirror, he accelerated away.
