The Solomon Scroll

by Alex Lukeman

"Five minutes," Nick said. "There's water in that refrigerator, Sergeant."

  He walked over to Selena. "Give him the works," he said. "Don't hurt him."

  "I'll try not to but sometimes people get overenthusiastic."

  "Just don't do any permanent damage."

  A few minutes later Selena and Ramirez stood on opposite sides of a large mat. Elizabeth and Stephanie had come into the room to watch. They took seats by the wall.

  "Okay," Nick said. "Sergeant, I want you to try and take Selena down. Selena, don't let him. No lethal blows. Aside from that, no rules."

  Ramirez looked at him. "She could get hurt," he said.

  "That's her problem. Don't hold back. Ready?"

  They both nodded.

  "Begin."

  Selena waited to see if Ramirez would bow. He nodded but he didn't bow. They both advanced to the middle of the mat. Ramirez attacked with a combination kick and elbow strike. He was fast, but Selena wasn't where the blows were supposed to land. She swept his leg aside, blocked his strike and landed a kick to his hip that staggered him to the edge of the mat.

  He came back and tried a high kick to her head. She moved. His foot swept harmlessly past her face. She grabbed his leg as it went by, stepped to the side and used his momentum to flip him onto his back. Ramirez landed hard and grunted. He bounced up and began circling. There was a new awareness in his eyes as he watched her. His face was getting red.

  The next minutes repeated what had gone before. Each time Ramirez attacked, Selena blocked or avoided his strikes and threw him to the mat. He barely touched her with all his attempts. After the last fall, Ramirez got up and looked at her with something different in his expression.

  Selena saw that he was losing discipline and meant to teach her a lesson. She decided to end it. He came in and faked a kick, followed by a strike to a nerve center under the collar bone. If it had landed, the fight would have been over and Selena would have been hurt. She leaned back with smooth motion born of more than twenty years of practice. As the strike went by she pivoted and grabbed his right arm. She pulled it down and behind and up at the same time, turning the arm at an odd angle.

  Ramirez yelled out in pain. He went to his knees.

  "Don't move," Selena said. "If you move, your shoulder will dislocate. The tendons will tear. You don't want that. Have you had enough?"

  Ramirez gritted his teeth and tensed.

  "I mean it. Don't move."

  "Enough," he said.

  Selena released the lock, stepped away and bowed.

  "Damn it," Ramirez said. He gripped his shoulder.

  "Hurts, doesn't it?" Selena said.

  Ramirez stood up, rubbing his shoulder. He looked at Selena. Then he bowed. She inclined her head.

  "Good," Nick said. "What did you do wrong, Sergeant?"

  Ramirez thought. He looked down at his feet, then looked up again.

  "I got angry. I wanted to teach her a lesson."

  "That's the first thing. Anger clouds your judgement. You can't let it take over. What else?"

  "I underestimated her."

  "That's right. Why did you do that?"

  "I never thought any woman could beat me."

  "Now you know they can. It's not just weapons that make women dangerous. Sometimes we go places where the women are worse than the men. You'd better remember it. You should know that, you were in Afghanistan."

  Ramirez had the grace to look embarrassed. "I won't forget."

  "For what it's worth, you never had a chance," Nick said. "Selena can beat any one of us. Probably anyone you've ever met, including your instructors. She's thrown me down on that mat so many times I can't even remember. But you can learn from her, if you're willing to."

  "Copy that," Ramirez said. "What's next?"

  "I'll give you an hour to ice that shoulder and let it calm down. There's some aspirin in the bathroom cabinet if you want it. Then we hit the range," Nick said. "Then the urban combat course in the building across the lot."

  At the end of the day, Nick stopped by Elizabeth's office on the way out.

  "How's the new guy doing?" she asked.

  "Not bad. He can shoot, no doubt about that. He was kind of embarrassed about what happened with Selena."

  Elizabeth smiled. "See you at the briefing tomorrow morning."

