Secret of the Thorns: Political Thriller (Donavan Chronicles Book 1)

by Tom Haase

  He realized he had tarried longer than he intended. After putting on his suit jacket, he went to his car. Uberto bought himself a new Nuova Classe A Edition 10 Mercedes with the profit from the last mission to remove the Archbishop of Paris. He drove himself to work every day for the pure pleasure of handling such a magnificent car. The bodyguards, who drove him had been dismissed, as he didn’t think he needed them at his house. He enjoyed driving himself to his office in central Rome.

  The bodyguards, afraid anything might befall their charge, still came a quarter of an hour before he normally left the house and waited in a car to follow him. He knew they followed and tried to lose them every morning in a cat and mouse game. So far in five days, he hadn’t succeeded.

  He would evade them as soon as he turned the corner at the end of his street and duck into a small alley. Then he would reverse out and head in the opposite direction before they even realized he had tricked them. That plan would provide him with a great game and he would win. It would be fun. How good it was to be alive after all those bad years, all the killings, and all the beatings he had administered, and now he ruled his organization in Rome.

  He smiled with pride as he opened the door of the black Mercedes.

  Only one millisecond passed before the detonation ripped his body apart.

  The explosion destroyed the car and the vehicles in front and back of it. Pieces of metal and glass clanged on the pavement and shattered on impact with the sidewalk and surrounding buildings. Windows of surrounding houses imploded.

  * * * *

  A city block away, Captain Grossman smiled. Jonathan’s warning provided enough information to tap the gangster’s phone and listen in on his previous call from the cardinal concerning Uberto’s assassination of the French archbishop Durand. He cranked up his motor scooter and drove in the opposite direction from Uberto’s house.

  His mission had been accomplished.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  On Board Docked Cruise Ship Insignia -

  Miami, Florida - 9:35 a.m.

  An hour Before McGregor Observed the Donavans

  “We’re here at last,” Scott said as he finished shoving his possessions into his knapsack with his computer.

  “I suggest we rent a car and drive to St. Augustine.”

  “We could fly. Might get there quicker,” Bridget offered.

  “Might, but it could allow someone to track us easier and besides, two hours early to the airport, then a two hour stop in Tampa to change planes and a total flight time of two hours.”

  “I get it. In the long run it might be quicker to drive as no one can find where we’re going if we rent the car with cash.”

  “Right. Are you sure the man from Granada, what’s his name?”

  “Stephen.”

  “Are you certain he doesn’t know about this?” She hadn’t told Scott of her suspicion of who Stephen was.

  “Not absolutely, but he didn’t make a copy of the letter you used to solve the cryptogram. By the way, I’m still gobsmacked on how you untangled it.”

  “Genius.” She pointed to her head.

  “It’s a shame they didn’t have UTM maps or GPS back then. We’d be able to discover to the inch where we have to look. He probably used a sextant.”

  “He didn’t use a sextant,” she said. “From my research in the 1490’s period, they couldn’t use one because until 1731 it didn’t exist. I think he may have used a surveying method called metes and bounds. He adapted the system since there was no survey done, so he earmarked topographical features to delineate boundaries.”

  Scott got up to refill his coffee. When he returned he asked, “How will we find the exact location he sent to the abbot? St Augustine is the location he gave in the last letter with the code of where he left it.”

  “We’ll need to do a lot of research in the area. It will take a few days to narrow our search. I went online to Google maps and used their satellite image to try to identify the position given in the code. I couldn’t be certain but I picked two areas that might be the spots we’re looking for.”

  “I’ve got two weeks before I’m due to report for my new teaching position. When do you have to be back?”

  “About the same for me, but this is more important than going back to teaching, don’t you think? I’ll still have to contact them soon. If we succeed there might be a different future for both of us.”

  He nodded. “Can I see the translation you came up with? I still find it hard to believe you were able to unravel the code using an old merchant’s secret language. You sure you know how they employed the system? Explain it to me again so I fully understand it.”

  She put her napkin on the table and sat back. “As certain as you are from your research that he established a settlement at or very close to the present day city of St Augustine. Now remember the sixteenth century Spanish captains brought back treasures from all over, especially gold from the New World. The king demanded one third of any valuable goods for his treasury. So they devised a method of cooking the books. The manifest had cargo that wasn’t taxed and only listed small amounts of gold or silver. The amount claimed was far less than what was really in the hold buried under spoiling fruit or other smelly belongings the custom boys wouldn’t want to dig through.”

  Scott nodded that he was following her explanation.

  “The letter from the company merchants in the Americas contained a code which the captain delivered on his return from the New World. The letter informed the home office in Spain exactly what they had placed on board the vessel and its location. Ponce de Leon used the same code in his letters. Your research clinched it for me. You found out the abbot’s father was an import/export merchant of the day. I used that as a starting point and researched the Spanish galleon trade with America. Sure enough, one site told me about that code the sea captains used and I used the key I found there to figure it out.”

  “Brilliant,” Scott said. “We’ve discovered it has to be close to or in the city of St. Augustine. We know what the items are. All we have to do now is to find them.”

