by Chloe Palov
‘Turn your head, woman,’ MacFarlane commanded. ‘Unless you have a predilection for bloodshed.’
‘You kill him, you kill the messenger!’
Hearing that, Cædmon’s head swung in Edie’s direction.
The messenger?
What in God’s name was she up to? A subterfuge clearly, but he had no idea of the nature or direction of the lie. Relegating him to the role of hapless passenger.
Edie startled every man present, including Cædmon, when she next said, ‘And something tells me that you’ll want to hear what MI5 has to say. They know all about your planned terrorist attack on the Dome of the Rock. Lucky for you they want the Ark of the Covenant, which is why they’re willing to do a deal. But all bets are off the table if you gun down Cædmon Aisquith. The Queen’s men don’t like it when you kill one of their own. In fact, they would take it very personally if any harm came to him.’
Although MacFarlane’s face was in shadow, Cædmon could see that the older man didn’t appear the least bit surprised to learn of his connection to MI5.
Bloody hell. Edie’s stratagem might actually work. No doubt Stanford MacFarlane, like most Americans, stood in awe of the mighty Five.
With a brusque wave of the hand, MacFarlane motioned Boyd Braxton to back off. His eyes narrowing, the behemoth lowered the sub-machine gun. Then, snarling like a rabid animal, he brazenly toggled his index finger over the trigger, wordlessly relaying a very stark message – with the mere press of a finger, he could instantly end his life.
Having no control over Braxton, Cædmon turned his attention instead to the giant’s commanding officer. Well aware that the best falsehoods were those crafted from the truth, Cædmon did just that. He told the truth. ‘Since we last met, I’ve used my time wisely. With Miss Miller’s assistance, I have put together an in-depth dossier.’
‘Complete with photographs, maps, you name it,’ Edie embellished, the woman spinning yet another outlandish lie on her improvised loom.
‘You’re going to have to be more specific than that.’ As he spoke, the muscles in MacFarlane’s jaw twitched spasmodically.
‘As Edie mentioned, Thames House has been apprised of your plan to destroy the Dome of the Rock two days hence on Eid al-Adha,’ Cædmon replied, having quickly cobbled together what he hoped was a plausible scenario. ‘And, to answer your next question, Five has already contacted its Israeli counterpart. The moment you enter Israel, Mossad will drop a noose around your neck. The Israelis do not take kindly to terrorists.’
‘And the deal?’ Other than a tightness in his jaw, MacFarlane gave no visual clue as to whether or not he believed the tale.
‘The deal is simple: surrender yourself to the British authorities and you will receive humane and civilized treatment; reject the offer and you will be at the mercy of Mossad. I understand their interrogation tactics are particularly brutal.’
‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an American citizen,’ MacFarlane declared, as though that gave him some sort of carte blanche.
‘Do you think that will matter to the Israelis? To them you are merely a terrorist intent on destroying the most holy site in all of Jerusalem.’
The tick in MacFarlane’s jaw became more noticeable. ‘And what of the Ark?’
Beginning to think he might actually pull off a bloodless coup, Cædmon said, ‘It must be surrendered to Her Majesty’s Government. Were it not for the fact that you have the Ark of the Covenant in your possession, you would have been handed over to the Israelis already.’ Cædmon glanced at his wristwatch. 10:20 p.m. ‘If you have not surrendered yourself to the British consulate by twenty-three hundred hours, the deal is null and void.’ Of course, he had no way of knowing if there was anyone on duty at the consulate. He would cross that rickety bridge when he came to it.
A tense silence ensued, the only sound being a soft rat-a-tat-tat as Braxton drummed his fingers against the stock of his MP5. Cædmon purposely refrained from looking at Edie, knowing that any communication, even a silent exchange of glances, would be noticed, MacFarlane in the process of separating the wheat from the chaff.
‘Since the beginning I wondered if you would contact British intelligence,’ MacFarlane finally said after what seemed an interminable pause. ‘But knowing the power that the Ark holds, something told me you’d want to keep MI5 out of the loop. Why? Because I assumed that like most men you would want the Ark of the Covenant for yourself. It’s the reason Galen of Godmersham made no mention of his extraordinary find to his brethren, the Knights of St John, even though he was duty-bound to do just that. Instead, he lugged the Ark back to England, where he promptly hid it.’ MacFarlane took several steps in Cædmon’s direction, the tick in his jaw no longer in evidence. ‘So I have to ask myself… What makes you a better man than that brave knight?’