  After Nick left the room she leaned back in her chair, thinking about Ramirez. She hoped he would work out. She was fortunate she hadn't needed to break in someone new before now. Over the years there had been plenty of injuries, plenty of close calls for everyone, herself included.

  For Elizabeth, the Project team was her family. She'd been married, once. Before the president tapped her to head up the Project she'd worked in the Justice Department. She'd thought she'd found the perfect partner in a coworker who became her husband. That ended when he chose political advancement and a wealthy socialite lover over her.

  Elizabeth had given up on the idea that she'd find someone to share her life with. There would be no family in the traditional sense of the word. Nick, Selena, Stephanie and the others had become her family. Now there was a new addition with Ramirez.

  I could do worse, she thought.

  CHAPTER 5

  Nick lifted the lid from a pan simmering on the stove. He stirred, inhaling the spicy odor of the food. He looked out the kitchen window at the setting sun, dark red in the humid, smog filled air over the Potomac. Inside the loft it was cool, pleasant. Miles Davis played in the background.

  "A few more minutes," he said.

  Selena stood at a kitchen island nearby, putting the finishing touches on a salad.

  "It smells good," she said. "Like that Indian restaurant on Dupont Circle."

  "Chicken marsala. It's supposed to smell like that."

  "I'm sorry I had to do that today," Selena said. "I didn't want to humiliate him. He was getting angry. When people get angry they make mistakes. I thought it was time to stop it before one of us got hurt."

  "You did the right thing. He's young and he still has a lot to learn."

  "He's twenty-seven."

  "Like I said, he's young. He hasn't learned how to hold his anger in check when things are going against him. That's not a good trait."

  "I like him though," Selena said. "He showed respect, once he could stand."

  "I saw that. I think he heard what I said when I told him he could learn from you."

  "He did well on the range."

  "After years in the Rangers he ought to," Nick said. "He showed good judgment on the combat course. He only shot one civilian. That's better than I did the first time through."

  The urban combat course was recent, installed in the large warehouse across from headquarters. It consisted of movable walls and props that looked like the streets and buildings of an urban environment anywhere in the world. It could be configured as a village street, a city block or a mockup of a mission target, depending on need. Three-dimensional automated targets popped out in unpredictable ways from doors and windows, inside rooms and from behind walls and vehicles. Some were enemies, with a variety of weapons and looks. Others were civilians, old men, office workers, children, women with babies. Ramirez had shot one of the old men, thinking his cane was a gun. Grading depended on hits, accurate identification of the target and speed of response.

  Selena said, "He's getting into it. I can see him trying to figure it out. He still doesn't know what we do, not really."

  "He won't, until he's in the field."

  Nick checked the chicken. "It's done."

  "You realize this is our first real dinner here?" Selena said.

  "Won't be the last," Nick said.

  "You're a real romantic, aren't you?"

  Here was a remodeled loft looking out over the Potomac. They'd moved in a few days before. They'd bought it together even though they weren't married. Nick figured they would be. In the meantime, the loft was a way to commit to each other before getting to the altar. So far they hadn't set a date or made a
rrangements for the final step.

  "What do you think about our rookie?" Selena asked. "Do you think he's going to fit?"

  "He looks pretty good," Nick said. "I think the biggest problem is going to be whether or not he can let go of his self-image."

  "His self image?"

  "Macho Ranger, superhero."

  "Oh, that image."

  "Army Rangers are like that."

  "Do I hear the Marine Corps Hymn playing in the background?" Selena said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean. That Marine thing about other units."

  "The Rangers are a good unit."

  "Are they as good as the Marines?"

  "Marines are the best," Nick said, "but the Rangers are damn good."

  "I rest my case," Selena said.

  CHAPTER 6

  Nazar Al-Bayati sported a heavy brush of a mustache like the one worn by Saddam Hussein. He was heavy, thick around the waist. His arms were the size of many men's thighs. He had once crushed a man to death with those arms to make a point.

