The Last Sicarius
Page 31
Stepping behind a nearby doorway, he shouted, “Give it up, Michael. You are surrounded. Your rotten day is done.”
Another shot rang out, and J.E. saw Michael bolt for the commander’s barracks just outside the palace walls. As he ran, Michael snapped off a shot at the hovering helicopter. J.E. heard the bullet ricochet off the metal skin, and the aircraft then roared off to the east, its engine shrieking. Cautiously, J.E. peeked around the edge of the stone archway serving as his cover and saw Michael running flat-out up one of the corridors that traversed the barracks.
“Michael,” yelled J.E., “stop! The Claymores!”
BLAM! The mighty explosion from the midst of the barracks blew dust, stone, and sand everywhere, showering J.E., who had run after Michael. J.E. lowered his weapon, turned back toward his mom and the others, and shuffled heavily away from the blast site. He had no doubt what he would find there.
CHAPTER 113
Father Anton landed the helicopter and received a huge bear hug from J.E. when he jumped down.
“Thank God, Tony,” J.E. said as they walked back toward his mother and the others. Glancing around, he could see the Swiss taking up a defensive position in case there were stragglers from the Karik’s force.
***
When the group was reunited, there were hugs and tears all around. The monsignor had just finished administering the last rites to his friend and colleague, Father Sergio. Even in her happiness at being saved, Cloe cried for Serge. Two of the Swiss put together a field stretcher and with a quiet dignity lifted Father Sergio’s body onto it. They then started up the stairs to the helicopter.
“He will be taken back to Rome and buried with full honors,” said the monsignor. “He certainly was a hero here.”
His words caused Cloe to cry even harder for her friend. J.E. and the monsignor were also shaken and deeply saddened. The monsignor, on one knee, looked up at Cloe with tears in his eyes. J.E. comforted his mother as best he could.
J.E. turned to Father Anton and asked, “Tony, where have you been, and where did you come from?”
“When you left the airport in Jerusalem, we waited for a helicopter,” he replied. “Our cohorts in the Vatican ops center scrounged one up for us, but it took a while. Finally, it came, and we immediately took off for Masada.”
“But how did you know where we were, and how did you find us when you did?” asked Cloe.
“We knew J.E. had gone to Masada. When we arrived in the vicinity, we saw the cable car had been blown up, so we stood off to reconnoiter,” responded the cleric. “This particular bird has infrared radar and some other toys that allowed us to get the lay of the land. We could see that one group was being pushed inexorably down the face of the palace to the third level. We assumed that was you because we couldn’t think of why you would do that to the Karik. The rest was just a matter of timing.”
“Well, your timing was excellent,” said the monsignor. “We owe our lives to you—that and the destruction of the Kolektor’s empire.”
“J.E. … is it finally over?” asked Cloe.
“I think so,” said J.E. thoughtfully. “We know the Kolektor is dead. The only thing that held his organization together was the Karik, who was the Kolektor’s servant and number one, Dadash. And that was only possible because Michael, the Kolektor’s son and heir, collaborated with him and probably directed him. And Michael is gone now too. You must have heard the explosion a few minutes ago. Michael, trying desperately to escape, tripped the last Claymore I had set in the barracks’ corridors.”
“Ironic that the man who sought to use the deaths of his family in a bomb blast to further his efforts to possess the jars should die here at Masada in an explosion,” whispered Cloe. “Is it over?”
“Yes,” said the monsignor. “Michael, the Karik, and all their men are dead. Even the field general, Noosh, has been accounted for. It is over.”
“We thought that in Jerusalem after Hakeldama,” Cloe mused. “How can we be sure?”
CHAPTER 114
Cloe had been back in Madisonville working on the journal translation for several weeks. It was going pretty well. The most interesting thing she had discovered so far was an obscure reference to the end of times in a dialogue between Jesus and someone she had not yet been able to identify. She thought it might be St. John.
Did this relate to the destruction of Jerusalem or something else? She was not sure. She had asked the monsignor to meet her in New Orleans to review the text and to discuss it. She needed the religious context.
As she drove across the causeway toward New Orleans, she thought about her last trip and all that had transpired. She had finally begun to sleep better. Right after returning to Louisiana, she had had nightmares about Father Sergio’s death and then about J.E. and the monsignor being pushed off the side of the mountain. Cloe had awoken in the Water Street house sweating and with bedclothes in knots on many nights. Today was better. She still hurt for Serge though.
The plan was to meet the monsignor at the Criollo restaurant and to have lunch. As Cloe drove toward the hotel, she felt a sense of déjà vu, but she knew this was nothing like the last time because there was no Karik and no Kolektor organization to present a threat. At least she told herself so.
As she strode into Criollo’s, she greeted Marco, who always had a hug for her. He led her to the table where the monsignor was waiting. He jumped up and hugged her warmly.