Cædmon shrugged. ‘I was faced with a crisis that Galen of Godmersham never had to confront.’
‘And what crisis might that be?’
‘How best to prevent the destruction of the Dome of the Rock. Brave though I am, I am but an army of one,’ he added drolly, hoping to recapture the momentum. ‘And so I had no choice but to contact Thames House. Better the British Museum has the Ark of the Covenant than a man bent on destroying the world.’ Even before the words passed his lips, Cædmon knew them to be the truth, silently damning himself for not contacting Five. For thinking that he, like Galen of Godmersham, could keep the Ark for himself.
‘And when the wretched knight saw this, his death was well deserved.’ The cryptic line from the quatrains finally made perfect sense to him.
‘Mark my words, doomsday will soon be upon us. And when it comes, we will slay the beast of perfidy with divine revelation.’ As he spoke, Stanford MacFarlane compulsively twisted the silver Jerusalem cross that he wore on his right ring finger. Cædmon suspected the ring was his anchor. Seeing that repetitive motion, he feared the scales had tipped. And in the wrong direction.
Edie, who had remained silent, pointed to a string of lights out in the bay. ‘Doomsday is coming all right. Dressed in commando black and wielding some awesome firepower. You guys have only got a few minutes left to surrender.’ Wearing her bravado like a new suit of clothes, she donned a cocky grin.
Good God. The woman was reading aloud from a Hollywood script.
Without warning, MacFarlane stepped over and grabbed Edie by the hair, yanking her to his chest. Although she desperately tried to twist free, he wrapped her curly locks around his fist and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. He then held out his free hand, palm up. ‘Give me that diving knife.’
Cædmon lurched forward, only to be pistol-whipped on the side of the head by one of MacFarlane’s men.
Knowing he could do nothing to save Edie if he was dead, he stood immobile. Edie, evidently sensing that she couldn’t escape, had suddenly stopped resisting.
‘You know, boy, I’ve got a funny feeling that you and this curly-haired harlot are lying to me.’ MacFarlane, his face twisted in a sneer, locked gazes with him. ‘Now, I know that you’re a trained intelligence officer. So I’m going to assume that you have the mental fortitude to stand by while I hold a gun to your pretty woman’s head.’ As he spoke, he lightly ran the knife blade along Edie’s cheek. ‘But do you have the stomach to watch the flesh flayed from her bones in long bloody strips?’
Although her neck was stretched taut as a bowstring, Edie tried to shake her head. Tried to caution him not to reveal that there would be no commandos dressed in black coming to the rescue.
A brave woman. But, more importantly, a beloved woman.
‘As I stated earlier, I did in fact compile a dossier outlining everything that has occurred since Jonathan Padgham’s murder six days ago,’ he confessed, the match lost, his queen taken. ‘Included in the report is a detailed threat assessment of your planned attack on the Dome of the Rock.’
‘Where’s the dossier?’
‘In the vault of the Dragonara Hotel.’ Having carefully plan
ned for just such a moment, Cædmon now played what he hoped would be their get-outof-jail card. ‘If Edie and I have not returned to the Dragonara Hotel by eight o’clock tomorrow morning, the dossier will be promptly delivered to the British consulate. From there, it will be forwarded to MI5. You are a clever enough man to realize that it would be advantageous to keep us alive. Now, would you please relax your grip on Miss Miller’s hair?’
MacFarlane unwound a palm’s length of hair. Just enough so Edie could move her neck, but not enough for her to escape.
‘How do I know that you’re telling the truth?’
‘As with your belief in Old Testament prophecy, you must take it on good faith that I am.’
MacFarlane unwound Edie’s hair from his fist. Muttering something about ‘lying harlots’, he shoved her away. Opening his arms, Cædmon caught Edie, clutching her to his chest.
‘You and the harlot have a reprieve.’
