by Tom Haase
“Don’t lecture me. Besides, there’s nothing here so far. It’s empty, and I’m sweating so much I need a bottle of water.”
“Here. It’s still pretty cold. Did you hear that? Listen.”
“No, now give it to me.” She reached for the bottle.
Scott bent over and grabbed the bottle but it slipped from his hand as he bent after it. The first bullet whizzed by his ducked head. The sound scared him but he remembered that sound from inside the cathedral. He grabbed his pistol from the waistband.
The second round impacted between Bridget’s feet. She jumped behind the pile of dirt from their digging as fast as she could.
67
St. Augustine, Florida
Cordova Street
“They’re leaving the B&B,” Abdul said. He glanced over at Tewfik, who stirred from a short nap.
“Let’s follow them. After they returned from the fort this afternoon, I thought they might be coming out again.”
“Why?”
“They went around inside the old fortress walking off all kinds of angles and distances. I don’t know what for but my guess is they might have figured out where the manuscript is located.” Tewfik took out his handgun and checked the ammo in the magazine. He reinserted it into the weapon and chambered a round.
“What are you planning on doing? Didn’t you say we’d wait for them to find the Holy Koran before you killed them.”
“I plan to stop them because we can’t let them desecrate the Holy Book in any way. These infidels may have already put it in the ground centuries ago. I’ll not allow them to put it on the floor or on bare earth if they find it. They will not be allowed to commit sacrilege against the Holy Book again. We’ll take it first to preserve it from such insult. It is our tradition. But most of all I want to pay them back for what they did in Warsaw and Granada.”
Abdul started the SUV and followed the Honda Pilot to the fort. He carried on past the parked Honda and stopped a block away. There he could watch them in the rearview mirror. He cut the engine and the lights, and they waited. In a minute, he watched the two get out and head for the fort’s entrance.
“They are going to the front gate,” he told Tewfik.
“Give them a few minutes and we’ll follow.”
Abdul took out his pistol and checked it. He took a backpack from the trunk. He placed it into the car in case they needed something to transport the Holy Koran.
“Let’s go after them. Remember we wait until I tell you before we kill them. I want to make sure they have the manuscript and then we take it,” Tewfik ordered.
“I understand.” Abdul followed Tewfik into the fort where he noticed the beam of a flashlight moving in one section of the bastion. Tewfik moved to the outer wall and signaled for him to follow.
“What now?” Abdul asked.
“We wait.”
They observed as the Donavans shoveled dirt out of the hole. Abdul peeked at his watch. Ninety minutes passed since they started. When he looked up the pair were getting out of the hole. The dug out recess covered them up to their waists. One appeared to have something in hand.
“They’ve got it. That must be the Holy Book.” Tewfik shifted his body toward Abdul, causing his weapon to clang on the wall.
“We are going to do something great for Allah now. We’ll recover the original Holy Koran for the grand Ayatollah. Get ready.” Abdul raised his weapon.
“We’re too far away. Let’s get closer,” Abdul said, moving off to get into a better firing position. As he ducked down, the ear-piercing booms of two shots shattered the night. Tewfik had fired.
The damn fool, he thought. We’re too far away for handguns, but he wants the honor of being the one to capture the book and get the credit for killing the infidels who murdered two presidential guards. Abdul searched to find Tewfik. When he looked back toward where the Donavans stood, a round slammed into the ground near his feet, another whizzed by his head. The scream from just behind sounded in his ears.
“Are you hit bad?”
No reply. He moved back to where he found Tewfik on the ground with a bullet hole in the center of his chest. Abdul turned back toward the killers of his superior and fired two rounds. What was he doing? There were two of them. He should run and come back to fight another time. No, he had to get the manuscript. Another round zipped close by. He ducked and fired at the last known location of the diggers.
He crawled forward to get nearer to the spot where they dug the hole. There is no choice. He raised his weapon to fire when the outline of a person appeared in his sight. He aimed.
The noise of multiple guns firing became the last sound Abdul ever heard.
68
Earlier in the Day
St. Augustine, Florida
Catholic Cathedral
Father Jonathan McGregor knew to call the cardinal. The phone rang three times before he heard “Hello, Jonathan. What is the latest?”
“Eminence, I think they may have found the spot where the goods are located.”
“Where?”
“In the old fort in St. Augustine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not completely. Today they shifted their efforts from outside on the beach to inside the fort.”
“Report to me this afternoon since I have meetings until five.” He hung up.
Jonathan returned to the Casa Monica Hotel and prepared for the day. He put three bottles of water in his over the shoulder pack and checked his weapon before he placed it in the pack. He went to the spot outside where he figured he would find the Iranians.
They were in their usual spot watching for the Donavans to appear. He waited in the outside cafe down the block from the B&B. From his window location he could view the entrance but not the Iranians. They wouldn’t move until the pair appeared. He waited, sipping his drink.
The Donavans exited their accommodations. He watched the Iranians follow the young Americans and he followed in turn.
