He gave the nod to Rebecca. His fiancée kneeled next to the girl.
“Vakasa, do you know how to get into the Holy of Holies?”
The girl reached out and touched the thick carpet that hung behind her. The central image was that of a huge lotus blossom.
Vakasa went to open her mouth, but a loud boom filled the chamber. Followed shortly thereafter by gunfire. Someone had breached the temple. Vanderwalt snatched Vakasa away from Rebecca.
“Tell your men to stand down!”
Before Brandt could answer, one of the British soldiers hauled ass out of the vestibule. “He can’t! It’s the Disciples.” The guy fired back into the antechamber. “And they are seriously packing.”
Brandt turned to Vanderwalt, his hand out. “Give me a weapon.”
The MI-5’s eyes flickered to Brandt, then Talli.
“Phhh, I say give him a gun.” Well, at least he could count on Talli for something.
Vanderwalt lowered his weapon and turned the grip to Brandt. “We are not done.”
Hell no. But right now, they needed to survive the next few minutes. Checking the chamber, he urged Rebecca and Vakasa behind the nearest column. Setting his sights on the arch that led to the vestibule, Brandt had only one question.
Where the fuck were his men?
* * *
Sitting tight was tough, Davidson thought. Especially when you could hear gunfire and corresponding screams. He could only pray they weren’t Brandt or Rebecca’s. But they had to stay hidden until it was clear.
Which hopefully would come soon, as the three of them were crammed down within a space under the floorboards. This was Israel, after all. This region had been occupied or exchanged hands a dozen times over. They knew the use of a good hiding place. Unfortunately, this one clearly was meant for small children, not three grown men.
“Get down here!” a shout seeped in through the boards overhead.
It was what they had been waiting for. Davidson had gambled that the Disciples would find the damaged ark and decide to just blast their way through the wall. Which they did, promptly heading down the same shaft as Brandt and Rebecca. They had left two guards up top, which made attacking from the rear a little complicated.
Levont lifted the board with the tip of his rifle. “There they go.”
Cautiously, in case the Disciples had left any traps, the three of them made it across the room. And there they caught their first break. The Disciples had secured ropes to the ark that led down the shaft. They could make a controlled descent.
Levont went to go down first, but Davidson stopped him.
“I have another idea.”
The point man nodded. “Risky, I hope.”
Oh yeah.
* * *
Rebecca tucked down, trying to keep the girl shielded, but Vakasa squirmed against the protection. Bursting from Rebecca’s grip, Vakasa ran the short distance across the temple and, on all fours, climbed up the steps to the veil.
“Vakasa!” Brandt shouted, but the little girl paid no heed. Instead, she ducked under the tapestry and disappeared behind the thick material. Brandt tried to lash out to catch Rebecca too, but she bolted.
His curses filled the air as Rebecca ran. He probably would have been right behind her if gunfire hadn’t split the air between them. As Brandt returned fire, Rebecca scrambled up the steps and dove under the tapestry.
The woven material cut down the sound of rattling gunfire to the point it seemed not any louder than a pachinko machine. Vakasa pressed her palm against the gilded door. Which was oddly Jewish. Not that the door to the Holy of Holies shouldn’t be Jewish, it was just, in this place, with its foreign gods, the strict Hebrew seemed, well, odd.
“How do we open it?” Rebecca asked.
Vakasa answered by picking up Rebecca’s hand and placing it against the cool gold. The ground beneath them quaked, giving a sharp jerk, then settling down again.
“Say the words,” Vakasa said in plain English.
“Which words?”
Then the earth shook and didn’t stop.
* * *
So much for a controlled descent, Davidson thought as he braced his legs against the side of the tunnel. He waited, taking deep breaths, preparing to be discovered. Luckily, the swaying of his rope must have been chalked up to the earthquakes, or they hadn’t even noticed, given the all the trembling.
