The Last Sicarius

by Van R. Mayhall Jr.

“Very well, Karik,” she replied after a bit. “I will take you to the location I know, but you will keep Michael safe and give him proper medical treatment.”

  “Done,” said the Karik. “But if you fail, he dies, and you die. The only question will be whether I will bring you back here to watch.”

  CHAPTER 78

  As they flew along the arched backbone of the mountainous ridge, J.E. stared out the window of the jet. They had seen a couple of faint patches of lights that could have signaled the Karik’s hideout, but nothing that they had observed was sure. How could anyone be sure from this height in the dark? J.E. wondered.

  Landing at the small airport in the early morning hours was its own challenge. The airport was uncontrolled at that time of night. Although there were basic red and blue lighted markers, there was no one to turn on the landing lights. Still, Sky and then Father Anton in the second plane somehow put the executive jets down on the main runway, and soon they were taxiing to the private terminal.

  The important thing at present was a vehicle. This was a delicate operation because they needed transportation immediately, but they dared not do anything that would set the Turkish authorities after them.

  Deplaning, J.E. looked about and saw several vans and trucks that either belonged to the airport or perhaps were rentals. As he studied them and considered his options, a truck made its way up the hill toward the airport. In a clashing of gears and squealing of brakes, it edged up to and stopped in front of the commissary.

  J.E. realized after a moment that it was a milk truck making its morning delivery. He grinned and said, “Albert, I think our transportation problem has been solved.”

  A few minutes and a hundred American dollars later, the truck headed up the road into the mountains, belching thick blue smoke and loaded with all their men and gear, with J.E. riding shotgun. J.E. had left Sky and one of the Swiss to refuel the planes and to make sure they were safe and ready to go when they needed them. The old milkman, an Armenian, spoke no English, but he knew the value of a dollar. Because he delivered milk in the area, he also knew the place where the helicopters from the airport went when they flew into the mountains. The monsignor spoke enough Armenian that he had been able to learn that vital piece of information.

  Two hours later, they were staged outside the Karik’s mountain lair. The Swiss were in tactical gear, including bulletproof armor and camouflage fatigues. Though supremely disciplined, they were nevertheless itching for a fight after the plane crash and the cave-in where their comrades had been lost.

  “J.E., what do you think?” asked the monsignor.

  Both J.E. and Father Anton had been observing the chalet-style house with their binoculars for several minutes. It was cool here in the mountains, but J.E. was sweating under his battle gear.

  “There’s not much activity,” said J.E. finally. “I wonder if this is the right place.”

  “The milkman assures us that this is where the helicopters come,” said Father Anton. “Our scouts report a helicopter pad to the rear, although there is no helicopter there now. This must be it.”

  “What about electronic defenses?” asked J.E. “Have we detected anything?”

  “Nothing,” said the Swiss soldier who was manning the portable computer with the field sensors. “Everything is cold and dark. No infrared, heat, or other defenses. There’s just the standard household alarm system, but it has not been engaged. He must think himself safe because of the location. There were two heavily armed sentries, but our men have disabled them.”

  J.E. said, “Wait here. I’m going to move up and reconnoiter the situation.”

  J.E. swung away from the assembly and moved cautiously from tree to tree toward the semidark house. There didn’t seem to be any movement within. He reached the side of the mountain retreat near where a wide porch wrapped around the entrance and one side. Mounting the steps and climbing to the deck, he peered inside through at first one and then several floor-to-ceiling windows. At last, he could see flickering lights from what appeared to be a room at the top of a staircase.

  Father Anton and several of the Swiss now joined him on the porch.

  “From the foyer window, the only sign of life I see is at the top of the stairs,” he whispered. “It could be a television.”

  Father Anton looked up at the glittering light. J.E. tried the door knob, but it was firmly locked and probably bolted. He was not sure they could jimmy the door without whoever was inside hearing them. They needed to know exactly where Cloe was and what her situation was before attacking.