  Some made their money selling guns or drugs or women. Nazar sold all of those, but his main source of income was information. He lived at the center of a web of thieves and spies that reached across the Middle East and Europe, from the back alleys of Damascus to the corporate board rooms of London and Paris.

  Not much of importance in the Middle East escaped his notice. For Al-Bayati, the endless wars were a blessing from God. Not that he believed in God. He believed in an insatiable deity of a darker nature, worshipped by his Carthaginian ancestors in centuries past. Nazar's god was old, older than the one revered by Christian, Jew and Muslim alike. It was to him that he directed his prayers and supplications.

  The only other thing he believed in was greed. An intelligent and cunning man, Nazar found his most profitable information came from new developments in technology. New weapons, new discoveries, better ways to wage war. All these things equaled new ways to make money. The man who knew what was coming would always stay one step ahead of his competitors. To that end he had informers watching for information he could turn into profit. He had eyes in the nuclear facilities of Russia, men who watched the Israelis, and men in the temples of science in Europe. It was one of these who had told him about the odd looking Italian and his volcanic scroll. Nazar had dispatched his agent at once.

  Professor Caprini's overnight bag rested on the desk in front of him. Nazar looked up at the man who had brought it. His name was Addison Rhoades, a disgraced British spy who'd become one of Bayati's most valuable assets. Rhoades was Bayati's fixer, the man who took care of problems. A small problem, Rhoades took care of it himself. A large one, he knew men who could do what needed to be done.

  At first glance Rhoades looked like a successful European businessman. He was dressed in a good suit, a light blue shirt and a lavender tie knotted to perfection. A closer inspection revealed the dissipation in his face, the tight lines around his eyes and the darkness under them. He was tall, stronger than he looked and a highly trained assassin.

  "You opened the bag?" Nazar said.

  "Yes. The scroll lies in a case within."

  "Are there notes?"

  "There's a computer. I haven't looked at it but if there are notes, that's where they'll be. There are copies of the x-rays."

  "Excellent. I assume you left no traces behind."

  "You haven't read the papers today?"

  Nazar thought. "The train in Italy?"

  "Yes."

  "Ah. A bit extreme, wasn't it?"

  "It seemed best," Rhoades said.

  "Who else knows about the x-rays?" Nazar asked.

  "As far as I know, only one person. The technician who operated the machine."

  "I want you to go back to Grenoble," Nazar said. "Eliminate him. Destroy any records of the results as well."

  "That may involve damage to some very expensive equipment," Rhoades said.

  "It's of no importance. The French will repair it. Make it look like some kind of terrorist attack."

  "As you wish."

  "You've done well, Addison."

  Nazar reached into a drawer. He took out a small, foil wrapped ball. Rhoades wet his lips. Nazar saw the longing on his face.

  "Make sure this doesn't interfere with your mission."

  "Of course," Rhoades said. He took the ball, placing it in his pocket.

  When Rhoades had left, Nazar opened Professor Caprini's laptop and booted it up. The screen requested a password. Nazar inserted a flash drive loaded with a program stolen from Russian intelligence. The screen went dark for a moment then cleared, revealing a dozen file folders against a blue background. Nazar clicked on the one marked Herculaneum.

  The file contained the pictures taken in Grenoble, showing what lay beneath the crusted surface of the scroll. Even crystal x-ray tomography wasn't good enough to show what was written on most of the ancient document. But what had been revealed was enough to set Nazar's black heart beating.

  CHAPTER 7

  Stephanie and Elizabeth were in Elizabeth's office when Nick and Selena arrived. Ronnie came in right after them.

  "I got a heads up from the White House," Elizabeth said. "Rice wants us to look into something that happened in France."

  "If there's a chance we're going out soon you'd better get Ramirez in here," Nick said. "He needs to be in on the planning."

  "Have you decided to keep him?"

  "I don't know yet but this seems like a good time to show him how we work."

