by M. B. Lewis
Curt had stopped by hours ago to take Brian back to his room and check on Duke’s progress. It was well past midnight before Duke finished the coordination to fly the airplane and passengers out of Italy and into Serbia. The route he planned would take a little over two-and-a-half hours. He tried to avoid flying over the Adriatic Sea mainly for safety, but he cut the corner at the northern edge.
He slept on his bed that night and slept soundly. Kadie let him sleep when she awoke in the morning, and he needed it.
Escape was never far from his thoughts, but anything that put Brian at risk was something he was not willing to do. Once they found the Scroll, the possibility of getting away from GDI would be impossible. Curt made it quite clear he would kill the boy anytime and anywhere. Duke believed the man was unstable enough to do it. The GDI goons followed him around the airfield, where he was told not to use the squawk codes for an emergency or high-jacking. Their only hope was the call-sign. Duke continued to use the call-sign assigned to them by the Air Force when he left Iraq. He had deviated significantly from his original flight plan in the past few days. Hopefully, someone in the battle-staff in Bagram or at Hurlburt Field, would detect it soon.
When they went down to the lobby, Patricia coordinated two separate cabs to the train station, then to the airport in Treviso, where Duke’s plane sat. Curt took Brian in the other car to ensure he and Kadie didn’t try anything foolish. When they arrived at the airport, Esteban went inside with Duke to file the flight plan. The thug stuck with him like glue and left no opportunity for Duke to slip anyone a message that they were being kidnapped. The rest of the team loaded their gear on the airplane and waited for them on the ramp.
Duke filed the flight plan and walked out to the airplane, his guard right next to him the whole way. The sky to the West was a deep gray, and the brisk wind of the imminent cold front whisked around them. Curt held Brian in front of him, the pistol in his coat apparent only because Duke knew it was there. The coward—to hold a gun on a person with special needs was unfathomable. He would get his in the end. Duke told everyone to go ahead and climb into the plane while he did his pre-flight. Patricia boarded first, followed by Kadie, Hans, Brian, and Curt. Esteban guarded Duke around the airplane during his pre-flight walk-around and monitored from a distance. Kadie looked at Duke as she entered the doorway of the King-Air, the whites of her eyes capped by drooping eyebrows. He wanted to rush over to find out what was wrong, but he knew. And he didn’t want them to know how he truly felt about her. That would complicate things more than they already were. At this point, it was best to appear distant, though no doubt Curt suspected something.
Duke completed his walk around and climbed aboard the dusty King-Air. Esteban came in behind him and sat in the co-pilot seat. After both engines started, Duke taxied to the active runway, then took off to the Northwest, climbing into the darkening sky.
When the King-Air punched through the cloud deck that hovered over Northern Italy at about seven-thousand feet, Duke breathed easier. Once again, the flight plan was filed under a call-sign he used during combat operations in Iraq. He was surprised no one questioned it, despite not having flown to Italy using that call sign.
“What’s going to happen when we reach Serbia?” Duke asked Esteban.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you guys have a lot of weapons. How do you guys expect to get them through customs?”
Esteban sneered. “Same way we have been doing it. Have the right guy meet us at the airport.” The guy shifted in his seat, then adjusted his headset. “Won’t be too hard. The airport will be closed when we land.”
The flight seemed like it took forever. Duke kept the aircraft at ten-thousand feet for the two-and-a-half-hour flight. The tiny plane bounced and jostled for most of the trip, but he managed to avoid the thunderstorm. They landed at Nis and taxied on the blacked-out tarmac. Duke used his night-vision goggle mounted on his tactical helmet, just like he did back in Egypt. He proceeded with caution, unsure of the layout of the airfield. They shut down, and a well-worn limousine met them on the ramp. No customs, no immigration. Money had its privileges once again.
On the ride to the hotel, Duke sat next to Brian. The boy was sleepy, nodding off occasionally. Glancing at Kadie, Duke flashed her a smile as he tried to read her face. Something bothered her.
