The Last Sicarius

by Van R. Mayhall Jr.

  “What words jump out at you from that verse?” queried the cleric.

  Father Sergio leaned back and said, “Gad? David?”

  “No, those are names, not places where the jars might have been taken,” answered J.E.

  “Right you are, young sir. You are on the correct track!” exclaimed the monsignor.

  “That leaves only the land of Judah and the forest of Hereth,” mused J.E. “The land of Judah may be a reference to Judea. I can’t see keeping the jars in a forest.”

  “Judea is not specific enough, and I agree about the forest,” added Father Sergio.

  “What’s left then?” asked J.E. “That’s all the proper references in the verse.”

  “Is it?” questioned the monsignor.

  “No, that’s not all. There’s a reference to a ‘stronghold,’ an unnamed fortress where the verse says, ‘Do not stay in the stronghold,’” whispered J.E.

  “A stronghold … where better to keep the jars?” asked Father Sergio. “But what stronghold? What could it be?”

  “There’s only one place it could be,” said J.E. “It’s the mightiest stronghold ever conceived by men of the time. We studied it in military history. It’s the one thought to have been impregnable.”

  “Yes,” said the monsignor.

  “Masada,” said J.E. “Masada, where it all began for the Sicarii. The jars have been taken to Masada.”

  ***

  “Sir, the planes appear to have been sabotaged,” the Swiss soldier reported to J.E. “Father Anton advises that the wiring has been tampered with, and the planes are not safe to fly.”

  “Doubtless the work of the Karik and his thugs,” J.E. said to the monsignor as he approached.

  “I have more bad news, J.E. The Swiss report that Miguel is gone, and the man we left with him has been badly beaten. He needs a hospital,” said the monsignor.

  J.E. turned and gazed at the airplanes, now useless to them. He should have left more men here to guard them and to take care of Miguel. On the other hand, if there had been a firefight here, Cloe and the others might have been killed.

  “Father, have one of the Swiss take our injured soldier for medical treatment. He is to remain with him until we return. Give him some cash and a cover story like a motorcycle crash to cover the trail,” said J.E.

  “Yes, certainly,” said the monsignor, turning to one of the Swiss Guards and providing the necessary instructions.

  “J.E., from this we know the Karik was here,” said Father Sergio. “Here and gone.”

  “Yes, if the information we have is correct, he and Cloe have been to Gordon’s Calvary, and they probably know what we know,” said J.E.

  J.E. and the two priests huddled with Tomás in a circle on the tarmac while Father Anton and Sky examined the damage to the planes.

  “I think we can surmise that Cloe found a clue in the tomb, which is why she called Dr. Harrell,” said the monsignor. “She must have expected him to pass the information on to us and that we would figure out that the jars have been taken to Masada.”

  “Now we have to assume the Karik and his captives are on their way there,” said J.E.

  “Cloe may not have told him what she learned in the tomb, or if she did, the Karik may not have been able to decipher the clue,” suggested the young camerlengo.

  “Possibly, but they have gone somewhere, and I think with the recapture of Miguel, the Karik will once again think he has a bargaining chip,” responded the monsignor. “Cloe will want to keep the information from the Karik, but if he threatens or tortures Miguel as he did in Armenia, she will tell him to save Miguel.”

  “Yes, that, and she will believe we have received and understood this clue and will be coming to help,” said J.E. “But the Karik is ahead of us now, and we have no planes.”

  “J.E., shouldn’t we call in the authorities?” queried the young camerlengo.

  “Father,” said the monsignor, “as soon as I was advised that the planes had been sabotaged, I called the ops center, and we will have a helicopter here in about forty minutes. Masada is only fifty to sixty miles from here. If we contact the authorities, we will be dealing with the Israeli Army and the Mossad, their secret service. By the time we answer all their questions and they mobilize, it will be hours and too late.”

  “Besides,” added J.E., “the Vatican does not want a diplomatic incident. We have had the access here and elsewhere because of our Vatican diplomatic credentials. This is something we must take care of.”