At the fort, he stopped a safe distance from the entrance and just watched as the Iranians went in. He calculated if all the followers were inside at the same time, the chances of some form of confrontation escalated to unacceptable proportions. He stood his ground and waited. Less than an hour later the Donavans came out with many other tourists, followed at a distance by the Iranians.
Jonathan returned to his room and waited. He observed the Donavans buying some digging tools at a local army navy store and guessed they decided to dig up the object of their search. Perhaps they came to a conclusion on where to dig, based on their premature return to the hotel. The spot must be in the fort. They couldn’t just go in and start digging. Too many questions would arise in daylight. Therefore they must have decided to wait for night to go back in. He said a few prayers. A long night might lie ahead.
At five in the afternoon he called the cardinal and related his observations. At six he ate a light dinner and returned to his room. He put on a black pair of pants and a black shirt, but left off the roman collar. With his bag of water and his handgun he went to get his old Buick and maneuvered it to a spot to observe both the Iranians and the exit the Donavans used.
The battle on the interstate didn’t appear to have made a permanent impression on them. He noted the Iranians took no precautions to avoid a tail. He stopped his indictment of their actions when the Honda appeared. It took the road to the fort.
He waited for the Iranians to pick up their trail before he followed. He called the cardinal. “I think they’re going to dig, or perhaps they have located, the object of their search in the fort. They are going there now. I’m following, but they will have to break in. Their actions give me more confidence they know where to go or where to search.”
“Excellent. Now we will have the holy relics and the writings of St. Peter. Good work. I’m on my way.” The line went dead. He had a few minutes before anything would happen and made another call to the Vatican operations room to give a situation report. It lasted a few minutes and the
n he returned his attention to observing the events in front of him.
Jonathan parked on Orange Street and moved to where he could view the entrance to the fort. The Donavans were already approaching the gate. He could hardly make them out in the darkness. Jonathan hurried to a position at the Crucial Coffee Shop opposite to the front entrance of the fort. There he watched as Scott scaled the gate and opened it to let Bridget enter. At no time did they give any suggestion they saw the two Iranians tailing them. It must be wonderful to be so blissfully ignorant he decided, but not really, because death can come quick in this game.
The Iranians waited until the Donavan’s were inside before following them. Jonathan took his weapon and entered. He found the gate ajar and slipped past it. The darkness enveloped everything inside the entrance. He waited for his night vision to kick in. It would take a few minutes. During that time he just listened. The crunching sound of shovels on dirt reached his ears. That noise masked any movement the Iranians might be making.
After ten minutes, he acquired his night vision and moved out to find out what the Donavans were doing. He needed to locate the Iranians. The Iranians were the primary concern at this moment. They tried to kill the Donavans on the highway and their predecessors attempted the same in Spain. They were the real danger here tonight. The stars provided the sole source of light. No moon yet and the illumination from those specks of celestial light provided little aid in navigating around the inside of the fort.
He crept to his right out of the entrance portal and entered the Plaza de Armas. His hand followed the wall until he reached some stairs. Going up the steps would provide a better vantage point. It would move him off the ground level where the Donavan’s toiled and he would potentially gain a view of the as yet undetected Iranians. He reached a platform about fifteen feet up on the stairs and stopped to evaluate his position.
On the level ground, he picked out the digging site. He scanned over the rest of the open space in the vast courtyard, not looking at anything in particular, but hoping for some movement off the center of his focus. He kept searching. Nothing. He relaxed a few minutes as the crunching of the earth by shovels and the thumping of removed dirt as it landed in the fort’s courtyard. He didn’t look at his watch but guessed at least an hour had passed.
Silence.
The digging stopped. He scanned the courtyard again. Movement. Slow movement. Someone approached the well in the center of the courtyard. Then another.
The Iranians had appeared.
Jonathan saw Scott help Bridget out of the hole and take something from her hand. At that moment, the night silence shattered with the report of two gunshots. Damn the Iranians were going to take them out right now. Jonathan grabbed his pistol.
Gun flashes illuminated the curtain of darkness. One of the Iranians bellowed a scream. Another fired back at the Donavans.
At that moment, he heard the sound of a helicopter approaching, the rotor blades whopping in the air. He saw the Iranian raise his gun and aimed it at Bridget. He couldn’t find Scott but acted on impulse, raised his weapon and fired with pinpoint accuracy at the Iranian’s head. He heard simultaneous explosive gunfire reports and then felt the sting of a bullet hit him.
69
Inside the Fort
Scott cried out. Bridget reached out and pulled her brother down after the first shot. “Are you hit?”
“A burning sensation in my butt. I think I just didn’t duck fast enough. It stings but I don’t think it’s bad.” He put his hand on his rear. “No, not bad.”
“You stay here,” Bridget ordered. “I’m going to go get the bastards. I heard one scream. You must’ve hit someone. I don’t know if there are any more, but I’m going to get whoever did this. Give me the gun.”