  He signaled to Father Anton that he needed to reconnoiter the room where the light originated. He climbed up an ornamental facade to the second-floor roof and crept along the wooden shingles to the nearest window. It was a dormer-style window extruding from the roof on the top floor. Although the Swiss had machine pistols, J.E. was armed with his trusty .45 automatic. He moved quickly but very carefully. He studied the scene inside and then returned to the porch and the waiting troops.

  “The window opens into the room at the top of the stairs,” he said. “There are four men on one side of the room playing cards and watching TV. On the other side of the room, there is a bed with someone in it. I can’t see who it is.”

  “That could be Dr. Lejeune,” said Father Anton. “But if so, where’s Miguel?”

  “I don’t know,” whispered J.E. “It could be either one of them or neither of them.”

  They looked at each other as military men do. Both knew they had to act, but neither knew all that he would have to know to make sure no innocent was hurt. “We have to safeguard my mother and Miguel,” said J.E.

  “Agreed,” replied Father Anton. “I’ll put one of my men on the roof outside the window with a flash grenade. We will rig the front door with explosives. At the agreed time, my man will shatter the glass and throw the grenade through the window. We’ll blow the door and rush the men inside. If we execute properly, they will have no chance.”

  “All good,” said J.E. “Except I’ll be on the roof with the flash grenade. After I throw it in, I’ll follow and put myself between the bed and the men inside. When you get there, make sure your fire is to your left as you enter. I’ll protect the right.”

  Father Anton looked carefully at J.E. “Agreed,” he said finally, reluctant to put J.E. in danger.

  They both looked at the luminescent dials of their watches, and J.E. called out, “Five minutes on my mark … now.”

  As J.E. scrambled back up toward the roof, he saw the priest’s men lining the door with explosives.

  J.E. was now in position at the window. He examined the card-playing guards to his right. They were armed to the teeth. This had to go down just right. J.E. strained to see who might be in the bed to his left. It was large, with a canopy overhead. Whether because of mosquitoes or for privacy, it had a sheer drape around it. This made it hard to see who was inside. He knew when he went through the window, he would be exposed. There was nothing he could do about that but come up firing and hope the Swiss would be entering the door at that time to back him up.

  J.E. watched as the seconds ticked down to the five-minute mark. He was not afraid. If anything, he was exhilarated. He had received the finest training the world could offer. He was ready.

  The five-minute mark tolled, and J.E. heard the explosives blow the door below to hell. He gave a three-second count, thinking it would take Father Anton’s men that long to head up the stairs. Just as the guards were rising from their chairs and reaching for their weapons, J.E. smashed the glass and pitched the flash grenade through the window. He jumped back around the dormer window frame to avoid the blast.

  BLAM! Light and smoke blew out through the window. J.E. dove through what remained of the window, rolled, and came up in the firing position with his .45 aimed at the Karik’s men. Smoke from the grenade filled the room, so it was hard to see. The guards had all been knocked to the floor. One seemed to be out cold, but the others were slowly getting up. They seemed
to be moving in slow motion.

  Suddenly, Father Anton and the Swiss burst through the bedroom door, weapons in the ready position. The guards were covered from two different potential fields of fire.

  J.E. could not tell where the first shot came from, but immediately chaos erupted. J.E. and Father Anton’s men poured fire into the hapless guards. J.E. heard a shot from his left pass his ear very closely, and then he was hit by a second shot. He went down hard against the wall near where the window had been. The world seemed filled with gunfire and smoke. He tried to get up, but then there was only blackness.

  CHAPTER 79

  “I’ll tell you when we are in the air,” said Cloe with determination.

  They had taken the helicopter from the lair back to the airport. All the while, the Karik had pressured her to reveal their destination.

  The Karik’s jet was ready to go when they arrived to the faint, but rising, eastern light. The helicopter landed, and she was whisked onto the jet, but not before she caught a glimpse of Sky. He was in a shadow, leaning against a wall by the general aviation facility with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked directly at her and nodded slightly.