Heading down the rope facefirst, Davidson let up a little on the rope and slid down enough to get an angle on the rock chamber. Sure enough, the Disciples had left two men to guard the entrance. And their backs were turned to Davidson.
Even so, taking them both out before either could fire?
He would only get one chance.
Gripping the rifle to his shoulder, Davidson set his sight on the first man. He swiveled without firing to aim at the second. He imagined the pop of the gun. He imagined the kick of the recoil. He imagined the other man turning to the sight of his fallen comrade.
Taking a deep breath, Davidson was ready.
He saved the easier shot for the second shot and prepped for the farther man. He tugged the rope once. Once the shots were off, the other men would repel down. First, he had to get the shots off.
His fingers ached. He promised them a nice hot paraffin wax bath when all this was over. Exhaling, he bottomed out his diaphragm and took the first shot. He didn’t have time to see if he had hit him square. By the time he got his rifle around, the other man had turned his upper body, making the second shot almost easier.
Letting go of the rope, Davidson slid down the rest of the tunnel, landing palms first. He launched up, pushing to his feet. He got his rifle up just as two guards came to investigate.
There was nothing tight or sophisticated about this shooting. Davidson just needed a spray of bullets to force the men back. Lopez hit the ground next to him, firing as he came out of the hole. Levont was only a step behind. They broke formation and headed to the cover of the wall as the guards shot into their little chamber.
“Perfect,” Lopez congratulated Davidson. “Now what?”
That was a very good question.
* * *
Finally, Brandt thought. His men must have joined the party, since the Disciples’ force was now split. The forward half were still firing toward Brandt and Vanderwalt’s men. However, the back guards were now occupied with their rear.
What do you do when you are grossly outmanned? Force them to fight on two fronts. Hitler hadn’t understood that, and look how World War II had gone for him. The Disciples might have invested as much time studying their military history as they did their religious history.
Using the brief respite, Brandt glanced over his shoulder. The tapestry didn’t move. The only bright spot was no blood running out from under the veil, so there was that. He didn’t like being out of the line of sight, though. He didn’t like it at all.
Testing the waters, he flashed his sleeve out from behind the column. A bullet hole ripped through it. Okay, so the Disciples weren’t that distracted.
Brandt could not believe he was saying this. “Talli, cover me.”
“Oh, no,” Vanderwalt said from the other side of the column. “Cover us.”
“Then exactly who is going to cover me?” Talli asked.
At least the fake sniper was an equal opportunity coward.
Great. Brandt was stuck with Vanderwalt, who had minimal field experience, and the ex-sniper, whom he had absolutely no faith in.
“Fine,” Brandt said, firing in the direction of the Disciples.
Rebecca had better come up with something quickly, as the enemy had regrouped, firing with gusto.
* * *
Vakasa sat next to Rebecca, beaming that smile of hers. Clearly, the girl expected the “words” to come tumbling out of Rebecca’s mouth at any moment. Sure, lots of words had come out of her mouth.
She’d tried the Shemoneh Esreh, the standing prayer, the first prayer listed in the Siddur. She’d tried it in Hebrew
, Yiddish, Ancient Greek, and English, to no avail. Then she tried Psalm 146 and even Exodus, but the door didn’t budge. Hell, she’d even recited the Christian Lord’s Prayer, with equal luck.
The floor nearly dancing didn’t help her concentration any.
Vakasa cocked her head and spoke. At first, Rebecca didn’t understand even what language she was using. Then it hit her. Coptic. Rebecca translated quickly. “What shall I give you?”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. Was the girl quoting I Kings 3:5? The question that God asked Solomon?
Vakasa took Rebecca’s hand and put it to the door as the tapestry ripped from the ceiling. The sound of gunfire came in a rush as Rebecca spoke the words.
“Therefore give to Your servant an understanding heart to judge Your people, that I may discern between good and evil.”
A rumbling, deep beneath their feet, shook the marble underfoot. The shock wave came up and through the floor, cracking the great gilded door down the exact middle. Parting the opening, sending out a great sigh as if woken from a long sleep.
