Secret of the Bibles: Suspense Thriller (Donavan Chronicles Book 2)

by Tom Haase

  “It'll take a few hours to get there. Excuse me while I doze off,” Jonathan said. “Wake me if you see the bus.”

  The time between getting in a sleeping position and going to sleep sometimes still had the effect of sending him back to the last time he served in the desert. He shut his eyes and tried to block it out. He needed sleep, but sleep held its distance while his mind raced to a place he didn't want to go. Not now, but he couldn't stop it in his exhausted state.

  * * * *

  The Battalion commander drove off in his vehicle after ordering all troops to dig in and stay where they were. The high command wanted no more casualties since the hostilities were coming to an end.

  “We have them beat. Sit tight,” he said, “and we go home after the cease fire. Dig in and wait. Don’t move from this position.”

  That was great news to the combat infantry company in which Jonathan served as a lieutenant. His promotion to captain was in three days with a move to another unit. Digging in and staying put would be perfect and a good rest for the lads who had been on the frontline for two weeks solid.

  “Lieutenant McGregor, over here,” the company commander called to him, pointing away from the troops. What the hell had he done now? He had tried his best to get on, but the man remained insufferable, demanding barracks lifestyle while on combat operations. When he reached where the captain stood, he took off his beret and waited.

  “McGregor, I want you to take a squad from your platoon and set up an observation post on top of that ridge.” He pointed to the large-scale map of the area.

  “But sir, it’s over a thousand yards and I thought battalion ordered us to stay put here.”

  “Be ready to move out in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jonathan heard the order and couldn’t believe the captain violated the command from the battalion commander. This was wrong. He, nevertheless, was the lieutenant had to obey his orders. The location on the map was a poor position for an OP and too far out from the unit’s location. What the hell was the captain up to? Was he trying to get them killed? It sure looked like it. He wasn’t the greatest military tactician in history, but this stood out as a crazy thing to do. They had no idea if they would have artillery support at that location.

  He walked back to his men. “First squad, come with me. We’re going to set up an OP out on that ridge over there.”

  “What the hell for?” the platoon sergeant said. “It’s too far out.”

  “Fill your canteens and let’s go,” Jonathan ordered. “It’s already getting dark. We’ll be lucky to dig in before nightfall.”

  They trudged through a thousand meters of sand to get to the position. They walked toward the setting sun as it hung just above the horizon. The glare of sunlight forced them to look down to avoid peering directly into the orange globe.

  The rat-tat-tat of a machine gun broke the silence, and the platoon sergeant took a round in the head. Mortar rounds started to impact and a corporal had his midsection blown apart. Rifle fire erupted from the ridge in front.

  “Move forward. Move forward,” shouted Jonathan. “Charge the position,” he ordered.

  The remaining men followed him, and they stormed the defenders of the hill. In less than a minute it was over. They took the hill. Three Iraqi surrendered, four lay dead, and three wounded. Jonathan looked to his men. Two dead and three were wounded. They had walked into an ambush. When the ambush erupted, he realized there was one way to survive—charge the ambush. Running away would ensure annihilation in the kill zone.

  The radio squawked and the CO clamored for a report. The captain came on. “Slasher 26 this is Slasher 56, give me a sitrep.” The captain wanted a situation report. All the gunfire and the mortars going off could be heard for miles.

  “Slasher 26, this is Slasher 6. Give me the sitrep and your location.” Slasher 6 was the battalion commander. Jonathan thought this opportunity provided the perfect time to take revenge for his company commander ordering him out here against the battalion commander’s orders and for the loss of his men.

  “I’m at grid 365589, two dead and three wounded, need medevac immediately.” He had to get the medevac helicopter to take his wounded to hospital. Silence reigned for a minute. “Slasher 26 helicopters on route now ETA ten minutes. Slasher 56 report to my location.”