  “What’s our approach?” asked the monsignor.

  “The three of us, along with Tomás and his men, will take one of the vans, and we will immediately leave for Masada by ground. We should be there in an hour or so. Father Anton and the Swiss will follow by air if and when the helicopter shows up,” said J.E.

  The four men looked at each other, absorbing what might lie ahead.

  Finally, Tomás said, “My men and I are with you. We will find and rescue the boss and your mother.”

  CHAPTER 90

  Cloe watched the sun setting in the west as the Karik’s planes landed at Bar Yehuda. The airfield was really a glorified strip of asphalt in the desert near Masada, which itself was located in the Judean Mountains along the shores of the Dead Sea. Landing, the planes taxied to a rough hangar and terminal. Noosh was out quickly, seeking ground transportation to Masada. A few minutes later, in the gathering darkness, a fair-sized truck had been secured, and all the men and equipment had been transferred.

  “Karik, how far is it to Masada?” asked Cloe.

  “Not far,” answered the Karik absently.

  Cloe studied the man carefully. He had a greasy sheen to his complexion, and his eyes seemed almost glazed in anticipation. It was apparent he thought his prize, the jars, were within his reach.

  As they traveled up the rural road to the mountain stronghold, she reviewed what she knew about Masada. It had been a mountain fortress from the ancient days as early as when young David hid from King Saul. Located near the Dead Sea, Masada itself was a plateau surrounded by deep gorges. Some points of the stronghold were near one thousand feet high, and the plateau on the top of the mountain contained an area of about twenty-three acres, about the size of a small ranch in the United States.

  The Sicarii had told her that the Jews were persecuted by the Romans during the time of Christ, and eventually, they rebelled. The Romans gathered in force to put down the Jewish rebellion, sacked Jerusalem, and destroyed the Temple in AD 70. A little under a thousand Sicarii men, women, and children fled to Masada to take refuge from the Romans.

  Cloe knew the Sicarii had been Judean freedom fighters dedicated to the overthrow of the Romans by any means. They had earned particular enmity of the ruling authorities as a result of their strategy of using short knives to assassinate leaders in public places. In essence, they were first-century terrorists using knives instead of explosives. But her Sicarii sisters had been clear: the Romans were occupiers of their land, and although their forefathers had used assassination as a political weapon, they had not caused collateral civilian casualties, like modern terrorists. Cloe had wondered when she heard this if it was just a form of rationalization.

  Still, the history of Masada was one of the most amazing and fascinating stories she had ever heard. It was adopted by Herod the Great in about 24 BC as his winter palace and fortress. He thought he might need an invincible redoubt in the event of a Jewish rebellion. The entire top of the plateau was encircled by a wall about eighteen feet high and twelve feet thick. Battle towers were constructed at numerous intervals, some as high as seventy-five feet.

  Cloe thought that this was not even the most impressive part of Herod’s work. He built a palace on the northern end of the mountain on three separate levels that had to be considered an ancient marvel with its hot-water baths, storage vaults, and other grand accommodations. Of course, there were barracks for his military and palatial housing for his guests. All in all, with proper provisions, a community
the size of a small city in ancient times could maintain itself on Masada for years without privation. Even the soil was fertile enough for crops.

  Cloe was shaken from her reverie by the excitement of the Karik and his men. “That’s it,” said the Karik, pointing to a huge shape in the distance.

  Cloe looked at Michael and then in the direction the Karik pointed, but she saw only a darker shade of black against the nightfall. As she studied the enormous object in the desert, it began to form a silhouette. The shape was magnificent and ominous at the same time. She could not see a single light on the mountain.

  “Noosh, how long before we reach the foot of the Path of the Serpent?” queried the Karik. Masada had been one of the Kolektor’s keenest interests in Judea.

  “Only a few minutes, Karik,” replied the servant. “It is known as the Snake Path because of its winding nature. It is one of only three ways up to the fortress.”