Without asking, Cædmon knew that he and Edie would be accompanied to the Dragonara by at least one of MacFarlane’s men. Once there, they would be forced to retrieve the dossier from the hotel vault and hand it over. Then they would most likely be executed. All told, the reprieve would amount to no more than a few hours. Not unlike watching a killer shark from a glass-bottomed boat, knowing all the while that the vessel will soon capsize.
Hearing the mobile phone clipped to MacFarlane’s belt, Cædmon watched as the colonel took the call, turning his back on the assembled group. A few moments later, he ended the call and turned to Boyd Braxton.
‘Call in the troops. We’re ready to set sail.’
Edie frantically tugged on Cædmon’s sleeve. ‘The boat that just sailed into the bay, I bet that’s how they’re getting the Ark out of Malta,’ she hissed in his ear.
‘I suspect you’re right.’
‘The harlot is right,’ MacFarlane said, overhearing the exchange. ‘Not only is my mission ordained by the Almighty, but God is acting through me. How else do you explain that after three thousand years the Ark of the Covenant has been reclaimed?’ His eyes sparkling with an inner fire, he smiled, confirming Cædmon’s suspicions that Stanford MacFarlane was quite mad, the man suffering from a full-blown messiah complex.
‘Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be measuring for the drapes just yet,’ Edie taunted. ‘If you think for one second that the good, sane, decent people of the world will stand by and let you and your misguided followers start the next world war, think again.’
‘God spoke through the prophet Ezekiel, his will made known to mankind. I will see to it that his orders are carried out.’
‘There is no greater sacrilege than to take upon one’s shoulders the mantle of God,’ Cædmon said quietly. ‘Men like you not only diminish the human spirit, you diminish the very nature of God.’
‘Soon enough you and your whore will learn what comes of sleeping with the devil,’ MacFarlane retorted. Then, pointing an accusing finger, ‘“But evil men and imposters will grow worse and worse, deceiving and being deceived.” Gallagher, take them away!’
A bald-headed underling, automatic pistol held capably in his right hand, stepped towards them.
‘At least we bought ourselves a little bit of time,’ Edie whispered.
Cædmon glanced at the lights in the bay. ‘Yes, but what of the rest of the world? For them the doomsday clock still ticks.’
89
‘ “… if you warn the wicked, and he does not turn from his wickedness, or from his wicked way, he shall die for his iniquity.”’ As he spoke, Gallagher motioned Edie and Cædmon to take a seat on a nearby slab of limestone.
Cædmon plonked down on the raised stone. ‘I’ve had enough apocalyptic rambling to last a lifetime.’
Wordlessly, Edie sat next to him, while approximately a hundred yards away she could see MacFarlane and his crew piling into the military-style truck. The same truck into which they’d earlier loaded the Ark of the Covenant. She assumed the plan was to drive the truck to the shore and then transport the Ark out to the yacht via a small boat.
From there it would be plain sailing. All the way to Israel.
That thought enraged and terrified her all at once. But it was an impotent rage. And an equally impotent fear. There was nothing she or Cædmon could do to stop the ancient prophecies from being fulfilled. With the End Times hanging over them, the voice of reason had become eerily silent. Instead, she’d reverted to being the terrified child who had feared the death and destruction that was part and parcel of God’s wrath.
‘Cædmon, I’m afraid. I don’t want it to end. Not the world. Not any of it,’ she murmured lamely, unable to put her feelings into words. At least not words that made any sense.
He placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. ‘As the Irish are fond of saying, “At least we had the day.”’ Edie guessed that he was speaking of their lovemaking onboard the ferry.
Knowing they didn’t have much time, she took her fill of him. The thick red hair. The lean rangy physique. The beautiful blue eyes. The relationship over before it ever began.
‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve decided that it’s more than mere physical lust,’ she informed him, speaking in a low whisper.
‘Do I detect a deathbed confession?’
‘You know, gallows humour has always eluded me.’
‘Then perhaps we need to get off the scaffold and shine some light.’
‘Yeah, but –’ She stopped, suddenly realizing what Cædmon was alluding to.
The laser light.
Cædmon had said that it could temporarily blind a man.
Edie surreptitiously placed her hand over her jacket pocket. The pen-like device was still there. In all of the pandemonium no one had thought to search her for weapons.