  After weeks of putting up with this captain, the man signed his own relief from command by crossing the battalion commander. The battalion commander exhibited all the good qualities of a leader and Jonathan would follow him anywhere, but all the killing he saw in the last weeks, all the blood, made him start to entertain doubts. He loved his time in the army and knew the country required a force to protect itself, but it was time to move on in his life.

  “Lieutenant, you’re hit, get on the medivac,” said the platoon corporal.

  Jonathan looked down and saw blood on his leg. The adrenaline of the firefight wore off and suddenly he felt the pain. The last conscious thought he remembered on the battlefield – a sergeant reaching for him as he collapsed.

  On his return to the United Kingdom, suffering a slight limp he would have all the rest of his life from his wound, he resigned from the army. His right leg now an inch shorter than his left. Many times he needed to walk with a cane for support. After a few months of recuperation and self-examination, he decided not to return to the intelligence work at MI-5 after seeing war up close. Instead he entered a seminary to determine if God wanted him as a priest.

  * * * *

  There remained one last thought that crossed his mind before the slumber took him away. With the happy thought of his priesthood, he dozed off thinking.

  “I will return the Bible of Constantine to Rome.”

  Chapter 42

  Washington, D.C. – New York

  Special Agent Liz Garcia stood in front of the Deputy Director of the FBI. She could sense his mood from the unsmiling face when she entered, all business, no small talk or pleasantries. The DD didn't offer her a chair but raised his eyes while he kept his head down.

  “Special Agent Garcia, what have you got on the bomber? It's been over forty-eight hours. I expected results.” He lifted his head to face her directly.

  “We were under the impression that Scott Donavan was the bomber. All our efforts were directed at apprehending him—”

  The DD interrupted her. “What do you mean? Isn't he the bomber?”

  “We don't think he is.”

  “Who in the hell is it?” he demanded.

  “Right now I have people working on getting the image of the real bomber,” Liz said. She went on to relate her visit to the Metro maintenance yard and the file she had obtained. She added that the picture image should give them the real bomber and her partner already went on the hunt for him.

  “I need to get back to help him. Is there anything else?” she concluded.

  “No. Go get him and don't take two days.” He returned to his paperwork, and she took that as a sign of dismissal.

  Liz went to Libby Thompson's office to check on her progress in identifying the bomber using the recording from the Metro car. She had attempted to reach Matt several times on her drive back into Washington, but he had failed to pick up.

  “Nothing yet,” Libby said. “I expect to have something for you within the hour. We have enough of an image to make it doable. I'll call you when I have it.”

  Liz thanked her and went to get some lunch. She needed to be out of the building to make her call. Matt needed to get the word about her discovery and he needed to get it now.

  * * * *

  The sun's evening rays filtered through the sheer drapes in the penthouse overlooking Central Park. Benjamin Schultz watched the flaming disk receding behind buildings on the other side of the park. His arm moved the glass of scotch to his lips, but the phone interrupted. Hopefully, Gerti would tell him she was on her way home.

  His private number buzzed, so it most likely was her. The ID on the phone confirmed it. “Hello. And when
will you be here?”

  Her voice came over the phone, and he continued to stare at the last vestige of sunlight as his daughter filled him in on what happened.

  “Are you all right?” he asked with real concern when she finished.

  “For someone used as a pincushion for a knife, yeah, I'm okay. I just can't move very fast yet. I'll catch the next flight I can get to New York. First tell me about Jake. How did he get it?”

  “I don't know,” Schultz said. “He is blackmailing me to get more money, but the figure I offered him should get him to bring it to me. I think you made a mistake in telling him about the quest, but it's too late now.”

  “Maybe, but at the time it seemed the right thing to do to keep track of the Donavans if they tried something. I don't think they would now that I know them better. Especially not Scott. I didn't know the old geezer would turnout to be the one who found it. Will you take care of him?”

  “You can count on that, dear daughter. Hurry home and we'll get this business concluded to where we'll make a lot of money from this Bible.”