Suddenly, the gunfire waned.
Rebecca knew that was never a good sign. Not when it was the enemy who had stopped shooting. From down the long temple, she watched a grenade fly through the air.
“Brandt! In here!”
CHAPTER 28
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Solomon’s Temple, Shiloh, Israel
10:32 p.m. (IST, Israeli Standard Time)
Rebecca did not need to tell him twice. Not with two—no, make that five—grenades heading their way. Brandt turned on his heel, firing behind him, making for the door. The grenades bounced on the floor, skipping happily toward the altar.
Brandt heard footsteps behind him as he leapt up the stairs. Someone knocked him to the side, sprinting through the open doors in front of him. Vanderwalt. Son of a bitch. But the Brit was only a few steps ahead of him. Brandt made it through the door into another gilded room. He didn’t have time to assess it much more than that as he turned to close the damned doors.
Talli raced toward him, with the grenades dancing behind him. “I tried the best I could!” he yelled as he streaked toward Brandt.
Despite the plea Brandt kept right on closing those doors. Only at the last second did he slow enough to let Talli slip through.
“Get the bar!” Brandt shouted as he pushed the two sides of the door closed. Together, Talli and Rebecca shoved the bracing bar down. The damned thing had barely sealed the doors when explosion after explosion rocked the Holy of Holies.
Brandt grabbed his girls and got them into the corner to ride out the worst of it.
Finally, the booms died and the world stopped shaking. Thank God for thick stone walls. The ancients really knew how to build them.
“Bloody hell,” Vanderwalt cursed behind them. Brandt turned to get a look at the Holy of Holies. To be honest, beyond the gilded walls and jewel-encrusted etchings, it wasn’t much to look at. There were two smaller doors on the other side of the room
“Where is the ark?” The MI-5 agent asked.
Rebecca helped Vakasa get up. “Most likely? Ethiopia.”
“Then what are we doing here?” Vanderwalt demanded.
Brandt sighed. “Welcome to my world.”
The Brit didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, however, as he raised his gun. Brandt did him one better. He raised two. One pointed at Vanderwalt, the other at Talli.
“Yes, Walt, I know you could kill Rebecca or Vakasa before I could kill the both of you. However, let’s face it, neither of you have the stomach for playing chicken.”
Proof positive of his statement, Talli handed his gun over to Rebecca. “I just want out. I didn’t even want to get on the plane in Madrid.”
Vanderwalt’s eyes flicked between Brandt and Talli and the gun in Rebecca’s hand.
“Just go, Walt,” Brandt said, indicating to the doors. “We take one door. You take the other.” Still, the Brit wavered, so Brandt pressed. Vanderwalt was a douche spy, but he had proved he wasn’t an idiot. “It isn’t going to take the Disciples long to get through that door. I would prefer to be as far away as humanly possible when that happens.”
“Which door are you taking?” Vanderwalt asked, his voice cracking.
Rebecca nodded to the left door. “That one should represent “good,” she said, then indicated to the right door. “That one evil.”
“Funny,” Vanderwalt spat out. “I will take the left, then.” Keeping his gun pointed at Vakasa, he backed his way to the door. With a light push, it swung open. That old grin appeared as if the last twenty-four hours hadn’t just happened. “I’m still looking forward to that warm beer, mate.”
“Just go,” Brandt urged, then turned to Talli. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you,” Talli said.
“Oh, no, you aren’t,” Brandt countered, cocking the gun pointed at his old sniper. “You picked your bed.”
Talli reluctantly followed Vanderwalt through the left door. Brandt waited a few heartbeats, then went to the door, cracked it open, and made sure the men followed the path rather than doubling back again.
He turned to Rebecca. “You did tell them the wrong door?”
“Duh.”
* * *
Rebecca pointed to the rightmost door. “This one faces east. The direction of Jerusalem.”