“Be careful.” He grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Before you go, I’m sorry for what happened. Really. It was a one off and never happened again. I found out it’s not me. You’ve ribbed me enough I think. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not going to die, so don’t give me a confession. It’s been unsaid long enough. I know it now but you ruined everything when I caught you in bed with my fiancée, that asshole. I hated you then but now I should thank you for saving me from him. Do what you started and we’ll forget the past. I have to go before they kill us both.”
Time to act, Scott had said his peace to her and now with that out of the way nothing remained to undermine their future relationship. In her heart, she forgave him. Now focus, she intoned to herself.
She moved to the left and crawled about ten yards from the hole and then jumped up and ran at full speed toward the fortress wall. She stumbled once on an uneven spot in the ground but recovered from the fall and again ran. Making it to the wall, she flattened herself against it and tried to control her breathing. Her heart thumped so loud she could hear it in her ears. Sweat rolled down into her eyes. She used the bottom of her t-shirt to wipe her face. She let her eyes move in ten-degree sections of the area to the front. In such a manner her night vision would work best. She learned to employ this method in the army.
She thought she saw something. A flicker of motion. She waited. There, just to her left. She remained stationary. Then the shadow moved.
Overhead the rotor whopping of a helicopter’s main blades penetrated her ears. It flew low over the fort. Its arrival broke her concentration. Someone might be coming, maybe the police. The sound of gunfire might have alerted them even though she didn’t think so. The place remained isolated from the rest of the city at night and the sound of the shots would remain inside the walls, being sent straight up instead of resounding laterally into the city. Even if someone in the distance heard something they would dismiss it as firecrackers or kids on the beach having a party.
Bridget tiptoed forward staying in the dark shadow of the wall as long as possible. Her shoe hit something. Her target raised his pistol toward her. She aimed as she moved forward. The target appeared in her sights. She held her breath and focused on the target. Just as she pulled the trigger, she tripped and then cursed at her clumsiness. The report of the shot produced a deafening ringing in her ears and the sound reverberated inside stonewalls.
Another weapon discharged. She didn’t realize it but there were two simultaneous lightening flashes that penetrated the darkness.
Loud noises, maybe even a third gunshot, she thought she heard more guns firing but wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she got him. She saw the man fall. She rushed forward. Reaching the spot, she peered down at the prone attacker and on closer examination the bullet hole in his head clearly obvious. Great shot, she congratulated herself. She found the other corpse a few feet away.
“Scott are you okay?” she shouted. She kicked the prone body after kicking the gun away but no response.
“I got him. They’re both dead.”
She walked back to where he lay on the ground. Taking his flashlight she examined his rear. “It looks like a scratch. Just a little bleeding.”
“Quit looking at my ass. I told you it’s like a bee sting. I’m glad to be alive after all the gunfire. You did great. A real hero.”
“Knock it off. We should get out of here.”
“No way. We came to find it and we will.”
“There’s nothing down here but dirt. It’s over. Let’s get out of here. It’s time to call it off and go home.” He took his flashlight and shined it into the hole they had dug. “We’re licked. Nothing here.”
Bridget hung her head and almost cried so sure they would find it. All the effort, the running, the dead attackers – for what? Now to give up. Maybe Scott was right. This was madness to think they could do it all by themselves.
Just one more look to make sure they hadn’t missed anything.
“Look, there is something down there,” Bridget exclaimed. “Hold the light.”
Scott got up and shone the light down into the hole. She could make out something. “It must have been under the rock slab we brought up. Something is sticking up.
”
Bridget jumped down and recovered the object. She dug around to search for anything else that might remain in the same area. After two minutes she shook her head, climbed out, and held it under her flashlight.
“It’s a metal cross, nothing else down there.” She turned the dirty object over. “It’s not what we’re seeking.”
“Look, there’s writing on it. Hold the light so I can see,” Bridget said.
Scott focused his light on the cross. “It appears to be made of gold, “Bridget said, “and there is some . . . it’s in Latin.”
“What does it say?” She grabbed the cross from Scott’s hand.
“Some initials, MDG, and the rest appear to be in Latin, Agnus Dei.”
“I’ll take that,” said a voice from behind them.
70
Onboard Papal Aircraft
30,000 Feet Over Coast Rica
Pope Linus II —so named after the first successor of St. Peter—closed his cell phone, cutting off the call. He tapped it against a chin as he considered the information he’d just received. He needed to take the action required.
He stood and then went forward to the flight deck on the privately owned Gulfstream V aircraft provided for his use on this trip by a Latin American business executive.
“Captain, would it be too much trouble for you to stop in Jacksonville, Florida?” the Pontiff queried.
“It can be arranged. I’ll request a refueling stop,” said Captain Juan Solares.
“How long before we arrive?”
“We can divert to arrive there in four hours. Before sunrise.”
“May I stay in the cockpit and observe?”
“Of course, holiness. But why not catch a few hours sleep and I’ll call you when we are on approach.”