  Cloe knew there was nothing he could do against the heavily armed force that guarded the Karik. But where was J.E.? She guessed that Sky had been left behind to attend to the equipment while J.E. and the rest had gone after her and Michael. For the thousandth time since she had left the chalet, her heart hurt for the pain and torture to which Michael had been subjected. He had been so brave. She did not even know if he was alive.

  Even now, she imagined J.E. and his forces were storming the Karik’s hideout. He would find Michael, if he was alive, and free him. Then, J.E., the monsignor, and the Swiss would be after her. But, she worried, how would they find her? It would not be easy, but she knew J.E. would not give up. She smiled slightly as she considered the fate of this beast who called himself the Karik.

  She was thrown into a seat on the plane, and immediately it began its taxi to the main runway. As they turned, she saw the second jet in line behind them. Doubtless, it was filled with the Karik’s henchmen and their weapons. The plane paused at the end of the runway as its mighty engines wound up, the brakes locking the steel bird on the ground. Suddenly, the pilots released the tether, and the metal cylinder that could not possibly fly raced down the tarmac and leaped into the sky, its fiery signature trailing behind.

  As the jet reached its cruising altitude, the Karik leaned toward Cloe, seated opposite him, and said, “Now! What is our destination?”

  She looked at him with disdain and said only a single word: “Jerusalem.”

  CHAPTER 80

  “J.E. … J.E.,” called a voice that seemed a long distance away. Someone was lightly slapping his face and alternately washing it down with a rag soaked in cold water.

  “What the …?” said J.E. haltingly. Finally, his eyes opened, and he looked up to see the monsignor, concern evident on his face.

  “J.E.,” said the monsignor with a gasp. “Are you all right?”

  J.E. took inventory. He felt pretty terrible, so he wasn’t sure. He should have felt a lot worse, though, if he had been gravely wounded or was dying. J.E. looked around and saw they had moved him from the wall near the window where he had fallen to one side of the bed. “What happened?” he asked.

  “We’re not sure,” replied the monsignor. “When we broke in, someone fired, and the Swiss destroyed the Karik’s thugs. We found you knocked out.”

  “Where’s Mom? Is she here?” asked J.E., suddenly remembering the mission to rescue Cloe.

  “No. She’s not here. The Swiss are clearing the rest of the building, but it looks like she has been taken away,” replied the monsignor.

  “Who was in the bed?” asked J.E., trying to rise.

  “Miguel. He seems to have been injured, perhaps tortured,” said the priest. “We can’t get much out of him at this point.”

  “I jumped through the window and had the drop on the Karik’s men,” said J.E. thoughtfully. “Then a shot was fired, and all hell broke loose. I remember one round missed me, but not by much. Then I was hit. That’s all I can recall.”

  “As best we can tell, you were hit on your left side, but your body armor deflected it,” recounted the monsignor.

  “Yes,” added Father Anton, joining the group. “But it banged off the armor, knocking you backward, and ricocheted against your helmet hard enough to ring your bell.”

  “You have not been wounded, but you probably have a slight concussion,” concluded the monsignor.

  “Where’s Miguel now?” asked J.E., rolling off the bed and stumbling to his feet.

  “He’s getting medical treatment in the next bedroom,” replied Father Anton. “He’s been burned.”

  J.E. surveyed the scene, the Karik’s men dead around the card table, and then he wobbled his way out of the room and down the hall into the next bedroom.

  The Swiss medic was swabbing Miguel down with some salve. J.E. sat down and studied him. He appeared to be awake but certainly not alert. “Traumatized” was the best word J.E. could think of.

  He turned to the medic and asked, “How is he? Can I talk to him?”

  “He’s in better shape than I would have expected after what apparently happened to him,” said the medic. “Though painful, his injuries are not physically serious.”

  “Miguel, what can you tell me?” asked J.E.