“Hello, Cloe,” he said. “You look marvelous. Clearly, life in Madisonville on the river agrees with you.”
“Thanks, Albert,” she replied. “It’s good to see you as well.”
They sat and enjoyed a glass of wine in a familiar silence.
“Where’s J.E.?” asked the monsignor.
“He’s back on active duty in the Middle East,” said Cloe. “I’m not sure just where because of his intelligence job.”
“Well,” said the monsignor, “he’s had a world of experience in that area.”
Cloe laughed and felt that the ice had been broken. Each brought the other up to date on everything that had happened since Masada, including the services for Father Sergio, which Cloe had been too ill to attend.
“The pope himself led the funeral procession to Serge’s small village, where he was buried. Such a thing has never happened. The pride and happiness of those poor people was amazing even in their sorrow for Father Sergio.”
“I understand, Albert,” said Cloe. “I just wish I could have been there.”
They discussed her dilemma regarding the passage from the journal. The monsignor was extremely intrigued and offered some excellent insights on what it might mean.
“Albert, I have an appointment to look at some old books up at the library at St. Mary’s Church in the old Ursuline Convent,” said Cloe. “Come with me.”
The priest seemed to think it over and said, “I’d love to. It’s a beautiful spring day, and walking this wonderful meal off would be a joyful task, but I have something to ask before we go.”
Cloe tensed as she remembered the last time the monsignor had had something to ask of her in this very room. “What is it, Albert?” she inquired hesitantly.
“Were you the stalking horse sent by the Sicarii to lure the Karik to the trap at Masada, as Michael declared at the end?” he asked directly.
“No,” Cloe responded with equal frankness. “No one knew who would be taken by the Karik in his search for information on the location of the jars. It might have been any of us. We were all given the same bits of information. The way it worked out, it just happened to be me. Only the leader of the Sicarii knew everything.”
“I see,” said the monsignor. “I think I would have liked to have known the leader.”
“Yes,” agreed Cloe.
They left the hotel through the parking lobby, the same one near where the bomb had been planted in Cloe’s car. It seemed so long ago. They crossed over to Chartres and strolled up toward the Ursuline Convent.
“I was supposed t
o visit the library the last time we were in New Orleans, but you know what happened to interrupt that trip,” said Cloe, drawing in the sights and sounds of Jackson Square as they passed through it.
“You know, there is some connection between St. Mary’s Church and France,” stated the monsignor. “The founder of the Order of St. Ursula was born in Dijon, not far from Lyon. The order had facilities not only in Europe but also in Africa. Old records have been stored at the library for many, many years. Heaven only knows what you may find there.”
“Well, we’ll know shortly,” said Cloe as they climbed the steps to the little souvenir shop that served as the entrance to the courtyard for the convent.
Soon they were greeted by the librarian, who led them into the building that housed the library. Cloe knew the library was on the second floor of the building, which seemed to stretch almost across the entire city block.
“You know, this library, because of its great age and fragility, is closed to the public,” said the librarian, pausing at the foot of a beautiful circular staircase that was roped off to restrict access. “However, we are pleased to make exceptions for such a noted scholar as Dr. Lejeune and a Vatican representative.” She removed the velvet rope and gestured that they should proceed upstairs.
As they rounded the curve in the stairs, she called out, “Take your time, and if you need any help, please call me. By the way, your shipment arrived some time ago, and we have stored it upstairs in the rear of the library. It was quite a challenge.”
“Shipment?” questioned Cloe as they entered the large upper floor that seemed filled with old books and papers. While Cloe stopped to examine a paper that had caught her eye, the monsignor strolled through the library.
“Cloe, come quickly!” he suddenly shouted.
Cloe nearly ran to the rear of the library because of the urgency in the monsignor’s voice. She rounded the last bookshelf and stopped in her tracks.
“Oh my God!” she cried, gazing over what appeared to be a veritable sea of ancient oil jars.
Table of Contents
THE LAST SICARIUS
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART I THE KOLEKTOR
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
PART II THE CAVE OF JARS
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
PART III THE PLACE OF THE SKULL
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
PART IV THE STRONGHOLD
CHAPTER 89
CHAPTER 90
CHAPTER 91
CHAPTER 92
CHAPTER 93
CHAPTER 94
CHAPTER 95
CHAPTER 96
CHAPTER 97
CHAPTER 98
CHAPTER 99
CHAPTER 100
CHAPTER 101
CHAPTER 102
CHAPTER 103
CHAPTER 104
CHAPTER 105
CHAPTER 106
CHAPTER 107
CHAPTER 108
CHAPTER 109
CHAPTER 110
CHAPTER 111
CHAPTER 112
CHAPTER 113
CHAPTER 114