  He finished the call and made another to the man he hired to find the Bible in Israel. Scott Donavan's call that initiated his contract with the young man had been fortuitous. Schultz already possessed a working knowledge about the treasure Scott Donavan asked for his assistance in obtaining. He had been in search of that same Bible for some time. His efforts led him to believe the Bible resided in Jerusalem, and he contacted one of the “collectors” he used in obtaining off the record items for his private sales. Over the years he amassed a fortune in illegal sales of everything from dinosaur bones to pets from the Galapagos Islands. The stakes always were high. He had to have that Bible and he would collect the millions it would fetch. He knew leaving it to the whim of a young out-of-work college professor wouldn't cut it. He employed a professional Russian and a multiple murderer as well as the Donavans to achieve his goal. The result? A newspaper reporter grabbed it.

  One could never tell where things would go.

  “Your men failed in getting the Bible,” Schultz said when the man answered.

  “They were going to kill all of the bishops in order until they got it, but something went wrong,” said the Russian-accented voice. “The police got there too quick after they killed the first one. They are both dead.”

  “Call it off. You didn't complete your task. I have the Bible and will call you again if I need your services.” But Schultz knew he would never use him again after his failure.

  “My money?”

  “You have half of the money, and nothing more will come since you failed. The other half to be paid on delivery of the item,” Schultz said in a strong tone of finality.

  He closed his phone and made another call. This one would set up his plan to take care of Mr. Jake. The man would deliver the goods to him before he would take action.

  Nobody threatened Benjamin Schultz like that two-bit reporter and got away with it. Nobody.

  Chapter 43

  Cairo

  The bus ride left Cornelius Jake exhausted. He still wondered what caused all the noise on the Israeli side of the border as the overloaded bus moved on past the Egyptian checkpoint. Probably Hezbollah shooting up the place. At least, if anyone followed him, the border would now be closed for many hours to come. No one could be after him using this road. He relaxed thinking about what he would do in the next few days, and that put a smile on his wrinkled face.

  The vehicle lurched to a stop, and he awoke from his musings. He looked out and realized that the bus had stopped beside a large building with dozens of other busses parked around its exterior.

  “Must be the depot,” he muttered. After he grabbed his briefcase and threw a messenger bag over his shoulder, he left the sprawling sea of humanity in the depot area and looked for a taxi.

  The bright sunshine caused him to squint. He put on his sunglasses and wished he could put on something to get rid of the overpowering stink of the place. It emitted the aroma of spoiled meat, backed-up sewage, and unflushed commodes, the smells pounding his nostrils like pellets he couldn't duck.

  Reaching one of the few taxis, he made the driver understand that he wanted to go to the airport by using hand signals and stretching his arms out imitating a plane. He decided not to make the engine noises to complete the pantomime. Even this camel driver ought to recognize the destination he wanted. In the end the driver nodded.

  Jake got in. His watch displayed five. A few hours remained before he needed to contact Schultz. He would get to the airport and have his travel plans finalized before making contact. Schultz would certainly pull something against him, so Cornelius needed some time to sit and think about exactly what he would do. The bus ride hadn't been a time for thinking, not with the continuous jolting and bouncing.

  At the airport, he learned that the next flight direct to New York left tomorrow morning. Egypt Air departed at 11:10 and cost 6765 Egyptian Pounds. Over at the Delta desk he found a flight leaving at 7:30 in the morning for 7732 EGP, or about $1414. He bought a one-way ticket to arrive in New York at three thirty in the afternoon the same day. The ticket agent told him the best hotel near the airport, and he went there. He needed a rest and time to relax.

  He woke a half hour before the twenty-four hours he told Schultz to expect his call. The call went through from the hotel with no problem.

  “I'll get right to the point,” he said after Schultz answered.

  “Good. I don't have time to waste.” Schultz seemed ready to do battle. His tone conveyed the unmistakable disdain he must feel from being forced to pay for the book.