  “Nothing to it,” Bridget said as she slapped him on the shoulder. She stood up.

  “Let’s get going. Our future awaits us,” Scott said.

  “This may not be as easy as we think,” Bridget declared.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Miami, Florida

  10:35 a.m.

  Jonathan watched both Donavans as they walked toward the port’s exit gate, each sporting Bermuda shorts and yellow T-shirts advertising the cruise line logo in blue. They had their backpacks on and hailed a taxi at the end of the pier. He waited across the street and realized this part of the mission might be easy. Just follow them, keep hidden, and get the goods at the end. Shouldn’t be too difficult. He could be back in Rome in a few days and return to his duties delighted to be getting out of this hunt and seek game.

  After the cab pulled away, a green car sped past him and pulled up behind the taxi as if tailing it. Jonathan glimpsed two Middle Eastern looking men in the front seat. Damn, the Iranians had found them. How in God’s name did they do it? Matters had become complicated in a nanosecond. Somehow they had tracked the Donavans to Miami. Now Scott and Bridget were again in danger. If these guys had followed them here, they would dispose of them after getting the Koran. He could also be expendable, if they learned of his involvement.

  Jonathan pulled out and followed in line behind the green Ford Taurus and the taxi. The weapons from Father Hodges might prove their worth. Jonathan had no intention of getting into a gunfight. He would use the guns to provide security, not to deliberately kill.

  The taxi pulled in the gate at the Enterprise car rental lot and Jonathan watched the green Taurus go by the entrance. He pulled over short of the lot. The Donavans reemerged with a black Honda Pilot SUV. The green Ford followed them and Jonathan pulled his silver Buick in behind.

  He looked at his watch as the cars headed north on I-95. It was 11:35. From his time sp
ent in research on Ponce de Leon, Jonathan guessed the Donavans were now driving to the St. Augustine area.

  * * * *

  In the Honda, Bridgett said, “I promised Anthony I’d call that general in Washington. I got a number from the DIA web site.”

  “Go ahead. We’ll be on the road for about five hours.”

  Bridget used her cell phone to call the DIA number and after a few explanations of whom she needed to talk with she reached the general’s office.

  “I’m sorry Miss Donavan but the general is not here. What is the nature of your call?” a pleasant female voice asked.

  “I’m calling about Lieutenant Anthony Mahdi.”

  “Give me your number, miss,” the voice said, changing tone and intensity.

  Bridget did as requested and the call ended when the person in the general’s office hung up. Three minutes later the phone chirped; Bridget answered it.

  “Miss Donavan, my name is General Bergermeyer,” a female voice said. “Please only answer my questions and do not say anything more concerning why you called my office because this matter is of great importance. You are on an unsecured cell phone. Do you understand? “

  “Sure, but why all the secrecy?”

  “I can’t tell you right now but are you the same Bridget recently in Granada?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We’re on I-95 out of Miami going to St. Augustine.”

  “There is an Air National Guard unit located at Cape Canaveral. The air base is not far off I-95 and you should arrive in about 4 hours from Miami. I’ll meet you. The guard at the main gate will have your name and will escort you. I really need to talk with you. Today.

  “Just a second.” She told Scott what the general had said.

  He nodded, obviously interested in this latest development.

  “That’s not too much to ask after what he did for me, General. We’ll meet you there. We’re in a black Honda Pilot.”

  “Is your brother with you?” the general asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I look forward to seeing you both.”

  Bridget hit the end button on the phone.

  Scott glanced at her taking his eyes off the road, and asked, “What the hell has happened now?”

  * * * *

  Air National Guard Field, Cape Canaveral, Florida

  They reached the base in less than four hours. The guard asked to see some ID. After showing their passports, the air policeman requested Scott and Bridget to follow him.

  They arrived at a hangar; a small jet sat outside the open doors. As they approached the plane the escort moved away and a female descended the steps of the jet. Scott took a second look because he saw the woman getting off the plane looked like an older Bridget in an army uniform.

  “Mr. Donavan, Ms. Donavan, I’m Mary Jean Bergermeyer.”

  “Scott,” he said, shaking her hand.

  “Bridget, General, pleased to meet you.”

  “Please call me Mary Jean. If you will follow me inside the hanger I arranged for some refreshment and we can talk in a cooler atmosphere than out here on the tarmac.” She led the way to a small room with a conference table and some soft drinks, sandwiches, and assorted cookies.

  “When you called the office you mentioned Tony Mahdi. I believe you saw him in Granada. He sent me an email from there with the details of what was happening. He sent his email to me as Lucky Lady. He regretted your suffering but he could do nothing at the time of the email. He sent another message when he reached Warsaw and told me of your escape and your bravery, Bridget. Would you tell me everything you experienced in Spain?”

  “Mind if I get us a drink?” Scott asked. Bridget started to tell her story. When she finished she took some of the drink Scott handed her.