  Cloe had heard of this. In the ancient times of Masada, the Snake or Serpent Path was the only access to the summit. Because of the difficult climb and its winding way, it was easily defended by very few men with bows and arrows. When the Romans laid siege to Masada, they were unable to reach the stronghold by the Snake Path. The defenders, Sicarii bowmen, were deadly in striking the Romans each time they tried an assault.

  The truck slowed and eventually came to a halt in the darkness. The truck’s rear gate was lowered, and the Karik’s men unloaded. As they assembled, the Karik and Noosh conferred, and Cloe watched the soldiers. They had a remarkable array of equipment, including rifles, machine guns, and what looked like mortars or RPGs. She and Michael were told to stand outside the truck.

  Noosh separated the men into two groups. The first was ordered back into the truck. After a bit of grumbling, they obliged, obviously disappointed at the apparent lack of opportunity for action.

  Noosh then gave instructions to the leaders of the other group, who had automatic weapons and large spotlights to illuminate the path. “You will take the Snake Path to the walls of the fortress and attack from there.”

  The Karik and Noosh then jumped into the truck, dragging Cloe and Michael with them.

  “Hurry,” said Noosh to the driver. “To the west, around the base of the mountain.”

  The driver fired the engine and raced toward what would have been the setting sun if it had not been completely dark. Cloe glanced behind them to see whether there was a moon tonight but saw only darkness.

  “Michael,” she whispered. “Where are we going?”

  He rolled toward her and said softly, “I don’t know. Perhaps we are to be taken into the desert while the raiding party assaults Masada and recovers the jars.”

  Cloe considered this and was chilled to the bone. Could this be the end? “Where are we going?” Cloe asked the Karik. “I thought we were going to the top of Masada.”

  The Karik reached back and slapped her hard across the bridge of her nose, drawing both blood and tears. “Shut up,” he said. “The finish is near.”

  CHAPTER 91

  J.E., the monsignor, and Father Sergio bounced in the van as it sped in near-darkness over the rural road outside of Jerusalem, headed for Masada. In the rear of the van, Tomás and his men worked on their weapons, cleaning the guns and sharpening the knives. It had always been so with military men. Someone would provide the objective, but their job was to be ready.

  “J.E., we can be at Masada in less than an hour,” observed the monsignor. “What are our plans?”

  “Albert, you are asking me the question that has defeated armies for thousands of years,” mused J.E. “Masada was thought in ancient times to be impregnable. You are asking how we assault the unassailable fortress.”

  “But the Romans defeated the Sicarii, so there must be a way in,” responded Father Sergio.

  “The Romans never militarily defeated the Sicarii,” stated the monsignor. “Roman engineers defeated the Sicarii, not Roman soldiers.”

  “It’s the most astounding assault of anything I have ever heard,” said J.E. “We studied it in a military tactics course. After the Romans sacked Jerusalem in about AD 70, the remaining rebels, largely consisting of about one thousand Sicarii men, women, and children, retreated to Masada. Raiding nearby villages, Elazar bin Yair, the leader of the rebels, accumulated enough grain, animals, and supplies at Masada to last years. Herod had assured there would be plentiful water in cisterns and military weapons for an army. They thought they would outlast the Romans and that eventually the Romans would give up and go away.”

  “Well, it did not work out that way,” said the monsignor, picking up where J.E. left off. “The Romans tried several assaults, but at that time there was only one winding path up to the plateau, and once one got to the top, one was greeted with high, thick walls and watchtowers teeming with rebel fighters. It was either that or try to assault the top over bare rock and cliffs. No army could do that.”

  “Attempts to ascend the Serpent Path proved futile, and many Roman soldiers were killed,” said J.E. “The Romans then settled back into a siege posture. They built a wall circumnavigating the entire mountain and set up multiple camps for the soldiers. This was to prevent the Sicarii from sneaking out, from escaping. We are talking about several miles of wall and campsites. This had to deliver a frightful message to the Sicarii that the Romans were very determined, and death would be the only escape.”

  “Astonishing,” said Father Sergio.