  “I will arrive in New York tomorrow afternoon on Delta at three thirty.” He slowed his speech for effect and took a deep breath, but Schultz spoke.

  “I'll be there to meet you. Come out of the arrival entrance and look for a black Lincoln stretch with a ‘Jake’ sign in the windscreen.”

  Jake didn't like this. He was losing control.

  “I want the cashier's check handed to me when I give you the book,” Jake said. Taking control of the conversation made him feel more confident.

  “After I see the book and authenticate it,” Schultz stated.

  Jake felt like Schultz again gained the upper hand. He needed to get it back. “Perhaps I need to put it on the Internet for sale. I could get my price without having to deal with you.” He realized as soon as he said it that it was a stupid idea. A public airing of the Bible would lead the legal authorities directly to him.

  “Mr. Jake, you are stalling. You know I have the money, and there will be no complications if the book is real. Simply let me examine it for thirty minutes on the ride in from the airport, and you'll be paid when you get out at whatever address you provide. Is that acceptable? It won't take long, and I'll be assured in my own mind that I have the genuine article,” Schultz concluded.

  It seemed like a fair arrangement. He could tell him to drive around and deposit him at JFK to catch the shuttle flight to Washington. He could be home tomorrow evening with five million dollars. Too easy. Somehow, somewhere, something didn't seem to fit. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his distrust of Schultz didn't just ring a tiny bell, it sounded like Big Ben in his ear.

  “I tell you what. I'll take a photo of the first and third pages of the book and e-mail them to you. You do your due diligence and hand me the check on my arrival at JFK. You will already know it is the real thing and I don't have to wait before I get my money. How's that?”

  “Okay, Mr. Jake. I'll wait for you at the airport. Send the photos and we'll do it your way.”

  At last he regained control. Schultz would do it his way. Great. He would outfox the conniving geezer. In less than half an hour, he copied the pages and sent the photos to the e-mail address Schultz provided. They would be adequate for him to verify the book.

  He had nothing to worry about. Those two Donavans were in Israel not even knowing what happened. They wouldn't even miss him for another day, if he were lucky. So
far he’d been fortunate and now not the time to think negatively. Cornelius Jake remained on a roll. Everything appeared to be going according to his plan.

  Tomorrow, on the plane, he would initiate the rest of his plan. He would outfox Schultz and play by his own rules, assuring himself that he would become rich on his own terms.

  Screw Schultz.

  Chapter 44

  Egypt

  Jonathan again drove the truck across the vast desert spaces of northern Egypt. He continued to visualize how he would acquire the Bible once they located it. He adjusted his sunglasses to better protect his eyes from the setting sun. The heat of the day now waned perceptibly, but he continued to perspire. They traveled over eighty miles since the border crossing. They’d passed through small villages from time to time, the last one over fifteen minutes ago.

  Clank!

  Clank!

  He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. The truck skidded and then bounced like a hopping rabbit. Jonathan realized the back wheels had locked up when the skid started. By turning the steering wheel as careful as he could, he guided the vehicle off the road during the five-second ordeal. He continued to steer the truck until they came to a bumpy stop a few feet off the pavement of the main road.

  “What the hell happened?” Bridget yelled. She pushed herself back from the front dash where her head had almost impacted after being thrown forward by the sudden stop.

  “I think the rear axle locked up,” Jonathan said.

  “And we're miles from nowhere,” Bridget added. She had on a shoulder strap that prevented her forward movement. “Now we'll never catch the bastard by tonight.”

  “Let's get out and see what the situation is,” Jonathan said. “I checked flights out of Cairo on my phone. I don't think he could have reached there in time to catch a flight out today for the States. The next flight is tomorrow morning.”

  Jonathan walked around to the back of the vehicle. Scott and Bridget joined him after exiting the passenger side. They all bent to look under the truck.