The limo pulled up to the innocuous hotel. Hans went into the lobby to fetch their room keys while the rest of the group stayed in the limo. Patricia left the passenger seat of the limo and walked around to the back and climbed inside.
“We’ll be going inside soon,” Patricia said. “As usual, we don’t want you to make a scene. I recommend you go to your room and get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”
“Where exactly in the hillside do you think we’ll go?” Kadie asked.
“We’re not going there. We’re going to a museum.”
“A museum?”
Patricia nodded. “The riddle of the three says there’s another vase. That vase should give us the exact location of the cathedral. I’d rather explore that option first before traipsing through the hillside.”
“The riddle of the three?” Duke asked. “That’s the first you mentioned that.” Isaac had told him about the clue with his dying breath, but he had been careful not to mention it. Now, he found out she knew anyway.
“Yes. I wasn’t sure it was necessary until now. It’s a legend, much like the vase and the Scroll. But we’ve found one of the vases. And since that vase only contained a clue, it gives credence to the riddle of the three. So, if Miss Jenkins is correct, we should find a second vase tomorrow that points us to where we will find the third.”
“I don’t understand,” Kadie said. “Why three vases?”
“The vase we found was a decoy. Legend says you have to use the other two to find the one with the Scroll, but it’s hard to say. I think it was simply an afterthought. Someone during, or shortly after, Constantine’s reign created the idea, so the location never got lost.”
“But it did,” Duke said.
Patricia’s eyes narrowed. “For almost two-thousand years, but we’ll learn soon enough if the legend of the Pilate Scroll is real.”
Hans came back to the limousine, and the group piled out. He handed each of them a key. Brian started to walk toward Duke when Curt reached out and snatched him by the collar.
“The kid stays with me,” Curt said. “Since it could be our last day tomorrow, I don’t want you two getting any funny ideas.”
Kadie grit her teeth and lunged at Curt, but Duke grabbed her and pulled her back. “Now’s not the time,” he whispered in her ear. Kadie relaxed her stance, but her eyes cut daggers through Curt.
“He’s out of medication. I need to go to the pharmacy in the morning,” Kadie said.
“I don’t think there’s a pharmacy here,” Curt said. “And if there is, the odds of them having what you want is slim to none.” The fake soldier steered Brian toward the front steps of the hotel, the rest of the group right behind them, with Esteban bringing up the rear.
The hotel was nothing like they had stayed in before. Opulence was not a priority today. The crew from GDI grew anxious, and their sloppiness began to show. Like a horse to water, they sensed they were close. Every action showed it. The small lobby stood about twenty feet by ten, a tiny front desk, one chair in a corner, and a dead potted plant in another. The single elevator could barely hold three people; two if they had luggage. Their rooms were all on the third floor. Patricia went up first, with Curt and Brian, followed by Hans and Kadie, then Esteban and Duke.
When Esteban and Duke reached the third floor, Hans stood outside, waiting for them, a smirk on his face. Duke walked to the room he shared with Kadie and glanced inside.
Small. Empty. The room was about twelve by twelve, he guessed. It had one bed and one dresser with a fan on top of the chest. No TV, no chair. Very Spartan. He wondered—why the switch in accommodations? Regardless, it was better than some of the fa
cilities he had stayed at down-range.
Kadie must be in the bathroom, Duke thought. Best to give her some privacy. “I’ll wait here for a moment.”
“Go inside,” Esteban shoved him in and shut the door.
Duke stumbled in and immediately bumped into the bed as the door closed behind him. As soon as the door shut, Kadie came out of the bathroom.
“I was hiding from that guy,” she said. “He gives me the creeps.”
Duke nodded. “Not much space,” he said, looking over the room. The lone bed, the Serbian version of the king-size, was more like a double-bed in America. Not much room for two people who weren’t going to be laying over each other. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No. No need. We’ll make it work.”
“Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d feel better about sleeping on the floor.”
Kadie sighed and shrugged her shoulders. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she seemed disappointed. A lifetime ago, before he had gotten married and was a different person, he would have taken her up on her offer. And he would have made advances on her she might not have been willing or able to resist. But he was a different man now—a Christian man. And he handled situations like this differently than his former self.
Kadie walked back toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower.” She paused. “I know this is awkward for you. It is for me, too. But I appreciate you being a gentleman. That’s rare these days.”
She closed the door behind her, and Duke reached in his backpack and pulled out his dopp-kit containing his toothbrush and toothpaste. He found an extra blanket and pillow at the top of the closet. In moments, he made himself a spot on the floor between the bed and the wall. Duke sat on the bed with his back against the headboard as he waited for Kadie to finish her shower.
Tomorrow is the day, he thought. It’s our last chance.
54
Nis, Serbia
An unnamed hotel
* * *
The next morning, Kadie sat on the bed while Duke showered. He’s an honorable man, she thought. So sad that he had cancer, but he seemed to manage fine. She only wished he didn’t still dip that worm dirt. She wondered what he was like before he became a Christian, when he was married, a father, in the Air Force. What happened that drove her away? Was it one event, or an insidious change over time?
A few minutes later, the door opened, and Duke walked out, wearing his cargo pants with no shirt. Her mouth fell open, and she smiled briefly, her eyes drifting down. Hopefully, he didn’t see her reaction.
“So, where are we going today?” Duke asked.
“The National Museum Nis.” She paused. “I kind of feel like Wyatt Earp on his way to the OK Corral.” Kadie raised her head back toward him.
Duke smiled. “Wyatt Earp won that fight.”
“I know. I couldn’t think of a better analogy.” She grabbed her hair with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut. “I just feel helpless, like we’re walking into our funeral.”
Duke said nothing.
“You said that God had a plan,” Kadie murmured. “I hope so because I don’t. And I’m guessing you don’t either. Please tell me we’re not going to die today.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Duke slid next to her. He took her face in his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “We are not going to die. You’ve got to have faith. I do. And I’ve had enough of these guys. The first chance we get, we’re out of here.”
“I’m worried about Brian. His Lamictal is a preventative medicine. We ran out yesterday.”
“That’s his seizure medication?”
Kadie nodded. “I hate myself. He has so little time left. I wanted him to experience things, live life, and be happy. I wanted that for him and look at what we’ve got.” The tears continued to flow.
Duke attempted to comfort her with a hug. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You did what you thought was the right thing. Under different circumstances, it would have been the right thing. No one will fault you for this.” He squeezed her closer. “Who knows? When this is all over, you may have quite a story to tell.”
She eased away, faked a smile, and stood. “Get dressed. I want to find some coffee before we get started.”
Duke put on his shirt, socks, and boots. Once he was ready, Kadie opened the door. In the hallway, Esteban sat in a chair. A small cart sat next to him with coffee cups, a pot of coffee, and a plate of croissants.
“Morning folks,” Esteban said, more sarcastic than sincere. “Hope you had a good night’s sleep.”
Kadie didn’t answer as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She noticed no steam rose, and she sipped the bitter black liquid. “Cold,” she said, looking at Duke.
“I’ll pass,” Duke said.
“Yeah,” Esteban said. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”
Duke picked up a croissant. It was cold and hard. Kadie stared at him as he bit into the crunchy bread. “It’s better than nothing.”
Kadie grabbed one off the plate. “Where’s Brian?” she asked Esteban.
The man motioned down the hall with his thumb. “305. Curt’s been up a while. I imagine the kid is up as well.”
Kadie marched down the hall and knocked on the door. After a moment, Curt opened it.
“My,” he said, “I always imagined how you looked first thing in the morning.” He eyed her up and down wantonly. “I must say you do not disappoint.”