‘Be ready,’ she whispered in a hushed voice, certain that when the time came Cædmon would know what to do.
A few seconds later Gallagher reached into his breast pocket and removed a crumpled pack of Marlboros. Next he patted the front of his cargo pants, searching for a match. Or a lighter. It didn’t much matter but it gave Edie the opportunity to slide her hand into her jacket pocket, all the while praying their captor’s gaze didn’t land on her slow-moving hand.
Her fingers wrapped around the laser. Quickly, she found the small power switch – in the same place where you’d expect to find the clip on a fountain pen. She removed the pen from her pocket.
Gallagher’s head suddenly swivelled in her direction.
‘Hey, bitch! What the hell are you doing?’
‘Bringing you to Jesus!’ she retorted, aiming what she hoped was the ‘business end’ of the laser at Gallagher’s face.
A thin ray of green light immediately stabbed out, hitting Gallagher first in one eye then the other. Instinctively he raised his arm to shield his eyes.
‘Quick! Turn it off!’ Cædmon hissed, snatching her by the forearm to get her attention. The abrupt motion caused the laser beam to shoot heavenwards, making it seem as though the thin green light actually touched the marmalade moon hovering thousands of miles above the earth.
Edie switched it off.
Like a striking viper, Cædmon lunged forward, his right hand whipping out, his fingers wrapping round the barrel of Gallagher’s gun. One quick strong twist and the gun was out of the other man’s grip. The pistol now in his possession, Cædmon used it to bludgeon Gallagher’s bald skull. An instant later, he went limp. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, Cædmon unclipped Gallagher’s mobile from his belt and lugged him behind the slab of limestone. Out of sight. Edie scanned the area, terrified that the scuffle, which had lasted only a few seconds, had been observed.
Mercifully, there was no alarm. In the distance MacFarlane’s men continued clambering into the back of the truck.
‘Is he…?’ She jutted her chin at the man sprawled on the other side of the limestone slab.
Cædmon tersely shook his head. ‘But pray the bastard doesn’t wake up any time soon.’
Taking her by the elbow, Cædmon headed towards the truck. Not only did they keep to the shadows, but they kept down, crouching as they moved.
About fifty yards from the truck, Cædmon yanked her behind a scraggy clump of dead vegetation.
‘Our objective, our only objective, is to prevent the Ark being loaded onto that yacht in the bay. If that happens, it will be lost forever. I mean this, love – no heroics.’ As he spoke, he lightly held her chin.
‘Do you think we’ve actually got a chance?’
‘So long as our escape goes undetected, their success is not a fait accompli.’
‘If they find Gallagher, they’re gonna turn on us like a pack of wolves.’
Still holding her by the chin, Cædmon stared at her. Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘The bloodletting, if it comes, will be extensive. And pitiless.’
90
‘I don’t know about you, sir, but I can’t wait to blow the Dome of the Rock to kingdom come.’ Fully recovered from his earlier injury, Boyd Braxton positioned himself behind the steering wheel of the six-by-six convoy truck.
‘“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,”’ Stan replied, knowing that in the eleventh century the Muslim infidels had attempted to destroy the tomb of Jesus, so the reprisal was long overdue. ‘Gunny, do you know what the word “Islam” means?’
‘No, sir. Can’t say that I do.’
‘It means “submit”.’
Submit or die.
As always happened when he pondered the Muslim faith, Stan felt a hot rage surge up from the base of his spine, his temples pounding with the force of his hatred.
‘As God is my witness, I will never be conquered by those people. Never.’
‘I hear ya, sir!’ Braxton banged his fist against the steering wheel. ‘We’ll teach those ragheads a lesson! Every last one of ’em!’
Pleased with his subordinate’s enthusiasm, the Lord always looking with favour upon those who executed their duty with a glad heart, Stan slammed shut the passenger door. In the back of the truck nine of his men were present and accounted for. The Ark would be well guarded. To a man, they would unflinchingly lay down their lives to protect the holy relic. Although it was doubtful that they would encounter any resistance. The Englishman had admitted that British intelligence was ignorant of their plans. And according to the yacht’s captain, the voyage from Haifa had been uneventful.