Brandt nodded. She knew that he was fluent enough in Jewish religion to know that Jerusalem was considered sacred, even by Solomon, at least before he took a gander at the Ten Commandments tablets and all the secrets they held.
“Good enough for me,” Brandt said, checking the other door quickly before doing a sweep of the eastern door. Rebecca took Vakasa’s hand and followed Brandt down the new hallway. It was adorned in the same manner as the main temple.
She wished she had time to translate the myriad of inscriptions that lined the walls. The insight into ancient times they held…Well, it was priceless. At the least, she would have loved to take photos, but Brandt set such a pace that, even if Rebecca had had a camera, it would be nothing more than a blur.
They reached another set of doors, side-by-side.
“Do we go east?” Brandt asked, going to open the rightmost door.
“I think it’s more complicated than that.”
“Great.” Brandt sighed. “Another maze or labyrinth or whatever the ancients called a screwed-up mess?”
Rebecca studied the figures on each door. “No. I think these doors represent a series of choices we must make.”
“And the difference?” Brandt asked, clearly not in spirit of debate.
“I think we have to prove that we are the Messiah, or at least with the Messiah.”
“So?”
To the left was a beautifully rendered etching of Moses. He looked younger, though, than most of the descriptions. Certainly long before the tablets were found. Perhaps at the beginning of their long trek across the desert. To the right was another stunning depiction of the goddess Astarte. She seemed so human yet divine.
“Still looking like we take the right door.”
Rebecca wasn’t so sure about that. Astarte was simply an imaging of what the Messiah might be in the future. Moses, however, was real. And just beginning his journey, just like Vakasa.
“I say we go left.”
Brandt studied her features for a moment, then shrugged. “My motto?” he said, entering the left tunnel. “Never argue with a woman in the middle of a global religious crisis.”
* * *
Frellan strode across the gilded temple’s marble floors. The click of his boot heel ringing out in this place of God. Not a place of God, but truly God’s place. This temple had been built by David’s son, Solomon, for Frellan’s messiah. In a world that he simply slipped from shadow to shadow, this felt like home.
His men came down the steps. “It is locked, sir.”
Brandt yet again was ahead, but only for the moment. “Rig it,” Frel
lan ordered.
“No,” Monnie protested. Frellan turned to the watcher. How he dreamt of putting a bar through one of those pretty green eyes. She cringed at his stare but continued. “You cannot defile this place any more than you already have.”
“Oh, I can,” he promised her. “And I shall.”
She took a step closer. “No. You won’t.”
“And who is going to stop me, little one?”
Frellan felt a sharp sting in his gut. He reached down to find a blade buried up to its hilt. A delicate, pale hand held the knife. He searched Monnie’s eyes, finding the timid watcher gone as her lips curled into a fierce smile.
“Finally,” Benedicto said, nodding to Monnie.
Her glare shut up even the verbose priest.
Monnie turned her attention back to Frellan, turning the knife sideways, twisting his bowel. “You and your sister. I should have known twins born to a treacherous mother would come of no good.”
Frellan looked to his men, his mercenaries, yet not a one raised a gun against her.
“Fool,” Monnie mocked. “I pay them.”
As blood rushed from his brain into his belly and then out onto the white floor, Frellan still did not understand, or refused to understand.
Monnie, however, made it abundantly clear.
“I am your master.”
* * *
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lopez hissed next to Davidson. “When did the religious hottie go all psycho ninja?”
“Shh!” Davidson responded. “I can’t hear.”
The Disciples’ master was so young. However, that wasn’t unprecedented in bloodline-based societies. It didn’t matter their age, but the blood that ran through their veins. More than likely, the young woman currently shoving Frellan to the ground was a direct descendant of Moses. That heritage trumped any age issue.
Davidson watched as Monnie turned to the priest. “Do we have a problem?”
“If you hadn’t done it,” the priest answered, “I was about to.”
The two moved farther away, toward the Holy of Holies’ door. Davidson strained but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then Monnie turned and pointed an arm straight at them.
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