Kadie ignored him. “Where’s Brian?”
“Hey, Kadie,” Brian said from inside the room. He rushed to the door and pushed past Curt. Kadie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying. A large bruise covered his left cheek.
“What happened?” Her mouth tightened as she turned back to Curt.
“He bumped his head on the sink last night. It’s a shame he’s not more careful.”
Brian said nothing and clenched his teeth. Kadie had been worried that he would be mistreated. She was right. Her fists were in balls, and her body tensed. They’d sort this out later.
The five of them walked downstairs, where they met Patricia and Hans. Once again, they climbed into a limousine that waited for them out front. The city was dark and bleak. Everything seemed draped in gray hues—buildings, cars, clothes . . . it was depressing.
Twenty minutes later, they reached the National Museum Nis, which sat nestled on a street corner. The one-story façade of the museum was less than inspiring. Tall wooden double-doors with a rounded arch at the top were flanked by square columns, which, in turn, were flanked by rounded Corinthian columns. A depressing color, not quite orange, not quite red, was painted around the columns.
The museum inside was small and uninspiring as well. White marble floors, white columns, white walls, white ceiling—it was a distraction to the eye. There wasn’t much inside. Just six collections comprised a little over forty-thousand artifacts. But in the back section of the museum, in the archeology collection, they found what they came for.
A number of vases sat on display. Majestically placed in the center of the collection was an Aramaic vase with four handles.
“The vase is exactly like the one in Venice,” Kadie said. “The writing is in Latin.”
“Must be more directions,” Duke said.
Kadie nodded and turned to Patricia. “This is it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. It has a Sator Square inscribed on the side.”
Hans and Esteban surveyed the area to find out who else was in the museum. Kadie monitored Patricia and Curt cautiously. She trusted no one at this point, except for Duke. How would they get the vase out of here? And if not out of here, how could they at least look inside?
Her questions were answered when Curt walked to the front of the museum, pulled out his pistol, and shot the security guard. The report echoed throughout the museum. When the attendant at the entrance screamed, Curt shot her, too. Hans moved to
the front door to guard it.
Patricia went straight for the vase. Kadie watched her closely, then checked Duke, who shook his head.
The GDI VP struggled with the vase but had no success, just like they did in the basement of Saint Mark’s. Patricia’s frustration built up, and she started to throw the vase on the ground.
“No,” Kadie yelled, and Duke lunged for the vase, catching it before it shattered on the floor.
“This may not be the vase you’re searching for,” Duke said, “but it’s still almost two-thousand years old.”
Patricia glanced around at their surroundings. “We’re in a hurry. What do you suggest?”
Duke carried the vase to a small table and set it down. “Do you have a knife?”
Patricia gave Curt a head nod in Duke’s direction. Curt kept a pistol leveled at Duke with one hand while the other extended the knife.
“Look familiar?” Curt said with a devilish grin on his face.
Kadie’s eyes locked on the knife. It was the same kind he threw at her head in Egypt. The same kind he opened the envelope with back in Israel. Her stomach turned in knots. Curt killed Samuel and Isaac. He had tried to kill her, too. So desperate to do so, he had chased her through the streets of Port Said—and he wanted her to know it.
Duke took the knife and proceeded to open the vase in the same manner as he did at Saint Mark’s. This one appeared to be a little more difficult, but five minutes later, the lid was pulled free.
Inside, Duke retrieved another tablet, similar to the one from the first vase. Kadie’s mind raced. Patricia was right—they found the second vase and another clue. How did Isaac know about the rule of three? And how did he know he needed to tell Duke? She kept those thoughts to herself but would talk it over with Duke the first chance she had.
Patricia snatched the tablet from Duke and studied it. Kadie thought it possible she might be able to decipher the message. She was a doctor; she should at least be familiar with some Latin. The GDI VP tossed the stone tablet over in her hands before handing it to Kadie.