  "Last I saw of our rookie, he was in the workout room. Steph, would you ask Sergeant Ramirez to come up here please?"

  Down in the workout room Diego was on the treadmill, running in place. His mind was going faster than his feet.

  Who the hell are these people? he thought. This is one weird set up. Hell, they're old, Carter and his Indian buddy. I wonder what happened to his ear? The blonde, Selena. Where did she learn to fight like that? And the whole operation is being run by a woman.

  He punched a button. The speed picked up.

  Those weapons in the armory...they're not fooling around. I still don't know what it is they do. If they're not spooks, what are they? Problem solvers, Harker said. What the hell does that mean? What kind of problems?

  Stephanie came to the door. "Sergeant, Director Harker wants you upstairs."

  "Right away."

  He shut down the machine, felt his body thinking his feet were still moving. Stephanie was already gone. Diego mopped his brow with a towel and went upstairs.

  Once Ramirez was seated, Harker got to the point.

  "Sergeant, you are still on probation but Nick and I thought you should be here to see how we approach an operation. Put up the pictures please, Steph."

  Stephanie touched a key on her laptop. The monitor on Elizabeth's office wall sprang to life with a picture of a large, gray building that looked like a giant doughnut. The walls and roof were one, rounded unit. The structure made a full circle, with a large open area in the center. Blackened, twisted metal showed where the force of an explosion had blown a large hole in the side.

  "Looks like somebody took a bite out of it," Ronnie said.

  He was wearing a faded blue Hawaiian shirt from his collection, covered with happy ukulele players strumming their instruments and wearing leis.

  "Speaking of looks, you look like a music hall in old Waikiki," Nick said. "Where did you get that shirt? The Goodwill store?"

  "Hey, this is a classic from the 70s. When are you going to learn to appreciate the finer points of being well-dressed?"

  "Excuse me," Elizabeth said, "I wonder if I could have your attention?"

  "Sorry, Director," Nick said

  Ramirez watched the exchange in disbelief.

  "What is that place in the picture?" Nick asked.

  "The European Synchrotron Radiation Facility in Grenoble, France."

  "That's a mouthful."

  "It's one of the world's top facilities for
studying x-rays and radiation, not to mention physics and chemistry. It's a very big deal. Someone just put it out of commission, as you can see."

  "Terrorist attack?" Selena asked.

  "That's the official line."

  "What's the unofficial?"

  "Unofficially, no one knows anything except that it was sabotage. The area that was targeted deals with a specialized technique called crystal x-ray tomography. It's like a super CAT scan, only instead of people it scans objects. The files and equipment in that part of the building were destroyed. Selena, you can read Aramaic. Is that right?"

  "It depends. Usually I can."

  "It's routine for all files created at the facility to be duplicated on another server. The research is too important to trust to only one backup source. The explosion destroyed one server but the files still exist on the backup. French security found x-rays of a scroll written in Aramaic taken in the days just before the attack."

  "That's interesting, but how does it relate to the explosion?"

  "The scroll could be the reason for it. It was sealed in volcanic debris during the eruption of Vesuvius. A professor from the Italian National Museum named Caprini brought it in to see if the text could be read by using x-rays. It turned out that the first page and part of the second could be seen. Caprini was a biblical archaeologist. He knew how to translate it."

  "Was a biblical archaeologist?"

  "He's dead. That's one reason the French think the scroll has something to do with this. He was headed back to Italy when an explosion blew him and his train off a bridge in the Italian Alps. It wasn't an accident."

  "I read about that," Ronnie said. "More than two hundred people died in that wreck."

  Nick looked at Harker. "You said one reason. There are others?"

  "The technician who operated the x-ray equipment for Caprini was found dead after the explosion. He was killed before the blast."

  "Someone murdered him?" Selena asked.

  "Yes."

  "Where's the scroll?"

  "Good question. Caprini had the scroll and copies of the x-ray results with him on the train. No trace of them was found in the wreck."