  “You know Tony is engaged in extremely dangerous work. The people he is trying to infiltrate are not angels. What he’s doing is vital for all Americans. He’s out on the front lines where it’s just as deadly as in Iraq or Afghanistan. He continually provides valuable intelligence on movements of terrorists in Europe over the last year and has moved up in their circles. Now, however, I have a problem.”

  “Did we do something to compromise him?” Bridget asked.

  “Not directly. You see, when he returned to Warsaw without the Koran and the two Presidential bodyguards were dead, he came under suspicion.”

  Bridget’s heart raced, hoping nothing bad would happen to Anthony, especially after his efforts on her behalf. She rubbed her nose and then took a drink. “He told me,” she said, “something might happen, but he was confident the wound he received would be proof of his efforts.”

  “To a degree it must have been, but they turned on him and tortured him. Whether with drugs or pure violence they found out everything.”

  “How do you know? What did they find out?” Bridget asked, not wanting to hear anything awful.

  “We don’t know all, but let me back up. Tony escaped somehow. We’re not sure how, but he managed to get to the Marine guard at the embassy in Warsaw. He identified himself to our defense attaché, informing him what the Islamist tortured him to reveal. Then he collapsed. He’s been in a coma since then. The doctors say that in his critical condition they don’t know if he’ll make it. All this happened five days ago.”

  “My God,” Bridget said. “They know about us.”

  “I’m afraid so. Could you tell me what you’re doing to cause all this?”

  “I don’t think we caused it,” Scott said.

  “Maybe not directly but whatever you’re doing set off a chase by some fanatics. Some recent intercepts indicate they have identified where you are and have sent someone to find you. That’s all I have right now. And please tell me all that happened to you in Spain. Describe everything please.”

  Bridget did.

  “Tony emailed they were after the Koran. Is that what you’re after now?” queried the general.

  Scott watched Bridget for her reaction. He noticed her give him a slight nod. “Yes, we have information there might be in existence an original or at least a very early copy of the Koran. If it is true then both sides of Islam might be after it. It could possibly contain new verses which could change Islam, perhaps for the better.”

  “Are you searching for anything else?”

  Again Scott waited for Bridget. This time he saw her eyes shift left. “Just some religious Latin texts. That’s all.”

  At least not a total lie, Scott realized.

  “Who was the man Tony told us you were with in Granada?” the general asked.

  “That would be Stephen,” Scott said.

  “What or who is he?”

  “We don’t know exactly,” Scott said. “He appeared out of nowhere and helped me right up to the time Bridget and your lieutenant came out of the house where they held Bridget.”

  Bridget remained silent about her suspicions of who Stephen was.

  “So you had two Iranians after you, a friend who helped you about whom you know little. Is that about it?”

  Scott nodded at the same time Bridget did. It all sounded so bizarre and unbelievable.

  “You were the last Americans to see Tony before he reached our embassy. That’s why I needed to meet you.” She stood up. “May I suggest that these people who were after you in Spain are most certainly after you again? If Tony gave up all the information he had, then they’re now tracking you for sure. Believe me they have extensive networks and experienced computer experts. Even though you may cover your tracks by paying with cash, they can hack the cruise ship line’s passenger lists, the car company’s rental list. You understand where I’m going? You’re not in the clear. Bridget, you certainly know what they’re capable of and if Tony hadn’t been there you wouldn’t be here now.”

  Bridget stood and faced the General. “I owe him my life. You’re his boss and he thought the world of you. But now we’re in America. We’ve come this far and we’ll find what we’re looking for. It�
�ll be a momentous academic achievement and the whole world will benefit, not just some religious sect of Islam or a splinter group of Christianity.”

  “Nobly said, young lady. I wish you luck in your search. If you think I can help, or you remember anything you think I need to know about your captors, please call me. We intend to follow up on the information you have provided. You and Tony didn’t leave anyone alive to interview. From what I can determine that was heroic action by you both. Here is my direct line.” The general smiled as she handed Bridget a card with the number. “You’re quite a formidable, young lady.”

  The general stood up and smiled as she said, “I congratulate you again on your bravery. But due to your attitude about being in America, I want to give you some advice. I hope you take it in the spirit it is offered. Be warned, you might be in America but bad things can happen to good people, even here.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Interstate 95

  North of Jupiter, FL

  Scott moved the Pilot to the inside lane on the interstate. He didn’t want to dodge traffic while they talked. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he raised his eyebrows in amazement when he saw the road nearly empty behind them.

  “What did you think about with the general?”

  “She’s a unique person. I liked her.” Bridget gazed out the window. The flat Florida countryside flew by. The orange orchards were on one side and what she took for grapefruit on the other.

  “I bet. She’s exactly like you.” Scott displayed a grin while saying this.

  “What do you mean?” She whirled back toward him ready to pounce if he pissed her off.

  “She’s nearly your twin in appearance and has an almost magical power of presence.”

  “I’m much younger.” She pouted.

  “But I bet you’ll be as gorgeous as she is when you’re her age.” Sometimes he attempted to be nice, especially considering the way she looked at him a second ago.

  “Gee . . . thanks, I think.”

  “We must figure out other things; like how do we isolate the location of the relics and the manuscripts?”