  “What came next is the really astounding part of all this,” said J.E. “Rather than simply lay siege and try to wait them out as the Sicarii had expected, the Romans brought in thousands of slaves, including many Jews, and on the west side of Masada began to build an enormous ramp.” J.E. paused, contemplating the enormity of what the Romans had accomplished. He studied the wide eyes of Father Sergio and knew he and the monsignor were equally amazed.

  “A ramp? Why?” queried the young camerlengo.

  “Two thousand years ago, the Romans built the equivalent of an interstate highway right up the rock face and walls of Masada,” said the monsignor.

  “It was thousands of tons of rock and dirt,” added J.E. “It was wide and deep, leading directly up to the wall on the lowest side of the plateau. Once this had been built, the Romans brought up their siege machines to pound the wall until it had been breached. There was little the Sicarii could do with bows, arrows, and lances against the monster war machines.”

  Tomás, who had been listening to this colloquy for the last few minutes, asked, “What happened? The Romans must have won a great battle.”

  “Sadly, from a number of points of view, there was no great victory and, in fact, no final battle at all,” responded the monsignor. “The Sicarii, virtually the last man, woman, and child, died by their own hands, robbing the Romans of any battle glory and of the opportunity for numerous captives.”

  “History tells us that the Sicarii soldiers killed their own families and then drew straws, picking ten among the survivors to finish the business,” said J.E. “These ten slew the rest of the soldiers, and then only the ten remained. They chose one, and that one killed the other nine, who gladly submitted to the blade to join their kin. The last fell on his own sword after setting fire to the place. There was not much for the Romans to recover. Seven survivors hid in one of the cisterns and lived to tell the tale.”

  Silence overtook the men huddled in the van speeding toward Masada as they contemplated the history of the fortress. How could a few men hope to do in one night what it had taken thousands of Romans and their slaves years to do?

  Breaking the quiet among the group, the driver yelled back that they were about twenty minutes out from the eastern side of Masada. J.E. gazed out the window and observed that it was now fully dark. Even so, in front of them he saw that the black brute that was Masada had obliterated the stars.

  CHAPTER 92

  As they rounded the base of Masada, the Karik and his men were focused on the mountain and their plans, paying littl
e attention to Cloe and Michael.

  “We seem to be headed to the west side of the fortress,” Michael observed quietly.

  “Secure your night-vision equipment,” Noosh ordered the armed men. “Make sure the batteries are fully charged and bring spares.”

  Cloe knew they were ready for whatever plan the Karik had devised. As she watched, several of the men assembled sniper rifles. “Hmmm,” Cloe mused, “sniper rifles and night-vision goggles.”

  “Some sort of stealth attack,” said Michael. “But on what? The main body of the Karik’s men is assaulting the stronghold from the east side.”

  “Can there be another target?” considered Cloe. “Oh my God! The ramp, the ramp—that’s got to be it.”

  CHAPTER 93

  “There are now only three ways up to the fortress,” said J.E. “The first is the Snake Path we have discussed. The second is a modern access route, a cable car that takes tourists to the top. The final path is the ancient ramp the Romans built in their first-century siege. The first two are on the east side, and the ramp is on the west.”

  “Exactly,” said the monsignor. “What’s our best approach? I think we have to assume the Sicarii are already on the mountain guarding the jars. That’s a huge advantage for them, and I’m not sure, in the dark, they could distinguish us from the Karik’s men.”

  “Without Cloe with us, they might not care that we aren’t the Karik’s men,” observed the camerlengo. “They might consider any band of men to be enemies bent on taking their treasures.”

  “Good point, Serge,” said J.E. “Let’s make sure our men are very careful around the Sicarii.” J.E. stared alternately at his map and out the window into the blackness. After a bit of time, he said, “Driver, make for the cable car.” A few minutes later, J.E. stood at the foot of the building housing the line of cable cars leading to the summit. He gazed intently up at Masada. He could see a line of lights ascending the Snake Path. The Karik must be going up that way, he thought.