  Miguel looked up in obvious pain, but he stuffed it back and said, “They grabbed us in the hotel room. I walked your mother back to the room, and we went in for a drink.” He paused, and J.E. was unsure whether he could continue. He was bent over and looked wretched. “We were overwhelmed by the Karik and his armed thugs,” said Miguel. “I think they might have killed me then except for your mother’s intervention. But because she did intervene, the Karik saw that I might mean something to Cloe. He saw his advantage.”

  “Go on,” whispered J.E.

  “They took us to the airport, and we flew here. Cloe and I were locked in a cell in the basement. In the night they came for us,” said Miguel. “They tied me up with wire and suspended me over a fire pit. Later they brought your mother in and, by torturing me, forced her to help them. I pleaded with her not to tell them anything.”

  J.E. looked up at the monsignor, who along with Father Sergio had followed him into the room, and gritted his teeth with anger.

  Father Sergio stepped forward and said, “J.E., I’m so sorry. Somehow, if it’s God’s will, we will find your mother.” The young camerlengo found himself riveted in the stares of his friends. J.E.’s Tchefuncte River–brown eyes and the monsignor’s steel-gray orbs targeted him like lasers.

  “We will find her,” said J.E.

  The monsignor turned to the assembled force of soldiers clustered in the doorway and ordered, “Bring all the bodies downstairs. Lay them, respectfully, on a funeral bier of the wooden furniture and then burn it … burn everything! Burn this God-cursed house to the ground.”

  CHAPTER 81

  Cloe watched the Karik as they flew toward Jerusalem. He sat on one side of the posh wooden table on the executive jet and she on the other. Noosh had served him some refreshment. It seemed this morning his idea of an elegant snack was iced tea and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Cloe had laughed to herself when it was served. It was certainly a far cry from the Kolektor’s favorite, caviar and toast points, served, of course, with a dry white or perhaps a frozen gin on the rocks. The Kolektor must be spinning in his grave, she thought. This was his successor?

  He saw her disdain, smiled, and said, “Think what you like, but you will take me to what I want.”

  She knew that in some ways the Karik was but a pale imitation of the Kolektor, but he was very clever and as vicious, if not more so. She had to marvel at the man’s single focus: the jars. He never lost that point of concentration. She had to keep her own counsel and look for opportunity to escape this monster. She felt the
plane begin its descent, presumably into Jerusalem. It would not be long before the Karik would start pressing her for the destination.

  Later, after the jet had landed, Cloe was led to the waiting van and seated in the second row in the rear. The Karik sat in the front seat. After their gear and the men had been transferred to their vehicles, the Karik turned around to her and said simply, “Where?”

  Cloe had thought about her predicament, but no strategy had immediately manifested itself. She believed, but could not be entirely sure, that J.E. was following her. The problem was how he would possibly track her through the skies. “Gordon’s Calvary,” she said at last.

  “Explain,” responded the Karik immediately.

  “I can’t explain what I don’t know,” she replied. “All I can tell you is that I heard the Sicarii mention Gordon’s Calvary. That’s it.”

  “I know the place from our time in Jerusalem,” the Karik said after a time. “It’s outside the old city’s walls but near Golgotha, supposedly the place where Jesus Christ was crucified.”

  “Yes. Gordon’s Calvary and the Garden Tomb, as some call it, are places that came to public attention a little over a hundred years ago under interesting circumstances,” said Cloe. “I have read about it in my work.” Cloe caught herself discussing these things as with an old colleague rather than a murderous adversary. She would tell him no more.

  After a period of silence, the Karik queried, “Dr. Lejeune? Have you lost interest in our scientific inquiry?”

  “I have only agreed to take you to the place I heard the Sicarii discussing,” she said. “Whatever the historical ramifications, they are irrelevant.”

  “You will do much more than that,” replied the Karik, anger flashing and his voice rising. “You will do and say what I want, and you will tell me what I want to know. You will take me to the jars. Are we perfectly clear? Your friend Miguel is back at my mountain retreat under my power. Are we clear?”